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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 4.9k words // ciwyw masterlist // masterlist

It was golden light that roused Aelin from sleep, sneaking in through gaps in the curtains and blinds. It took her a moment to remember that it was Rowan’s bed she was curled up in, completely wrapped in his cool pine scent. She inhaled deeply, ducking her nose down into the plush duvet and savored it. Part of her wished he was laying beside her, the sunlight casting soft shadows over his face. With her eyes closed she could imagine it.

It was better that he wasn’t. She knew that. There was hurt on both sides. Words had been said that cut them both in sensitive places, and the wedge between them was starting to feel like an ocean. Yet being here, in his bed, his house, were the first steps toward reconciliation. They just had to get through the hard conversations first.

The best part about Rowan not being in bed with her was the smell of bacon, eggs, and something sweet creeping up the stairs and beneath the door. For what felt like the first time in her pregnancy, her mind and body were in agreement: she was hungry. Though she was hesitant to believe her head wouldn’t be in the toilet immediately following breakfast, she slipped out of bed and padded her way downstairs.

“How did you sleep?” He asked her, eyes roving over her head to toe before he turned back to the pan on the stove. Aelin wondered if it was because she was still in the clothes he’d given her to sleep in, or if it was some instinct of his to make sure she was in one piece. She slid onto one of the chairs at the bar, folding her arms atop it, and laid her head down.

“Like the dead.” A sleepy yawn escaped her before she could finish her response. One of these days, she really needed to take to the internet to see when, exactly, she would stop feeling so wholly exhausted all the time. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did,” he confessed, the muscles in his back rippling beneath the simple gray t-shirt he wore. “Better than I have all week, actually.”

Rowan was careful as he deposited an egg onto a plate next to a few pieces of bacon and a cinnamon roll. Aelin thanked him when he handed her the plate and a glass of orange juice. It was freshly squeezed if the notes of orange zest throughout the kitchen were any indicator, but when she lifted it to take a sip, her stomach turned violently in protest.

“It’s freshly squeezed. No additives or anything.” Two strings pulled the corners of her lips toward the floor. The confirmation that he spent gods knew how long juicing oranges until she had a full glass worth made her feel guilty for the way her body was reacting.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as she put it back down on the bar, far enough away that her nose couldn’t smell it anymore.

“It was nothing.”

“No I mean…” She paused and took a deep breath, eyes closing at the nausea rising in the back of her throat. “Can you put that anywhere else please.”

“Shit. Fuck, Aelin, I’m so sorry.” Rowan was quick to swoop in and pour it directly down the kitchen sink, letting the water chase it down the drain.

“You didn’t know. I didn’t either until I smelled it,” she admitted, finally opening her eyes and lifting her fork.

The first bite of the cinnamon roll was heavenly. It was baked to perfection, the gooey texture nearly melting away on her tongue. It was exactly how she loved her cinnamon rolls, but couldn’t remember ever telling him that. Perhaps once in passing. The eggs were scrambled and in a neat pile of soft, pillowy clouds. None of it touched.

“Did your mom teach you to cook?”

“She did. I was hungry just about constantly growing up, especially after practice and games. It’s come in handy now that I follow such a strict meal plan.” Indeed, his plate didn’t have a cinnamon roll. Instead he had two pieces of toast, some bacon and sausage, and three eggs. When he slid into the seat beside her she noticed two bowls, one with oatmeal and the other full of fruit.

“I was underfeeding you at my house,” she murmured, sitting back and resting her hands on her stomach. The baby, apparently, didn’t want her to enjoy breakfast. She took deep, steadying breaths to keep the food down even as a sheen of sweat started to coat her skin.

“Are you sick a lot?” Concern swam in his gaze as looked her over head to toe, but she nodded her head.

“Lysandra made me go to the emergency room a few days after I found out, and—” Rowan’s head whipped around, eyes wide and full of concern. Aelin held up a hand for him to wait a moment and continued, “There are days I couldn’t keep water down. That’s what the blood test was from. They gave me some medication to help with the nausea.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Something like devastation flashed across his features, squeezing her heart like he’d squeezed those oranges.

“Because I was still freaking out about being pregnant and how I was going to tell you, and I didn’t want you to find out because I was in the hospital over it. Imagine your reaction in an ER, with nothing between us and strangers but—” Aelin was cut off by the all too familiar tell of her mouth watering, head becoming unclear and dizzy as she launched off the chair and sprinted to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before dropping onto her knees and emptying the little contents of her stomach into the bowl.

Rowan was there, like he’d seen the color of her face drain to stark white. His hand was a steady weight on her back, moving slowly up and down her spine while he gathered up her hair in his other hand.

By the time she was through, her throat burned from the pure bile that clawed its way out of her body. Aelin’s ribs and stomach ached from the force of it all and Rowan had to help her back onto her feet, gripping her shaky hands and grounded her to earth.

“Do you want to lay back down?” he asked her, using his fingers to comb her hair up onto the top of her head. Goosebumps erupted over her body when he tugged the hair tie off her wrist and secured the bun into place.

Aelin shook her head and gestured toward the kitchen where their breakfast grew colder by the second and said, “I’m going to shower while you finish eating. And don’t object to it. I know you’re hungry. So eat.”

His eyes were wary as he appraised her. They scanned every feature from head to toe like he was cataloging every single thing about her. Deeming her well enough to manage on her own, he led her out of the bathroom and toward the stairs. Even when she protested, he followed her up and gathered towels and the small bucket of necessities that had everything she would need: body wash, shampoo, conditioner, razors, shaving gel. The little box of tampons almost made her laugh. She wouldn’t be needing those for a while.

When he finally left her alone, she stared at the bin full of everything she might need for her stay. Aelin didn’t question if it was meant for any female visitors he might have. She didn’t have to. Everything in it was smaller sizes of everything she had in her shower at home. Like he had made a list so he knew what to get.

It almost made her angry, how thoughtful it was. Simply because it made it virtually impossible to be upset with him. All of her anger toward him was gradually slipping through her fingers, just like the water she gathered in her cupped hands.

~*~

By the time she was done showering and walked back downstairs, Rowan had finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen. It was near pristine. The dirty dishes had vanished from the stove top and sink and an empty trash bag was in the garbage bin. One of his tattooed fingers was just about to mist the room with air freshener to cover the lingering scent of cinnamon and bacon when she stopped him.

“That’s overkill. I’m fine.” Her polished fingers toyed with the ends of her damp hair as he looked up at her.

Rowan’s eyes swept over her, lingering on her still flat stomach. There was nothing to see, not yet, not for several weeks, but he looked and looked like he could see the baby through her t-shirt, her skin. When he finally looked at her face again he simply nodded and put the can back under the sink.

“Come on,” Aelin said after several heartbeats of silence, her head nodding toward the living room while he pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the fridge. Once it was in her hands she glanced at the living room again. “We should talk.”

When she turned her back she heard him sigh deeply. It was strained, like he wasn’t at all looking forward to what was coming, like he dreaded it. Almost like he was scared. She wondered if his heart was racing and pounding like hers as she walked across the room and tucked herself in the corner of the sofa. A blanket is pulled over her legs with hands that have a small tremor. Aelin tucked them between her thighs to make it stop.

“At the time,” she said slowly, turning the words over in her mind before speaking them out loud, “I didn’t understand why you asked me if it was for money. But now, knowing what you actually do for a living, I understand why you felt the need to ask.”

“That isn’t what it was.” The words were clipped, his jaw clenching as he paced in front of her. Aelin watched him until he finally sat down on the edge of the couch, fingers drumming against his knees to quell his nervous energy. Confusion rose to the surface in her mind.

“Okay. Explain it to me then.”

“I— fuck. I don’t like talking about this.” The second part seemed to be said more toward himself than to her, so she waited patiently while he sifted through letters and syllables to make words.

Rowan looked over at her and chewed on his cheek. More than once, his lips parted to try to sew together his words, but closed again. Like he didn’t know how, when, or where to begin. Aelin wasn’t sure either. They both had a lot to say, had apologies to make. There was so much, though, that it was hard for her to find the words, too.

“I don’t like talking about it because I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m making excuses about how I treated you. I’m not. But it’s the truth. Any single one of my friends, my family, they can back it up.”

“Rowan. It’s okay. Just talk to me.” The fingers in her lap ached to reach for him, twitching against her bare legs beneath the blanket. She wove them together to stay put.

“I had been sleeping with a woman for a while. Nothing serious, just casual when I had the time. She ended up getting pregnant about six months or so into it. I didn’t want the relationship to get serious. She… Lyria and I weren’t really well matched. We didn’t know each other. I found it hard to open up to her. More than that, I didn’t want to open up to her. But I was more than willing to step up where the baby was concerned.” He paused, tongue swiping over his teeth. Aelin’s heart was trying to escape her ribcage. She took a steadying breath, telling herself to listen and not draw conclusions before he finished. Still, she wondered. Did he have a kid already?

“Lyria was pushing for a relationship, to marry eventually. I was 23, still pretty early in my career, nowhere near ready for marriage. Especially not with a woman I barely knew . Every time it was brought up I shut it down. Not to break her heart,” he added with a swift glance at Aelin. “I don’t think she was ever in love with me. But because it wouldn’t have been a fruitful marriage, we would have been miserable, and I truly didn’t see the point.”

Aelin nodded in understanding, “You didn’t want to settle.”

“I didn’t want her to settle either. It wouldn’t have been fair for anyone, especially not the baby in a few years time. I didn’t want to raise a child in a loveless home. But all of that isn’t why I reacted so… fucking horribly.”

“Okay.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but loud enough to encourage him to keep going. After another steadying breath, he did.

“One night I very firmly shut it down again. I told her it wasn’t on the table. I want to make it clear that she had a good job, she had really good health insurance. But she started asking me for money. Of course I wanted to give the support she needed, so I gave. And gave. And gave. I couldn’t not give her the money. We weren’t close enough for me to know the extent of her income, and I had money I could afford to lose. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but whenever I asked about it she would get cagey. Accuse me of accusing her. It was such a complicated web to unravel and the fighting was so tiring.”

Aelin was nothing more than a concrete statue, her limbs heavy at her sides. She was unable to move while he spoke, eyes focused on the frayed corner of the blanket in her lap. Every sentence was turned over in her mind carefully, knowing that the grief and frustration that marred his face and sharpened his words was absolutely true.

“One day she called me several times in a row. I didn’t answer because our flight got in really late and I was exhausted. There was no energy in my soul to argue with her about money, so I sent it to voicemail. Later she sent me a text that she miscarried and… I didn’t want the relationship with her but I was just getting used to the idea of being a dad. I have always wanted to have kids. The timing was off at the time, but I was excited about it. And then it was just… gone.”

“Rowan,” she started gently, desperate to offer him comfort of some sort. No words would be a balm to that wound, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach out and touch him. Instead of looking at her he held up a hand, silently asking her to wait. Gods, he wasn’t finished. How could it get worse?

“I found out a few weeks later through a mutual friend that she had miscarried nearly an entire month earlier. All through that month I was still sending her money for appointments, for nursery furniture, car seats…” Rowan shook his head, silver hair falling into his eyes. “We stopped talking after I told her I knew the truth. That she was using all the money I was giving her to fund her lifestyle, hardly any of it was going toward anything for the baby, and that she weaponized the miscarriage to hurt me. It was a massive fucking blow out, and we haven’t spoken since.”

All the letters and words had evacuated her brain. The weight of his eyes trailing over her face made her finally meet his gaze. All the empathy she had in her heart was swimming in the ocean blue of her eyes that gleamed with unshed tears. In his, she saw that he knew the words she couldn’t find to speak out loud.

“It makes me feel like a massive piece of shite, but sometimes I wonder if she was even pregnant at all or if the whole thing was just a way to get money from me.” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, green eyes fluttering shut as he took a moment to just breathe. Aelin wondered if he had ever voiced that confession out loud before.

“I can understand why you reacted the way that you did.” The words swept out of her mouth on a heavy exhale, hands flexing in her lap.

“But?”

“I don’t fault you for the reasons behind your actions, Rowan. But I also can’t just freely let go with what you said and how you said it. I wish that I could, but I felt like we…” Aelin trailed off, eyes shifting around the room on a scavenger hunt for words she had lost.

“Like we had something more than what I reflected in my reaction,” he finished. A hand dragged through his hair and down the back of his neck before settling over the mouth that had put him in so much trouble in the last eight days.

“I thought you trusted and respected me more.”

“I do, Aelin. I– fuck. I do. I am so sorry for what I said, how I said it, what I accused you of, that I hurt you. For all of it, I’m so fucking sorry.” Rowan’s hands flexed against his thighs like he was dying to touch her almost as much as she was dying to be touched by him. They curled into fists so tight she could see his thumb nails turning white from the pressure.

“I know,” she assured him. “I know that, I just–”

Her hands moved restlessly in front of her, trying to pull her thoughts into coherent sentences. Trying to fully express how deeply it had cut her for him to react that way was difficult. The empty space in his arms where she had fit so perfectly had started to feel like home. It was the safest she had ever felt and following this path of life had felt so entirely right. But then he opened his stupid, perfect mouth. Those words had been dripping with such a sharp edge there wasn’t a way it wouldn’t have hurt.

“I think I just need some time. I think we need to slow down. This wasn’t supposed to become anything. You know? It was just meant to be fun, but–” She cut herself off with a shrug, her fingers falling onto her flat stomach. Somewhere in there, a baby that was equal parts of her and Rowan was swimming around. Those feelings threatened to undo her if she allowed herself to feel them. Instead of letting them bubble over, she shoved a cork deep down into that bottle to avoid it just a little while longer.

Rowan’s inhale was sharp, a blade against its scabbard. A chilly silence filled the room, faint buzzing in her ears like she was on the snowboarding slopes in the Staghorns after a heavy snowfall. His fingers drummed against his thighs, eyes staring straight ahead when he finally nodded in understanding.

A relationship hadn’t been on her radar. It was why the long-distance nature of it worked out so well. With time between each visit, she wasn’t able to throw herself into his heart no matter how much she may have wanted to. Nevermind that the last time she had dived head first into something it had ended with her broken and bleeding. That relationship left scars that were still tender, still itching as they healed.

It didn’t matter how badly she was desperate to be curled up against him, feel his skin warm where they touched. How much she craved to taste his lips, to kiss the hollow of his throat and down his chest, to just feel his body splayed beneath her fingers. To know that things would be okay. There was so much more at play here than what she wanted. A little baby was caught in the crossfires, and she has to be sure that going forward their relationship was built on more than a whirlwind romance.

Instead of reaching for his hand and continuing to let herself fall for him, she carefully constructed a wall around her heart and nodded in return.

“About me lying to you about… everything,” she began, but was quickly cut off by Rowan shaking his head so rapidly it made her dizzy.

“There’s no need for you to explain that. I do not fault you for wanting to protect yourself, Aelin. I wish we had both been more honest with each other, but, no. You don’t need to explain or apologize. I understand. I did the same thing.” The tightness in her chest eased. For the first time since everything had come out, her ribs weren’t so tightly constricted when she took a steadying breath. They had both lied for similar reasons, and her secrets didn’t seem to change anything for him, at least.

Rowan’s eyes seemed dark and distant, not at all what she was used to. But the conversation at hand was one of pain and hurt. It couldn’t be easy for him to lay this all at her feet, yet he had, and now they could move forward. He would give her the space she required and after that, they would figure things out.

A kernel of hope nestled itself into her heart. Aelin just hoped she wouldn’t get hurt this time.

~*~

White noise skittered along his skin, his nerves. The stifling sound of silence filled his ears like cotton as she finally stood and began to gather her things. The minutes ticked by like hours and Rowan hated every single drawn out second of it. He just wanted her to stay despite Aelin admitting that what they had between them wasn’t supposed to be anything. Those words were sure to echo between his ears during every hour he existed for the rest of his life.

Deep down in the trenches of his mind he was aware it was the best option for now. For them to pump the brakes, for him to make it up to her. Rowan understood why she needed time to process. He had assumed the worst of her when in reality, the truth of those pregnancy tests had shaken her to her core, just like they had him.

Still, he couldn’t deny his excitement. While he had been wholly unprepared when Lyria was pregnant, he was ready this time. Ready in a way that only resulted in happiness buzzing through his bones when he imagined what the child would look like, what they would be like. And if he and Aelin could figure this out and work through the missteps…

Gods. He was going to be a dad. After she took the time she needed and he proved himself, they could be a family. A real family. It wasn’t going to be like last time because he was already tripping and stumbling over the edge of a cliff, his feelings rising as rapidly as the water. He was falling in love with her, and it terrified him.

Rowan could wait. He would give her all the time she wanted, that she needed, and on the other side of it he would make sure that she was the happiest woman in the world. That their baby had the universe at their feet. Anything either of them wanted, he would ensure they had it. Nothing else mattered like this, not even football.

A new determination had melded into his bones by the time Aelin came downstairs with her bag over one shoulder. He stood as she slipped on her shoes, then walked her out to her car. Apprehension was all over her face, evident in the way her fingers twisted together when she faced him after opening her door.

“I’ll give back your clothes soon, I just felt gross putting the ones from yesterday back on.” Aelin gestured to the pair of boxers and t-shirt she wore. Rowan shook his head.

“I’m not worried about that. Keep them if you wish.” A lock of hair blew into her face with the wind. Without thinking he caught it with his fingertips, grazing her cheekbone as he pushed it behind her ear.

Aelin stiffened and took a single step back. The emotional distance was wider than the ocean when her head shook, brows meeting between her eyes that didn’t quite meet his.

“Please don’t touch me like that,” she said quietly, but not weakly. Ice water had been dumped over his head despite the warmth in the air. His fingers clenched into a tight fist as they dropped to his side and he promptly shoved them into his pockets. Rowan took several steps back, jaw wired shut. Uncomfortable. Aelin looked uncomfortable at his touch, and he wanted to slam his fist into the concrete because of it.

“I’ll text you soon,” she said, and he suddenly remembered the question that had been floating around in the back of his mind for the last two days. Just as she was about to shut the door, he grabbed the top of it to keep it from closing. Aelin jolted a bit, her eyebrows rising high as the clouds.

“How did you find out?” She looked at him for a second while she processed the question, and then laughed. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

“My best friend, Lysandra. I hadn’t sent her very many good pictures of your face yet, so she just googled ‘Rowan’ along with soccer and Doranelle hoping for a team photo or something.” Rowan laughed, too. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as she smiled at him in their truce.

He nodded after a moment, a small smile still on his face. He stepped back to let her drive away, standing in the mid-afternoon silence while her tires kicked up clouds of dust. It would be a long road to win her trust back, but he wouldn’t stop until he had earned it.

~*~

The car ride back to Varese was spent choking back tears and forcing air into her lungs to ground her. As soon as she was back in her apartment, however, the dam broke. A tidal wave of emotion crashed down upon her head, and the front door was barely closed before her thumbs were punching buttons on her phone. By the time Lysandra picked up there were sobs violently shaking her entire body.

Before pregnancy, this wouldn’t have been anything to cry over. She still would have called Lysandra, of course, but it wasn’t something that would wreck her like this. Truthfully, Aelin didn’t even know why she was crying, other than the fact that she just felt alone. No universe existed where Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was alone in anything, much less a pregnancy. But she had nowhere to go to seek comfort in Varese. Two weeks ago it would have been to Rowan, but that was off the table. Now she just had an empty apartment and her thoughts.

Lysandra listened while she cried and tried to get a deep breath down. Aelin hadn’t been so upset in years and was positive that if she wasn’t pregnant, everything wouldn’t feel quite so out of control. As it was, there were no handholds to grab onto, no footholds to keep her from sliding down the cliff. While her emotions waxed and waned, Lysandra was there to listen to it all, to soothe her anxiety when she started to spiral out of control.

Part of her wished Aedion knew about the pregnancy because she needed him right now. But Lysandra filled his shoes almost well enough for everything to dwindle to a simmering calm.

Though she was set to fly out next week, Lys managed to find a lone ticket that would put her in Varese early the next morning. They talked while she packed, the blonde managing to calm down enough to go over everything that had been said between her and Rowan earlier that morning.

“I want to forgive him,” she said quietly a few hours later, curled up in her kleenex-covered bed.

“Why can’t you?”

“I–” Her lips twisted into a knot as she frowned at the floor. “I just need to be sure. You know? I need to… I don’t know.”

“You need to know that if this is going to be an actual relationship and not a co-parenting situation, that he isn’t going to hurt you again,” Lysandra offered, somehow seeing directly into Aelin’s mind and knowing the inner workings better than she did herself.

“Yeah,” she sniffed, those emotions threatening to spill over once again despite how much she had already cried. Even though a relationship was the last thing she wanted. “I just need to be sure.”

An hour later, Lysandra was ready for her 6:30 AM flight, and Aelin was more than ready to not feel quite so alone.

When she pulled up to the airport to pick up her best friend in the early hours of the morning, the sun just beginning to crest over the mountaintops to the east, it wasn’t the dark-haired beauty she was expecting. In fact, she almost drove right past the man that shared her eyes and golden hair. The man that could be her twin.

It was Aedion.

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @autumnbabylon @bellasbookboyfriends

149 notes · View notes

theokusgallery · 7 months

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7 (art forms u dont do but appreciate)

18 (estimate art supplies you've broken)

19 (favourite inanimate objects to draw)

30 (underrated art piece)

Mmhh... That one's hard because there's not a lot of art forms I haven't at least tried to touch to be honest? I love to see any sort of 3D craft though, like... I follow a bunch of people who make clay figures, I find it fascinating. I've tried and made a bunch before but I'm not very good at it... I should try again actually, I still have a WIP in the living room from months ago,,

18-

Oboy. Most of what I do is digital art, so there's not much to break — if you count all the pens I've broken and screens I've cracked and the gloves I've lost I'd say about a dozen things altogether... But I've definitely broken an ink pen tip before, and probably some clay tools, and oh, fimo dough stuff as well, I've broken so many fimo dough tools not knowing if they were heat resistant or not... I'm not going to count erasers impulsively broken in half but if you add pencils and watercolor brushes and markers... Uhh, 60 things maybe? I am not very good at keeping things in good shape. Or keeping them at all. I lose stuff a lot.

19-

That one's hard. I mostly do portraits. The second other thing I draw most is flowers but I don't really like to draw them. ...Oh, big clothes and anything that has folds ! I love drawing folds. Like on scarves or big sweaters or hoodies. Fabric is nice. I just wish I thought about using more texture but I constantly just forget that's an option.

30-

Huh... Let me look.

I don't really have a basis of how many notes I think a post will have? This blog is called theoku's gallery because I store my art in it like a phone gallery. I'm displaying it here, but people don't have to like it, if that makes sense. But if I had to pick, maybe that one?

Sunny looks like such an angry little shit in this drawing, I love it. It has a pretty average amount of notes but I remember being so happy with the final result. The right hand looks great

#thank you for the ask !! <3 #ask #rant #ksenya-and-the-artistic-cucumber #i love answering those questions i'm sorry if i rambled too much

4 notes · View notes

nothorses · 3 years

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TransTape: A Guide

I've gotten a lot of asks about TransTape, and noticed a lot of gaps in knowledge. I've been binding with it for over a year now, and I thought a little guide might be helpful!

What is TransTape?

TransTape is an alternative to using a compression binder (like gc2b sells) that does not use compression; instead, a body-safe cloth tape is used to pull your chest underneath your armpits and stick them there against your skin.

Taken from the TransTape Instagram [IMAGES: Three shirtless people with rectangles of transtape pulling their chests flat and under their armpits, so they look more like pecs than breasts. /END]

TransTape was developed by trans people, for binding, from kinetic tape- which is used to treat physical injuries and disabilities in athletics. Though kinetic tape isn't proven to actually improve these problems, it is tested and safe to wear the way TransTape is worn.

Kinetic tape can be used as a cheaper alternative to TransTape, it just doesn't come in the sizes and nude colors generally preferable for binding.

Is It Safe?

Because TransTape doesn't use compression, it doesn't have an impact on your ribcage, lungs, or other internal organs like a compression binder does. It only interacts with your skin, which means short-term and long-term use will only impact your skin.

To the best of available knowledge, TransTape is safe as long as you apply it and remove it correctly. It can be worn while sleeping, exercising, showering/getting wet, and doing all of your other normal activities.

How long you can wear an application of TransTape depends on your lifestyle; the company recommends 3-5 days, with breaks of 1-2 days between applications.

Is It For Me?

Whether TransTape works for you depends on a lot of different factors, but the biggest deciding factor will likely be body type. Like any type of binding, larger chests are harder to flatten/masculinize, and the density of your chest can play a role as well. Skin sensitivity may also be a factor.

My recommendation is to try one roll, start with a test strip to check skin sensitivity, and give it at least 2 or 3 applications to check compatibility. You can check out TransTape's Instagram for some examples of different body types and the different ways people apply it.

The Brand

TransTape itself is expensive, and they've made some weird choices about things like essential oils. That said, they have the best guides and the most information on safe, correct use of binding tape.

You do not need to buy their products. The healing salve and removal oil in particular are more expensive than necessary. I recommend using lip balm in your nipple covers, baby oil for removal, and regular body lotion after removal instead of their products.

Application

TransTape has made a very detailed and comprehensive guide to safe application, which I recommend following.

Every body is different, and the method of application that works best for you may be different from what works best for other people. Experiment! It'll take a few tries to figure out what works for you; I took eight months to fine-tune my method.

Here's how I bind:

[IMAGE: A drawing of a torso with three strips of transtape: #1 is 3 sections long, starts 2 inches from the center of the chest, and the bottom edge of the tape runs over the bottom of the breast. #2 is 3 sections long, and overlapped on top of #1 where the nipple is. #3 is 3.5 sections long, placed directly over the middle of #1 and #2, and has one inch in front of and behind the ends of #1 and #2. The text says "Apply nipple covers, then strip 1, 2, then 3. Ensure ends of strip 3 both "anchor" on skin. /END]

I use a lot more tape than their method does, but this is easiest and flattest for me! It might be a good start for beginners.

Safety Tips

To ensure application is safe, remember to:

Apply nipple covers. Use 1/2 of a section of tape, with a square of toilet paper folded into thirds each way in the middle. Lip balm on your nipples and the toiler paper will keep your nipples hydrated.

Use a 1-2 inch "anchor" on both ends of the tape; this area of the tape should not be stretched. This prevents your skin from itching or getting shallow, surface-level abrasions while wearing.

Remove tape ASAP if you experience any amount of bleeding or pain. Itching is normal, especially with your first few applications, but shouldn't continue for more than a day or two of wear.

Never apply over wounds/scabs/abrasions. Scars are fine, but make sure your skin is healed before application.

Safe Removal

TransTape's how-to guide includes a section on safe application, which I recommend deferring to. Some basics:

Never remove tape dry. Always soak your tape thoroughly with oil before removal; removal oil and baby oil are preferable, and coconut oil is also safe, but will leave adhesive residue.

Rub tape off, don't peel. If you rub at the ends/edges of the tape while it's oiled, it'll start to come off on its own in about 2-5 minutes. This is the best way to ensure you don't damage your skin.

Removal should never hurt. Slow down if you're feeling more than, at most, a light sting here and there. It's okay if you get some redness or shallow abrasions, but you should go more slowly next time.

Let your skin rest! Give your skin a day or two of rest between wears, if possible. I usually wear a compression binder on those days, and the drastically reduced use of compression binders means I'm still avoiding the long-term risks they can come with.

Lotion & TLC: use lots of lotion on your chest between wears, and otherwise treat your skin nicely!

Removal is where the most damage to your skin can occur, so it's important that you follow safety instructions.

Managing Expectations

There is a learning curve with TransTape, and it takes a while to get the hang of it. A lot of people try it once and give up, but it will get easier and more effective with more attempts.

Here's some things to keep in mind:

Your first attempt will suck. Mine looked like I was just wearing a bra, and I felt incredibly dysphoric about it. The second attempt was a little better, and the third attempt was much better.

It takes a long time to get the hang of it. Like, months. You'll keep figuring out better methods and getting flatter over time.

You skin isn't used to this. Part of getting flatter is your skin learning to stretch a bit more over time.

Tightness. Your skin will feel tight in the center of your chest with your first few applications; this is normal, and it won't tear there.

Itching. Your skin will itch under the tape; I got it really badly around the second day of wear. This eases up and eventually stops after a couple of months of consistent use, as your skin adjusts.

Stretching. Your skin will stretch near the center of your chest, and you may notice a slight change in texture. This is normal, should be very subtle, and should go back to normal if you stop wearing tape for a long enough time.

"Masculinization" vs. Flattening: TransTape can get folks flat, but more often it's about re-shaping your chest to be more "masculine"/look like pecs rather than breasts. It just depends on your body type!

TransTape isn't for everyone, but it can be a really great alternative for a lot of folks, too. It might be worth a shot! Just be safe, manage your expectations, and try to give it a few applications before you give up on it.

#binding #transmasc #trans men #ftm #trans man #transgender #transtape #trans tape #long post

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ibis-gt · 3 years

Note

*slides you 37 pennies* how would luther handle trying to go on a public date with cam (movie, restaurant, etc.) with the whole… affection turns height to no.

had two requests for this one so here u go! luther does his best to keep it together for date night. 2750 words, warning for brief mention of violence in a movie and some hanky panky between consenting adults. not explicit, just a little spicy.

~~~

Four months into their relationship, and Luther has more of a handle on things now.

He’s got the size thing totally under control. He hardly ever shrinks just because Cam looked at him anymore. He can take a compliment like a champion. Those soft, sweet, gentle smiles that spread across Cam’s face like molasses? Barely make him lose an inch. Physical contact? He’s… still working on that one.

But at the very least they can have date nights in public now, as long as Cam behaves himself, and Cam is quite willing to behave himself. Most of the time.

It’s a snowy Saturday night in December, and they’ve got a date planned. Cam will pick Luther up at eight, they’ll go have dinner at a local sushi place, watch a late night special feature from the 80s, and then come back home for some wine and light snuggling before bed. An absolutely perfect night, if Luther can make it through enough of it full-size.

He’s still debating his outfit when a gentle knock at his front door heralds his beloved’s arrival. Five minutes early as usual.

“It’s open!” Luther calls. “C’mon in and help me choose, will you?” He’s standing in his bedroom in a pair of black slacks with the horrid green jumpsuit undone and tied around his waist, staring critically at his two choices of top. A lovely turquoise turtleneck, or a stylish electric blue button-up. The floor creaks behind him as Cam ambles in. “Which one do you think is better? I guess it depends on what you’re wear - eep!”

Luther squeaks and jumps as Cam presses his lips to Luther’s neck, big warm hands sliding up his arms to rest on his bare shoulders, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

“Both look nice,” Cam murmurs in his ear. “But I think I like the blue one better.”

“C-cam,” Luther whines, his face going pink. “If you keep this up we’re not even going to get out the door.” The hands remove themselves, and Cam pulls back, chuckling.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. All that exposed real estate, you know.” He lets out a perfect wolf whistle. God damn him. Luther glares over his shoulder and folds his arms, letting annoyance take over.

“We’ve been planning this for weeks, and you’re going to ruin it,” he pouts. “Go on, out. Wait in the living room if you’re going to be like this.” Cam puts his hands up in a placating gesture and retreats, but that damn smile doesn’t leave his face. Luther tosses his hair and huffs, secretly proud of himself. He didn’t even lose a half inch. He turns back to consider his options.

Well, if Cam is so focused on his neck tonight, that sweater might be the better option to afford him some protection. But he said he liked the button-up better… It’s lighter than the sweater so it won’t keep him as warm, but that means he can steal Cam’s big coat later on. The turtleneck would completely cover the green jumpsuit, but the blue of the button-up actually compliments it nicely. Luther nods decisively. The button-up will be perfect.

He dresses quickly, gives himself a final once-over in the mirror, unbuttons his top button, and heads out to see Cam. His boyfriend - his boyfriend! The thought still sends a thrill through him - has picked up the cat, Scrunge, and is stroking her head, making little baby noises at her. She purrs in her usual way, fast and loud, like a revving motorcycle. Cam sets her down when he sees Luther and sighs happily.

“You look fantastic,” he says.

“You clean up pretty nice yourself.” Luther crosses the room and fondly brushes a loose strand of hair behind Cam’s ear. Cam’s in a dark grey v-neck shirt and black suit jacket, slightly tarnished silver cufflinks adorning the sleeves. He’s got his big heavy winter coat draped over one arm so he doesn’t overheat in the relative warmth of the apartment. Luther sneaks a covetous little glance at it before grabbing his own shabby coat off a hook near the door.

He bends down to give Scrunge a goodbye scritch behind the ears. “Behave yourself while I’m out,” he tells her. “No tearing around the place and knocking things over.” She meows plaintively. Luther retrieves her bag of treats and gives her two as a bribe, which she accepts happily.

“Okay,” Luther says, straightening and shrugging on his coat. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Cam says, and takes his hand.

They walk to the restaurant. No point in searching for parking, it’d take longer than just hoofing it anyway. It’s been snowing on and off throughout the week and piles of dirty slush cover the sidewalk. It’s cold, but Luther’s coat is keeping him warm enough for now. He and Cam hold hands as they walk to the restaurant, and Luther doesn’t even shrink a little bit. His chest swells with so much pride he thinks his feet might leave the ground.

The place is only a little busy, so they have a short wait before they’re shown to their table. They get their usual orders. Luther prefers simple rolls and nigiri so the taste of the fish is front and center, while Cam likes to get the complicated, loaded rolls for the variety of texture and flavor. While they wait for their food to arrive, Luther fills Cam in on Scrunge’s latest reign of terror in his apartment, and how much it’ll cost to fix the cracked frame of the painting she’d somehow managed to knock off the wall in her frenzy to catch the fabled red laser dot.

The food arrives. Cam offers Luther a taste of his rolls - he’s gotten something deep fried with cream cheese, cucumber, and crab, and another loaded high with four kinds of fish, topped with roe. Luther tries the one with all the fish, but passes on the deep fried one. He trades Cam a piece of mackerel nigiri. Then he continues on talking, telling Cam about his week, how work’s been, the new guy they hired, and the annoying new habit his coworker’s formed of singing along with the music on the jukebox, regardless of whether she knows the lyrics or not.

Luther suddenly catches the look in Cam’s eyes. There’s something… hungry in them. It’s the only way he can describe it. It’s not regular hungry, because he’s practically ignoring his food in favor of listening intently to Luther’s rambling story. He’s leaning forward, arms folded on the table in front of him, drinking in every word Luther has to say. He’s hungry for him. The realization hits Luther like a truck and he stops mid-sentence, jaw dropping, a blush starting to spread across his face.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asks, innocent as ever. How could he even know the effect he has on Luther? How could Luther ever explain?

“N-nothing, um, I… I’ve been talking a lot, why don’t you take over for a bit? What’s keeping you busy at work?” It was delightful to listen to Cam ramble on about his job. Luther barely understood a word of it, but his enthusiasm was adorable and, importantly, not about Luther. He could keep it together and breathe a bit, work on calming down the scramble of emotion in his gut.

Sure enough, he wins himself a good fifteen minutes of calm while Cam talks on about carburetors and mufflers and manifolds. He could be making it up for all Luther knows. It’s not until Cam realizes his deep fried roll has gone cold that he breaks off to eat. They finish their food, decide to pass on dessert, pay, and head for the theater.

It’s only a few blocks away, a fifteen minute walk at most. The night has gotten a little colder and darker, and now stray snowflakes drift and spin through the air, catching the streetlights and twinkling like stars. Cam has a lot of fun pretending he’s a dragon, his warm breath turning to steaming clouds in the freezing air. Luther’s shivering now, his old secondhand coat doing little to protect him from the chill. Cam notices, of course, and whips his own coat off in an instant.

“Oh, please,” Luther demurs, “You’re so chivalrous, but really, I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking like a weathervane in a hurricane, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, I’m my own space heater.” Cam arranges the coat over Luther’s shoulders neatly and slips his arm around Luther’s waist, pulling him in close. It’s so warm and so nice, and so very, very close. Luther’s shivers slacken and cease, and then one more shakes him, different from the rest.

“Oh no,” Luther whispers, “I was doing so well, please…”

Luckily, he only loses about three inches. His clothes are a little looser, and he’s engulfed a little more by Cam’s huge coat, but he’s still a perfectly normal height. He sighs in relief.

“So what’s this movie we’re seeing?” Luther asks, trying to take his mind off of things.

“Oh, so it’s this old sci fi cult classic based on a book no one’s ever read. I saw it the first time when I was like… eight? And it scarred me for life, really, and now I’m obsessed with this shit. The special effects are super gnarly, and they hold up okay, even though you can totally see the tube for the fake blood in the decapitation scene. Don’t worry too much about following the plot, it’s not really the point of the movie, but what you should know ahead of time is…”

Cam rambles on like that, filling the night with fog. Luther snuggles in closer and listens happily, totally at ease. He made it through the most important part of the night, and once they get in the theater, he can relax. It doesn’t matter if he shrinks in the theater - from what Cam’s said, the only people watching this late-night special feature will be die-hard fans who’ll be glued to the screen, and in the darkness they won’t have to worry about anyone catching sight of them.

That also means, of course, that Cam might get a little handsy once the lights dim. If he’s being honest, Luther would be disappointed if he didn’t.

They get a seat in the back row. As the previews start up, Cam reaches over and takes Luther’s chin in his hand, turning it gently so they face each other. For a moment, he just holds them there, staring into Luther’s eyes with an adoring softness that makes Luther’s heart sing. Then he leans in and kisses him, just once, softly on the mouth. Luther shivers and loses another few inches. Cam lets him go, but Luther’s not satisfied. He grabs Cam’s collar and pulls him down for another kiss, this one deeper and hungrier. Cam chuckles against his mouth and nips at his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth for just a moment. Luther sits back heavily in his seat, breath coming in shallow gasps. He grips his armrests tight, trying to pay attention to the trailer for the newest slasher flick as it blares out through the theater. No dice. He’s losing height fast now, shrinking down to four feet tall, his normal clothes hanging off his frame.

They stay apart for all of a minute before Cam’s hand sneaks across the seat and slides into place on Luther’s thigh. He strokes his thumb back and forth in a slow rhythm, humming happily. Luther gasps and shrinks more, staring wide-eyed as Cam’s hand covers more and more of him, soon easily encompassing his entire thigh.

He’s maybe two feet tall now and he can’t see the screen over the seat in front of him. Cam glances down, catching the pouting, grumpy look on Luther’s face, and presses a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Here, sweetheart,” Cam murmurs, and picks Luther up with one hand. With the other, he frees him from his clothing so that he’s only clad in the jumpsuit. Cam settles Luther gently on his lap. This has fixed the problem of not being able to see the screen, but only momentarily. Luther goes bright red and dwindles down even further. By the time the previews have finished, he’s only eight inches tall.

As the opening theme blares with discordant trumpets, Cam pinches the back of Luther’s jumpsuit between thumb and forefinger and lifts him up. He dangles Luther in front of his face for a moment, expression torn between adoring and apologetic, then brings him in close for a gentle kiss. He sets Luther on his shoulder and hands him a piece of popcorn.

Luther hides his burning face behind the buttery morsel. He’d been expecting a little hanky panky, but nothing so direct. Stolen kisses, maybe a fake yawn that disguised Cam putting his arm around Luther, a little playing with his hair. Going for the thigh like that… that was entirely unexpected. He’s beginning to suspect Cam was trying to get him tiny.

The movie is just as gory and weird as promised. Luther isn’t super squeamish, but more than once he turns and ducks his face into Cam’s neck, squealing in disgust, his voice quiet enough at this size that he doesn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else. Every time, he feels Cam shake under him with silent laughter, enjoying Luther’s reactions.

The movie ends before too long, and the other theatergoers file out, chatting animatedly with one another about the flick. Cam holds his hand up to his chest, and Luther pushes himself off Cam’s shoulder, landing gracefully in his palm. Cam sets him down on the armrest while he folds up Luther’s discarded clothing and tucks it in an inner pocket of his big coat. He looks down at Luther and tilts his head to one side, lips pursed in a calculating expression.

“You’re just a little too big to hide comfortably… here, let’s fix that.” Cam puts his elbows on either side of Luther on the armrest and looms over him, completely blocking the dim theater lights overhead. Luther takes a few involuntary steps back and bumps up against Cam’s hands, linked together behind him to form a ring penning him in. “You’re all mine now,” Cam breathes, quiet as a whisper. “So tiny and cute. I’m going to put you in my pocket and carry you home, and then… well, then we’ll see what I’ll do with you, hm?” A crooked, meaningful grin spreads across Cam’s face, and that hungry look comes back into his eyes.

It works like a charm. Luther’s legs shake, his heart pounds, and he shivers. He dwindles down to half his height, a mere four inches.

“There we go,” Cam croons, and scoops him up in one hand. Cam stows him safely in his coat pocket, held in a loose fist to keep him safe from jostling and the cold. He exits the theater and moves through the crowds easily. People tend to make way when they see a man his size coming towards them.

Luther curls up against Cam’s fingers and sighs happily. Cam’s hand is warm, calloused in places but soft in others, and the pocket sways gently with his gait. It’s so safe and cozy, combined with the late hour and the exhaustion of the day, it’s the perfect recipe to knock him out. He fights the heaviness of his eyelids as long as he can, but only makes it a few blocks before he’s fast asleep.

~~~

“Whew, cold one out tonight,” Cam says as he unlocks the door to Luther’s apartment. He can already hear Scrunge wailing on the other side. “I hope you weren’t too frozen in there.” He pushes the door open and addresses the cat. “Yes, we’re home, hello darling, we missed you too.” She winds around his legs and purr-meows at top volume. “Okay, okay, other people are trying to sleep,” Cam hisses. “You’re gonna wake up the whole floor, shitty kitty.” She mrrps in disapproval.

He pulls Luther out of his pocket. “So, babe, do you wanna - oh.” The little dear is asleep, snoring softly. Cam smiles and presses a kiss to his chest. He takes a seat on the couch, sighing as he plops himself down. Scrunge leaps up into his lap immediately and puts her front legs up on his chest, sniffing at Luther in his hand.

“Poor dear’s all tuckered out,” Cam murmurs, giving her a scritch. “Let’s let him rest.”

#asks #writing #cam and luther #gulliver's hanahaki #g/t #giant tiny #hit post before i remembered tags exist oops

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fablesofkitkat · 3 years

Text

pov: keeping it casual with Shiggy and Dabi

warning: suggestive / lime af

DISCLAIMER: this doesn't belong to the [Cherry, I run] timeline nor [can the world cease to exist?] timeline. I didn't want to write this pov because I felt like I haven't done enough character analysis on both Shiggy and Dabi to write them in the same pov; but a friend told me if I keep pussyfooting over writing two characters at once, how can I practice versatility in writing?

everyone is in LEGAL AGE in this pov.

if you want me to tag you on any Dabi povs or Shigaraki povs I'll write, let me know

"You look like you're the life of a party."

Shigaraki takes a side glance at you and a subtle scan to your body. His eyes lighted with curiousity and appreciation with your choice of outfit: a high neck tank top mesh, a dark indigo fitch lace bralette, a black high waisted skirt that hugged your hips nicely and black stilettos.

"And you look like you're going to church." He gave you a smile, turning his whole body to you.

You and Shigaraki were both seated on the bar stools. There were still alot of seats available, not that it was still early, it's just that it isn't midnight yet and clubgoers were only starting to get in. He takes a sip from his drink, tasting the whiskey followed by a hint of sweetness, mixed with herbal, bitter notes.

You giggled. "Amen to that."

It was always nice to meet someone who understands sarcasm, you thought. Your eyes roamed his form appreciatively, his long sleeved shirt fitted him nicely and there was something so charismatic about the man, you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"Sazerac?" He offered, gesturing to his drink. You nodded and he waves the bartender down, buying it for you. "Tell me something, church little miss. Why me?"

"Hmm?" You distractedly watch the bartender prepare your drink.

"You're planning on sleeping with me. Why?" He takes another sip. "We both know interactions like this don't end as innocent."

You demuredly smiled at him, an enticing provocation when you're dressed ready to f–

"I didn't want those guys at the dance floor who grinds themselves all over me. I want someone different, a little intellectual stimulation." You tilt your head and leaned towards him; your lips curled in a secretive smile. "A little foreplay, ya think?"

A bolt of heat shoots all over Shigaraki. It must be the sazerac. He's gotta admit that your boldness is quite attractive to him.

"You ever had it good?"

You snapped your eyes back to his. He caught you staring at his groin. To be fair, you were curious with his... package."What?" You asked, smiling seductively.

He cocks his head to the bartender. "The drink. Sazerac."

You flushed, thinking he was talking about sex. Now you're just embarrassed. "Oh, what do you mean?"

Shigaraki leans close to you like how you did earlier. Like sharing a little secret. His breath smells like whiskey, with hints of cherry and spice. A dry sardonic aroma. Dammit, why does the scent turn you on?

He cups your chin with his right hand, the texture of his thumb sleeve brings goosebumps to you. He turns your head to the bartender. "After mixing the sazerac to one of the glass, the other is rinsed with absinthe before finally pouring the drink to it. If the bartender doesn't do that when you order a sazerac, hop to a different bar."

You watch the bartender do exactly what he just said. You feel his thumb sleeve coyly touching the edge of your bottom lip, slowly following the curve of your chin, down to the curve of your throat, he pressed the spot aligned with your vocal fold that you let out a little gasp, or a squeak. His other hand is grabbing your thigh, preventing your legs from closing to relieve some of the ache.

"Ah-ah-ah." His voice deep but sing-song. "You don't get to close your legs with me here."

---

Dabi was randomly watching himself blow circles to the ceiling in the smoke room. When he hears the door slide open and you appeared, trying to catch your breath. He took an observation at you and found himself attracted to the way your chest heaved. Not that it wasn't a common sight for him, what with women flocking towards him whichever club he went to. He blew a circle in your direction, meeting your eyes critically. He smiled at the snooty, upturned nose you did and the way you rolled your eyes.

"This is the wrong place to try and catch a breath." He greeted.

"I wasn't trying to catch my breath." You patted your chest, slowly getting your breaths to slow down.

He raised an eyebrow at your reply.

"Yes, I was. But I was trying to run from a creep who wouldn't take no for an answer and you're pretty intimidating, so I was hoping to bum on your presence 'til he's gone." You explained.

Dabi couldn't stop staring at how, despite being seen disheveled just now, you casually primped yourself with a compact mirror. It amused him so since no one really cared what people looked like after spending a few hours at the club, usually everyone would be a hot mess. He found you cute.

"What's in it for me?" He drew a breath from the shisha and blew it again lazily at you.

You eye him critically, pursing your lips. "My wonderful company."

"So I get to take you home?"

"No. My company is only available within the duration of my stay here."

"Pity." With mocking a tone, he smirked at you. "But then again, you seem like you're too vanilla anyways. Can't have sex without being in love with someone?"

Dabi watches how your eyes glinted menacingly, a silent vow to prove him wrong. He anticipates how you crossed the room from the door to him, his heart jumped when your fingers brushed his as you took the pipe from his hand. You took a deep long breath, leaned down and blew sweet, sweet smoke in his mouth. He closed his eyes as the tobacco filled his nostrils, along with your scent. It takes everything in him to just let the smoke trail all over his mouth, and not let his lips press against yours.

" Your many piercings seem like you're overcompensating for something. What, you don't want people to know you're the one who's actually vanilla?"

He opens his eyes and a lazy smirk settles on his lips. He grabs the pipe back and blows the smoke to your mouth just hairsbreadth from you. "Why don't we find out then?"

You feel the way the air moved with his lips. It was so close. It was electric. His eyes daring you to close the distance. You took up his challenge of course.

---

"Oh, ffuuuck." You awkwardly stand by the door when you find Shigaraki and Dabi glaring at each other in the living room

"Who the fuck is he?" Dabi demanded

Shigaraki only glares at him and then turns towards you.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. Uhmm Dabi meet Shigaraki, my fubu. Shigaraki meet Dabi, my not-serious bf which basically is just another word for fubu." You awkwardly shuffled your feet. "I guess I had too much to drink, I accidentally texted the other and here you are... two... Hahaha..." Kami, you just made a huge awkward mistake. Dammit, you're gonna lose them both.

"Which one of us did you text first?" Shiggy asked.

"Which one does it better?" Dabi asked.

They exchanged glares at their simultaneous questions.

"Um–"

Suddenly, they are both on you; Shiggy cups your face, kissing you angrily, biting your lips til they bleed while Dabi is behind you, cupping your chest as he slowly takes off your clothes. Dabi kisses the spot behind you're neck, nipping your skin 'til there's all but teeth marks on your shoulder blades.

"I'm not stopping–" Both glared at each other for saying things at the same time again.

You moaned when Dabi starts press his hips on you while Shigaraki's hands unbutton your jeans, and finally touching you there.

"We're not stopping–" Dabi's hot breath fanned your right ear.

Shigaraki's low quiet rasp on your left ear. "–not until you know which one of us can do you better."

---

AN:

[Cherry, I run] Dabi is screaming betrayal at me rn. Dw Dabi, this version of you has less issues than usual. [can the world cease to exist?" Shiggy is ignoring me, telling me he wouldn't share reader. ever.

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

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starlightrows · 3 years

Text

Something Sweet

Chapter 3: Concerts and Cupcakes

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, Paz is a consent king, cumming outside (in this fandom? Shocking I know), swearing, angst at the end

Summary: You and Paz continue to spend time together and you have the misfortune of meeting “the guy” your friends warned you about... Gideon.

The following Tuesday you and Paz hang out with the group like usual, and give no indication that anything has changed or that you have plans to go together to the outdoor concert next weekend. But you can’t deny, you’re excited for it.

Finally Saturday rolls around. This time, you decide, it is a date. Or at least you’re gonna treat it like one. You pick a pretty sundress, comfortable shoes, do your hair and makeup. You also put a bag together with snacks, sealed mason jars with rum punch, a picnic blanket and a lawn chair.

Paz picks you up in his truck, and helps you load up your stuff into the back. He even opens the passenger door for you! The park is set up with a walking path, several meadows, sports fields, a playground and water feature fountain and an amphitheater surrounding a beautiful community center building.

The stage is set up for the outdoor performance. Community members and concert goer’s set up their picnic blankets and lawn chairs on the grassy slope of the amphitheater. Children run and play. Couples young and old share glasses of wine and snacks waiting for the concert to start.

After getting the blanket and the chairs set up, you pass him one of the jars of rum punch and sit back to chat and hang out until the concert starts. You take a moment to pause, and look about at all the happy people enjoying the warm summer evening and spending time with their friends, family, neighbors…

“This” you gesture with your hand “this is what I always wanted…”

Paz smiles warmly, sipping the drink you made for him. “Yeah, once you get a taste of living in a place like this… you can’t ever go back to living in crowded city where people don’t want anything to do with each other”

You chuckle “Or back to a rural town where your closest neighbor was a 10 minute drive away”

“I don’t know what sounds worse, never seeing anyone or being surrounded by people that act like you don’t exist” he shakes his head

“Well, I’m glad we both made it here” you say happily “because this is amazing”

Paz can’t hold back the smile on his face. Seeing you so happy and content, he can’t help but feel like the two of your were both meant to find this place.

The concert starts up, and the band is amazing! They play a lot of covers of popular music you hear on the radio and a lot of throwback music that used to be popular. Everyone in the crowd seems to know all the words. The band involves the crowd getting people to get out of their seats to singe and dance.

You feel alive and free, electrified by the familiar music and friendly atmosphere. You take Paz’s hand when a song you really love comes on, and drag him out of his seat to dance. He surprises you by offering almost no resistance and actually sings along with you. The two of you don’t sit down again until the concert is over, dancing and singing the night away.

When the concert ends, you’re a little bummed out it’s over. But Paz recommends that you stay a while in the park and let the crowds thin out before leaving, and you are more than happy to stay. The night air is warm, and the sun hasn’t quite set yet.

The two of you lay out on the blanket, folding down the lawn chairs to make room. Laying of your backs, you watch the sky dim. Turning orange, pink, violet and then fading to a deep midnight blue as the stars start to appear. He’s telling you an animated story story about him and Din pulling pranks and getting in trouble together as kids. You’re smiling and laughing, feeling incredibly warm and light.

Eventually he does have to drive you back to your apartment. He walks you to the door and lets you unlock it before you turn around. He’s standing close, very close.

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight” you say softly “I had so much fun”

He smiles, “Thank you for saying yes”

“Goodnight” you whisper leaning into him

“Goodnight” he closes his eyes and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He breaks the kiss, pulling back a little.

But you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him again. He responds in kind, sliding his large hands over your hips and holding you to him while he kisses you.

This time you break the kiss, pulling away and leaning your forehead on his. You push the door open behind you with one hand. You glance behind you inside, and back to him. A silent invitation. But he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Stay” you ask softly

That’s enough for him. He kisses you again, and walks you backwards inside. Closing the door behind him. He leans back against the door and pulls your into him, getting you to hop up and put your legs around him.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. Your soft lips, gentle hands, quiet breaths and moans as he kisses you. He wants this. He has wanted this. And the little sundress you’re wearing has only fanned that flame today. But still…. he has to be sure. He pulls back and bit.

“Hey, hey, hey” he whispers “tell me you want this. Tell me this okay?”

Your heart flutters. Surely he knows that you want him, but he wants to hear it. He needs to hear it.

“I want this Paz” you say, kissing him again “I want you”

He squeezes your hip, and kisses you again. You drop your legs back down, and lead him back to your bedroom. Pulling him down onto the comforter with you.

His hands roam over your body catching at the hem of your dress, and sliding up along your thighs. You hum into his mouth, and slide your hands under his shirt. You pull your hands back and lift your hips and then your back, to help him get your dress worked up over your head and arms.

He reaches back with one hand, and pulls his shirt up over his head and drops it down on the floor with your dress. You shiver a little, taking in his broad bare chest and well muscled forearms. He on the other hand is lovingly gazing down at you. Soft skin, gentle curves, pretty… matching… panties and bra.

He leans back down, eager to feel your soft skin against him. His hand smoothes over the material of your bra, fingers trailing over the edge and slipping down underneath. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands are firm and worn, textured against your supple breast.

“Still okay honey?” He asks, moving his lips down to kiss your jaw and down your neck

“Y-yeah” you run your fingers through his thick dark hair as he kisses his way down to your collarbone, still tenderly stroking and squeezing your breast.

He kisses all the way down to your breastbone, and slips his hands around your back to undo the clasps of your bra. Sliding the strap over your shoulders and carefully tossing it away with the rest of your discarded clothes. He cups both in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your nipples, and brushing his nose over your soft skin. Slowly kissing his way up the slope of one of your breasts, he tilts his head over and draws your nipple into his mouth sucking gently.

“Beautiful” he mutters pulling off and switching to the other, “so beautiful”

You try your best not to squirm in anticipation, but Paz notices.

“You getting wet for me sweetheart?” He purrs, his hand leaves your breast and trains down to stroke you through your panties finding them slightly damp. “Oh love, do you like when I touch you?”

“Yes” you shutter out “Paz… please”

“Don’t worry gorgeous, I’ll give you what you need” his fingers dip below your panties, and slide between your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut. His fingers move with ease, aided by your slick. He stops for just a moment, to help you shimmy out of your panties, before he goes right back for your wet heat. He pushes in a finger and swallows your breathy gasp with his own mouth as he kisses you. His pace is slow, for now curling his finger within you. He adds a second finger stretching your opening a bit wider, relishing your soft moans and whimpers of pleasure.

You flinch, and cling to his arms in a reflexive movement as this thumb swipes over your clit and begins rubbing in circles. He picks up the pace, building you up quicker.

“There you go honey, my fingers feel good?” He huffs

“Yes… Paz… feels so good” you moan “please”

“Come on sweetheart, come on my fingers” he keeps up his pace, putting more attention into stimulating your clit.

The pressure builds up, every pass of his thumb over your clit seems to wind you up tighter until finally it snaps! Washing over you like a tidal wave, leaving your breathless and soaking.

He kisses you again, and begins stroking through your folds again, allowing you to ride out waves of your orgasm. You kiss him back, when your senses return to you a moment later.

“How is it that I am completely naked and boneless in pleasure, and you’ve still got pants on” you joke “doesn’t seem fair”

He chuckles and pulls back, going to undo his belt. You sit up with him, seeing the tent in his pants and moving to help him shed his jeans.

He steps out of his pants and boxers, and stands before you, hard and dribbling precum. He’s massive. Granted, he’s a big guy, you figured he would be proportional… but he is impressive to say the least.

“Not to give you an ego, but holy shit” you chuckle, making no attempt to hide your gaze.

How can any man hear that, and not have a bit of a head rush? He grins. “You like what you see sweetheart?”

“Get over here” you laugh, reaching out with both arms. He obliges you, and let’s you pull him down again to kiss. You can feel his cock pressed against you, insistent and aching. You roll your hips against him, teasing… inviting.

“Your turn” you whisper, reaching down and lining him up with your entrance. This time his breath hitches, he’s rather worked up and it’s been a while since he had a partner.

As he presses in, your warmth consumes him. Your walls are tight, velvety soft, and wet. He grunts a bit and he pushes forward, watching himself disappear within you. You moan too, the stretch is delicious and pleasant.

He sets a steady pace, drawing your legs up, placing one hand at your hip and the other above your head.

“You okay?” He grits out, always so attentive

You moan in response, “Yes, you can go a little faster, I’m good”

He follows your direction and picks up his pace, taking your moans and pleas fore more as guidance. He’s pounding into you, and groaning.

“Close” he grits out “where?”

“Outside” you gasp “anywhere you want”

He gets in a couple more good thrusts before he abruptly pulls out and jerks himself off, spilling his load over your stomach.

Having just came his mind is clear, and his body is calm. He realizes he finished before you could come a second time, a fact that he remedied by pushing his still hard cock back in and resuming his pace and dropping a hand down to rub your clit.

“Come on gorgeous” he praises “one more”

He’s getting a bit over stimulated, but he pushes through for you. Your orgasm is white hot, and searing. Unlike the first that crested like a wave, this one explored like fireworks behind your eyes as your cum on his cock.

You lay together for a couple minutes, breathing heavily, and savoring the postcoital bliss. You reach out, and lace your fingers with his. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

“The concert next week is supposed to be smooth jazz” he chuckles “any chance you’ll let me take you on a second date?”

You laugh and lean over, and kiss his cheek. “It’s a date”

In the weeks that follow you and Paz continue hanging out with your friends on Tuesday nights. Going to the outdoor concerts on Saturday nights, and now going back and forth between each other’s apartments for dinner after work. Watching movies together, testing new recipes, learning new baking techniques and of course enjoying each other in the bedroom.

At first you both agreed not to tell anyone in the group. It’s a new relationship, and you didn’t want to get teased or asked a thousand questions. You just wanted to enjoy it, and each other. But as summer drew to a close and the chill of fall started turning the leaves and picking up the breeze, you couldn’t pretend or deny it anymore.

Of course literally everyone already knew or had their suspicions. What kind of people spend that much time together outside of work, aren’t in a relationship?

———

A few weeks into September you’re working on making new macrame plant pot holders during one of the slower parts of the day and listening to quiet music, humming along as you work. When the door opens and the bell tinkles to alert you. You look up, smiling at your customer. An older man, with a dark complexion, thin mustache, and an unsettling smile. Nevertheless you’ve had stranger clientele before, and you treat them all the same.

“Hello, can I help you find something today?” You greet him

“No, actually I was hoping that I could help you” he says approaching the counter.

“Oh? And how is that?” You have a bad feeling about this.

“My name is Gideon” he introduces himself “and I have a vested interest in the economic and cultural growth of this city”

Gideon. That name rings a bell. This is the guy your friends had told you about. You square your shoulders, stand your ground, and keep a neutral expression as he tries to dazzle you with ideas of “the city of tomorrow”.

“Of course, to make all of this come true all of the buildings in this area would need to be cleared and updated. I would love to make you an offer for your storefront, upto and exceeding ten fold what you paid for it”

“Mr. Gideon” you cut him off “it may surprise you to know that I am already fully aware of your vision for this city. What you seem to fail to realize is that no one that lives or works here shares your vision”

“That’s where I believe you are mistaken little girl, there are many who think this city has great potential” he says calmly “I know this city can be more than what it is now. I know it and I want it. Believe me, I get what I want”

“Unfortunately for you Mr. Gideon, you do not get to make those kinds of decisions. And no one will sell out to you to turn our dreams into your profit” you’re getting irritated now, and just want him to leave. You really want to call Paz.

“I could make you a rich woman. I am not the only one that would benefit from this change” he tried to persuade you

“Money can’t buy happiness Mr. Gideon. I worked my whole life to be here, and I am happy having my business here. And I will continue to be here as long as it makes me happy. Come Hell or high water I will stand” you say with confidence and surety, almost daring him to challenge you again.

Finally he backs off, but insists you take his business card… “In case you change your mind, or you find your business no longer makes you happy”

The second the door closes behind him, you grab your phone and call Paz, asking him to come over to your shop as soon as he can when he’s done closing. I Gideon gets in a sleek black car, and speeds away just as Paz comes through the front door.

“You okay?” Paz asks, coming behind the counter. You peer out the window and watch the car make the right hand turn off of the street.

You’re frustrated and upset, you gesture out the window with one hand and smack the other down on the counter.

“You guys warned me about they guy Gideon, but you didn’t mention how much he would infuriate me” you grumble

“Gideon was just here?” Paz asks

“Yeah, came in here preaching about how he’s going to transform this city and make us all fabulously rich,” you tell him “when you know good and well he would cheat us out of every penny he could”

He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You told him to fuck off right?” He asks

You wrap your arms around him too, and lean your head on his chest “Pretty much. I worked too long and too hard to get here to give it up”

“Good” he says “A guy like him will never understand why we do things the way we do. Your flowers and my bread are more than just…. things for others to buy for us… he’ll never understand something like that”

That’s exactly right. Boba has his pub. Din has his tattoo shop… everyone worked hard to get what they have, and it means something to each of us. Men like Gideon will never understand that.

About a month later, the weather has turned cold and the days are getting shorter. You and Paz have been making plans for Halloween, and working on fall flavored treats for Paz’s bakery.

But tonight you are over at his apartment, baking cupcakes, watching YouTube videos and practicing frosting piping techniques.

You’re sitting on his countertop, giggling and licking frosting off your finger tips when your phone starts ringing. You grab a tea towel and wipe off your hands to answer the phone.

“Hello” you answer, still smiling and stifling a laugh. Paz contains his own laugher so you can hear whoever in on the other end of the line, and bends down to check on the next batch of cupcakes baking in the oven.

“Wh-what?” Your voice is horrified. Paz looks up at you still sitting on the counter. Your eyes have gone wide, and he can visibly see your body language change.

He stands up quickly and wipes off his hands too, giving you a questioning look.

“We’ll be right there” you say in grave tone “thank you”

Your hand drops down into your lap.

He stands before you, trying to get your eyes to focus. He says your name once, twice… he shakes your hand a little

“The fire department” you say “my store front…. burned down”

Something Sweet Tag List: @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet @blackmarketmummy

#Paz Vizsla x reader #Modern!Paz Vizsla #Pastry Chef!Paz #Something Sweet #Pastry Chef!Paz AU #Modern AU #Paz Viszla #paz viszla x reader #Paz Vizla #paz vizla x reader

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shiversdownyerspine · 3 years

Text

15. Confession

Ladies and gentlemen we have The Kiss.

The raunchiness is going to Ramp Up.

18+

The passing of time finds you curled up in bed with a little journal, carefully perusing the information you've gathered on this new side of you. The scowl on your face won't go away.

You stare down at the top of the page, at the two little words that are the source of your ire.

Heat Cycle.

Isn't it just fantastic. As if you needed another weird little condition in your life. Well, it probably isn't right to consider this unusual. So far your cycle lasts six days total, with the first three days being the absolute worst. You can definitely believe that this is something you were meant to experience ages ago, but staying away from people severely delayed it. No, this is supposed to be natural for you.

You can't bring yourself to appreciate the irony of it all. Natural. What a joke.

Well, maybe if you just give it time it'll become like second nature to you. Your eyes fall once more to the pages.

You'd bet that the attraction you feel towards the Swedes is the catalyst for triggering your cycle; when the men returned from their first mission, your fluctuating emotions probably set it off. Who knows, maybe because your attraction isn't singular but multiple, it's affecting the severity of your symptoms. Ohhh the symptoms. You dearly hope they get better with time.

The handful of experiments you've done to see what would offer relief have yielded poor results; hot water helps you relax, so showers and baths are good. Cold water is too much for your skin. For the first couple of days you had tried masturbation to gentle your 'flow', but that didn't really make a difference. You wouldn't even consider fingering, you're too wary of the sudden sensitivity to penetration, and strangely enough, you feel on an almost instinctual level that it wouldn't work.

There is some comfort in the fact that you could tell when your cycle was starting, the tingling and prickling caught your notice pretty quick. With the reliable timing, making yourself scarce won't be too difficult. Theoretically. But you're fairly certain the Swedes will eventually notice your missing presence.

It was a miracle you didn't have to explain your disappearance that first night to Otto. He'd been on the verge of sleep when you got up and luckily you hadn't really disturbed him, he just sank right back into slumber. Maybe the mission had tired them all out. Maybe time travel had its own sort of jet lag. Maybe both? Whatever it is, thank goodness.

A month later the Swedes are out on their second mission when your cycle returns with no sign of gentling. Your desperation leads you to throw caution to the wind and try penetration. In the bath your sex was fairly successful with tolerating light strokes and caresses. Carefully rubbing your clit, you breathe and push a finger in deep. Keeping it still and just letting the stimulation to your clit do the work, you push yourself to the edge of orgasm. Feeling a little more confident you let your hand move, slipping that finger in and out. By the third stroke you had slapped a hand over your mouth to smother your loud noises. By the tenth there were tears in your eyes, hips jumping and jerking almost uncontrollably as you came. Unfortunately, nothing changed for the better.

In fact, you were utterly crestfallen when you discovered your attentions had actually made things worse for you; late into the night you could still feel the phantom sensation of a finger inside, your walls weakly pulsing like a heartbeat as you ooze continuously into the gusset of your panties. You continuously drifted in and out, and in the wee hours of the morning with restless nerves taut enough to snap, you listened to instinct and headed to the dryer where Otto's shirt still lay folded and waiting. Retrieving the article of clothing, you curled up in bed with it clutched to your chest and promise you'd make an effort to remember to put his clothing back where you found it. But at the moment you didn't really give a damn about the possible consequences.

The effects of your cycle lessened as the lingering scent soothed you, and though you had to fight this bizarre urge to collect...like some kind of Magpie...eventually you were able to fall asleep.

After that cycle ended, you seriously considered stashing the shirt away. You're just...borrowing it. They'll never know.

The Swedes returned from their second mission after a handful of days out in the field. This time you were in the living room when they came trudging through your door.

Oscar was in a huff, cheeks a bit puffed with frustration. "Jävla hala jävel."

Mildly concerned you watched as he headed to their guestroom, presumably to drop off his pack, before you turned your attention to his older brothers. Otto appeared to be untouched, if a little miffed. Axel on the other hand looked roughed up, hair out of place with light bruising and a couple of scrapes about his face.

The two men give a curt nod to you as you rise from the sofa to join them as they make their way into the kitchen. The first aid you had relocated to a cabinet under the kitchen sink, which Otto knowingly retrieves for you. "So...I'm guessing there's been some complications?"

"The target escaped." Axel solves the mystery for you, eyeing the kit in your hands before raising a brow at his quiet brother. Otto ignores him in favor of removing his pack and tossing it to Oscar as he joins the rest of you. The youngest catches it before giving Otto an annoyed look, seriously considering just dumping it on the floor for its rightful owner to take care of, before compromising and leaning the hefty bag against the wall. Oscar jerks his chin up in stubborn defiance, leaning back against the wall as well. Allowing it, Otto folds his arms and watches you make your way to their older brother.

"And took a couple swings at you on the way out?"

Sitting at the kitchen table with a slight scowl, Axel touches a finger to a small abrasion at the corner of his eyebrow to examine a bit of blood.

Their target was a stocky man who had managed to break free of Otto's hold, had even cracked their older brother's head back into a wall with a wild adrenaline-fueled swing before tearing towards the exit like a bat out of hell. Of course Oscar had left him a parting gift, namely a wickedly sharp serrated knife buried in the meat of the unlucky man's upper leg. They had thought he wouldn't have gotten far with that wound impeding him, but he was nowhere to be seen. However as they began searching, Otto had surprised them by insisting on returning to you.

Taking the initiative you reach forward, brushing the loose strands of Axel's hair back off his forehead for a closer inspection of his face.

"Well...you don't look like you're on death's door, but how do you feel? Headache? Nausea? Blurry vision?"

Otto answers immediately, "Unsteady."

Indeed, as the brothers started tracking, Otto had noticed Axel stumbling a little every now and then, his steadfast gait not quite the way it was supposed to be. After a moment of consideration, the largest Swede had intervened, concerned about a concussion. Oscar had hesitated but once he saw his brother sway after coming to a complete stop, he too was on board with the change of plans.

"Concussions can get worse, you should take it easy for a bit. Let me see..." Before Axel can denounce any concerns, your hand is on his shoulder while the other is cupping his chin and tilting his face up to see how his pupils adjust to the light. Your touch is soft as your fingers slide over his skin, encouraging him with careful pressure to follow your direction. His hands twitch as his gaze follows a curl of hair sweeping down to your collarbone.

He breathes in slow when you once again push your fingers through the pale strands atop his head, your lips quirking fondly. "I think there's a little plaster in your hair."

Oscar's eyes flit between you and his eldest brother before he slips to Otto and elbows him, jerking his head towards the hallway to indicate that they should make themselves scarce. Otto walks to his pack and hefts it up with ease as an excuse of 'putting things where they belong' justifies their absences.

As you tend to the rough marks left behind on Axel's skin, you remember the mark he himself had left on your knife. You had meant to ask about it earlier but you've been rather distracted lately. The man shares his knowledge of the Algiz rune and some of the other Elder Futhark runes; the one on your knife handle represents an elk, a symbol of protection, defense, and guardianship.

"I'd love to hear about what other runes you know, but I don't want to keep you up all night...alright that should do it." You trail your fingers gently over his cheek, fascinated by the texture of his scar.

Axel hums, catching your wrist and holding your hand still. He turns his face into your palm and presses his lips to the skin. Pink dusts your cheeks at the gesture of appreciation, your eyes flicking from your hand to him as his mouth leaves your palm. With his grasp loose on your wrist you gather your nerve and slip your fingers lightly under his jaw, thumb dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

Brow creased with faux concern you lean in a little, eyeing his cheek. "Wait..."

Before he has the chance to react you lean in the rest of the way and press a lingering kiss to his cheek, right on his old scar. After pulling in a heavy breath, he goes very still.

You pull away with a soft smile, trying not to blush at the way his gaze is very focused on you. Chalking his stare up to confusion you murmur, "You've all been giving me so many and..I...I really wanted to give a kiss back. To thank you for the rune carving."

A strange look crosses the eldest Swede's face as his eyes flick down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, your wrist still in his grasp. He makes a decision.

The chair scoots across the floor as he rises from his seat and crowds you against the kitchen table, hand on your side guiding you back. He releases your arm as he dips to lift you up to the surface to sit, your wide-eyed stare and softly parted lips urging him to slip between your thighs. He needs answers. You've been driving him and his brothers crazy, and he has plenty of reason to believe the pining is mututal.

"You like us?"

"...? Of course I like you three, what..!" Your breath catches when he leans in, his fists resting on the tabletop to the left and right of you. Caged in, you're rendered silent as he stares intently at you.

"Do you want us?"

Mind blank and cheeks hot as your brain catches up with the meaning behind his words, your eyes dart over his handsome face. You know you're meant to respond, to say something but there is nothing, not a peep from you. This frustrating silence of yours, unintended as it is, does nothing to deter Axel. If anything it's an incentive to be a little more specific, a little more direct.

His head dips, lips lightly sliding against your cheek for a moment as he moves forward. Your ear tingles as his breath warms the sensitive skin before he questions you, voice lulling and suggestive as it rumbles from his throat.

"Do you like us touching you? Teasing you? Kissing you?"

One of his hands moves to yours, gliding up your arm and shoulder to sweep up the side of your neck. He rubs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip as his mouth presses minutely to the soft skin under your ear. At the sound of your whimper, his lips leave you as he draws back to peer heavy-lidded at your dazed visage.

"Red cheeks, squeezing thighs, pretty sounds..."

He cradles the side of your neck, thumb stroking along the curve of your jaw as he nonchalantly lists some of the reactions to him and his brothers that he's noticed. That they've all noticed. Your lips drag a shallow shaky inhale into your throat at his words, nearly breathless at how sweetly cruel he is to lay your attraction out so neatly before you. Axel's mouth hovers a hair's breadth away, his lips lightly parted as if hoping to catch the slightest taste of you on your exhale. The scent of pine and something heady floods your senses, pulling you under.

Vague recollections flutter in the abyss of your mind, specific memories of the younger brothers floating in the dark just out of reach. One was smothered with the comforting smell of laundry while another one dripped with zesty ginger, both slipping through your fingers. In their place earthy tones engulf you instead, entangling you in the present situation, in him.

This awareness does nothing but remind you with overwhelming intensity that you are helpless to the whims of the man who is tenderly interrogating you, pulling piece after piece away and leaving you bare before him.

When you finally give a verbal response, he's delighted to hear his name uttered so soft and sweet; begging for him to spare you yet also tempting him to give in and sink his mouth against yours and taste.

But...you haven't answered his question yet.

The hand cradling your neck slips back to cup your nape, tilting your head to expose your throat. He dips to the offering, leaving kiss after kiss as your hands shakily grasp his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric as he peppers your skin with lazy affection.

Your breath comes quick in light puffs and quivery gasps, stuttering with a weak moan when warm lips softly suck at your pulse. Emboldened by the results of his attentions, Axel strokes the feathers that tickle his fingers at the base of your skull.

Electrifying sensations entwine, spiraling into a cutting clarity and desperation that demands you reveal the truth. "I..I want..."

The gentle wet sound of his mouth releasing your skin distracts you for a second. He allows you a moment to collect yourself but has no qualms with encouraging you to continue should you hesitate too long.

"I want more."

Your greedy admission is rewarded with contemplative silence as he savors your words. The quiet lingers a moment longer before slow ticklish kisses trail back up your neck, your cheek, and finally to your ear. A shudder ripples through your body as the man softly nips your earlobe with a hum. "And?"

With the lull in teasing you discover the fog in your brain has receded a little, at least enough for coherent speech to return. You accept defeat.

"I want all of you. I do."

It feels good to recognize what you've been hiding inside of you for so long, to acknowledge that you wanted this with them. Axel plants one last lingering kiss under your ear before resting his forehead against yours, "Are you scared?"

You take the opportunity to catch your breath; the revelation that there had been more behind their attention, that they want you just as much, was as invigorating as it was nerve-wracking. But you know how you feel and you trust the three men.

"Maybe a little...overwhelmed? This is new."

The brush of his lips against yours is featherlight, the sensation potent enough to send a shiver through you. You marvel at how badly you want him to do it again as he murmurs, "Not all new. Some new, some different. We will still touch and kiss but more."

The final word in his sentence he chooses to punctuate with another kiss, warm and firm as it demonstrates his point perfectly and steals your breath for the frustratingly short amount of time it lasts. His words sink in. More. And not with just one, but all three of the men you so adore. Delight warring with shyness, you bury your red face in Axel's neck as his hands slip down your sides.

"We will go slow, give and take, share. Would you like that?" The heat in his voice is both reverential hunger and alluring promise. You press a kiss under his jaw, receiving a squeeze to your hips in turn.

Yes, you would most certainly like that.

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Jävla hala jävel. - Fucking slippery bastard.

#tua the swedes #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader #ikea mafia #the swedes #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #the Swedes are kinky and we are going to get DIRTY

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 28

Habit: Knife Play & Spitting

Quick warning: a knife goes in the reader’s mouth and also in. the. COOCHIE in this one so be warned skdjdksksjdlslfj

Also there’s some slight dubcon & cutting, though it’s not self-harm

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated!

You know you shouldn’t look at the table

He’s made it abundantly clear from the very beginning that it‘s off limits

But being confined to the small space of the house is taking its toll on you, and you‘ve become, admittedly, atrociously bored

So as you steadily make your way closer to the round table filled with his amassed collection of weapons, you savor the shiver of fear and delight at the prospect of something new, something exciting

Something that can easily land you in big trouble, but the threat of it all only adds to the thrill of the rush

Gazing over the sharp tools, one in particular catches your eye—a sturdy knife with jagged teeth at the end of a thick blade

You don’t let yourself linger on the thought of how many things people got caught on it’s sharp edge

The hilt is relatively long and thick, looking like it would fit comfortably in Habit’s hands, with an end that rounds out, and though it does have a few engravings along its ribbed spine, it’s relatively smooth and minimalistic

Elegant, yet simple

You didn’t approach with the intention of actually touching his beloved weapons

But you just can’t seem to help reaching out and taking it in your hand

The weight feels nice, comfortable even, though it is a little too large

You tilt the angle and watch as a glimmer of light bounces from the cold hard steel

“What’ve you got there, rabbit?”

The sound has your pulse missing a beat

You nearly drop the knife but manage to whirl around and hide it behind your back instead

Your grip tightens around it, muscles scared stiff

“H-habit! I, uh, I thought you were out”

He tilts his head

And with one long, even stride towards you, he’s suddenly inches from your form

You instinctively step back, but you’re forced still when your back meets the edge of he table

“I was out”

A cruel smirk plays on his lips, knowing fully well he’s caught you red handed

“But you haven’t answer my question,” he continues, “Show me what you have”

He folds his strong arms over his chest and you know you’re screwed

Reluctantly, you bring the blade up

Calloused fingers briefly brush against yours as he takes the hilt from your grasp, and it sends a hot spike of fear and adrenaline down your system

His dark gaze lingers on you for a bit, flickering briefly to your lips, or maybe you just imagine that, before landing on the weapon

He takes his time inspecting it, like he’s watching for any smear or fingerprint you might’ve left on its polished steel

“You like this knife, (y/n)?”

He doesn’t phrase it like a question

When you don’t immediately answer, his stare pierces through you, stealing the breath from your lungs

“I… uhm”

You try to think of a way to get out of this, uncertain if a yes or no is more likely to get you killed

But as he brings the jagged edge to your throat, pushing it into your skin, you grip the ledge behind you and squeak out a pathetic “yes” in response

The corners of his mouth tilt into an amused grin, though his eyes remain as dark and dangerous as ever

Relief washes over you when he finally pulls the blade from your throat

“On the couch. And don’t fucking make me say it twice”

He steps back, finally giving you room to move, and you’ve no choice but to do as he orders

His gaze burns into your back as you do

Your heart pumps wildly in your chest as he follows suit, predator following cornered prey

As you scramble on, you inadvertently try to shrink yourself back against the couch’s armrest, pulling your legs up close to your chest

He chuckles like he has you right where he wants you

And then he’s getting on as well, tugging your ankles to straighten your legs out so he can straddle them, trapping you beneath him for good

The warm weight of him has inexplicable shivers running down your back

He‘s shameless as he leans in and presses the tip of the knife to your collarbone

“You know not to touch what’s on the table, don’t you, rabbit?”

You nod, inhaling sharply as he slowly drags the blade down, not hard enough to cut deep, but just enough to leave a faint, thin scratch against your skin

“So you disobeyed on purpose?” he rumbles, head tilting in question

You swallow thickly, knowing this answer could determine what he does to you—and whether or not you’ll make it to see morning

“N-no”

A sharp cut just below your collarbone has you yelping

You can already feel the warm tingle of skin puffing up as the blood beads to the surface

“You wanna try answering that again?”

He sets the knife just below the cut, a silent promise

“Yes—yes, I-I did it on purpose”

At this response, he hums, content

He leans in unbearably close and presses the flat of his tongue to the cut, and it immediately has your entire body coming to life beneath him, much to your embarrassment

He slowly laps up the faint drips of scarlet with his tongue, the thick pad dragging up your skin, before wrapping his lips around the wound and lightly suckling at your flesh

You try to stay still beneath him, but the urge to squirm and buck your hips is nearly maddening

“That’s what I thought,” he purrs, his voice taking on that split quality, “You should know not to try to lie to me by now, little bunny~”

He brings the knife lower down, the sharp edges hitching on your clothes before the material ever so slowly begins to give way

You swallow back a gasp as the air hits your exposed skin

And then he presses the flat of the blade to your nipples, watching them rouse beneath the cold metal with a dark hunger in his eyes

He licks his lips and you really wish you could feel his mouth on you again, but he holds back

Arousal coils and tightens in your gut, body tense with anticipation as he drags the blade even further

He uses it to pop open the button of your pants and then in one swift motion, he’s tugging them down the expanse of your thighs and below your knees until you’re kicking them off your feet

“I can’t let you get away with disobeying. You know that, don’t you?”

You give a meek nod as he inspects you up and down, taking in the sight of your form before zeroing in on the last piece of cloth covering your sex

His hand cups your mound, feeling you up, taking in the way the muscles in your lower abdomen clench every time he brushes his thumb over your clit

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours”

You don’t need to be told twice, though you’ve no idea what he‘s planning and it’s absolutely terrifying

He flips the knife in his hold like second nature, grasping it loosely by the blade to press the hilt between your lips

You whine as the foreign shape and texture of the handle presses down on your tongue

“Wrap your lips around it, bunny”

With the way he’s looking at you, focusing all his attention on your mouth, you’ve no choice but to obey

It feels big and clunky and out of place, but you still do your best to move around it, even as he slowly pumps it in and out of your inviting opening

You give it an experimental lick, suckling it faintly and toying with it between your lips

But before you know it, he’s pulling it out, still holding it by the blade, and then he’s nudging it between your legs, making what sounds like a faint hum or a husky purr

“H-habit, I—“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he nudge your panties to the side and grazes your folds with the spit-covered handle of the knife

You squirm at the feeling, legs instinctively about to close shut, but he quickly grasps your ankle with his free hand before they can, shooting you a warning glare

“You gonna take your punishment like a good girl, (y/n)?”

Your face flushes

What choice do you really have?

With a tentative nod, you whisper a meek little “yes” and it has him grinning widely

“Then keep your legs open for me,” he commands, nearly snarling beneath his breath

You let him coat the hilt in the slick puddling between your legs

Every time he slides it up to your clit, you have to force yourself not to buck up or move and squirm too much

He circles the rounded end around your entrance, and you hate the way it has you clenching around nothing in anticipation

You squeeze your eyes shut and dig your fingers into the cushions below you, your muscles seizing and heart pounding in your chest

Much to your surprise, he takes it slow and easy, giving you plenty of time to adjust to the new sensation as he breaches through

It feels hard and solid and has your walls pulsing around it, struggling to take it all in while aching for more to hit deeper

“There we go—that’s not so bad, is it?” he purrs

You bite back a whimper as he slowly pumps the knife in and out of your drenched silk walls

Every time he pushes it in, the hilt drags along your spongy nerve endings and your hips buckle up, quiet mewls and whimpers falling from your parted lips

He grabs your jaw, fingers squishing into your cheeks, and yanks you up closer so your faces are inches apart

“Don’t enjoy your punishment too much, little rabbit~”

Squirm and whimper as you might, you’re helpless to stop him as he digs his fingers into your cheeks and forces your mouth to pop open

Your eyes screw shut with a desperate sound as he spits into your mouth and yanks your jaw shut so you’ve no choice but to swallow

You struggle in his grasp, utterly trapped beneath him, trying to quell the gasps and moans and whines threatening to bubble from your throat

And then in one hard thrust with little to no warning, he slams the hilt into you and you’re helpless to keep quiet

Your back arches as you moan loudly, euphoria seizing every nerve of your body as your muscles tighten so wonderfully

He hits something deep and marvelously addictive inside of you and you need more

With a cruel chuckle, he slams the hilt into you over and over again, soaking up and savoring the way your body shudders with every brutal impact of pure ecstasy

You’re so, so close to cuming, your peak tingling in your body, leaving you a pathetic moaning mess beneath him

“Gonna cum so soon, bunny?” he coos mockingly

You can’t even find it in you to answer coherently, your peak looming over you and threatening to take command of your body

And just as your muscles are about to cease in that familiar rush of building ecstasy, he pulls away, leaving you painfully empty and without any stimulus to cum

“H-habit—“

Your hips buckle uselessly, trying to chase a high that won’t come

“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily after disobeying, did you?”

He brings the knife up for both of you to watch your slick glisten off the handle

And then he brings his mouth to it and licks it in one long stripe of the flat of his tongue

You feel your face heat up and squirm, looking away, when the edge of the cool blade is pressed to your throat

Panic seizes your veins

“Look at me”

Your gaze darts back to meet him as he presses it harder into your neck

“Say ahh~”

You let your tongue out of your mouth, lips parting open, a faint “ah” sound emitting from your throat

You can still taste yourself in his saliva as he spits into your mouth again, and you quickly swallow with a gasp as he presses a shallow cut to your collarbone

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking your punishment’s over just yet, little bunny. We have the whole night ahead of us~”

#slenderverse #habit #everymanhybrid #habit x reader #habit x reader smut #emh habit #emh #habit emh #creepypasta kinktober #creepypasta #kinktober #creepypasta x reader

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Returning from Afar Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 远归之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

This is the 29th day of Gavin’s mission, and also the day he said he’d return.

As agreed, I’m in Gavin’s house to water Little Spiky. Since I’m already here, I also tidy up the place, which hasn’t been habited for a month.

MC: Mm, its rootstocks are healthy, the colour is lush and green, and it’s growing well. Now to put it under the sun.

I carry it to the window carefully, letting it soak in sunlight.

My line of sight lingers on the wind chimes hanging near the window. I reach out to pull at the crystal piece.

The bright and limpid crystal suddenly sends my consciousness back to the week before Gavin departed for the mission.

[ flashback ]

The afternoon wind blows the curtains upwards, brushing across the crystal shoes glittering on the floor.

If one were to ignore the slight scratch at the back, this would have been a perfect souvenir.

I squat on the floor, one hand holding the “main culprit” - the broom, and another hand gripping my phone, giving the manufacturer a call while feeling upset.

MC: Hello? I’m the person in charge of [MC’s Company Name]. We held an activity and ordered crystal shoes from your company. Do you still remember that?

Person in charge: Miss MC, right? I remember, I remember. Do you want to collaborate with us for another event?

MC: Ah, actually, one of the crystal shoes has a scratch on its back. I wanted to ask if it’s possible to fix it?

Person in charge: Hmm... Because of the way it was designed, that batch of crystal shoes were specially handled, so traditional restoration works won’t be effective. But since you’re a regular client of our company, we can send you a pair based on the address you gave us.

MC: ...no need for the trouble. Since it can't be restored, it’s fine. Thank you.

I hang up, a little disappointed.

In the midst of cleaning up, I had accidentally scratched the crystal shoes Gavin gave me the other time.

[Note] MC is referring to Gavin’s 2 Become 1 Date, which is available in EN.

Although the damage is slight, it’s not something I can just ignore.

While sighing, I store the crystal shoes back into the box, and place it in the cabinet.

At this moment, a low knocking sound resounds from the door.

When I open it, I see that the person standing at the door is Gavin.

Light and shadows are cast on his profile, illuminating his sharp and soft eyes.

Gavin: What are you busy with?

He walks in while speaking. Without him noticing, I prod the the box containing the crystal shoes further into the shoe cabinet.

MC: I was doing a cleanup, but it’s almost done.

Gavin responds with a “Mm”. He seems to hesitate, then walks over and takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing it gently.

Gavin: I have a mission in a few days. It’s of a high level, so you might not be able to contact me for a while.

I freeze for a moment, subconsciously recalling how Eli had previously detailed the dangers of Gavin’s missions.

MC: ...is the level of danger very high as well?

Gavin: Mm, it’s a little dangerous. Which is why I have to go.

He pauses, then continues.

Gavin: You don’t need to worry. Before the 30th of next month, I’ll definitely be back.

He speaks confidently. Suppressing the worry in my heart, I give him a smile.

MC: All right. I’ll take care of Little Spiky. And will wait for you to come back.

[ end of flashback ]

The wind chime clangs, its melody light-hearted and lively. However, I can’t help but sigh.

For some reason, the second day after Gavin left, I discovered that the crystal shoes in the cabinet had disappeared.

I searched the house, but couldn’t find a trace of them. In the end, my guess was that a thief had stolen them.

Even after pondering over it a hundred times, I remain puzzled about the thief’s motives, and couldn’t fathom how a thief could have broken in. To be safe, I ended up changing the lock.

MC: When Gavin returns, should I tell him about this...

All of a sudden, the wind outside grows stronger, causing a magazine on the table to flip open with a rustle.

MC: What’s this?

I walk over, holding up the magazine. I flip through it randomly, and wind up on a page which has been folded.

It features a custom-made jewellery shop.

The vibrant front cover is incompatible with the cold colours of Gavin’s house. On the page, the eye-catching font forms the shop’s name - “Cang Xing”.

[Note] 苍星 (“cang xing”) directly translates to “dark green star”.

MC: Isn’t this the private studio which opened recently?

In a program not too long ago, I got to know about this shop. Although its prices are hefty, and the workmanship takes quite a long time, it has a very good reputation.

I find myself getting confused.

MC: Is Gavin interested in this shop too...

The phone suddenly rings.

Designer: Hello. Is this Miss MC? I’m a designer from Cang Xing. Previously, a customer ordered a gift for you. May I know if you have time to drop by and have a look today?

MC: A gift?

My eyes flit to the magazine in my hands, a vague guess surfacing in my heart.

MC: All right, I’ll head over now.

Pushing open the doors to the studio, it’s as though I’ve stepped into another world.

Soft white muslin can be seen everywhere. Jewellery of various colours can be seen on the ivory tables, brilliant like stars in the dark night.

The table near the entrance has visitors’ book. The designer doesn’t seem to be around, so I instinctively pick up a pen and flip it open, planning to write my name down.

After signing my name and preparing to shut the book, I suddenly see familiar handwriting.

On the upper section of this page, amongst a mix of illegible and serious font, there’s a handsome and light-hearted one.

It’s Gavin’s.

The date that he filled in was the third day before he left for the mission.

??: May I know if you’re Miss MC?

A staff dressed in working attire walks towards me.

MC: Mm, I’m MC.

??: Nice to meet you, I’m the designer who talked to you over the phone earlier. Please follow me.

I follow the designer’s directions and walk towards a reception area at the side.

Several pink jasmines are scattered on the table of the reception area. At the side, there’s a long white silk ribbon, looking as though it’s been tied halfway.

MC: Is there an event happening in the store today?

Designer: No, there isn’t. These were leftover flowers from an earlier event. I just thought to use them to decorate the shop. I didn’t expect you to reach so quickly, so I was only halfway done with the decorations.

The designer explains in embarrassment.

MC: I see. Oh yes, you mentioned a custom-made gift in the call...

The designer casts a glance towards the door, her expression turning apologetic.

Designer: Well... I have to wait for the customer who ordered it to arrive before I can tell you. I’m really sorry about that.

I nod my head pensively. Looking at the unfinished decorations, I break the silence.

MC: Since I have to wait, why don’t I help you with the decorations?

Designer: How could I ask that of you!

MC: It’s fine. Is this meant to be hung on the wall?

While speaking, I pick up the jasmine flowers on the floor, and hand it to the designer.

After that, we stand on the stools, hanging the jasmine flowers on the wall. The white muslin sways gently next to us.

At this moment, the door is suddenly pulled open. What follows is the sound of specially made boots. The footsteps are slightly hurried, and they pause not too far off.

Gavin: Sorry, I arrived slightly later than scheduled.

I lift my head abruptly, turning around and wanting to hop off the stool. But my coat gets stuck on a hook, which has jasmine flowers hanging on it.

MC: !

Along with the sound of fabric ripping, a pulling force tugs me backwards, and there’s empty space beneath my feet.

MC: Gavin--

In a moment of desperation, the word slips my mouth.

A gust of wind blows up the white muslin. Accompanied by a calm laugh, a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist.

Gavin: [laughs] Don't worry, I won’t let you fall.

Gavin catches me steadily. In the narrow and small world created by the soft, drifting muslin, he carries me and spins in half a circle.

My torn coat is on the floor. Slightly embarrassed, I clasp a hand over the strap which has fallen off my shoulder.

Gavin sets me down. His gaze falls on my body lightly. Then, he hurriedly averts his line of sight.

Gavin: [coughs] ...

The temperature in the room suddenly rises. Face flushed, I frantically search for the coat.

MC: ...where’s the coat?

Gavin: Over here.

He picks up the coat and hands it to me, his eyes averted to the side, his ears tinged a slight red. I take the coat, but discover that it’s basically unwearable since the snag is too serious.

In the next second, a warm piece of clothing is draped over me. The texture feels slightly hard, and I can even still feel the cold insignia.

MC: ?

I lift my head to see that Gavin has taken off his uniform, revealing his white shirt underneath.

Gavin: Put mine on first.

He pulls the uniform more snugly around my body. His warm fingertips accidentally brush my collarbone, causing me to shiver.

Face flushed, I lower my head. But I catch sight of a ripped button on Gavin’s shirt.

MC: What happened? Are you hurt? Are there any other places? Let me see...

Anxious, I’m just about to pry apart his shirt to check if there are any injuries on his body.

Gavin: ...

Gavin: I’m fine.

Gavin grips my hand to stop me, his cheeks slightly red.

The designer had left without us realising it, leaving the private space to us.

The surroundings are delicate and tranquil. Only the person before me carries with him a windy and frosty aura, his eyes lowered as he watches me quietly.

[Note] Interestingly, the word used to describe Gavin’s aura, 风霜 (“feng shuang”) also has a figurative meaning to describe someone who has experienced hardships in life :’)

MC: Let me have a look then. Only after I’ve verified it with my own eyes, I’ll believe that you’re not lying to me.

I act in a fit of pique, angry and not understanding why he would still hide his injuries from me.

Gavin looks resigned. After a moment, his long and slender fingers touch his lapel, slowly removing one button.

His defined muscles come into view, revealing a lean figure.

My hand gently brushes a wound on his shoulder blade which has already formed a scab, and my nose suddenly feels sour.

Gavin: It’s just a small wound, and it has already healed.

His gaze follows my hands and rests on the wound, then he pauses.

After being silent for a while, I lower my head, mildly aggrieved, and speak.

MC: Did you rush over from afar? Actually, you could have taken your time to come back. You didn’t have to... be afraid that I’d worry, and be so anxious.

I hold onto Gavin’s hand. He hasn’t removed his gloves, and the touch feels as cold as ice, bringing with it a chill.

Gavin: It wasn’t far.

He tries removing his gloves before holding me again. But I don’t release him, and I tighten my grip.

Gavin pauses. Then, his fingers curl slightly, encasing my hand in his.

Gavin: The mission was completed earlier, so I came back.

A smile dyes Gavin’s eyes. Then, he pinches my palm.

Gavin: Let’s not talk about these things first. The gift I prepared for you - want to know what it is?

Looking at the mildly expectant expression on his face, I can’t help but store away my sour emotions, and snort with laughter.

MC: I do want to know. So could Officer Gavin tell me what it is?

Gavin: You’ll know soon.

MC: I didn’t think there would be a small showroom at the back of the private studio...

After pushing open the door inside the studio, what enters my vision is a glass showroom.

The outer side of the showroom is constructed using glass, allowing sunlight to stream in, illuminating bouquets of pink jasmine flowers that have been strung up.

Gavin: This is a small glass showroom originally used by the owner to allow customers to hold mock weddings.

Gavin guides me to the centre of the showroom, brushing past the flower bouquets.

Gavin: But today, I’ve temporarily borrowed it.

A gust of wind causes the fine gauze draped over the showcase in the middle to fall, revealing a pair of crystal shoes surrounded by flowers.

The shoe now has a small gem embedded in the place which was scratched - brilliant, bright and sparkling.

MC: ...this is? What is it doing here?!

Gavin: When I went to your house the other day, I saw that you placed them on the shoe cabinet.

I’m a little dumbfounded.

MC: I thought I hid it in the box...

Gavin can’t help but laugh.

Gavin: Mm, you did hide it in the box. But your reaction was too obvious. In the span of a meal, you glanced at that area around ten times. So before I left, I took a look.

This causes me to feel perplexed.

MC: So you were the one who secretly took the shoes away. I thought I lost them, and was depressed for so long. I also thought a thief stole them, and even changed the lock.

I mumble softly, but my eyes sneakily linger on that pair of fully restored crystal shoes.

The unease from the scratched souvenir vanishes bit by bit, turning into a sweetened state of mind.

Gavin: I searched for many places, but only this shop’s owner said he could use precious stones to try restoring the damaged area.

Gavin: The date of the completed restoration could have been earlier, but I wanted to give them to you personally.

Gavin: Which is why I asked the shop to give you call today.

Gavin: [coughs] Even though it looks different from how it was before...

I interrupt him softly.

MC: But I like it very much.

Gavin stops, looking at me seriously with lowered eyes.

Gavin: I did this because I didn’t want you to be unhappy over the damaged crystal shoes.

Gavin: As long as you like it, that’s all that matters.

His words land on my heart, rippling across it.

Slightly flushed, my peripheral vision rests on the gem, which is reflecting specks of light.

MC: Oh yes, what’s with this gem?

Gavin: While I was on a mission, I passed by a shop and saw this gem through the window.

Gavin releases an unnatural cough.

Gavin: At that time, I was about to return to help you with the amusement park wedding photoshoot. I thought it would be of use, so I bought it.

Gavin: But after that, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you.

He seems to think about something, and laughs lightly.

Gavin: I kept thinking about when would be an appropriate time to give it to you.

Gavin: It just so happened that the shape of the gem needed by the owner tallied with this.

Gavin: So it was used.

He fixes his eyes on me, affectionate and gentle.

Sunlight parts the layers of clouds, casting a warm shade. It’s as though I can clearly hear the sound of my own heart beating.

The sound gradually grows louder, becoming more urgent, wanting to burrow its way out of my chest and tell the person in front of me how I feel right now.

MC: Although what I’m about to say may come across as being overly polite to you, I still have to say it.

MC: Gavin, thank you.

Thank you for silently watching over my mood. Thank you for always returning to my side no matter where you go.

The white muslin drifts to and fro. My heart stirs, and I gently touch the muslin in front of me. Sunlight streams in.

My fingertips brush the soft white muslin, tracing the word “Gavin” on it.

I turn my head to the side, blinking at Gavin a little playfully.

MC: This word - apart from it being your name, it also has another meaning.

MC: It’s “courage”.

Gavin’s eyes pause on my face, as though he’s slightly shocked. But it quickly morphs into a smile which harbours starlight.

His smile leaves me in a daze. I turn back, pretending to be unaffected as I begin speaking softly.

MC: Gavin, you are my courage.

MC: You are the courage I have when I face life’s large and small twists and turns.

MC: Next time, I’ll become a person who is stronger in heart, and won’t be dejected over such a trivial matter.

MC: I’ll also work hard to become your courage and strength - to protect you from harm each time you go on missions.

MC: Or... to sustain fewer injuries.

I wave a fist towards Gavin as a display of my determination. The sunlight sifting in through the muslin is like a gentle filter, descending on Gavin slowly.

Having to part from each other and having gloomy moods are inevitable. But there’s one person who will ultimately make his way over to me, smoothening out all the anguish, leaving only happiness behind.

He will cross the mountains and rivers, walk across the clouds and the moon, to meet me at the brink of dawn.

Gavin: [laughs] I got it.

He turns his head, mimicking my earlier actions, lifting his hand to trace something on the white muslin.

MC: This is...

I try to decipher what he wrote, but can’t tell what it is. Confused, I look at Gavin.

He puts his hand down, lifting his eyes to stare at me quietly.

Gavin: Protecting each other.

His voice is loud and clear, reminiscent of a galloping breeze in autumn, crashing into my heart.

Gavin: You are already my strength.

Gavin: So I will keep protecting you, and everything you like.

The numerous times of parting, the numerous mornings and evenings spent alone, now leave a sweet aftertaste.

MC: Gavin, I’m really happy now.

MC: So happy that I feel as though the entire world is before me at this moment, and within reach.

Seeing my smile, Gavin lifts the white muslin between us, reaching out to bring me into his arms.

The coat draped over my shoulders slides off. The white muslin is akin to a gentle mist, gracefully drifting mid-air, then falling onto the both of us.

Gavin holds my hand, encircling me in his arms.

MC: Gavin...

The close and warm contact causes my face to heat up. I can’t help but call his name.

But he isn’t in a hurry to respond. Instead, he lifts a hand, taking a strand of my hair into his palm, his gaze lingering on my face.

Gavin: Now, I’m the only person in your entire world.

The delicate fragrance of pink jasmine slowly permeates the air. The temperature from our laced fingers is scalding. I tilt my head upwards, giving Gavin’s chin a careful peck.

MC: In that case, could I bribe my entire world to let me have this moment for a while longer?

In the next second, I feel warmth around my waist, and Gavin wraps me in his arms tightly.

He lowers his head slightly, his fringe brushing my eyelashes. I can feel his steady, composed breaths.

Gavin: No matter how long it is, you can.

Phone call: here

🍒 Cheri’s elegant thoughts 🍒

HE PURCHASED A RING OKAY

NO ONE JUST BUYS A RANDOM GEMSTONE

HE HAD A RING ALL THIS TIME

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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king-psycholyze · 3 years

Note

I've followed you through Swap, Hollow Knight into Dead by Daylight, and you've really improved throughout the years! It's also a little silly to think you're the skeleton guy I followed three years ago considering the art style from then and now is so drastic, so do you have tips regarding finding a style?

Well, to put it simply- I've done nothing but continuously draw with little break for three years straight. I've made it a goal to continuously try new brushes, and stick to them for at least a week and try them between sketch, line, color, and detailing to see if they'd work better in x scenario. I feel brushes more than anything can really define not just your style, but -how- you make shapes. I use a thicker brush, so I rely more on less lineart and more shading / colors to define things like clothing folds, etc. When I use a thinner brush, I put more muscle definition, eye detail, hair detail- and so on. Another thing is I always ask myself what I -want- from my art. Not in the sense of shape, but at least in the sense of feeling. Do I want to be bold and vibrant? Or soft and dull? What if I want both? Then I look up dull setting like apocalyptic cities to get a lot of dull shades and pay attention to my color wheel when color picking, because sometimes that 'gray' is actually a really light green, or that black? Is a really dark blue. I often slap speedpaints on in the background for both music, and to see a breakdown of other's process. Do they use textures here? Do they do it by hand? How do they format their layers? Do they use things like multipy, shade, and luminosity to add shadows and light, or do they do it manually by 'painting' on their layer? I've found I like to mainly paint my shading, and sometimes a little bit of multiply to refine certain shadows.

I also recommend loosely sketching- try and fill a page ! Don't worry about being perfect- reduce the amount of ctrl z or erasing. These are some older sketch pages of mine for instance, very loose and round- but it's filling out pages like this as often as I do that have really helped me warm up before I go into a more refined piece.

These are old League sketches, but they're little things I drew between matches based on things that happened in our games- some of them are a bit dumb, and if you stare too long at a hand it looks like a brick- but it was fun, and the idea of my shapes got across, as well as my efficiency with sketching- I don't know how to end this off, but I believe if you're having fun and giving it your all when you can, you'll see progress- especially if you talk to fellow artists for help, listen tutorials, or make sure to look at references rather than brute force with memory -all- of the time. I recommend artists like ABD Illustrates, who talks about his process over speedpaints, from things like composition, colors, contrasts, design ! In the end, styles come to you, be it a frankenstein of artists you follow or admire through the year, or some little thing you start doing because -you- like it that develops to either be a little detail or a backbone to your work !

#Answered ask #anonymous #long post #long answer #hhhh this kinda got away from me but hopefully that makes sense #English may be poor because I didn't reread this at all I have a dnd game to castch

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 3 years

Text

How Not To Fly

Using gifs from multiple movies and cartoons that display some problems with winged characters in media.

(Description: a gif from the Maleficent movie. Maleficent floats stiffly upwards from the ground with her wings slowly sweeping downwards, showing no real weight or effect on her motion.)

Exhibit A: winged character takes off from a standing position, but it's really obvious they’re just strapped into a device that moves them up and everything else is just fake cgi. There’s no jump off the ground and the wings don’t really push them upwards. No hard flaps, just some ethereal floating. This is also seen in hovering where the wings don’t really move at all. What is the point of the wings if they can just float magically? If you go out of your way to create wings that look big enough and strong enough to actually lift a person, commit to it!

(Description: a gif from the Constantine movie of the archangel Gabriel landing on someone. Her wings move in a somewhat realistic way, but they’re really obviously an angled frame with the feathers just sort of draped over them. The individual feathers do not look cohesive, seeming to "dangle" off the wings.)

Exhibit B: dangly feathers. The motion here is okay but it’s another issue I’ve seen with live action wings. Messy feathers that swing like they’re just loosely attached, and they don’t mesh with each other to create a solid wing form. This often also makes the top edge of a wing look way too thick and not tapered, and it’s often paired with very Z-shaped wing joints which look like they forgot to add the muscles and flesh underneath the feathers. Feather shafts do not sit loosely on a wing. They’re embedded in the wing flesh, especially the flight feathers that are rooted in the bones. Feathers also have a particular texture to them which helps them sort of "velcro" together, to avoid having the air get between the feather layers (because that wouldn’t be great).

(Description: a gif of Archangel from the X-men Apocalypse movie. He is just walking forward, but his wings appear to have an extra joint at the shoulder, creating a weird W shape.)

Exhibit C: nonsensical wing shoulders. These wings move alright, he kinda has the dang.h feather problem, and I wish his wing claws pointed down a little more. But my biggest problem is definitely those shoulders. It’s like he has an extra bone that sticks up out of his shoulder blades to create an unnecessary wing anchor and a weird extra joint no bird has. I’ve seen this in other places too. Sometimes birds do kinda look like their have raised shoulders, but it’s not an extra bone, it’s just like how you can raise your shoulders. It just makes the wing connection to the body look stiff and heavy, more like a moving prop than a real body part (especially since he is wearing perfectly normal clothes, how did he get his wings through the back of that heavy leather jacket). The real sad thing is I do remember an older X-men movie that actually did give this character really good looking wings (still not entirely attached to the body, but at least he didn’t have the Z-wing going on.)

(Description: three attached gifs of Hawkwoman from the Justice League cartoon. She is fighting three different villains. In each gif, she flies but her wings don’t really move much and seem more affected by her body motion than her body motion is affected by her wings. Her wings seem only to move at the shoulder, being shaped like classical angel wings that are just permanently folded into a nice arch shape.)

Exhibit D: paddle wings. It’s like they’re just a curved frame with long feathers hanging down. They usually rotate out from the shoulder alone, the tapered shape is kinda floppy and follows her movement, she flies like she is floating, just holding her wings stiffly behind her. It's particularly annoying because unlike the other examples this is a cartoon animation, not cgi on live action. You can argue for the live action limitations and how hard it is to make cgi wings really work there. But a fully cartoon animated work has a little more freedom in the way characters move and I think they could have put more effort into making those wings really function. Or at least be shaped like real wings. Or push the alien factor more instead of using the default classical angel shape.

And I should mention the clothing issue. Pushing wings through slits in the back of normal clothes will not leave them looking like they just have wings outside their clothes. The slits would need to be pretty dang big to fit a pair of wings through (so you may as well just remove the back of the clothes to begin with) and shoving wings through clothing slits would be a huge pain and definitely disrupt the feathers which would then require taking extra time to preen than back into place. So it really is best to avoid that altogether in my opinion. (And again my pet peeve on the lack of tails and having the feathers stop at the base of the wings instead of coming onto the rest of the body.)

So that’s my thoughts on some common issues seen with winged characters in film and TV. I haven’t actually watched all of these myself, but they’re the best gifs I could find (why is it so hard to find quality gifs of winged characters) I do have more gifs I didn't put here, I didn’t want to make this horribly long lol.

Next I will present some gifs I’ve made myself of some basic flight motions. And eventually I’ve got some longer animated things to show as well, but those are taking a while.

#image description #accessible images #wing analysis #maleficent #X-men #Constantine #justice league

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mysteriesmuse · 4 years

Text

Douxie Casperan: One shot

A/N: This is purely self indulgent, I thought the idea of Doux helping the reader out with the hair style of the 12th century would be super great! (In the time period it's basically anything you want goes, but they do have lots of adornments such as the ribbons meantioned!) Enjoy! :)

“Right well,” Douxie pressed his hands together, “It seems we should all go about our set tasks remaining inconspicuous, so we need to get some 12th century garbs."

. . . .

Claire looked towards Y/N, the whites of her eyes showing until at last their fingers grasped at air, ripped asunder under the scrutinizing eyes of these medieval women.

Y/N emerged from the rooms first, “These dresses are so long,” she growls hastily grabbing a fistful of the light cotton fabric stumbling at the utter disorientation. A drastic change of wardrobe.

Her head snaps up at the sound of more foot steps to be greeted with purple trailing up to an elaborate bodice and great puffy sleeves. Claire’s face is now upturned at the corners in a smile, “You look good. I like the sleeves.” Y/N nods her chin towards Claire to which she calls.

"I know!” Claire holds her arms out and does a spin. “Very nice!”

Claire hums with a nod looking over Y/N instead of purple it’s a saturated blue, but the bodice piece is still embroidered with the same fuchsia floss as Claire’s. Noticing this examination Y/N gives a playful curtesy. “Hmm.”

“Wait a minute,” she exclaims, “no fair you don’t have the sleeves!”

“Oh yeah,” with a shrug she chuckles, “they decided that my shoulders were too big for that.”

“Pft, you’d look great in these sleeves.” She replies waving a hand. “I suppose it’s handmaiden duty now. Good luck,” Claire flashes Y/N a nervous grin before exiting the door.

-----

Can’t believe I’m the help.” Y/N mutters pulling out the list of duties the fellow castle staff has given her.

Due to King Arthur’s new ban to the forest and the tension between the magical creatures and humans the staff has dwindled. And, unfortunately, it’s suspected that those running errands have been eaten by the Gumm-Gumms.

“Laundry, Mending, the Baker,” the list ends there, but as the staff assured there’d be plenty to do as a new set of hands as the day continued on.

Y/N continues walking, crossing the giant bridge stretching across the towers. The wind up there easily moves the ever so long dress and the previously unknotted tresses of hair.

Relishing in the warmth of the sun, basket in hand she closes her eyes to enjoy the felling of being up so high.

“I-hey! Ow.”

“Fuzz buckets, sorry love. Are you alright?”

Y/N turns, only to blink up at Douxie. No, it’s indeed the one with blue hair. However, the back is pulled into a man bun up top.

“Oh wow, I suppose that’s in?” Y/N asks tentatively eyes flashing up to the top of Douxies head before meeting his eyes.

“Uh,” he hesitates before answering, “Sure. But I can tell you that your hair situation is a mess.”

Y/N reaches up to grab a hold of some strands of hair, “No it isn’t!”

A defensive holler. Douxie sighs, “That isn’t-oh, for Merlins Sake.”

He grabs at the spare ribbon tied around your wrists, “That’s not what they’re for love.”

“It’s not?” An raised brow quickly kisses the other as it’s followed by an inquisitive puppy dog tilt of the head.

Douxie fidgets. He was not expecting that kind of unsolicited action out of you. Shifting his weight he responses.

“Care if I help you out with that then?” Arm extended back towards the direction he came from with a soft smile. Y/N nods, and trails him back to his room.

“Hold still, this is gonna take a few minutes,” Douxie hums taking out a comb and getting to work on prepping Y/N’s hair.

She sits upon the table quietly, hands placed behind her for support and ankles crossed off each other as she swings them slightly back and forth.

Y/N watches, Douxie’s eyes following the work he was doing with his hands. She can’t see what he’s doing but she can tell that there’s some type of braiding going on.

Douxie works quietly. He’s not shocked at how soft it is, it’s about as rich and luxurious as you’ve always claimed it to be.

He’s skilled at this. Knows exactly what he’s supposed to be doing even after centuries, after all he was born in this one.

“There, viola!” He exclaims, fingers working nimbly, “And a pretty bow to finish it off, for the lady.” Coming around Douxie steppes back with his arms crossed to inspect his work.

Y/N grinned running her hands along the texture, the silky ribbon intertwined and encasing pieces of hair in some manner. “Thank you,” she replies instinctively reaching to grab at a small lock of hair from the base of her neck, preceding to twirl and tug it.

“Anytime, now I have some time travel duties to attend to dear.” Douxie grins with a lopsided smirk.

“So do I, and I’m going to need to ask for your clothes,” she gestures towards the laundry basket on the other edge of the room.

“Why, If you wanted them, you just had to ask.” Douxie replies chuckling, making a few quick paces over to the corner and grabbing the basket before offering it over.

Jumping off the table and walking over to meet Douxie face to face Y/N extends her arms bumping Douxie in the abdomen with a basket of her own, “Thanks. Maybe I will next time.”

Hastily snatching the basket out of Douxies hands she turns right before exiting the door, “Oh and Douxie,” she croons before clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “chin up.”

Douxie blinks his hazel eyes before closing his mouth and making the same tch, “Cheeky.”

-----

After several hours the work of the laundry, mending bin, and assisting the baker with grabbing the right ingredients was finally done for. As an errand servant in the castle Y/N quickly learned how tiring and just how much bustling about from place to place in the castle it was.

With a sharp turn down the hallway Y/N briskly walked to go grab the fabric napkins and she began meticulously, and begrudgingly folding them to be set at the Kings table for dinner.

“Oh blast it,” she growled between her teeth as she placed another folded napkin on the tray. “I can’t seem to get this darn thing to stay.”

After working all day the hair Douxie had so generously put up for her was starting to come undone. Without a mirror and without knowing the actual look all Y/N could do was put it up again by feverishly retying the ribbons end which held the whole thing up.

Perhaps that baby in the village had really tugged the lot of the knot out, Y/N pondered, struggling once again.

A grunt could be heard down the hallway and Y/N and the other castle maids and helpers quickly turned to the grand banquet doors where the sound was heard.

Only to be followed by some more clanking of metal and several loud. Booms.

The staff winced, before seeing a young Hisirdoux round the corner with eyes blown open. Y/N smiled a soft smile at seeing the punk rock boy she knew so shy and young.

He scuttled in and nervously fiddled with his fingers and with the culprit of the loud noise found, and the noises outside subsiding the kitchen staff returned to their duties.

Y/N shook her head slightly, using the palm of her hand to sniffle a snort.

Young Hisirdoux cut his hazel eyes over to her for a second. Y/N simply shrugged and gestures to her work of folded napkins before returning to it.

A few minutes later, with the kitchen mostly cleared out in light of adding finishing touches to dishes in the kitchen. Y/N went about bending over and placing one particular piece of silverware in the place setting around the entire grand hall table.

“Oh, for Pete’s Sake,” she exclaimed at the sensation. Finding the frayed edge of the ribbon dangling over her collarbone once again.

“Oh, hello there.” Hisir-Douxie replied waving his arm energetically.

With a snort Y/N waved back. Douxie was quite goofy back in the day, although, Y/N thought he was still endearingly goofy to this day too.

"You’re one of the people that other-Hisirdou- I mean me, er I brought back in time.” The tone in his voice changing dramatically throughout the entire sentence.

Y/N nodded, “That I am, but you have to kept it a secret.” She replied, making a ‘sh’ sign with her finger.

“Ha, right.” Hisirdouxie giggles while walking over. “Well, I can help with that! I’m training to be Merlins Apprentice after all.” He states matter-of-factly and thrusts a thumb into his chest.

Walking still ever so closer to Y/N, Hisirdoux stares down at the dangling offensive piece of ribbon that’s been bugging Y/N for most the of the morning.

“I could gladly fix that up for you!” He cheers with a wide grin clapping his hands together in delight.

“Really?” Y/N asks turning to face him. He furiously nods his head, hair bouncing around his face. “I’d actually really appreciate that, please.”

With a hurried jump Hisirdouxie rounds the side and hesistates before touching, “May I?” He asks voice breaking just a little.

“Go ahead.” Is the simple answer he gets before he goes in and fixes off the work of his future self coming to a pause at redoing the knot.

“And to finish it off, a pretty bow, for the pretty lady.”

#TOA #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie #Douxie x reader

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

To Wish Upon a Lantern

Summary: In the midst of their journey, Lloyd and Colette visit a new town and decide to participate in their lantern festival.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Original Character Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 3266 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 22/06/2021

Notes: Fluff fic with a little bit of angst! Written for @frayed-symphony's birthday!

~~~

“Look at these, Lloyd! They’re so pretty!” Colette exclaimed next to Lloyd. She was pointing out the tiny charms on display in the pop-up cart in the middle of the bustling marketplace. “I wonder what they are,” Colette mused.

“They kinda look like a chef’s hat to me,” Lloyd replied, leaning down to get a closer look at the charms. “You know, the one Professor Raine wore sometimes when trying to cook, just without the folded ridges? It’s even pure white in colour.”

The design resembled a cuboid with an open bottom from which a tassel protruded out, the individual strands all ramrod straight without a kink or tangle in sight. The top of the cuboid transitioned seamlessly into a pyramid-like shape, the same string that made up the tassel extending upwards out of the top of the pyramid, tied into a complicated system of knots. Trying to follow the string down its path made Lloyd’s head hurt. At the end of it all, the string formed a loop, perfect for hanging the charm up on furniture. Threaded on the string above and below the “chef’s hat” were two gems, sunlight reflecting off their polished surfaces and making them sparkle.

“I see what you’re saying.” Colette picked up one of the charms by the loop of string, pursing her lips as her fingers rubbed at the knot. It was a rather satisfying feeling. “But I don’t think a chef’s hat would be important enough to a town for it to be everywhere.”

“True.”

By everywhere, Colette truly meant everywhere. Lloyd had seen multiple variants of this charm at other stalls, some with different colours, some with and without the gems on the strings, some with even more complicated knot designs, some with words printed on the side, some without strings altogether and instead using clasps and hooks, perhaps to better attach the charm to clothing and bags. But it wasn’t just products in the marketplace. He’d seen it in murals painted on the walls of this town, and even walked past some children making a larger version.

“The details are incredible…” Lloyd muttered, feeling the material of the charm. It looked to be folded out of paper at first sight, but the texture wasn’t remotely like it. He wanted to ask the stall owner how he’d folded something so intricate and yet so small.

"Ah, young man, looking to buy one of the lantern charms?"

Speak of the devil! Lloyd nearly jumped out of his skin, gaze snapping up to find that the jovial, bearded stall owner was now right in front of him. The last Lloyd saw of him, he’d been engaged in a fervent discussion with another patron, and that had been just moments ago. How had such a large figure manoeuvred in front of him without any noise at all?!

“No, no! Just window shopping at the moment!” Lloyd quickly clarified, acutely aware of how light the sack of Gald in his pocket was.

“Lanterns? These are lanterns?” Colette interjected, head cocked and hands clasped before her chest. “I’ve never seen lanterns like these before…” When she heard the word “lantern”, she thought of fragile glass and cold metal grips, a flame burning with the faint whiff of kerosene, chasing away the foreboding darkness of winding caverns.

“Ah, I thought you might not be locals. I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Yeah, we’re just passing through. Never been to this town in Sylvarant before, so we thought why not?” Lloyd replied.

“It’s always nice to see travellers now that the Desians are gone,” the shopkeeper said with a hearty chuckle, his smile hidden by bushy black bristles. “To answer your question, young lady, these are indeed lanterns. It has been this town’s proud tradition to make these lanterns and hold an annual festival involving them, where we send them to the Goddess above. Though we’ve only been able to do so again with the Chosen's success. We’re actually holding our second one tonight!”

“A festival?” Colette squealed, clapping her hands together. If she weren’t in the middle of town and surrounded by dozens of other people who could clearly see her, Lloyd thought to himself with a smile, she certainly would have started jumping up and down on the balls of her feet like an excited child.

For that was precisely who she was allowed to be, now that she no longer had to labour under the title of Chosen. The child that had been buried for so long in favour of performing her duty could now come to the forefront. She could show her excitement over experiencing all the strange and delightful customs of each town they came across, whether it be Sylvaranti or Tethe'allan. And it was always so endearing to witness, the clear delight on her face, and it gave Lloyd even more motivation to continue this journey across the reunited world. Both to collect the Exspheres, and to let Colette experience everything this beautiful world had to offer, now that it was no longer denied from her.

“Yes. Everyone is encouraged to participate! All you need to do is purchase one of the lanterns, light it up, and release it into the sky! You can even write custom messages on the sides. Most people choose to write wishes, such that the Goddess can grant them.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Colette’s eyes were shining just as brightly as the gems on the cart. Lloyd was sure that she had built a vivid picture of the festival in her mind, what with her bright imagination honed from years of daydreaming as she sat within the cold walls of the Church of Martel, wanting desperately to escape but only able to do so in her head.

A festival sounded like a wonderful experience to him as well. All festivals were, events that exuded a magical aura as all types of people, strangers, friends, lovers and family alike, came together in one place just to celebrate and have a fun time. He hadn’t gotten to participate in that many, but he’d love to go to more.

"Lloyd, do you want to go?" Colette asked, nudging him in the side.

That was all it took for Lloyd's smile to slip into a small frown. Colette's terrible habit was rearing its ugly head again.

It had taken him a while to pick up on it, to learn to parse through what was innate to Colette’s personality and what was Chosen behaviour. But once he did, it was rather hard to ignore. The accursed mention of “Lloyd, do you want to…” had started to grate on his nerves - she’d done it with regards to the summer festival at Mizuho, and the newly revamped Altamiran theme park, and likely a thousand other times throughout all the years he’d known her that he hadn’t noticed. Asking was all fine and dandy, but only if she expressed her own desires first.

She always did this. Disguised her desires in the form of questions posed to others, too afraid to just do things for herself. She still thought she needed justification to let loose and just enjoy herself, despite her own happiness being justification enough.

Time to flip her question on its head.

"Do you want to go? To release a lantern?" he countered, eyes narrowing as he held her in a stare.

"Uh - uh, I -" Colette stuttered, fumbling at the unexpected turn of conversation, unable to look away from those intense russet eyes. "Well, we're low on Gald! And you did say you wanted to make it back to Iselia by next week, so if we stay a night -"

"That's not what I asked," he interrupted, taking hold of her hand. He didn't like being this forceful with her, but it was required. She needed to learn to ask for herself, and giving excuses was not the way. "I asked if you wanted to."

There was silence as Colette bowed her head, her hair hiding her face. It was but moments later that she raised it again, uncertainty painted across her face. "I… Would like to go... With you… And release a lantern together," she whispered haltingly, like it hurt to get the words out, shy blue eyes meeting his again. For her, it likely did, battling against her instinct to swallow the words down and the fear that there would be retribution, whether from invisible priests or the world at large.

There would be no retribution, not if he had anything to say about it. He squeezed her hand, giving her an affirming nod.

That's it. I’m so proud of you.

A small smile graced her face.

"Then it's settled!" Lloyd declared with gusto, turning back to the stall owner, who’d been watching the whole exchange in silence. “Uh, except the cost. How much is it?” He expected he’d have to haggle; they really didn’t have much Gald left. But no matter how, by hook or by crook, he would make this happen.

The stall owner burst into roaring laughter, slamming a hand on the cart. “For you two, free of charge!”

“What, really?” Lloyd blurted out, hardly able to believe his ears. Surely this was a deal that was too good to be true?

“Yes, really! Take it as payment for putting such a large smile on my face. Go down to the fields at sundown. I’ll meet the two of you there with a lantern. In return, spread the news of our festival to your friends! And if you choose to return next year, you can pay the full price.”

“Thank you so much, mister!” Colette said. “We’ll be sure to tell all our friends! I’m sure they’ll love the idea so much that they’ll all turn up next year!”

“Ha! I like the sound of that!”

Confirming the details of the meetup, Lloyd thanked the stall owner profusely before walking away hand-in-hand with Colette.

“He was very nice,” Colette muttered.

“That he was. So we shouldn’t waste the opportunity.”

Colette mumbled her agreement, that small smile still on her face, soothing Lloyd’s worry that he might have pushed her too far.

There was still the issue of lunch, though. His stomach was growling, and Colette must have been hungry from all the walking they’d done in the morning. But this time, he’d cut her some slack. He couldn’t expect change to occur immediately - it would take time, possibly years.

“Want to go get lunch at that place we saw down the road that sells dumplings? We’ve never tried it before, and Sheena said it was good.”

Receiving Colette’s enthusiastic agreement, (and spotting the relieved slump of her shoulders,) they set off, their fingers tightly locked together. And after lunch, there would be enough time to explore this town to the fullest.

~~~

Colette stood back on the grassy hill, watching the stall owner (whose name she still hadn’t learned), kneeling on the ground and carefully lighting a match. Lloyd stood slightly closer, observing with a keen eye. He was most likely trying to figure out the craftsmanship of the lantern; he’d been obsessed since he’d first seen the charms. She was more interested in the knot, and would likely be spending an afternoon at Dirk’s playing with string trying to recreate it. She didn’t think that would end very well, and a lot of untangling from Dirk and Lloyd’s end would be required, but it would be fun!

Standing too close to the stall owner ran the risk of her accidentally starting a fire, and that would have horrific consequences on plains of short grass such as these, so she was going to keep a safe distance.

As agreed, she and Lloyd had met up with the stall owner at the rolling hills behind the town, though not before exploring every nook and cranny of the town, with its curving arches and winding, narrow streets, watching the children play games with toys she had never seen before and having the honour of joining in. The stall owner had been in the process of unfolding a compact square of an unknown material, unveiling a lantern that was half her height and fitting it with something that resembled a lamp without the glass covering. (How did that fit into a small square?) After which, he’d lent them brushes whose tips were drenched in dark red ink, asking them to write whatever they wanted on the side of the lantern.

Enraptured with the idea of granting wishes, she had written the first thing that had come to mind before she lost her courage to do so. Lloyd had smiled after seeing her wish, choosing not to write another and only adding his name under hers, causing her to giggle as she tried her best not to trip and dot him in ink.

The sun had still been peeking over the hill when they’d arrived here, but in the time it had taken to finish their preparations, it had sunk out of sight, leaving behind only a harsh pink that was quickly being chased away by sparkling stars.

“It’s done!” the stall owner called out, standing up while keeping a secure grip on the side of the lantern. The fire was contained inside the lantern, causing the sides to be lit up in gentle orange light and the tiny words to stick out in harsh red. She’d noticed that quite a lot of things in this town were red. Maybe it was an auspicious colour to them?

Colette ran over to join Lloyd, accepting the lantern from the stall owner so that she was holding one side and Lloyd was holding the other, standing across from her. She could feel the heat of the flame licking at her fingers, chasing away the chill of the night. The lantern was fighting to escape her hold, the surge of hot air doing its absolute best to propel it towards the heavens, where it belonged.

“You can let go at any time,” the stall owner clarified. “Once that’s done, you can sit here and watch your lantern for as long as you want! I’ll be joining my family and giving you two some alone time now.”

“Thank you, mister!” Colette called out after the diminishing silhouette of the stall owner, until he disappeared amongst the throng of others. It seemed like the entire town and then some had turned up for the festival, populating the plains with head upon head. Somehow, upon this one hill, they were the only two present, free to soak in each other’s company.

“On the count of 3?” Lloyd offered, drawing her attention back to him. The flickering flame of the lantern cast him in the same orange light, the tips of his hair catching most of it and rendering the strands an even lighter brown, the features of his face soft while his lower half was covered in twisting shadow. A truly magical sight.

“Okay.”

“1…”

“2…” she joined in.

“3!” they cheered together, throwing the lantern into the sky and angling their heads up to watch.

The lantern rose fast into the sky, wobbling a little in its journey but remaining steadfast. The weather was good today, with no hint of a raincloud and only a gentle breeze that would pose no problems. Theirs was one of the first lanterns, joining the dozen that had already made their way into the clear sky to play by the moon, darkness having fully fallen.

Feeling a tug on her sleeve, she found that Lloyd had settled himself on the grass and was gesturing for her to join him. She did just that, the two of them sitting in silence side-by-side for a few minutes as more and more people released their lanterns.

"Sorry if I was too hard on you in the morning," Lloyd whispered, finally breaking the silence as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"No, it was necessary," she replied, taking his hand and squeezing. "You were just trying to help me. Besides, you've more than made up for it today. And I know I need to start thinking about myself more. It's just… Hard.”

It was difficult, to push past the echoes of the priests in her mind, telling her that as Chosen she had to conduct herself with the utmost grace and not indulge in cravings. That accepting gifts from others were already pushing the line, not to mention asking for things. It wasn’t proper.

“I'm -"

"Stop right there," Lloyd interjected, pressing a finger against her lips, a slightly exasperated smile on his face. “No apologising for what isn’t your fault, remember?”

“Ah, right! I’m - Okay, I’m just going to stop talking,” Colette muttered with flushed cheeks, clapping her hand over her mouth as she let her head fall onto his shoulder. She’d gotten better, but whenever she fell back into one habit, she tended to fall into all of them at once.

At least she could stop herself now. And she wanted to shed those behaviours, not only for herself, but to stop seeing the sad frown on Lloyd’s face. He continued to blame himself for not catching on sooner, for unknowingly encouraging those habits, when it wasn’t his fault.

Lloyd chuckled, leaning his head on hers. “It’s alright. I know it’s not going to be easy, but all you need to do is take baby steps. And I’ll be here to help you.”

“I know you will.”

“Let’s just enjoy the view now, shall we?”

“Mm.”

Above them, there were a thousand pinpricks of light as the lanterns rose into the sky. So many and so dense that they seemed to outnumber the stars themselves, though she knew that was impossible. Or perhaps the lanterns were golden stars, each holding a precious wish that its owner hoped could come true with all their heart, prayed would reach the Goddess. It almost reminded her of gazing up at the grand chandelier adorned with candles that hung in the sanctum of the Church, but instead of a sight that filled her heart with melancholy, the sight before her now was a breathtaking and uplifting one, even if she knew there was no Goddess in the sky.

For surely, if this many people came together with a common dedication, a miracle could still occur to grant these wondrous wishes.

She could barely see their lantern now - it was both lost among the crowd and too high up, the words she’d written on it too far away to make out. But they were still held in her heart.

I wish that I can continue exploring this incredible world together with you.

Mayhap it was a selfish wish. It would have been more appropriate for the Chosen to wish for the good of the world. But she wasn’t the Chosen anymore. Besides, she was sure other people had made such a wish. And… If the wishes contained within all these lanterns were to come true, would the world not be a better, happier place? Would there not be a brighter tomorrow awaiting all of them?

“I’d like to come back next year,” she said, trying her best to push out the desires in her heart, to stop battling against guilt that she knew she should not need to feel. “Maybe with all of our friends?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Maybe my wish will be different next year.

She snuggled closer into Lloyd’s warmth, enjoying the feel of his arms around her, both a comforting blanket and an impregnable shield.

I don’t think it will.

#fanfiction #tales of symphonia #colloyd #colette brunel #lloyd irving #one shot

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Text

Do We Have A Future?: April

Part 1 | Part 2: November | Part 3: January

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.1k Warning: Adult themes, mental health triggers, themes of depression, pregnancy complications and termination Summary: Rebecca told Ethan and now they have to live with the aftermath of their decision.

Author’s Note: Sensitive subject matter means I really suggest only reading if you are 18+ years old.

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamwrites @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @imactuallytheceoofthecompany @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations

________________________________________

They seemingly had put this event behind them. The couple moved through the motions of daily life as shadows of who they used to be. They kept a routine and followed it to a T - Ethan profoundly thankful for the false sense of normalcy for which it gave. He could rest easier knowing they were almost in sync again. But unbeknownst to him, Rebecca thought about their unborn child and the life they could have had every single day.

Becca’s pride still kept her from seeking help. She didn’t want to bother Ethan anymore with the what-ifs and could-have-beens. She believed he truly had moved on and forgotten - he didn’t seem weighed down by their decision anymore, his eyes weren’t as heavy as hers anymore.

She had gotten very good at pretending she wasn’t being swallowed alive. Every morning she dressed herself in her best clothes, would put her makeup on carefully over her weaknesses, and paint a smile on her face all the while thinking of the little imaginary bundle sleeping in their pristine second bedroom. In her mind she and Ethan turned the spare bedroom into a pink and white haven of a nursery after days of arguing over textures and color schemes wanting everything to be perfect for her. The thought of her baby’s peaceful, scrunchy face gave Becca the courage to continue on.

At work Becca tried very hard to avoid the overgrown concern of her friends and the other members of the diagnostics team but there was no escape. She had been back at work for nearly four months and they’ve all seen her destructive and desolate actions - from not sleeping to overworking and constant avoidance of any sort of personal actions. One day at lunch Sienna and Kyra tried to get her to open up but Becca put on her curated mask and distanced herself further.

“Hey,” Sienna said with all the courage she could muster. “How's life at Ramsey’s?” she asked as she sat down across from her best friend whom she spotted alone at a corner table and staring at the wall.

Becca’s eyes were void of emotion, just hollow spheres staring back at two of her dearest allies. Her chicken and avocado salad remained closed and untouched with not even a fork in sight. Between Sienna’s uncertainty and Becca’s disinterest the air around them was cumbrous.

“Are you gettin’ it all the time?” Kyra tried to lighten the mood with an eyebrow wiggle as she took her seat next to Sienna.

Becca took a second to contort her features before answering, needing to muster up enough strength so her voice didn’t sound as weak as the two pairs of concerned chocolate eyes boring down on her made her feel.

“It’s good,” she forced through a weak smile hoping her friends bought it for joy. “Weird...but also in a good way?”

It was weird in the sense that Becca still knew Ethan didn’t believe in marriage or children, and yet he made the leap. He pushed himself and solidified her as his partner - his life partner with a set of keys, name on the bills and all. On paper as far as litigation was concerned Ethan and Rebecca were on their way to a civil partnership. Although she doubted they would make it that far. It’s only been a few months. We could still break up…

On edge, Sienna took a big gulp of air in hope that she worded her next question just right, “Are you happy?”

Her eyes searched her broken friend’s features for any indication of the truth.

“Yes,” Becca replied meekly.

“I’m worried about you,” Sienna whispered back.

Kyra broke the trance between the two hurting girls and added just as softly, “We’re all worried about you.”

Becca shifted her weight towards Kyra.

“I’m fine,” with great effort she etched a small convincing smile into her features.

Her eyes met Kyra’s and for a second she felt guilty for keeping this a secret - for worrying her one friend that should be enjoying her new lease on life. Kyra has been in remission for the last six months after undergoing a risky and experimental surgery last year. On top of her shallowness, Becca now regretted not being able to let Kyra lead the carefree life she battled so ruthlessly to get.

“Just busy with everything going on. Ethan’s been having me shadow tough cases,” Becca lied. Ethan didn’t want her anywhere near the most disastrous of cases for fear something would set her off and she’d crumble back into that dark hole once and for all. But Becca didn’t listen. She would tag along with June and Baz, Ethan unable to stop her without letting the cat out of the bag.

Kyra didn’t waver in calling her out, “Becca, we’ve barely seen you since you moved out.”

Looking down at the table, the insecure friend with a weight permanently lodged in her chest said, “We have a lot going on.”

“Can we talk about it?” Sienna all but begged, “I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

Becca brushed off the notion with a shake of her head, “It’s nothing.”

Kyra’s hand reached across the table for Becca’s, “You know you can tell us anything, right? We’ll still love you.”

They may still love me but they’ll never look at me the same way. They’ll never see just Becca, they’ll see me as the failed mother that I am.

Becca folded her hands in her lap and sat taller. Looking between the two before her, she responded, “I love you too.”

The only person not throwing a pity party at Becca’s expense in the slightest was Dr. June Hirata. For that she was actually grateful for the arrogant and manipulative doctor on her team. Although psychological behavior is her trade, June did her best to keep her questions and analysis of Becca to herself. No point in igniting that fire again, June thought as she reminded herself of the time Becca scolded her for reading her employee file behind her back way back when.

June knew ever since that encounter that Rebecca regarded her with extreme contempt, however one day she just couldn’t stop the gnawing desire to know why Dr. Rebecca Lao so adamantly avoided working on cases with her boyfriend after watching the two not-so-subtly stare each other down at daily briefing.

“What’s going on with you lately?” June so casually asked as they walked in stride through the illuminated walls of Edenbrook to their next patient’s room - a four year old boy who hadn't had a bowel movement in weeks and the warning signs of vertigo.

“Nothing,” Becca muttered firmly before dismissing, “Don’t worry about it, June.”

“Whatever you say, Dr. Lao.” Although Becca wasn’t looking at her she could feel Dr. Hirata’s harsh eye roll. “Trouble in paradise?” the British doctor added, shooting her shot.

Not only did June make notes of Becca’s recent behavior, she noticed how Ethan had changed over the last few months as well. At one point the hair on his chin was longer and more unkempt than she’d ever seen. His facial features were older as if he carried a burden - one much bigger than his previous hardship of holding onto Naveen’s secret years ago. Dr. Hirata never thought she’d seen this statuesque man crumble any lower than when he thought his dear friend was on death row.

June observed how Ethan was on edge and snapped easily during those early weeks of the incident. Then he seemed to tiptoe around Rebecca at work, secretly reassigning some of her cases or running the tests himself behind her back. Now more recently she noted that the pair avoided working one-on-one. He was protecting something and the thought of not knowing irked Dr. Hirata to no end.

I know I’d want to work closely with my boyfriend every chance I got.

It wasn’t a secret Ethan and Becca were dating, Elijah let it slip to a few of the nurse’s by accident once long before. Even if he didn't, anyone who spent enough time with the two doctor’s could feel the undeniable chemistry that radiated off of them - the pure unadulterated adoration they shared even in the darkest of times.

“It’s none of your business,” Becca snapped as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from letting her emotions take over.

Rebecca knew her relationship with Ethan was far from what it once was. They didn’t have the same banter anymore or playfully debate to get in the last word. They found it increasingly complicated to challenge one another now; neither wanting to push the other too far. They were fragile. They were a window - the thick glass of their relationship looking ahead but also peeking back into the other side, constantly and simultaneously staring back at what once was and what’s to come. One small stone could break them - only having to find the spot with the most tension and they’d shatter.

Ethan and Becca continuously strived to bring back the passion they once shared. She would take him out to dinner or to his sacred box at the opera, things she knew were convivial and released his stress. Ethan would plan dates to Naveen’s cabin where they could spend some time enjoying the outdoors, or he would spend countless evenings looking for new and trendy food trucks to drag her too, just like her friends used to do back before. All they wanted was for the other to be happier.

Sometimes a little gleam would pass through their features, though not long enough for either one to relish in it.

***

They laid in their king-sized bed wrapped in each other's arms after a grueling day at the hospital. Becca’s head nuzzled in the soft nook where Ethan’s bare chest met the crook of his neck - her favorite spot. The rain poured down sideways outside rapping on the large window with monotonous ticks. Ethan’s eyes stared blankly at the bare ceiling cherishing their comfortable silence while absentmindedly tracing circles over his ratty t-shirt on her back. Both were thankful for the peaceful closeness found in the simplistic nature of snuggling, the intimacy found in the warmth of the other.

In the safety of their dark bedroom, shielded by Ethan’s embrace and cloaked by the late hour of time Becca found the courage to speak from her heart,

“What do you think our life would be like if we had it?”

It’d be six weeks til due date this week.

“Becca…” Ethan warned.

A quick surge of unencumbered courage kept her going, “It’d be due in June… Would we be looking at houses or turning the second bedroom into a nursery?”

He let out a sigh. At least she’s finally talking about it.

Finally Ethan let themselves indulge in bringing up their future.

“I’d imagine we’d buy a townhome nearby,” he rationalized, furrowing his brows as he thought of the logistics of making room for baby. He moved his hand up from her back to run his fingers through Becca’s messy hair, still looking at the blank canvas ceiling as he painted the picture. “I like this area; it’s quiet and close to work. We would need a couple more rooms definitely and a backyard for Jenner and…” His hand ceased all motion. “it to play in.” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge a child - their child. That’s not what the universe had planned for them.

Letting his words give her security she smiled into his chest and continued the fantasy, “My mom would definitely want to come stay with us the first few months.” Her hand on his chest searched for his free hand in the dark.

“My dad as well,” he told her matter-of-factly as he laced their fingers together. Ethan let out a preemptive chuckle, “Hell, Naveen would probably move himself in,” he joked and she could hear the happy smirk adorning his lips. She felt his chest rise and fall a little quicker as he laughed to himself at the thought of his mentor being consistently present throughout their children’s lives. In this moment - wrapped up in the dream - everything made sense.

None of this would be possible without her, he thought with a small shake of his head, thinking of their beginning and how she made all his days all the more bearable. How, through her weaseling, she was able to give Naveen more years than he could have imagined and a family Ethan never thought possible.

Although the springtime storm raged outdoors the atmosphere around the couple was light and airy. A curated happiness circled around them, begging them to fall into the future.

“The more the merrier!” she noted happily. Cuddling further into Ethan, needing him to be so much closer. “It takes a village after all.”

Without thinking Ethan responded with a grin and a kiss to her head, “Our kids won’t be lonely, that’s for sure.”

Her heart leaped.

Is he coming around?

____________________

A/N: Whelp. We only have one more part left... i’m not ready for it to be over 😥

like/comment/reblog i need the validation

#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #oph #oph ff #ff #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #tw: abortion #tw: mental health

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