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glowingbadger · 3 years

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Okay I had this lovely request for a fic like the Seteth "in heat" one I did a little while back, but for Tibarn, and I'm SO here for that, but I lost the request and like several paragraphs that I'd already written .-. life is suffering

Anyway, let's try this again Time to get unironically submissive and breedable

Tibarn (FE: PoR & RD) x AFAB Reader

("Queen," but no pronouns)

CW: in heat, mating, breeding kink

NSFW 18+

Tibarn has sent for you, which is rare enough on its own, as he'll generally come find you himself, always wearing that charming grin when he catches sight of you. You'd been hurried to see him, attendants insisting that he'd called for you to be brought to him in haste, and you can't help but wonder what could require your presence so urgently.

The throne room of Pheonicis' capitol is far less ostentatious than those of Begnion and even Crimea, if descriptions and illustrations of such places are to be believed; yet the worn wood and practical decor suits you just as well. You see your lover from across the hall the moment you arrive, seated with comfortable dignity, as though the old oaken throne were made of solid gold. He's flanked by Ulki and Janaff as per usual, and deeply engrossed in lively banter with a number of high ranking tribe warriors surrounding him. He doesn't look to be in any serious distress... what could he have wanted you for?

You've always admired the warm camaraderie between Tibarn and his countrymen, and so you make yourself inconspicuous so as to not disrupt their shared tales of daring hunts and past battles both won and lost. Unsurprisingly, Ulki notices you regardless. He probably heard your footsteps before you even reached the throne room proper (he says that you have distinct "firm, beorc footing," for whatever that means), and he nudges the King's arm and directs his shrewd eyes toward you. When Tibarn's amber gaze levels on you, there's something arresting about his expression- something that makes your heart skip, though you couldn't name it if you tried.

"Ah, Y/N, come," he says, and catches you around the waist the moment you reach him. By now, you're accustomed to the more blatant affections of the Laguz, so despite the company, you smile and lean into your lover's embrace. But then, he pulls you down onto his lap, his arm firm around you as he supports you on one muscular thigh.

"Hey, Tibarn-!"

Over your half-hearted protests, he addresses the other hawks before they get too wrapped up in bawdy comments on the scene before them,

"And you all," he speaks with the firm authority he wields as naturally as his own talons, "Go make some use of your time and your wings, understand?"

While his two loyal aids immediately turn to depart on his orders, the others linger for a time, caught up in the remnants of conversation and barely disguised glances toward you. Held firm against Tibarn's warm body, you feel him exhale, clearly displeased.

"Come now, can't a man have a moment with his mate?" he says more firmly above the jokes and commentary. The hand around your waist has begun to slide down the curve of your hips and upper thigh, squeezing soft flesh in his grip. By his expression, you wonder if he's even aware of his own touch. Either way, you can already feel your face burning up, try as you might to borrow Tibarn's dauntless confidence.

"You heard your orders- get moving," Janaff finally prods the group, wings twitching irritably behind him, "Bunch of chattering sparrows, the lot of you..."

They finally begin to file out, and your posture slackens just a little, glad to be free of the excess attention. Yet before the last hand has left the grand double doors, Tibarn's lips are at your neck.

"Finally..." He growls, his teeth nipping insistently at tender skin while his free hand sets upon removing your clothing. Your body tenses and arcs against him.

"Tibarn-!" You try to sound admonishing, but it's impossible when he drags his tongue along your neck, fiery love-bites marking you everywhere he can reach. You feel a familiar ache at your core as he sucks a punishing bruise to your throat, his hand gripping the swell of your thigh and holding you in place.

"Beorc are so sensitive," he murmurs with evident amusement, his breath hot across your skin. He's already pulled your boots off and it's now tugging your breeches down your legs, effortlessly maneuvering you on his lap in his strong arms. Tibarn is always a confident and unabashed lover, but there's something different about today- something almost compulsive. He's acting like he needs you, and it's all you can do to try to keep up with his pace. Before long, he's repositioned you so that your back rests against his hard chest and your knees are slung over his thighs, legs spread open as his hands greedily wander your body. Immediately, your attention is drawn to the hot, hard sensation of his manhood throbbing and rutting against your ass.

"Right- right here...?" you murmur in disbelief. Light-hearted and yet deadly serious, he replies,

"I'll have my mate wherever I like, little one."

One large hand runs up your torso, pushing up your shirt until he has unfettered access to your breasts. He fondles them hungrily, indulging in the soft flesh in his palm and tugging stiffened nipples until you're panting, arching back against him. Then, you feel the other hand sliding two fingers between your plush lower lips. You gasp aloud as he quickly finds your clit and begins to massage it steadily, stroking you over and over as you tremble in his arms.

"What's... got- gotten into you-??" you moan the words into the empty throne room, and he gives a low chuckle that flutters through your hair.

"Ah, that's right. Beorc don't experience it."

His touch leaves you just long enough to work open the front of his trousers, and immediately, you feel the impossibly hard length of his shaft rubbing between your soaked folds. You feel the tip run across your entrance, coating him in your juices, though not entering you just yet. You're surprised at how quickly he'd managed to make you as eager for it as he clearly is.

"It's my Heat," Tibarn says simply as he begins to position you both , with one hand at your hip and the other aligning his towering cock, "The Laguz drive to mate. To breed," his teeth graze the shell of your ear as his tip begins to spread you open around him, "And I won't be satisfied until I've filled you with me."

He drives into you in one steady motion, his hold at your hips pushing you down onto him as his hips thrust up to meet you, and for a moment, your breath and your thoughts leave you. Tibarn is always considerably larger than most men, but something about this "heat" must bolster even his size. You feel your inner walls strain around him, squeezing the full length of his cock while you pant and shiver against his sturdy torso. His wings furl around you both, protectively flanking either side of the throne. Elongated nails dig almost painfully against your thighs, leaving red divits in their wake, sure to remind you of Tibarn's claim for days to come.

The moment he begins to move, thrusting his member deep into you with your own body weight pushing you further onto him, you let out a pathetic whimper in an unfamiliar voice. Tibarn's pleasured grunts in your ear only spur you on to be a good mate and take him, to relieve his heat no matter what he demands of you.

"Long ago... the King's Heat meant that his chosen mate would be impregnated before an audience in this throne room," his voice is low and graveled in his chest, and his words cause you to moan aloud, your cunt clenching hard around him, clinging desperately to his length. The thought of Tibarn taking you in full view of his people, of a crowd watching you squirm and whimper as your gushing pussy takes his cock... it's far too filthy and far too wonderful to put out of mind. That you could be filled with his seed in full view of the crowd, that they would then know that you were carrying the King's child-

Suddenly, a rush of tingling pleasure erupts at your core and spreads through your body. You're gasping and moaning out your lover's name as your over-full cunt spasms and coils around him, and he fucks you through your climax. Your knees feel weak, but you rally your strength to keep yourself in place for him, even as your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Tibarn groans and holds you tighter against his muscled frame,

"Mmm... you like that idea, do you? Ungh- keep squeezing around me like that and I... won't be able to hold back..." His pace quickens, his thrusts harder, deeper, sending a jolt of aching pleasure up your spine each time he buries himself in you.

"Don't hold back... I- I want it...!" you gasp out between moans, still half dazed from your climax. He snarls between gritted teeth, the harsh bucking of his hips bouncing you on his lap. Aided by your overflowing juices, he forces his massive cock into your cunt again and again. Bulging veins and the swollen head drag along your inner walls, the friction and overwhelming size of him enough to cause your eyes to roll back. He's close- you can feel his manhood twitching and throbbing deep within you. By now, he's seized complete control of the pace. His powerful hold on your hips tugs you down against him in time with his thrusts, and it's all you can do to keep yourself from collapsing in his arms as he chases his release.

Tibarn lets out a roaring groan of pleasure, muscles tensing as he pulls you down onto him, then holds you mercilessly in place. He's buried in you to the hilt, and his lips find the crook of your neck once more as he begins to fill you with his cum. Dazed and tingling all over, you surrender your body to your lover and simply allow him to spill inside of you. A sudden lurch of his hips urges a helpless whimper past your lips, as the thick mass of his cock forces his release as deep into you as he can fit- as though his instinct commands him to ensure that his seed claims you.

Then, at last, you feel his body relax around you, and a heavy exhale against your skin. Tibarn slumps back against the throne, pulling you back with him and cradling you to him, all while his member remains nestled in your over-full and aching pussy. For a moment, you're quiet together. Yet despite having carried most of the physical strain of your coupling, your lover collects himself enough to move before you do. Gingerly, he lifts you up off of his still semi-hard length, and turns you to rest more comfortably on his lap with your head on his shoulder. A finger urges your chin up towards him. Slowly, tenderly, he presses a deep kiss to your lips, to which you can only offer a happy, contented sigh.

"Well done, my Queen," he murmurs, barely parting from you. When your hazy eyes focus on him, you expect to be met with his usual smirk- but the smile he wears is warm and openly adoring. Curling up against him, you rest your head on his chest to enjoy his warmth and his scent just a while longer. Soon, you'll need to make yourself more or less presentable, and Tibarn says that he'll have a warm bath drawn for you. Though it's not long before you learn that the time to recuperate is invaluable. Your mate will require your services again before night falls, and often after that, until his heat subsides.

#tibarn #tibarn x reader #fire emblem #feh #tibarn fire emblem #fire emblem path of radiance #fire emblem radiant dawn #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #tellius #fe9/10 #fire emblem smut

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hes-writer · 4 years

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Reign (3)

Summary: harry sees something he's supposed to have

Warnings: angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end

Word Count: 4881 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : dont cheat and don’t do drugs, kids

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) . Trial (4) .

Errors (5) . Ruin (6) . Crumble (7)

Error Taglist

____

A writer that cannot write is dead.

When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.

Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.

He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.

It didn’t.

He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.

Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.

What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.

He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.

___

Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.

Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.

Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.

Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.

Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.

“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.

He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”

“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”

And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.

Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.

“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”

The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.

“Things I don’t mean?”

“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.

The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.

Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.

“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.

“You don’t mean that, Harry.”

Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.

Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?

“But I do,”

The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.

“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’

“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.

And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.

So why was he struggling?

___

Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.

In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.

___

It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.

The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.

And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.

___

It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day.

A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.

Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.

As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.

“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”

Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.

He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,

___

“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”

Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’

She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”

Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.

“You should try it instead of judging me,’

“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’

___

Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.

Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.

A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.

“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.

“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.

He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.

“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”

Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.

“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.

“I'm--,”

“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”

Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.

The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.

Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.

___

On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.

The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”

Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.

He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “

“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.

His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”

At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.

She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.

“Well? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”

Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.

“What? Nooo,”

Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.

"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”

Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.

He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”

“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.

“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”

One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.

“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.

“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?

Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.

“He’s Y/N’s partner”

Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.

“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.

“Hey wait!”

Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.

Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”

With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.

He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.

It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.

Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.

It almost made Harry smile, too.

___

Let us know what you thought!

Trial aka pt 4 is already up on Patreon! (link in bio)

___

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#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst

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leviathan-dee · 3 years

Note

Okay how about a drabble where Vergil motivates his female s/o who is struggling to do her assignments? Can be sfw or nsfw depending on the suitability of the topic and I may or may not having this motivation problem 😂

Aii!! I’m so sorry this took so long 😓 Tbh, I saw nsfw and took this as an opportunity to get my simp train going. So here goes, a lil bit of...

°°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.· 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓮 °°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.·

Motivational Lessons

Vergil x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Word Count: 1,613

Fumbling on an assignment that was due in less than a week was admittedly not how you wanted to spend your days off. You were surrounded by countless closed study books, dried out pens from their disuse, and an empty word document, a cursor blinking quizzically at your inactivity. It’s been almost three agonizing hours since you began your search for a drop of motivation. Alas, no such luck. Even the cup of tea that your partner brewed at the beginning of your session remained unmoved, the condensation on the mug dripping down to pool onto the blank papers.

You sighed, inadvertently drawing Vergil’s attention.

“You are troubled.” Without lifting his gaze from his beloved hardcover of poetry, he spoke, the comment blending between lines of a question and a statement. You sighed once more, carding your fingers through your hair.

“What gave you that idea?” Your slight burst of annoyance felt like whacking the hornet’s nest, however Vergil’s reply was more gentle and soft spoken than before.

“The lack of movement for the duration of your coursework. What gives, my sweet?”

“I just can’t get into the mindset. I think I’m too stressed with all that is going on.”

Snapping his book shut, he uncrossed his legs and tilted forward, directing his attention now completely to you. The pose he assumed was akin to a cat, ready to pounce on its prey. Perhaps you were imagining it, but the sudden mischievous glint in his eyes unnerved you just as much as his predatory pose.

“Perhaps you are in need of encouragement?”

“I’ll bite. What do you have in mind?” You swallowed thickly, anticipation building like a steady flow of water. Only time will tell if you would regret your words.

“Let me demonstrate.” Moving with a feline grace, his arm swayed in the opposite direction, guiding you to stand from your seat. Once you obeyed, he propped himself upon the cushioned surface, his stern expression morphing into a minuscule smirk.

“Sit,” he presented you his lap by patting his thigh, “you are tense. A prime reason as to why you simply cannot get anything done.”

With an incredulous expression, you gawked at the sudden change in his demeanour. Admittedly, it was a bad idea to disobey the devil, knowing your previous experiences containing punishments of the euphoric kind. You planted yourself comfortably upon his leg, feeling his arms securely tighten around your waist. His palms were warmer than usual. In fact, you noted that his gloves were off. Strange...

“Now focus on your assignment. Need I encourage you, I know exactly what to do.” The growl that rolled off his tongue caused a shiver to travel through every fiber of your being. A wickedness entirely indescribable churned deep within his gaze. It wasn’t often you experienced that; Vergil knew to reserve this part of him for special occasions.

Apparently, this was one such occasion.

The cursor continued blinking, it’s manner now seeming wary. You stared at it, wondering what words might flow from your already exhausted mind. There were so many jumbled thoughts. Some from the carnal closeness between you and your beloved, and very few were of the coursework itself. Vergil propped his chin upon your shoulder, breathing down your neck. Was this a warning? Or encouragement?

“Need I promote your thoughts? Or is your mind elsewhere?” As you expected, it was neither. This was a promise; an invitation. For both of your benefits.

You could feel a smirk ghost his lips, as his hands continued to rest on your waist possessively, their grip tightening to an almost uncomfortable pressure. Unsure of whether to begin your coursework, or to let fate take its course, your fingertips started their sluggish crawl across the keyboard. Vergil seemed to ease his grip, instead shifting to your right thigh, resting his warm palm on top of the plump surface. This made you suck in a breath between your teeth which only Vergil would notice. No matter how much you wanted him to simply have his way, this was a good opportunity to finish what you’ve started studying-wise.

…

After two paragraphs of constant erasing and rewriting, you sighed, irked at your own scattered mind. Evidently, Vergil watched your entire tirade at the keyboard. It was almost as interesting as a tumultuous nineteenth century drama. Every few words, he hummed in approval, reading and checking your text. However, your gusto seemed to slow to an almost complete stop. You could feel his mischievous smile once again grace his visage.

Bringing his palm up to cradle your chin from behind, he directed your vision behind you, his own smoldering gaze melting you from the inside.

“Is that it? You’re giving up, my sweet?”

“No, I just need a break-” You were cut off by a feathery caress at your loin, promoting whatever feverish thoughts that waited on the cusp of your mind. Instinctually, you leaned into the touch like a starved animal. Vergil seemed to enjoy your reaction, knowing full well that only his fingertips can encourage such a visceral response from your body.

“A break, you say? Let me assist you,” he purred in your ear, heated breath only intensifying the sensation of his digits running circles achingly close to your clothed core.

You couldn’t withhold your lewd mewls, letting them cascade out of your lungs as Vergil’s teeth began sinking into your bare shoulder, followed by promises of ecstasy in the form of trailing kisses upon your skin. His hands teased at your waistband, slipping beneath the fabric to find his goal. Your own fingers searched for purchase, not to lose yourself entirely to this hedonism. They found their way to the blue devil’s hair behind you, and encouraged his tongue to trek along the flesh of your shoulder.

A maelstrom of pleasure spread through you as Vergil’s hand began lavishing your folds with longing strokes. The sheer playful movements of his digits were teasing, daring you to release your tension all over them, there and then. It was almost shameful how easily he could elicit such a reaction from your body. How he forced these noises from you, the pressures of assignment life fading away into nothingness.

Approving hums vibrated within Vergil’s chest, resonating against your back, provoking the throbs deep in your core. You moaned in turn, giving him the greenlight to plunge into your heat with two digits. Admittedly, you were now certain this was his plan all along, usually wearing fingerless gloves even outside of combat. Besides, he seemed too eager to get you in this state.

That sneaky devil.

Nevertheless, that motion was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Your walls tensed instinctually around his fingers as they shamelessly pumped in and out. Vergil knew exactly the spot to caress, seeing how your frame arched itself to accommodate his own. God, he loved seeing you in this state; At his mercy.

“Y/N. You will finish this assignment, as I will finish you. Is that clear?” The sovereign tone with which Vergil spoke alone could send you spiralling over the edge. You nodded eagerly, desperate to release the tide of pleasure rocking against your swollen walls.

Observing your lethargic demeanor, and your eyes glazed over with depravity, the devil decided to send you into paroxysms of pleasure by focusing two hands on your heat. With one swirling your bud, and the other continuing its rhythmic movements inside you, his smug visage in the now blacked out screensaver of the monitor observed your near undone state.

“How are you feeling? Relaxed yet? Encouraged to do your studies? I won’t have you failing. Not in this state.” To your surprise, Vergil's smirk never faltered. His tongue continued to play upon your shoulder and neck as you encouraged his efforts with your incoherent cries.

“Vergil-'' Your fragmented moans, and the bucking of your hips against his working hands only prompted him to intensify his tirade. He left you kicking helplessly, trying to find an object to perch against with your legs, and swing your hips in any direction if only to lessen the overstimulation. Blank papers landed to the ground, and pencils and pens alike tumbled from the force of your pleasured kicks against the furniture. Even the untouched tea spluttered all over the desk, staining amber upon the surface of the paper beneath. But you didn't have a care in the world; right now your focus was on the endless waves of gratification you were bestowed upon by the blue devil.

All of your previous worries seemed to melt away. Even the stress of creeping deadlines and sleepless nights dissipated into a mere sliver of a memory. Your rippling muscles beneath Vergil's hands eased, his own limbs holding you in place as you fell limp from exhaustion on his lap. With a tender trail of kisses along your neck, and the last one behind your ear, he hummed and coiled his arms around your waist to pull you into a warm hug. You hummed in return.

"Was that encouragement enough? Or do I have to resume this motivational lesson?" Vergil purred in your ear, a hint of playfulness meandering in his voice.

"Hmm, I am still feeling a bit tense." You rolled your shoulders to accentuate your 'discomfort', expecting Vergil to react accordingly. And react he did, his immense strength scooping you into his arms from behind, your body weighing a feather on his frame. With proud steps and a teasing expression, he marched towards your bedroom, a saccharine smirk dancing on his lips.

"I was hoping you'd say that. You'll be writing books once I'm done with you, my sweet."

#devil may cry #vergil x reader #Vergil #dmc #leviathan-writes #request

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dwead-piwate-meggers · 4 years

Text

Falling for the First Time

A direct sequel to “Five Times Adam du Mortain Eavesdropped, and One Time He Did Something About It” - Charlotte and Adam do their best to make good on the conversation they’d had about where, exactly, they would like the physical side of their relationship to go. Rated E for later chapters.

Adam du Mortain x f!detective approx. wc: 2524 rating: M warnings: non-explicit sexual content

Read it on Ao3

Chapter 2

The phone is ringing.

The sun is shining in through curtains that weren’t closed properly, and the phone is ringing.

Charlotte squeezes her eyes shut against the bright light, and rolls towards the nightstand, her hand groping around for where the device should be. Should be, but isn’t. And that’s… it should be there. It’s always there. That’s where she puts it every night. Her shoulder is cold, where it pokes out of the blankets. Apparently, she’s not wearing a shirt. And she’s still wearing yesterday’s bra. And yesterday’s leggings. And that - the phone is still ringing - is not her ringtone.

But it is Adam’s.

So… last night wasn’t a fever dream. It happened. She fell asleep in his arms. And either he forgot his phone, or...

She feels the bed move behind her, hears his voice, rough with sleep: “Hello?”

Charlotte rolls over, blinks as his profile comes into focus, silhouetted in the morning light streaming through her window. He’s lying on his back, phone pressed to his right ear, away from her. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can tell him that I’m fine .” He pauses to listen to the response. “I don’t know.” He pauses again, and grunts at whatever was said before hanging up. He drops the phone back on the nightstand on that side of the bed and rubs his hands over his face.

“Trouble?” she asks.

“Evidently, Nate found my absence concerning.”

“Ah.” She suppresses a giggle. “Stayed out past curfew?”

“Apparently.”

This time she can’t hold it in, and a little giggle slips loose - they’re both adults, and here he is, centuries old, getting scolded for staying out past his designated bedtime.

Adam turns his head to look at her with a soft smile and a quirked brow, as if to ask ‘what’s so funny?’

“I’ve never been a bad influence before,” she explains.

“And here I was,” he deadpans, “with such a good record.”

That doesn’t help, and she begins laughing in earnest. “It starts with staying out late, then spending time with the wrong crowd, then who knows what else you’ll get tempted into.”

He reaches over to cup her cheek, gives her a fond smile. “I suspect there’s very little that you could not tempt me into.”

Charlotte sidles closer. “I’ll do my best not to abuse that,” she says, as much as I’d love to, and leans in for a chaste kiss.

“My reputation thanks you for it,” he murmurs against her lips.

It’s...a little difficult to believe this is happening. That it’s morning and he’s still here. That he spent the night in her bed. And the bed is soft, his arm around her is warm, his chest is solid under her fingertips and she just wants to spin this moment out for as long as she can but... she swore that today would be the day she’d clear the backlog of paperwork waiting for her at the station.

She sighs. “I should get up.”

He frowns. “You aren’t scheduled to work today.”

“No,” she agrees. “Unfortunately, the mountain of paperwork on my desk doesn’t particularly care about whether or not I’m on duty.”

He pulls her a little closer, presses his forehead against hers. “Then it also doesn’t care if it gets done in the morning or the evening.”

He makes a compelling point. And damn if it isn’t that much harder to get up, now. But… she had a plan. “If it doesn’t get done in the morning,” she says, pulling away a little, “it won’t get done in the evening. I have an appointment with the world’s worst organized library tonight.”

She puts a little more space between them, and almost laughs at his expression - Charlotte had never considered that she might one day see Adam du Mortain pouting. She knows he’s on patrol tonight. Which apparently means he was counting on getting a little extra time with her this morning. She presses a kiss between his brows before she rolls over to get up. “I’ll wait for you to get back after?”

He grumbles something about that being tolerable.

---

Charlotte finds it unusually difficult to focus on her work. The flow of her thoughts is constantly interrupted by memories (some rather more vivid than others, leaving her shifting in her seat) of what happened the night before, or of speculating on what might have happened that morning if she hadn’t dragged herself out of bed. Or of what might be waiting for her tonight. Eventually, she gets the paperwork done. Somehow. It only takes twice as long as she had initially estimated. Which still leaves plenty of time for the errands she had planned - groceries, getting her kitchen knives properly sharpened, returning her library books. If anything, there is a slight advantage in having her paperwork go so slowly: it eats up some of the time between morning and evening.

She returns to her apartment, down a pile of paper and some library books, up a set of sharp knives and enough food for the week. She unpacks: puts aside the pre-made meal that she’d bought for dinner and a tin of cat food and sets everything else in its place, while Timbit, the Dark Prince of Apartment 302, watches on from his perch on top of the fridge.

He meows.

“Hm?” She continues unpacking.

He meows again.

She looks up. Tina swears sometimes that the cat is judging her. Until today, Charlotte has insisted that’s not only unlikely, but also ridiculous. Suddenly, looking into those bright yellow eyes, she’s not so sure. She does get the distinct sense that Timbit is passing judgement.

“Is it the dinner?” she asks, opening the tin of cat food.

He is silent.

“Is it that I left you alone all day?” She scrapes the contents of the tin into the clean food bowl.

He’s still silent.

“Is it because Adam stayed the night?” She places the bowl on the floor.

Timbit meows, and then leaps down. She takes that as a yes. He nibbles a few mouthfuls, then turns to meow again before continuing with his meal.

She takes that to mean ‘and also because you’re thinking about doing it again tonight.’

She opens the container holding her own dinner, and tears back the paper covering one side of the wrap, muttering, “Just ‘cause you’ve been neutered…”

He flicks his tail directly into her ankle.

“...does not mean I have to behave the same way.”

Clearly he finds it beneath his dignity to respond, because he continues eating in peace, and leaves her to do the same. She balls up the packaging, tosses it in the trash and checks the clock. Enough time for a shower and to dry her hair. To maybe pick out something...nice? To wear? Does she even own anything nice? It feels like her wardrobe is all either work-wear or knit-wear and flannels.

But he has the wardrobe of a cartoon character, so maybe it doesn’t matter. It certainly hadn’t mattered last night. So maybe she’s overthinking this. She should just… stop thinking about what may or may not (hopefully may ) happen. Just shower and get dressed and go.

Maybe a cold shower.

---

In the end, it had been a lukewarm shower. Which was close enough to cold in a Wayhaven spring. It hadn’t really helped, except that she’d been more grateful to put on a sweater than she might have been otherwise. Charlotte is jittery driving to the Warehouse, her eyes flicking to the mirrors way more often than they need to, especially considering she’s the only one on the road.

This is worse than her first visit, almost a year ago, when she wasn’t sure of her feelings, let alone his. And he’s not even there, won’t be there for a few hours still.

She meets Nate in the Library - he’s already read over what the list of what the Agency suggested, and has pulled out and bookmarked a bunch of supplementary material. Why he doesn’t just write the recommended reading lists himself, she’ll never know.

Charlotte settles down on the couch to read over the chapter about magic detection, books spread out on the coffee table and a legal pad in her lap. It doesn’t go any better than her paperwork had this morning - she finds herself reading the same paragraph three or four times before she grasps the meaning, forgets what she’s writing halfway through a note. She notices Nate glancing over at her once or twice, failing utterly to suppress a smirk. He is at least gracious enough not to say anything, even after she checks her watch for what feels like the seventeenth time that hour. Eventually, he leaves the room for a moment, as she’s struggling through a passage about the various ways that runes can be disguised. When he comes back, it’s with glasses in hand: what she assumes is whiskey, neat, for himself, given his usual drink order, and a deep amber liquid in a brandy snifter for her.

She reaches up to accept the glass and asks, “What am I drinking?”

“Calvados.”

Apple brandy. From Normandy. Somehow, it feels like a very expensive joke at her expense. She narrows her eyes at him. Nate gives her what she assumes is his best impression of an innocent smile in response. She doesn’t buy it. But the drink is...nice. Helps her relax, at least.

Until he gets back. She can’t hear it, not right away, but she sees Nate’s reaction. She’d noticed months ago that it’s a different reaction for each member of Unit Bravo, and this is definitely a reaction to Adam’s presence: the slight straightening of the spine, the lift to his chin, the head tilt, ready to follow orders or to engage in conversation. And then she hears the footsteps: the rhythmic thudding of boots on the floor, not quite a march, but damn close.

The door opens. She wills herself not to look, not to be that obvious, even though they can probably - definitely - both hear the sudden jump in her heartbeat. Because she’s an adult, goddamnit, not a 16 year old with a crush, and she’s going to behave like one. But willpower isn’t her strong suit today. She peeks anyway. Adam is walking between the shelves, hands behind his back. He must have hung his coat somewhere else, because it was too cold for him to be patrolling in just a t-shirt, but that is what he’s wearing now - grey t-shirt, dark cargo pants, combat boots. He looks as he always does. And she feels as she always feels - that irresistible draw, that… magnetism.

She looks back down to her textbook as he starts to turn, making the mistake of catching Nate’s eye. He’s outright grinning. She’s tempted to throw something at him, adds it to her mental to-do list: finish this chapter, take notes from the additional readings, throw her pen right into Nate’s perfect tee- the couch sinks on her left.

The couch sinks, and she’s very aware of the person who caused it, sees large, solid hands flicking through pages out of the corner of her eye. And maybe the sweater hadn’t been the best idea. Because the temperature of the room just jumped several degrees, hadn't it?

She’s probably blushing.

Nate coughs. Well, he laughs, and tries ( poorly ) to cover it with a cough. She’s going to have to have a brainstorming session with Farah tomorrow. Or maybe she’ll just introduce the Dewey Decimal system to this ‘library’.

At any other time, at any other time, this arrangement, the three of them reading in silence, would be nice, companionable. But that other time would require that she not be hyper-aware of the heat radiating off the body next to her on the couch, that her thoughts not wander increasingly frequently to what that body and hers had been doing the night before. And what they had maybe, sort of, implicitly agreed to revisit tonight. So it’s not nice. It’s tense. And uncomfortable. And she has read and re-read the same paragraph for the past fifteen minutes.

Nate makes a show of checking his phone. “Well, it seems as though I’m needed elsewhere,” he declares brightly, shoots her an unrepentant grin as he waves goodbye at the door. His phone hadn’t even gone off, the pest.

She has ten pages to go, if she could just...focus. She feels the couch shift again, feels Adam’s arm snake around her waist. That...will not help with the focus issue. Eight pages. He tucks his hand under the hem of her shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over her hip. She bites her lip. Seven pages. He shifts closer, so that their thighs are touching, his breath hot on her neck. And he has to know how that has her heart racing. But dammit if she’s not going to get her work done because she was behaving like an adolescent. Six pages to go. And then five. And then he leans in, kisses her neck, right where it meets her shoulder. Her eyes drift shut. He does it again, working his way up to her ear, and there’s nothing she can do to stifle the moan that escapes her lips. Son of a bitch.

Charlotte turns to face him. “I am trying,” she’s interrupted by a kiss, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek, “to learn something.”

“Are you suggesting,” he kisses her again, “that you’re not learning something at the moment?”

“I’m learning,” she smiles into the next kiss, “that you’re a distraction.”

He pulls her into his lap, one-handed. “Or maybe,” he says, around another kiss, “it's that you’re irresistible.”

She laughs, “Now, see, I know that’s not true.” She’s cut off when he presses his lips to hers again, continues, “You spent months resisting me.”

He chuckles, “Considering our current position... it would seem that I failed.”

She can’t really think of a response to that. And really, what’s the point in responding to that, when she could be kissing him instead. So she does. Sitting across his lap, with his arms around her back, holding her close to him, and her own wrapped around those broad shoulders. She does, again and again and again, and … she really does need to finish those five pages. She pulls away, a little, feels him move to follow her, so she holds a finger up to his lips.

“Let me finish this chapter,” she says. “And then you can distract me however you want.”

And for the second time in less than 24 hours, she’s graced with his scowling pout. “Fine.”

She kisses his cheek, whispers, “I promise,” into his ear, as she shifts out of his lap, and does her best to turn her attention back to the book.

He grabs what he was reading off the coffee table and stands. She looks up.

“I’ll be in my room when you’re finished,” he says, leans down to kiss her forehead, and marches out of the door. He closes it gently behind him, for once.

#adam du mortain #charlotte langford #adam du mortain/f!detective #adam du mortain x detective #twc detective #twc #the wayhaven chronicles

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cllovegood0617 · 3 years

Text

Verdant

A project I had to do for school but ended up liking enough for posting on here. I hope you like it too 💙

A fairy tale is something that children grasp on for something that is different from harsh and rough reality. Fairy tales give children a new world to live in for a temporary time while reading and includes magic and imaginary beings or lands. Some may star a beautiful princess that goes through a turbulent of identity finding events for this said princess. Then she runs into a handsome prince that sweeps her away into his arms, dances away in the night, ends it with a kiss and they both live “Happily Ever After”. I once was a girl that was missing my two front teeth but yet still imagining my handsome prince finding me. However, I did end up living my own, and it is my secret but I am willing to share it with you. But, it wasn’t exactly plotted like how the Grimms Brothers or Hans Chrisitian Andersen had written their fairy tales. In fact, mine doesn’t include a prince at all. Mine is about a girl that grasped something that is different from harsh and rough reality.

I can argue with anyone that Zendaux is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I live in a secluded area where it is surrounded by grass fields as far as the eye can see except for the litter of forestation that is near my house.�� My house was crafted by my grandfather in 1954 and was designed to be exactly how my grandmother wanted it. It has a burgundy tiled roof and a glorious wrap-around porch that I’ve always found so lovely. He named it Willow Avenue since my grandma is named Willow and they met on Locust Avenue. They had a tradition before they both passed away to visit Locust Avenue at least once a year together. My grandpa even brought my grandma’s urn with him on his last trip before he joined her in heaven. Then my dad would bring both of their urns to Locust Avenue, I went on these trips with him too before… he died. My mom was going to sell the house once my dad died, and I was so devastated at that news so I knew I had to do something. So I bought it instead. The air this early in the morning filled my nose with the freshness of the morning dew that is sprinkled over the shamrock green soft grass. In my childhood I would roll down the hills that are lining the horizon and run to jump into my dad’s outstretched arms. He’d place his hard calloused hands on my soft small arms as I was trying to wriggle out with all my might to run back up the hill. Then he’d laugh after me like he always did and say “Goodbye my Lightning Bug!” As I was fully enveloped in my nostalgia, suddenly I heard an earsplitting sound that resembled a deer that perhaps has eaten too much sugar. Then I gasped in amazement as the tallest tree to reach the skies began falling eastward. The hoarse cracks of ancient tree bark snapping at the roots, and then the thud the tree made once it reached the ground made a deep sound that proved to me that trees don’t make much of a sound once they fall.

Suddenly a large swish erupted in the air and that roaring sound from earlier broke through the silence that once was. I felt my defense kick in as I jumped in surprise from the sound, then I fell into a large grin. Other than a different squirrel that appears on the porch, you don’t normally see mysterious events happen at Willow Avenue. I stood up from the porch swing and began searching the trees that I could see from my position frantically. Then out of nowhere I saw a large juniper wing that resembled the canopy of a tree that soared over and surpassed the height of the other trees. Then became hidden back into the forestation as quickly as it was exposed. I know what that is; I wouldn’t be able to forget all of the bedtime stories that my dad would tell me. I have a dragon living in my woodlands.“Okay, okay.” I said breathily “I have a dragon in my front yard. Oh when you say it like that Whitney you sound crazy.” Then I realized that there is literally no other way to state what is happening. I sighed “I have a dragon in my front yard. Okay. Let’s think, what would Dad do?” He’d probably walk calmly up to the forest and greet the dragon like an old friend that has been a recluse for years. He was a strong believer in that everyone and everything has something beneficial to the world. I began pacing back and forth on my porch, and I flung open the front door to Willow Avenue possibly too hard, and bolted up the stairs like I would when I was younger once I would feel like something scary was chasing me. I knew the layout to this house like I knew the back of my hand, so I took the familiar route to the room that stored all of my Dad’s research papers. I used to never be able to touch these, for even my dad said that what was in them I should not know at that moment. He said I wasn’t ready. “Sorry Dad. I need to read these. You’d say this is a vital moment for your notes.” I knew exactly which book I needed since I have been eyeing and desiring to know the contents of it since I came in here for the first time when I was 7 years old. I grabbed a large dusty book that had 7 capital letters on the front that spelt DRAGONS and Austin Woodruff lining the bottom of the book. Austin is my dad, and I know that he meant for me to read this when I would need it because in the inside of the book where typically the author’s note would be; I read a letter that appeared to be written for me. “Whitney, there are secrets about the world that I should and could never tell you. Although I know that you will need this information to stay safe. I hope that you find what you are looking for in here. I love you to Jupiter and back. Love, your father.” I suddenly noticed that a tear of mine dripped onto the page. “Dang it.” I whispered as I dabbed where I wet the page. “I love you to Jupiter and back too Dad.” I repeated like I did when I was younger going to bed. With new determination, I began the search for what specifically I am dealing with in my own front yard that has now become a fantastical forest. Slowly, I flipped the first page and began to read what my own father had discovered about dragons-a creature that I thought could not exist in my universe. The first page covered what a dragon is and what one may look like, the third page explained how to groom one properly, and the seventeenth page was directions to where I could sell their talons. I was getting emerged in the information this book was providing that I have been imagining reading for decades, but then I heard that screech again. Quickly, I scrambled up on my feet and rushed to the window where I could spot the whole forest. However, somehow I still could not fully see the dragon, only the same two wings. “Come on, I need to hurry up and find what I can do.” I flicked quicker through the pages and I stopped abruptly when I saw exactly what I was looking for. There was a dragon drawn on this page and it resembled the wings exactly to the one that is living in my forest. “Ahah!” I yelled in success. Swiftly, I sped read the section about the “Greenland Hornshakle Dragon” and I read out loud the paragraph I needed. “These are hostile creatures. Do not approach them. Your life is at risk if you do so. No way to tame them.” as I was reading I suddenly felt scared, I thought I hadn’t found anything I could use to protect myself and Willow Avenue. Fortunately, my dad provided that solution for me. He wrote that I need to use his Willow wood Staff that has been passed down from generation to generation in his family and I would’ve been the rightful heir to it if he hadn’t died before having the chance to tell me himself. For the second time since I’ve been in this room, I heard the ear splitting screech once again from my dragon. I slammed my book and Also, I heard sirens arriving in the forest from the police station. They must’ve been alarmed, and I watched as the police troops began chasing impulsively towards the yells. This time I saw both of the dark green wings flash above the highest canopy of the trees. I need to hurry up and figure out what to do. Instantaneously, I remembered that my dad was the master of fantastic fantasy events.Taking a deep breath I began sprinting towards the woods that I have lived next to my whole life. Once I stepped past the first tree, I felt that eerie silence that fills these woods all of the time, but now it doesn’t scare me. I run further and deeper into the woods continuously now feeling the bouldering yell of the dragon on the soles of my feet as if the yell is pushing me to where the dragon is. I desperately was trying to search the floor and sky for the dragon, and then I swallowed a breath as I saw it. It was a colossal verdant dragon that nearly towered over the tallest sequoia trees that have been growing here before all civilization has. I paused abruptly and almost tumbled down onto the muddy floor as I was able to make eye contact with its amber eyes. The police troops already got here before I did, for they were already gathering strategy on how to push the dragon out of the forest.

My staggering and uneven gasps of air must’ve alarmed the dragon because it moved with a start. I had to duck into a bush because the dragon swiped its tail panicky into the nearest sequoia making a booming sound that we all covered our ears for. The dragon groggily tried to stand up, but as soon as it stood on it’s left foot it staggered back onto the ground. I looked quizzically at this dragon that I thought would be disastrous and a nightmare, but instead it was timid, scared, and more like a mouse than a dragon. I relaxed my shoulders and began walking slowly to the shrinking dragon, and I noticed that the dragon was a girl because once she scooted over I saw one baby dragon that was as tall as a full grown giraffe. “Hey hey! Stop! This dragon is a mom!” The police lowered their limitless weapons and opened their eyes in clarity. Compared to the giant mom dragon and the ginormous sequoias surrounding this family, the police, and I; it made the baby dragon seem just like another dust fragment in this universe like all of us humans are. I compared the two dragons and noticed that the mom has a longer snout while the baby has more of a robust snout, so I assumed the dragon was a baby boy. The baby dragon hid behind his mother’s leg and the mother dragon put her wing over him as a warmth method. I hadn’t realized it until now, but I have goosebumps wrapping around my arms and my knees have been shivering. I wrap my arms around myself, and let out a shuddering breath from the cold. Then, Mom dragon scooted a little closer to me and lifted up a tremendous wing as an invitation to enter. Carefully, I entered the warmth that a dragon can give to something apparently.

“Whitney! Are you okay?” I heard the chief of police yell at me “Yes. I am okay. You guys are fine to go. Thanks for your service.” I said as a response, but freezing at this point and the forest is a lot more frigid since the canopies cover the sunlight from entering. “No we cannot leave her here sir! That dragon is a menace! It will try eating her as soon as we leave!” I heard a new voice command to the chief. “No we leave now, that’s an order.” I watched as all of the police began following the chief except for that man that didn’t think it was right. “Graham! We leave now.” Graham did not want to be moved. He stood staring at the mom dragon, but then he did begin to turn around and walk away. However, as soon as the chief turned around Graham cocked his gun and you only heard pop once. I have always been impulsive and ambitious, but sensible people would’ve said I went a bit too far. But I knew I had to do this, I had to do something above myself. I jumped out from under the wing and instantly felt a pang in my chest. I felt my chest hotten as if I pressed a hot ready iron onto it. I heaved forward and realized that I couldn’t quite grasp for air. I could only hear and see at this point. I heard the mom dragon screech and she brought her head down to me as all the police were watching and the chief rushed to my side. “Whitney! Whitney! Say something!” I think that’s the chief yelling. “Go. Fly…” I whispered to the mom dragon, and she must’ve understood because I couldn’t see or hear her or the baby boy anymore. My chest began hurting even worse than before and suddenly I couldn’t hear anything anymore except for four words that I’ve been waiting 12 years to hear, “Hello my Lightning Bug.”.

#story #writing #reading #fantasy #dragon

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btstimestamps · 4 years

Text

Mine [Ch.1]

Pairing(s): maknae line x fem!reader [hybrid!au] [college!au]

Genre(s): fluff, tiny amount of angst, lots of smut 😜

Summary: Having three of your best friends as cat hybrids was quite chaotic especially when their heat hits them all at the same time.

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"I'm home~"

You glanced up from your textbook for a moment to acknowledge your friends presence before focusing back on your task. It was the usual evening with Taehyung showing up to your shared apartment first after finishing his classes, your other two friends arriving after from their club activites.

"Have you eaten?" You asked as you wrote down a note next to a highlighted paragraph.

"Nope. I'm hungry." Taehyung slumped next to you and pouted making you smile.

You removed your reading glasses and placed your items on the oak table before going over to the kitchen to heat up some kimchi pancakes your mother had brought over when she came to visit during the day.

"Oh! I love your mother's cooking." Taehyung wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder as he smiled adorably, his tail swaying side to side in a quick pace.

Being used to the skinship, you simply hummed in response as you placed the delicious food on a plate.

"Eat up before it gets cold."

"Yes mom."

You softly laughed at his words as you headed back to your spot on the cushion sofa.

"There's a party tommorow at Seokjin-hyung's house. Wanna come with us?" Taehyung asked after he had his first bite.

"I have to study for the upcoming test. You know how important it is to me." You sent him an apologetic look but he shook his head, refusing your rejection.

"I'll only take a yes."

You sighed and sent the boy a nod making him cheer. In that moment, Jungkook and Jimin entered the apartment in a tired fashion.

"What with the celebrating?" Jimin asked but immediately caught the smell of food, his body automatically taking him to the source.

"Hey! These are mine!" Taehyung complained as Jimin mercilessly took a huge bite out of the pancake.

"Hyung, [F/N]-noona already heated up our food." Jungkook nodded towards the other plates you setted on the side and Jimin smiles in glee.

"Thanks [F/N]! You're the best~"

The trio sat by the table and chatted as they ate while you continued with your studying. It wasn't until they finished that you stood up and cleaned the table, ushering the boys to rest on the sofa while you cleaned up.

"Can we watch that movie today, noona?" Jungkook's voice startled you that you almost dropped the plate that was in your hands.

He reached out in time, placing his hand over yours and you both stood still trying to comprehend the current situation. Jungkook's cheeks turned a dark shade of red and he retracted his hand causing you to almost drop the plate again.

"That was close." You placed a hand over your heart while Jungkook came out of his daze, forcing a chuckle to leave his lips.

You were obviously not fazed by the contact, more concerned for the plate to even think about it but the younger boy strangely could not stop thinking about how your soft hand felt against his. If only he could feel more of your skin underneath those clothes and-

"Jungkook?"

His eyes widened as he realised where his mind was going and he took a step back.

"Are you ok?" You asked as you tried approaching him but he turned away and stormed off to his room.

The door slamming made you wince and you glanced over to your roommates who both shared a looking of understanding.

"Don't worry about Jungkook. He'll be fine in the morning." That didn't take away your concern but you sent them a nod, deciding it was best to drop the subject.

"I'm heading off to bed then. Goodnight." You took a step towards your room but you were called once more.

"Can't you sleep in my room tonight?" Jimin questioned and you blinked in confusion.

"I can but why do you want me to? Did you have a nightmare last night?" You said back with a tinge of worry but Jimin's smile that he directed towards you indicated that you were wrong.

"I just want to be close to you and cuddle and kiss-" Taehyung lightly elbowed Jimin in the stomach before he could finish.

"Go to bed, [F/N]. We'll see you in the morning." He told with a warm smile.

You returned it as you bid them farewell once more and soon entered your room. Taehyung's smile immediately dropped and he turned to glare at his friend who raised his hands while feigning an innocent expression.

"We are all friends, remember?" He emphasised the most important word making Jimin groan and slump against the sofa.

"I know but I can't help it." He sighed, closing his eyes as an image of your pretty form appeared in his mind.

"You're heat can't but you can. Control it for the next week." Taehyung told making the older boy huff.

"Tell that to Jungkook. He will be the worst out of us three."

Taehyung glanced at Jungkook's door already knowing what the male was up to and released a sigh.

"I'll talk to him in the morning."

The two decided to call it a night and head to their rooms.

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"N-Noona..."

Jungkook bit his swollen lip as he aggressively pumped his thick member with his longer slender fingers wrapped around it.

He imagined you with your ass up in the air as you bend over to take his throbbing cock in your mouth. Your lust filled gaze never leaves his and it drives him insane.

Jungkook almost rips off his sleeve once he bites into it to hold in his cry. Cum shoots out and his body shakes as he rides his orgasm, his eyes rolling to back of his head due to the pleasure. He breathed heavily, trying to calm down from his high before he grabbed some tissues from his side draw and cleaned up. Jungkook soon settled in his bed, glad that he had released a bit of the stress that he was suffering from but he knew it was only going to get worse as the week went by.

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"Good morning!"

The three cat hybrids shuffled out of their rooms, looking equally tired as the other but as they smelt the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen, they perked up.

"Did you sleep well?"

Jungkook had sat down with his friends and began eating, not realising you had directed the question to him until Jimin nudged him.

"I did...sorry about last night, noona." a tinge of pink dusted his cheeks as he ducked his head in shame.

"It's alright! Don't feel bad." You patted his back in comfort and Jungkook almost purred, his cat ears twitching.

"Calm down, you're making it obvious." Taehyung whispered and the male jumped in a startled manner.

You had gone away at that point to grab your bag, not hearing the interaction between the two which was a relief.

"I'm off then. I'll see you all at the party!" You put your shoes on and sent the three a wave before you headed out of the apartment.

"I don't want noona to go to the party..." Jungkook mumbled with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Jimin had to agree with the younger boy, a small frown settling onto his handsome features.

"I might go crazy if I see any other boy look at what's mine." He hissed, his cat ears stretching back as anger hit him.

Taehyung rolled up the magazine that you had left on the table earlier and lightly smacked each of them on the head.

"Control yourselves."

Jimin glanced at the taller boy and rolled his eyes, his lips forming into a small smirk.

"You should be telling yourself that."

Taehyung glanced up and saw his reflection through the mirror, hanging on the wall. His normally brown eyes were now glowing amber as his irises had become thin, his canines sharpening also.

He cursed under his breath and turned away, closing his eyes but as he did, images of the dream he had last night played around in his mind.

"Make me yours, Taehyung." You were lying underneath the shirtless male, your hands reaching out to bring him down.

He bit his lip and lowered himself, tilting his head to be able to share a kiss with you.

"Fuck." He muttered in annoyance before he hastily walked back to his room.

He threw on a random shirt with black skinny jeans, brushed his black locks into a decent style before wearing his favourite pair of shoes. Placing the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he released a huff and nodded to himself.

"Be strong, Taehyung. Be strong."

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"Have all three of you bonded with [F/N] or something?"

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook simultaneously looked to their right to see their dog hybrid friend Namjoon who raised a brow at their behaviour which they had made quite obvious.

"What do you mean?" Jimin decided to ask for the three of them but Namjoon simply rolled his eyes.

"You all look like you want to incinerate every male that is even thirty centimetres near her." He looked over to see your cheery self chatting with a few other people as you took sips of your juice.

"[F/N]! Don't be so boring and have a few drinks!" A male classmate approached you as he offered you alcohol but you shook your head, pointing towards your own drink.

"No thanks. I would rather not have a headache the next day." You smiled politely but he dismissed your words with a wave of his hand.

Your roommates watched from afar, growing tense as they saw the male grab your hand and drag you to his circle of friends.

"Uh oh. This does not look good..." Namjoon muttered as he sank into the sofa to make his presence less known.

You were trying to stop them from making you drink, being as polite as possible but it only annoyed your classmate, him having the nerve to throw a drink at you and soak your clothes.

"If you don't want to then why be here in the first place. It's a party, you stupid-"

A fist came in contact with his cheek and it sent him flying onto the table. A gasp left a majority of the students including you who gazed at your friend in shock.

"T-Taehyung..."

Jimin and Jungkook were out of their seats ready to fight but the so called calmest out of the three had beaten them to it. Taehyung bared his sharp teeth, his ears perking up while his tail swished aggressively. He stepped forward to grab the male but you quickly intervened, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Stop!"

His amber eyes moved onto your trembling form that clung onto him and they immediately returned to their normal colour.

"I knew I shouldn't have invited you."

Seokjin entered the scene, his eyebrows knitted together as he expressed his anger towards the male who was struggling to get up. He glanced over to Taehyung and sent him a small smile before speaking up.

"Take her home. I'll sort this out."

They exchanged a nod and you glanced down as Taehyung entwined your hands before he took you away, Jimin and Jungkook following behind.

"Here, noona." Jungkook had covered you with his jacket before you stepped outside and you gave him your thanks.

It was quiet as you all walked back to your apartment but as soon as you stepped in, closed the door and settled onto your sofa, you were the first to speak up.

"You all have been acting strange recently. Do you want to tell me why?"

Jimin looked at the younger two before deciding to speak up.

"It's actually-"

"Nothing, we're fine. Exams are coming up and we're just stressed."

Taehyung had cut Jimin off who raised a brow in his direction. You didn't buy his excuse and stood up, shrugging of Jungkook's jacket in the process.

"If you don't want to tell me, fine." You bit back at them and Jungkook's ears turned flat as he saw how hurt you became.

Taehyung was unfazed and waved his hand towards you in a careless manner. You bit you lip to hold back saying anything else before turning away and marching to your room. As soon as the door shut, Taehyung's expression matched Jungkook's causing Jimin to look at him in disbelief.

"What was that?"

The black haired boy slumped back into the sofa and sighed.

"The first time I went through my heat with [F/N] around, she was way too awkward with me. She even offered to leave our apartment for a week. That's why I always told you two to be away from [F/N] whenever it happens but now that it hit us three at the same time, we can't all just dissappear without telling her." Taehyung informed and the two finally understood.

"I'll deal with it on my own. Don't worry, hyung." Jungkook said making his friend smile.

Jimin agreed too before letting out a yawn.

"I'm going then. See you tomorrow."

It was the next day and it was you day off so you proceeded to be lazy and have a bit of time to yourself. You weren't alone in the apartment, Jungkook being their too but he had locked himself in his room claiming he had a stomach bug and didn't want you to catch it. You were worried sick at first but last night's conversation reminded you that you were not talking to any of them especially Taehyung so you proceeded to ignore your friend and let him deal with his sickness himself. Although, a small part of you still wanted to go out and buy him medicine.

"Noona..." You had walked past Jungkook's room to go into your own but paused as you heard him call you.

"Kookie? Are you ok?" You called him with concern laced in you voice.

"I need help." He weakly answered and you immediately turned the knob to his door which you were sure was locked.

You stumbled inside, your lips parting to speak but your mouth turned dry at the sight before you. Jungkook was shirtless with his boxers pulled down while his hand was wrapped around his cock.

You were speechless. Is this the reason why your friends were acting strange? Did that mean...

"You're all on your heat? At the same time?" You asked in disbelief and Jungkook groaned in frustration.

"Please, just help me, noona." He begged and you flushed, your cheeks turning red.

"I-uh-um-vagshsvzh-ok." You stumbled over your words as you shuffled towards him.

Once you were an arm length away, Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed it on his throbbing cock.

"Stroke it." He ordered and you horribly blushed at his straightforward words.

You did but it still wasn't enough making him hiss.

"Come here." He yanked you forward and you fell on his lap.

He leaned forward, your lips almost touching but he fought back his instinct and asked for your permission.

"Can I kiss you?"

You gulped, too embarrassed to even nod but the look in your eyes indicated that you were allowing him. He immediately kisses you and you were tense at first until he moved his lips and guided you to follow his movements. A shiver ran down your spine making you relax. You didn't know where to to put your hands so you settled them on his shoulder, squeezing them here and there whenever the kiss became intense. Jungkook guided your hand back to his hard member and you stroked it at a slow pace making him moan in the kiss. You parted from the kiss and watched as he leaned his head back, breathing heavily as you pleased him.

You couldn't help but admire the way he expressed his pleasure so you experimented by giving his cock a light squeeze. A strangled moan was heard after and you bit your lip, liking his reaction.

"Should I do that again?" You asked and Jungkook almost melted at the flicker of dominance that appeared in your eyes.

"Yes, please. Please do it again. I love it."

You honestly didn't know where this confidence was coming from but you loved it just as much as you loved Jungkook submitting to you.

Picking up your pace, Jungkook's breathing pattern quickened as he felt his high coming and you leaned down, showering his neck with kisses. You harshly sucked on his sweet spot and his grip on his bedsheets tightened.

"I-I'm gonna cum." He stuttered and you slowed down your strokes making his eyes widen.

"Noona, make me cum, please!" He begged and you licked your lips.

"Don't worry, baby." You assured and Jungkook felt his heart flutter over the pet name.

It wasn't long before his hot seed sperted out and landed on his lean stomach. You grabbed a few tissues and helped the younger boy who was trying to calm down. You planned on getting up after he pulled up his boxers but Jungkook was fast and wrapped his arms around your waist. He dragged you back down, and you made a startled noise as you fell on your side.

"Stay with me." He whispered and you glanced up, closing your eyes for a second as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

You leaned your head against his bare chest and sighed.

"Are you feeling better now?" You asked and Jungkook hummed in response.

You didn't realise when you fell asleep but you definitely did when you felt someone yank Jungkook away from you.

The male landed roughly on the floor and he winced before looking up to glare at whoever disturbed his peaceful sleep. His expression changed to fear and guilt as he saw who it was exactly.

"Hyung..."

"Is this how your dealing with it because, I don't see you doing it on your own." Taehyung looked over to you but you weren't scared, you were calm.

"You should have told me you were going through your heat." You got off the bed and helped Jungkook stand who then stood behind you, his cat ears pointing down as he kept his gaze on the floor.

"We're friends, [F/N]. If we do this, I don't know where our relationship will stand after this." He countered but you shook your head.

"I love you all and I care for you all. So, if I have to help you, Jungkook and Jimin go through this heat then I don't care about our relationship. I'm not the same awkward turtle I was two years ago. I will help you this time." You declared.

Taehyung's canines grew sharp as his coloured orbs changed into a beautiful shade of Amber. He leaned forward and lightly hissed but you stood your ground.

"Don't start complaining when you're unable to walk."

#bts #btsv #bts imagines #bts maknae line #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook

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cptablovegood · 5 years

Text

Absolutely no one asked for this or probably even wants this but I’m less than a hundred pages in to Fool’s Errand and Fitz and Beloved are already ruining me so I’m literally just going to make a note of every time they’re being super in love (even if Fitz is constantly obtuse and refuses to admit it) just for my own (in)sanity..

———————part 1————————

Apparently only original posts show up in tumblr searches some imma just have to keep adding on to this rather than reblogging hope you’re ready for a shit so guys!

“I see a love that wends its way in and out of all your many years. That faithful heart has been absent for a time, but is soon to return to you again.” A witch reading his LOVE LINE! She also makes a direct comparison to Molly. Fitz foolishly thinks it’s about Starling but Beloved arrives soon after so we know its about them. HIS LOVE LINE GUYS!

“Your one true love is stitched in and out and through you life. Love will return to you.” You could interpret this as being about Molly as I think they end up getting back together after Burrich has died but I’m way more inclined to believe this is about the Fool. For one its the same witch says its right after the above. Fitz himself also dimises Molly. But mainly the phrasing. The White Prophet and his Catalyst are often described as being interwoven and bound together despite of any distance and time. Like the metaphors are parallel making me think this is about the Fool. Which means… Beloved is Fitz’s one true love! Guys can Robin Hobb just give me a fucking break please!

*a whole paragraph admiring a horse* “The rider was fully worthy of the horse.” He thinks his mans is fine ok!

“He smiled. Something turned over in my heart. I moistened my lips, but could find no words, no breath to utter them if i had. My heart told me one thing my eyes another.” Ummm how fucking in love is Fitz? He hasn’t seen the Fool in 15 years and he’s speechless and his heart is doing somersaults? His eyes are saying wait that’s not how i remember the fool but it doesn’t fucking matter he KNOWS its the fool HIS HEART KNOWS.

“I open my mouth, then helplessly spread wide my arms. At that gesture that said all I had no words for, an answering look lit his face.”Again he’s literally speechless but that doesn’t even matter the Fool can fully understand him. Soulmates don’t need such trivial things as language to communicate!

“He glowed as if a light had been kindled in him” Im sorry thats some romantic shit.

“He did not dismount but flung himself from his horse towards me.” Hi the Fool literally launched himself off a horses back into your arms!

“The horse shied away but none of us paid her any attention.” They’re so absorbed in each other.

“In one step i caught him up. I enfolded him in my arms as the wolf gambolled about us like a puppy.”

“‘Oh Fool,’ I choked. ‘It cannot be you, yet it is and I do not care how.’” Emotions are literally choke him he’s about to start crying, I-

“He flung his arms around my neck. He hugged me fiercely. … For a long time he clung to me like a woman.” Yeah we know Fitz has some old misconstrued ideas about love and gender so for him to even parallel that is a lot ok…

“Until the wolf insistently thrust himself between us.” Ok so not only would they have carried on clinging to each other if Nighteyes hadn’t have forced them apart but also the wolfs reaction is super fucking important as well. Like Nighteyes is Fitz’s Wit beast. He has never loved another person other than Fitz so loyally and without question. When he first meets the Fool he trusts him straight away and calls him pack long before anyone else. Fitz even gets jealous of their bond in the first trilogy until Nighteyes explains that why shouldn’t he trust and love someone so fiercely if Fitz already feels this way about them.

“…wiping away tears. I did not think less of him for them. My own ran unchecked down my face.” Urgh thank you Robin Hobb for letting men cry! But they are both so overcome with emotion and not ashamed or embarrassed to show the other person that they’ve been brought to tears by their reunion like wow they’re so in love.

“He flowed to his feet, every nuance of his grace as familiar to me as the drawing of breath.” He likens simply seeing the fool moving to something that is habitual and that sustains his life I-

“He cupped the back of my head and in his old way, pressed his brow to mine.” I would argue more tender than a chaste kiss.

“He stared at me, his eyes touching the white streak in my hair and running familiarly over the scares on my face. I stared just as avidly…” they’re drinking each other up after so many years apart committing each other to memory again.

“The wide grin that lit his face erased all years and distance between us.” something as simple as a smile can bring them right back together like they haven’t been separated for 15 years.

“I felt something from him; the thinnest knife-edge of of shared awareness. … ‘All down the years’ his voice going as golden as his skin ‘you have been with me, as close as the tips of my fingers, even when we were years and seas apart. Your being was like the hum of a plucked string at the edge of my hearing, or a scent carried on the breeze.’”Maybe I’m smoking crack but I think this might be the most romantic thing ever? ‘his voice going golden as his skin’ why does that warm my heart so??

“‘Had I possessed the Skill in truth you would have known I was there. At your fingertips, but mute.’ I felt an odd easing in my heart at his words, for no reason I could name” Fitz mate thats love. Love and the confirmation and realisation that you had never and would never truly be alone or lonely.

“It was a boys thing to do, this immediate offering to share a prized possession and my heart answered it, knowing that no matter how long or how far apart wed been nothing important had changed between us.” Like you might be men full grown now, having lived completely separate lives, not knowing each other for the last 15 years but your love is so pure it has not been marred by age or distance!

“I blinked my eyes and for a minute I was back in the Fool’s hut in the mountains, healing from my injury while he stood between me and the world” he remembers how the fool protected and shielded him and nursed him back to health.

“He created reality around himself, bringing order and peace to a small island of warm firelight.”

“Light ran up his cheekbones and dwindles as it merged with his hair.”

“‘In the space of a sundown, you show me the wide world from a horses back and the soul of the world within my own walls.’” Before the Fool came Fitz was feeling listless and suffocated by his own life. Is there a more beautiful thing than being renewed to vigor by someone you love? The Fool basically brings him all the possibilities and life that he had forgotten he could have. Also he calls the Fool ‘the soul of the world’ how fucking beautiful is that. and the fool is so fucking happy that he could do that for him.

“We are whole.” This said by Nighteyes which I again think is super important. He feels the same about the Fool as he does about Fitz. And although him and Fitz are Wit bonded and him and the Fool not he does not feel that they have been truly complete without him.

“Like sundered pieces of crockery that snick back together so precisely that the crack becomes invisible, the Fool joined us and completed us.”

“The Fool’s presence was in itself an answer and satisfaction.”

“That evening remains for me always a moment to cherish as golden and fragrant as brandy in crystal glasses.”

“I stayed away from you as long as i could. he offered the words like an apology.’ He literally cant keep himself from fitz. “Any time that you returned to visit me would not have been too soo” And Fitz doesn’t want to be left alone Beloved he wants your company!

“Nighteyes and I spoke as we did was not an effort to exclude him from our circle. It was that our circle made us one in a fundamental way we could not share. ‘Yet once we did and it was good.’” Even the wolf wants them to all be joined again and share their thoughts and feelings!

“He extended his hand to me as if he proffered an invisible gift on those outstretched fingertips. I closed my eyes to steady myself against the temptation. ‘I want it as i want breath itself Fool take it away please.’” He is having to ask the Fool to remove the temptation because he wants that wholeness, that one’s again so badly but he knows it’s a bad idea. It is taking all his will to decline it and I think of the Fool offered again he wouldn’t be able to resist a again. Also this is the 2nd time he has likened the Fool to something as fundamental as breathing.

“‘I dreamed of you once. You were sick or injured. A man leaned over you, I felt he wanted to hurt you so I-’ ‘It’s quite likely ou saved my life.’” Even when the Fool was Amber and Fitz did not know her his subconscious was looking out for her and protecting her. He fucking skill pushed someone to leave her alone without even realising it was her.

“‘Sometimes when I was most alone I mocked myself that I could cling to such a hope. That I could believe I was so important to anyone that he would travel in his dreams to protect me.’ ‘You should have known better than that.’ I said quietly.” Ok so this hurts my heart a little because Fitz always denies that he loves the Fool the way in which he wants to be loved by Fitz. I mean I don’t think that’s true at all because their love is way more intense and intimate than any woman that Fitz has ever been with Molly included the only boundary between him and the Fool is sex which arguable we know Fitz doesn’t always think is related to love cos he slept with Starling. And it fucking kills me that when Amber was in her darkest place she clung on to the hope that Fitz did truest love her but at the same time laughed at herself cos Fitz himself had told them otherwise previously. And here he has the audacity to contradict her. Like how could you ever doubt it? Cos you told them to doubt it mate! Why are you so fucking obtuse Fitz!

“‘Should I?’ He gave me the most direct look I have ever received from him. I did not understand the hurt I saw in his eyes nor the hope. He needed something from me but I wasn’t sure what it was.” Urgh again Fitz is so blind! You just need to hold him and admit to him how much you love him get over yourself and your whole ‘I can’t love you like a man loves a woman’ bullshit cos like the Fool rightfully said you didn’t love Molly cos of what was under her skirts!

“‘Were you expecting me to leave tomorrow?’ ‘I thought you might I didn’t hope it.’ ‘That's good then for you could have hoped in vain.’” They’ve finally been reunited after so long and neither one of them wants to leave the other.

“I suddenly realised the immensity of what i had asked him … like all direct questions I had ever asked the fool I both dreaded and longed for the answer.” This just feels very fucking intimate to me lads sorry to say

“‘Good night Beloved we have been apart for too long.’” Umm the Fool fucking gave Fitz his own name. His true name that he had never told anyone. His name that his own mother called him. They’re gunna ruined me these two.

This is literally only the first chapter that they have been reunited in and my heart already can’t take it!!

#rote #trote #realm of the elderlings #the realm of the elderling #robin hobb #the tawny man trilogy #the tawny man #beloved #the fool #fitzchivalry farseer #tom badgerlock #fools errand

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alexlayer69 · 6 years

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This is why you don’t try to mansplain Jaune’s shitty behavior and RT’s horrible writing decisions to me.

Because I’ll rip you a new one and deconstruct every ridiculous argument and accusation you try to make, just like I did for @outcasts-redeemer when he tried to defend Jaune at Weiss’ expense before me, and since I quoted it all, I thought: Why not make it is own post?

Oh my fucking goodness, the amount of bullshit in this post alone is more than I even dared expect altogether...

If I remember correctly, Jaune was never a douche towards her.

Then you probably don’t remember correctly or are extremely lacking in self-awareness, because refusing to just take no for an answer (multiple times) is a douche thing to do. It invalidates her emotions, her autonomy and agency, showing he’s got no respect for any of those, and by extension, for her. The fact that he later tries to hypocritically lecture Neptune about disregarding Weiss’ feelings just shows how much lack of self-awareness the writers have for writing Jaune.

Jaune was the dunce who couldn’t read the atmosphere to save his life. He was awkward, clumsy and took things literally.

True, but that’s unrelated to the subject altogether.

It was Weiss who was the rude bitch.

Oh, HERE we go.

Instead of telling him outright the moment he started to flirt she wasn’t interested, she was sarcastic, condescending and rude and pointed to her upbringing as a reason why he was not worth her time.

So what? She still made it perfectly clear she was not interested, and even then, she eventually did tell him “No” straight on his face, and he still didn’t listen.

Then there was Pyrrah. The girl who was patient, kind and thoughtful, the one who befriended him and treated him with respect something he never had received before. She pressed him to find the deeper meaning behind his actions. Jaune told her, and we see that Jaune’s actions and affection was more than superficial, it had depth and meaning.

None of which justifies disregarding her agency and refusing to take no for an answer. It’s not even that hard. That’s without mentioning that, having had near to zero close interaction with Weiss in... ever, it’s hard enough to argue that Jaune actually got to know her and care for the real her (otherwise, he likely would have been more respectful). Instead, it feels far more like he just fell in love superficially with her. He describes her as “Cold but also incredible, smart, graceful, talented”, all of these being things you could tell from Weiss at borderline first glance. It doesn’t shown any evidence that he really knows her.

It was like Pyrrha’s, full of emotion and depth.

More like full of naivety.

Jaune fell for Weiss for her character. Pyrrah fell for Jaune because of his.

Pyrrha fell for Jaune because she was made to suck him up. The girl practically wanted to deflower him from before they even properly introduced themselves to one another. She was never her own character, just an accessory to Jaune’s, and that’s all the more reason for which I dread Weiss associating with him any further, because lord forbid any other characters have to follow Pyrrha’s fate of becoming little more but a sidekick to a bland, boring and uninteresting male character that’s not even meant to be the protagonist yet for some reason is treated as such more than the actual leads that the show is named after!

Yet, on the flip side Weiss Didn’t

Instead she fell for a smooth talking asshole who turned her down after she worked up the courage to ask him out after he spent much of the time flirting with her.

While I’m not gonna argue that this is definitely one of Weiss’ lower points, you sure seem to like exaggerating Neptune’s flirty attitude to extremes. He’s yet another douche, sure, but asshole? He just refused Weiss’ invitation, which - flirt or not - he’s got all the right in the world to do, just like Weiss has every right to reject Jaune. None of these characters are entitled to each other. The only difference is that, upon being rejected, Weiss takes it with dignity and just leaves it there, which Jaune just can’t do, as you actually proceed to illustrate in your next paragraph.

Jaune on the other hand was the opposite of Neptune. After he saw Weiss asking Neptune out, he gave her up for her own happiness, even going so far as talking to Neptune and demanding that he not take her feelings for granted. Which if you don’t remember Neptune dose anyway during the tournament.

The fact that Jaune only “gave her up” once he saw her asking for Neptune is by no means a point in his favor. He should have given up when she rejected him, not when she showed interest in someone else. He’s respecting Neptune’s “claim” (which is all in his mind) over Weiss than he’s respecting Weiss herself.

And he didn’t just save her once. He had been constantly protecting her. Initiation, Neptune, The Breach, keeping Ruby Save, Haven. All examples of him protecting her either directly or by extension.

The most he did in the initiation exam was try to catch her while falling, and he did it with every intention to flirt with her rather than to save her (otherwise he may have actually had an effective tactic).

He never tried to protect her from Neptune. He was just competing against him and was bitter as fuck because Neptune had what he couldn’t have and let it go.

Jaune and Weiss never even interacted during the Breach. I don’t know what you’re on about.

Keeping Ruby safe is all about Ruby. He’s not doing that for Weiss, for fuck’s sake. These characters have their own goals and motivations, their worlds don’t revolve completely around another character. Weiss’ doesn’t revolve around Ruby and Jaune’s doesn’t revolve around Weiss, and they shouldn’t. And that’s without mentioning that Jaune was doing a TERRIBLE job at protecting Ruby, seeing as he’d rather close his eyes and look away when Tyrian was about to strike her rather than attempt to protect her.

And as for Haven? Lemme remind you that it was Jaune who started the fight that led to Weiss getting injured, even as Qrow was trying to keep it from happening, and it was even his own words to Cinder that made her decide to target Weiss instead of just finish him off. Unlocking his Semblance to save her later on hardly saves him any dignity

Weiss on the other hand? The moment he needs help, she fails. And Pyrrha dies because of it.

Okay, this just takes the CAKE in bullshit levels!

Are you seriously blaming WEISS for Pyrrha’s death!? So what, Ruby is also to blame for this?! Because they didn’t get there in time!?

How about the fact that all that could have been prevented if Jaune had done his fucking job and actually watched the entrance like he was told to, maybe then blocking Cinder’s arrow that finished off Amber, preventing her from becoming the unstoppable juggernaut that killed Pyrrha. He had ONE job that could have changed everything, and he failed at it, and you wanna blame Weiss for it!?

And even then, he had the upmost respect for her and it was clear that he still held her in high regard even after eight months without seeing her following her failing to save his partner. And that isn’t just for her, he had no anger directed at anyone except himself and Cinder.

Because he shouldn’t hold any grudge for anyone but himself and Cinder! Nobody else that’s alive played any role on that, and certainly not Ruby or Weiss!

When Weiss came back into the fold Jaune didn’t do anything except shit on himself and try and kill himself via Cinder for Team RWBY because they’re the ones who matter.

You mean, avenge his idea of Pyrrha (because let’s be honest, just like with Weiss, he never really got to know Pyrrha) and his own sorry pride after Cinder insulted him without even meaning to? Initiating a fight that put everyone in danger? And what bullshit is this about “try to kill himself”? That’s just you projecting more drama onto the character than what’s really there. And even if that was right, he should at least pick a death that doesn’t put others in danger.

Weiss and Jaune’s relationship is as old as episode one of volume one. They have been intertwined just as Jaune and Ruby are. If Weiss shows Jaune more respect it will be due to their long relationship and their individual growths from snotty bitch and weak fuck up respectively to humbled warrior and dependable savior respectively. So no I won’t be proof of outdated thinking. Matter of fact it would be proof that Miles and Kerry are still capable of writing for RWBY.

The entirety of this argument is nothing but utter bullshit that hinges on believing Jaune to be an innocent boy that never did anything wrong (which he’s not) and Weiss to have her character meant to revolve around male characters like Pyrrha’s did (which it shouldn’t). I sorta suspect you meant “it” instead of “I” when you said “I won’t be proof of outdated thinking”, but I think you nailed it there, denial aside, because your way of thinking is clearly as backwards as it was the idea to have Weiss get worfed and injured just for the sake of Jaune’s man-pain and the unlocking of his Semblance.

The whole idea was easily RWBY’s lowest point in its entire run, and the last thing I need is a Jaune stan like you coming to mansplain it to me, trying to defend Jaune while shitting on a much better character like Weiss.

#RWDE #Jaune Arc #Jaune h8

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bluieeeee · 6 years

Text

Double Hang

Tyrus week, day 4: Double Date

Andi wants to go to an art show with Walker and brings TJ and Cyrus along because she was worried it's weird to hang out with him alone when she's still with Jonah.

Most of this is actually just Tyrus, hardly any real Wandi but there are one or two paragraphs of TJ shipping it.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706356

Cyrus was standing in front of his mirror making sure his outfit was in check, simple but nice, perfect. He ran a comb through his messy hair and glanced down at his phone, two texts from two of his favorite people.

FROM: Andi 12:15 pm:

Are you excited??

TO: Andi 12:20pm:

Yes, I am ecstatic to hang out with my ex-crushes girlfriend with her ex almost crush who has a crush on her :P

FROM: Andi 12:23 pm:

At least TJ will be there!

FROM: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy <3 12:18 pm:

We’re meeting at The Spoon, right?

TO: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy<3 12:20 pm:

YUPPERS!

FROM: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy<3 12:21 pm:

How did we end up dragged into this again?

TO: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy<3 12:22pm:

:)) <33

It was a valid question, Cyrus was wondering the same even though he knew the story;

Cyrus and Andi had been sitting at The Spoon over a plate of baby taters and milkshakes. Buffy had been busy doing something with her mom so it was just them. They had been chatting as usual about random topics, everything from Jonah to Buffy to Tater Theater when Andi got a text from Walker.

FROM: Walker 3:30 pm:

Heyyy! There’s another art show this weekend, wanna come with?

It said. Cyrus looked at it then at Andi. “Well, do you want to go?” he asked.

“Of course I do!” Andi said, “but I don’t think I should.”

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“Jonah,” she answered.

“What about Jonah?” Cyrus asked, “I thought he was good with him after the art show?”

“He is.” She sets her phone back on the table and groans. “But it’s still weird, isn’t it? Hanging out with a boy who liked or likes me? And who I was starting to like. It’s weird right?”

“Only if you make it weird,” Cyrus said with a shrug before popping another Baby Tater in his mouth.

“I don’t know. I’d feel a lot better about it if it weren’t just us...” She says smiling at Cyrus.

Cyrus pauses his hand going for another tater, “that’s a hint.” He says, “isn’t it?” Her grin widens.

“TJ can come too!” She exclaims.

“Then it will seem like a double date.”

“It’s a double hang!” She argues. Cyrus appreciates the allusion to when he and Jonah went on a “double hang” but feels the need to point out that that was definitely a date. Even if he puked in his shoe at the end.

“Keep in mind, last time I went on a “double hang” I ended up with a girlfriend,” he said. “And a vomit-filled shoe.”

Andi pleaded with him and even offered to buy him another plate of Baby Taters for a solid ten minutes before he finally agreed. And then he had to do the same with TJ an hour later to convince him.

And that’s how he ended up here, getting ready to head to The Spoon to meet his boyfriend.

He was supposed to meet TJ before meeting Walker at the art show. so they could walk together and get something for lunch first, then Andi was coming around 1:30 to head to the art show. The walk to The spoon was approximately 15 minutes and he had twenty minutes until he was supposed to meet him there. He leaned down and tied his shoes and hoped these ones would not end up ruined like the last ones.

TO: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy <3 12:29 pm:

Leaving now! See you soon!

FROM: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy<3 12:30 pm:

I’m almost there, Tater tots and chocolate milkshake?

TO: Not So Scary Boyfriend Guys<3 12:30 pm:

Baby Taters*** but OF COURSE!

He smiled down at his phone before stuffing it into his pocket and walked out the door.

He walked into The Spoon, a few drops of water in his hair and on his shoulder from the beginning of a drizzle. He was relieved, honestly. It was a hot day, but not only hot. Muggy too, like you could feel the dampness in the air clinging to your skin which only made it a hundred times worse. He spotted TJ in a booth towards the back and headed in that direction. He sat in his usual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, and his hair as perfect as ever.

TJ turned and looked in his direction and his mouth instantly formed into a smile lighting up his entire face. Cyrus couldn’t help the smile that formed on his own face at seeing him and seeing him look so happy to see little old him. He walked over to the table TJ was sat at and said a quick greeting.

“Baby Taters!” Cyrus exclaimed before grabbing one and throwing it into his mouth. TJ sat across from his with the cutest smile plastered on his face. “And they're still hot!”

“I told you I was going to order them, Underdog,” TJ said with a sarcastic voice despite his still smiling face.

“Yeah, but they usually take forever!” Cyrus said. He had this weird amount of energy that he hadn’t had before. Maybe it was the baby taters. Though it was more likely just TJ’s presence. “I’m guessing Amber was the waitress?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” TJ confirmed. “How’d you know?”

“That’s the only time I get warm taters,” he explains before sticking another tater in his mouth. “Truly the best part of befriending her” He looked to his left and saw Amber standing there, bored at the cash register. He did a frantic wave with a smile and received the same back.

“How do you do that?” TJ asks curiously, not specifying what he was referring to.

“Do what?” Cyrus asked and took a long sip of the chocolate milkshake in front of him.

“Become friends with anyone,” he said. “Even people your friends hate?” he says before gesturing to himself.

“Did you forget I’m the child of four therapists?” Cyrus questions making TJ laugh. “But really, everyone is redeemable. And neither of you have ever done anything bad to me. My friendships and who I think could make cool or good friends isn’t dictated by Andi or Buffy’s opinions or experiences. Just mine.”

TJ is staring at him with a dazed look in his eye and Cyrus begins to wonder if he zoned out during his tangent. “Sorry, was that rambly and too nice?” He rushes out.

TJ shakes his head quickly, “no! Not at all, I was just… impressed, I guess," He says and Cyrus lets out a relieved breath.

They fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes while Cyrus eats his baby taters, TJ stealing one every few minutes. “So, do I know this guy?” TJ asks.

It takes a confused moment for it to click that he’s talking about Walker but when it does Cyrus asks “Did you get a caricature drawing done at my party?”

“No,” TJ answers.

“Then probably not”

TJ nods, “Who is he?”

Cyrus shrugs, unsure of the answer himself really. “He’s an artist, obviously. He and Andi hung out at my party. I only ever really met him when he came here to draw Buffy, Andi, and I as a going away present for Buffy.” He answers. “He seemed pretty nice.”

TJ nods again and it falls back into the calm silence for a while until Cyrus and he falls into conversations full of smiles, laughter, and teasing.

After what feels like no time Cyrus gets a text from Andi saying she would be there soon and he’s a bit shocked. He really hadn’t realized the time went by that quick. He sends back an okay before letting TJ know.

Ten minutes later, Andi walks in holding the door open with her foot so she can shake out the rainbow umbrella in her hand and Cyrus looks out the window for the first time since he came in. It’s pouring now and Cyrus’s eyes widen. Andi gets to the table with a smile, sporting ripped overall shorts, a stripped t-shirt, and black boots. “How long has it been raining like that?”

“Like, half an hour,” Andi replies shaking her head. “You didn’t notice?” She looks toward the window and back to him.

“Nooo. I didn’t bring an umbrella!” he groans.

TJ pulls something black from under the table and shakes it in the air, “Luckily, I did”

Cyrus makes a relieved ‘Phew’ noise. “Thank God!” he exclaims. “You do not want to see my hair wet. It becomes a mess.”

“You should see mine.” TJ says, “with all this gel.” he cringes inwardly. “Not. nice.”

Cyrus fake pouts, “Looks like we’ll never get the dance and kiss in the rain of my dream,” he says and TJ and Andi both laugh at him. Andi picks up Cyrus’s milkshake and takes a big slurp of it receiving a falsely offended look from Cyrus. She sticks her tongue out and puts the cup back on the table in front of him.

Andi pulls out her phone and looks at the time, “are you guys ready to go?” She asks. TJ looks to Cyrus and they both nod and starts standing up and walking towards the exit. “Wait!” Cyrus says as they get about 3 booths away from their own and runs back and takes a long drink from his cup, finishing off his milkshake before running back to the other two. Andi is smiling at him and TJ playfully rolls his eyes.

On the walk over TJ and Cyrus both hold the umbrella between them, hands overlapping making it so they can hold hands but not draw attention.

At the art show, Walker is already standing outside under a canopy waiting for them. He waves at them quickly. Well, more at Andi than TJ or Cyrus. TJ did vaguely recognize him from the party and recalled thinking the blond streak in his hair looked pretty cool. The building is nice, not much nicer than most of the others on the streets, but it wasn’t a total mess either. Andi ran ahead to Walker and TJ looked to Cyrus. Cyrus seemed to have his thinking face on(which TJ thought was adorable.) watching Andi and Walker go ahead. “What happened to Jonah?” TJ asked.

“Huh?” Cyrus came out of his daze and looked up to TJ. “Oh! Nothing… their just friends.”

“Tell that to Walker,” he retorted. “He’s making mad heart eyes.” he said teasingly.

“Oh you’re one to talk,” Cyrus said with a smile. “TJ Smitten”

TJ dramatically rolls his eyes like he had when he was first given the nickname by Buffy before he had even confessed his feelings to Cyrus.

“Oo!” Cyrus exclaims. “That should be your new name in my phone!”

TJ raises his eyebrows, “Do I wanna know what it is now?”

“Not So Scary Boyfriend Guy!” Cyrus said. He should have guessed. Both of their nicknames from the swingset have stuck, though TJ often called Cyrus Muffin or Somersault depending on the mood. The two slight changes made TJ smile.

They are now approaching the entrance when Cyrus and TJ both hear from a few feet ahead “Bas mitzvah boy! Hey!” Cyrus waves from where he is. They finally reach the canopy and TJ tightens his hand around Cyrus’s before taking the umbrella and shaking it out.

“About time, slowpokes,” And says teasingly to them.

“Well, sorry we didn’t take off running with you,” Cyrus retorts.

Andi rolls her eyes. “Walker this is TJ, TJ, Walker,” she says and they shake hands.

TJ is convinced this might be the longest date of his life. There are multiple factors that lead to this.

Firstly is, he isn’t much of an art guy. He can’t hold a conversation about a piece of art for the life of him, whereas Walker and Andi seem to be able to hold half hour long conversations for each painting or drawing. Cyrus seems to be the same, though. So they came up with a game. They both would give the most bullcrap explanations for every painting and whoever's explanation is better or funnier, gets a point.

Secondly, watching Walker pine over Andi was almost painful. But what was worse was seeing how animated and happy Andi seemed around him. TJ couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t together. As of now TJ had only really seen Andi upset by or stressed out because of Jonah. But she didn’t seem like that with Walker. But, alas, just because he had an amazing relationship now didn’t make him an expert on relationships so he told himself to but out.

And lastly, he couldn’t hold Cyrus’s hand. He wasn’t entirely sure why but he felt that extra push to today. And though he was tempted to just say screw it and take his hand in his own, he couldn’t. They had both decided to keep their relationship a bit quiet for now and not show tons of PDA or tell everyone who would listen. Plus, this place was full of older people, and you never really know how they will respond to two boys holding hands.

Andi and Walker both stopped again and looked at another piece of art, only this one, as far as TJ could tell was was a just a mirror, albeit a nice mirror. It was probably some “You are art” thing. Cyrus looked up at him and said: “What do think this one is about?”

He thought about it for a moment before going with it, “I think it’s about those two boys” he gestures at the mirror and the TJ inside it gestures back. “The really cute one and the tall one.” He clarifies he sees Cyrus’s cheeks go pink in the mirror. “And about how clearly the taller one wants to take the cute one's hand,” he adds quietly.

Cyrus smiles, and the back of their hands brush softly together and it sends little tingles up TJ’s arm. After another second Cyrus interlocks, their pinkies and TJ feels a stupidly big smile pull at his mouth and he feels himself blush so he looks down and away.

Andi and Walker start walking again, TJ can hear their giggling and sees Andi nudge him in the side with her elbow. He can’t help but root for Walker again. They really do seem good for each other.

TJ and Cyrus follow a few feet behind with their pinkies still interlocked at their sides where no one can really tell. Walker and Andi stop and Andi seems to gasp and gesture for them to catch up and they walk a little bit faster, trying not to swing their connected arms too much.

“Isn’t this one just beautiful guys?”

On the wall hangs a canvas with a painting with a silhouette of two people, you can’t really tell their gender or ages, on a swing set against a beautiful light blue shade that’s stunning against the black silhouettes. “Yeah,” TJ says. “It really is.” he feels a smile pull and looks down to Cyrus.

#tyrus week #tyrus fanfic #tyrus week day 4 #double date #andi mack #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #walker brodsky #myfanfic

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captainpunk · 7 years

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And Then You

Word Count: 2,461

Warnings: idk, a little angst

A/N: Listen I know it’s a little rushed and I love him, but Tony is hard, okay? Not my gif.

Some people had just one word, others had entire paragraphs. And then, very rarely, some people had nothing at all.

Tony Stark was just one of those people who was born with nothing scrawled across his wrist.

Growing up, his parents had assured him that there was someone out there for him - that he wasn’t doomed to a lifetime of solitude. Sometimes his mother would sit him down and show him the words on her wrist, written in neat, flowing letters.

Well, would you look at that.

It had been the first thing that Howard Stark had ever said to Maria Carbonell, who would become a Stark several months later.

“When I was born,” Maria would tell young Tony, “my words were very faint. I was nearly twenty years old before I could really make out what they said.”

And so Tony held out hope, all through grade school into high school, where he quickly learned that it was easier if no one knew that his wrists were blank. People found out, of course, no matter how many long sleeve shirts Tony wore. Those who didn’t taunt him mercilessly pitied him, and it was a relief when Tony was admitted at such an early age to MIT, where no one knew his secret.

And then his mother, along with his father, had died, and the tiny spark of hope Tony still nurtured died along with her.

Tony threw himself wholeheartedly into his work after that, convinced that if he had something to focus on, he would forget about the whole thing. It got harder when his best friend, James Rhodes, met the woman whose first words were etched into his wrist. Tony was happy for him, really he was, and enthusiastically filled the role of the best man at their wedding. But he had gone home that night alone and stared around his big, empty house. All the money and gadgets in the world didn’t seem to be capable of filling the hole in his heart where a soulmate should be.

So Tony joined the Avengers. His Iron Man suits, just one of many enormous technological feats Tony had achieved over the years, were nothing short of extraordinary. He had jumped at the opportunity to join when Nick Fury had asked - finally, Tony would belong somewhere, somewhere where he could be surrounded by individuals working towards a common goal.

It was in the Avengers where Tony found a best friend in Steve Rogers. It had been a rocky start; the two men had nearly polar opposite personalities and it had taken the death of Agent Phil Coulson to truly pull them together.

It wasn’t until after Ultron that Tony discovered that Steve also held a secret. He, just like Tony, had no words written across his wrists. He had, once, a long time ago.

Recruits, attention!

Those had been the first words Steve had ever heard Peggy Carter utter, but when Steve had woken up from the ice, the words had disappeared. They had not been replaced.

The two men didn’t talk about their blank wrists. Instead, they worked tirelessly. Well, most of the time, anyway.

Music blared and lights flashed. People danced and drank, laughing and chattering away. Tony sat alone at the bar, staring down into a glass of amber scotch and swirling the contents lazily. He had always been good at throwing parties, but lately he hadn’t been very good at enjoying them.

And then you came along.

You didn’t really know what you were doing at the Avengers compound, or why you’d thought going to a party was a good idea. You’d never been good at parties; the music was always too loud and the people always too drunk. But you’d gone anyway, and it was entirely Wanda’s fault.

Wanda had come across you one day in the middle of Central Park, where you spent a fair amount of time people-watching. Except one day, you had gotten the distinct feeling that someone was watching you, and that was when you had seen Wanda. You’d barely known her for a month before she told you about the party and insisted that you come along.

You didn’t notice Tony Stark at first, when you sat down at the bar. He didn’t notice you immediately either, still watching the swirling contents of his glass.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked, looking at you expectantly. You looked up and smiled, holding up a finger as you pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from you pocket.

Strawberry daiquiri, you scribbled down, passing the pad to the bartender. He gave you a funny look but didn’t question the request, turning away to mix your drink up. You were used to the funny looks. You’d been receiving them nearly every day for the last ten years, ever since the car accident that had stolen your voice.

And that was why you had become such fast friends with Wanda - she didn’t need notes or lip-reading abilities to know what you wanted to say, as you quickly found out. After the initial shock, you fell into an easy friendship with her.

It was then that Tony Stark noticed you, as you pulled your pad of paper back towards you and began to doodle idly.

You didn’t realize you were being closely watched as the bartender slid your drink to you. You took a sip, and then started when you heard a voice at your ear.

“I know it’s loud in here,” Tony said, sliding onto the stool beside you, “but most people resort to shouting before hand-written notes.”

And just like that, your entire world changed - and though he didn’t yet know it, so did his.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, for a moment that felt like an eternity. You took in his face, the same face you’d seen on television and on the front pages of newspapers and the covers of magazines for so many years. He looked so tired, his big chocolate eyes subdued somehow. It was him, though. You could feel it.

You swallowed thickly, your eyes darting to your wrist, which was hidden beneath the sleeve of a cardigan. You’d looked at the words written there every day of your life.

I know it’s loud in here. The words were written in sloppy, casual letters. The phrase had never made sense to you before, and honestly, you had been beginning to wonder if they were a mistake.

“You okay?”

Your eyes flashed up again, and Tony’s brows were drawn together with sudden concern. A little dazed, you grabbed your pen and quickly scribbled a message.

I’m not the shouting type.

You slid the paper to Tony, who’s eyes darted between you and the pad. His eyes lit up somewhat, as if you’d started some kind of absorbing game.

“I can tell,” he said. “Not the talking type either?”

A faint smile lit up your face and you wrote a new message.

Can’t, sorry.

“Can’t?” Tony’s eyebrows rose. You shook your head. “How’d that happen?”

Car accident.

“Huh,” Tony’s eyes lingered on the pad of paper for a moment. He seemed to have thought of something, but didn’t appear to be ready to share. You bit your lip, and then pulled the pad back to you.

How’s your lip reading?

A devilish smile spread across his face. “Depends on what kind you’re talking about.”

You grinned and rolled your eyes, and then decided to try him.

Well, how is it? you mouthed, though no sound left your lips. Tony’s lips twitched and he chuckled.

“Maybe we should stick to notes for now,” he said. You nodded, reclaiming the pad.

Tony watched you, and though he didn’t dare voice the question out loud, his eyes continually flickered to your covered wrist. You didn’t notice at first, but that was only because you kept trying to get a peek at his.

He was trying so desperately not to hope. Until you, he hadn’t even been aware that he had any hope left. He thought that he’d given up entirely on finding his soulmate years ago, and yet here you sat. Silent and beautiful, with eyes that shone like moonlight even in the dim lights of the party. He couldn’t help himself.

“How -” he began, though he didn’t seem to know where his sentence was going. “How long have you been…”

Mute? you mouthed, and Tony seemed to have gotten it that time. He nodded, eyes focused so intensely on your face that you felt your cheeks grow warm. You distracted yourself with the paper.

Ten years, you scribbled.

“Who’re you with?” Tony asked suddenly, looking around as if expecting to see someone swoop in and snatch you up. You noticed he seemed a little on edge, and wondered if he was just as curious about your words as you were about his.

Wanda invited me, you wrote. Tony looked somewhat relieved. But speaking of Wanda, you hadn't seen her in some time. You looked around, and spotted her along the far wall. She was talking animatedly with Vision, who had been introduced to you very briefly when you'd first arrived. Wanda seemed to feel your eyes on her though, because she looked at you. And then she winked.

“Wanda’s a good kid,” Tony was saying, staring absently in Wanda’s direction. You wondered if he had seen her wink, though for some reason you truly hoped he hadn't. “I never got your name.”

You looked around at him, and your eyes met his. It took you a moment longer to break your gaze than it should have, and your face felt hot once again when you quickly wrote your name down.

(Y/N).

“(Y/N),” Tony repeated, and your heart leapt a little at the way your name rolled off his tongue. “Fitting.”

A moment of awkward silence passed, and you were just about to scribble something down to break the tension when he spoke again.

“You should probably drink that,” he said, nodding toward your forgotten drink. Grateful for an excuse to do something other than stare at him, you pulled your drink to you and took a large gulp. You regretted it almost immediately, the cold and alcohol mixture making you feel a little lightheaded. Tony laughed at the face you made as you set your drink back down.

“A little strong, huh?”

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. Tony took a swig of his scotch. When he set his drink down, you felt the tension returning and your smile faded.

You don't know why you did it. Tony's eyes were wide with hope and and you knew - you knew he was the one you'd been looking for. But you ran.

You heard Tony call after you, as you whisked through the crowd. You were sure he was following, and you knew he would catch up. You had nowhere to escape to, really. You brushed past someone who you thought might have been Captain America himself, but you were in too much of a hurry to really be sure.

You reached the edge of the crowd and spotted a hallway that was devoid of people. Without a second thought, you took off. But just as you turned a corner, a hand wrapped around your arm. He didn't even need to hold you, really, because the pulse you felt the minute he made contact was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“(Y/N),” Tony said, his voice quiet and pleading. Uninvited tears suddenly filled your eyes and you trembled as you allowed him to turn your body towards him. His eyes met yours as he gently grasped your arm, and even through your unshed tears you could see him asking permission. You gave a single nod and then held your breath as Tony slowly pulled back your sleeve.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on your wrist, on the words inscribed there. That was his handwriting, he was sure of it. And then the words clicked.

“I said that,” he said, so quietly he could only be speaking to himself as he stared at the words. “I -”

And then he looked at you, and he released your arm. You watched and he yanked back both of his sleeves and showed you the bare skin on each of his wrists.

“I don’t -” he began, “I’ve never had any words. But of course I wouldn’t if -” He paused, meeting your gaze again, utter disbelief written across his entire face. “It’s you. It's really you.” You stared at each other for a moment that stretched on forever, and then a slow grin crept across his face. You blinked, and the tears in your eyes fell just as Tony took another step toward you. He was close, so close now. You could smell the expensive cologne he wore and see the fine lines that crinkled around his eyes with his smile.

It was all so overwhelming, as he reached out for you again. He took your wrist in his hand, and his fingers ghosted over the words there - his words. A shiver ran down your spine and when your eyes met again, something else had ignited in his.

And then he was kissing you fiercely, and you were kissing him just as fiercely in return. You were lost entirely in him, savoring the feel of his lips and the tingles that shocked your body as his hands slid into your hair and pressed into your back, pulling you ever closer to him.

It was a moment that you never wanted to end. You sighed when his lips pulled away from yours, but you did not yet open your eyes. He pressed his forehead to yours, but then pulled back suddenly. That devilish smile returned.

“So, on a scale of one to ten - ten being absolutely mind-blowing and one being perfectly adequate - how are my lip-reading skills?”

Oh my god, you mouthed, more to yourself that to him as you grinned. The change in his face from when you’d first laid eyes on him was staggering. The exhausted lines had disappeared, and now his eyes glittered with happiness. He looked younger, somehow.

“That good, huh?” Tony snickered, pulling you to him again. His lips brushed across your forehead.

“Where the hell have you been?” he murmured quietly, all joking aside.

You didn’t attempt to answer him at all, but you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek against his chest. You breathed deeply, taking in everything that was him and listening to the steady beat of his heart. He entangled himself around you, tucking your head beneath his chin.

It felt like a home you hadn’t even known you were missing.

Tagging: @themilkface @writingruna @jarnesbrnes @bovaria @candycountries @pizzsa4thesoul @belfiore94 @marvelfanuniverse @strkundies @buckys-shield @feelmyroarrrr @sexyvixen7 @waituntilthedustsettles @camila1818 @happelu970 @younonothingrosie @thebrittybratt @fangirlwithasweettooth @capsbuchanan @chinkasaurusrexxx @stormy-thomas @plzstoptalkingnow @hellomissmabel @wandaalianovna @avengersandchill @ryverpenrad @molethemollie @supersoldier-wifey @redroomproperty @buckysberrie @lilasiannerd @viollettes @howlingbarnes @jbarneswrites @palaiasaurus64

#iron man #iron man x reader #reader x iron man #tony x reader #tony stark x reader #reader x tony #reader x tony stark #tony fic #tony stark #reader #imagine #avengers imagine #tony imagine

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hogwartselementumrp · 6 years

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Dear San, it is with great pleasure I welcome you back with Louis Weasley and I apologize for your late acceptance. I have to say with only the slightest bit of tongue-in-cheek teasing and 90% sincerity that the part where you named almost every person your Louis interacted with in his time here before as a connection was my favorite thing. Some of your application may have been familiar, but my excitement was renewed fresh. Please get Louis back on our dashes soon!

OOC

Name/Alias: San Preferred Pronoun: she/her Age: 20 Timezone: Central or EST depending on whether I’m at school or at home Activity level: 6 How did you find the RP (new members): next gen rp tags

Character Information

Name of the Character: Louis Weasley

Describe the character in your own words: The words that describe Louis are conflicted and contradictory. He is lead by emotion. He feels an excess of this emotion and it leads him in opposite directions until he tears himself apart. He worships Victoire and he also hates her. He wants to be the rational Ravenclaw . He was born to follow his heart not his head. He’s the perfect student who almost was expelled. He wants peace so he fights everyone. He thinks the women in his life are perfect goddesses that should live in a world where they are safe to be free. He treats them like they are incapable and smothers them so they feel trapped with him. He’s so hard because he’s soft and means well. He wants a perfect world so he destroys this one further. He embraces either the alphamale or the ultra fem. He is a man at war.

All of that is still true but he’s become even more unstable since the fall of Hogwarts castle and closer to another breaking point.

Any changes you wish to make?: I don’t know if it’s still a change, but the paragraph I added was not in his bio so I want to make sure that I can still play Louis as I did last time. Amber Heard would be the faceclaim still for female Louis

Louis’s imitation of Victoire wasn’t the childish game Bill saw it as. Louis deeply admires his older sister, but his wish to be her went deeper and didn’t go away completely when he got older.Some days he wants to be the knight slaying dragons and some days he looks jealously at Victoire’s long painted nails and full lips and still wishes he was born the delicate princess instead. He doesn’t think his family could understand when he doesn’t understand himself why some days he looks in the mirror and hates his squared jaw and the stubble on his face or why he flexes his muscles and the masculine form he admired yesterday and worked hard to achieve disgusts him today. He couldn’t even tell people he was pansexual. How could he tell them this? Now that he’s out on his own and doesn’t have four other guys always around in a dorm or family looking over his shoulder , he’s started to indulge and explore these feelings, experimenting with self-transfiguration and going out at night to bars he’d tell his sisters never to go near dressed as a woman when he feels that way. He practices being a woman around strangers, and hopes his family never finds out. He considers himself a man at heart and these nights an embarrassing way to relieve stress. He believes there may be something wrong with him, and it makes him lose his temper more often.

Desired Ships, if any: I am open to any chemistry. Louis is pansexual as well as genderfluid. Any ship might struggle along with Louis as he keeps secrets and wrestles to accept himself.

Titles: beater for university quidditch team if possible. Volunteer at the university library.

Relationships:

-Luca-his mentor in the auror program and the goal he works toward. Luca seems to believe in him and so it makes him believe in himself more

-Raquel and Astrid-both of these women he feel overstep their boundaries and assume authority over him they do not have or familiarity with him they have not earned. He won’t say that it is because they are women that he feels this way when he looks up to Luca

-Sam-his former best friend and former crush. He ruined their relationship by losing his temper with Sam once and pushing him. He hasn’t been able to atone to Sam’s satisfaction and all good memories have turned bitter

-Ed-after he and Sam fell out, Louis and Ed became closer over the years. The two boys are extremely close even now that they don’t live together and are both busy with their jobs and university courses

-Johanna-a surrogate little sister to him to a greater degree than Prue and Cora because of Ed. He expects Ed to treat Dominique the same

-Nerissa-she reminds him of Dominique when they were younger and for that reason he wants to protect her from the world. He was disgusted when she told him about her crush on him and he handled it badly so they are no longer as close

-Jon-he felt personally betrayed when he found out his old workout partner was behind so many of the deaths the past few years. He will not rest until he hunts Jonathan down.

-Delphina-he thinks she’s a sweet, innocent girl lead astray by Jonathan Marks and he can appeal to her to give him some way to get to the wannabe dark lord

-Colin- he doesn’t believe Colin is good enough for his cousin or that he’s changed his ways and Louis is just waiting for him to prove it.

-Marzia- she reinforced what Louis tried to base the face he presented to the world on, appreciative of strength, bravado, and athletic talent. He and the flirtatious former Ravenclaw barely knew each other before she suffered her head injury but he sat by her bedside every day until she woke up and befriended her family like they had been dating for years as he forced her into the distressed damsel he could swear his protection toward in the future so she wouldn’t be another person he failed

-Lara, Allard, and Olivier- Louis can’t stand any of the Duponds who he thinks have failed him and the world in different ways. He doesn’t care about any redemptive arc they are on because it doesn’t make up for the past

Family Relationships:

-Bill-Louis is more distant from his father. He believes he deserved to be the favorite as the only son but he has to work hard for the love and approval Victoire and Dominique are showered in and instead of benefits of being the son all he got growing up were comparisons to Harry and Ginny’s alpha male James. He looks up to his father and seeks his approval, but he resents him for making him feel like love is a competition.

-Fleur-Louis is a complete mama’s boy, and Fleur can do no wrong in his eyes. If he hadn’t gone to Hogswarts, it would have been doubtful he’d left her side at all. They remain nearly as close to this day. There are just a few secrets he keeps from her. Even mothers need to be safeguarded.

-Victoire-Louis has always been jealous of Victoire, because she is everything people claim her to be. She deserves every bit of attention she gets, but he deems it unfair. It’s unfair she should exist. He stews in constant frustration without faulting her for the qualities he’s proud of her for. He loves his smart, beautiful, athletic sister and praises her writing and tenacity. He hated how she used to steal the spotlight when her ego seemed never satisfied. He hates it still, but he has infinite forgiveness for her and feels ashamed when he loses the battle and says anything against her that proves he isn’t better. He’s petty and jealous that he will never measure up. He would like to be closer to her like when they were young and he used to trail after her like a duckling imitating her, but he’s too prideful to say it and afraid she doesn’t have room for him in her life.

-Dominique-Louis’s little sister is the spotlight of his world. She is the only one he has confided (mostly) everything to. She’s been his constant companion since birth. He doesn’t believe she could be capable of any malicious thought or act. She is as pure as doves and he’ll keep her that way. He is blind thinking she is the last true innocent in the world, but trying to change his mind when it comes to his baby sister is dangerous.

-Extended family-he tries to maintain a close relationship with the entire Wotter clan. Family is a stronger bond than love or hate and it’s his duty to lay his life on the line for any of them if needed. Louis is closer with most of his female cousins than the males but he is especially close with Fred with whom he has developed a long standing good cop/bad cop routine to try and monitor all the cousins’ behavior.

Para Sample

A few cardboard boxes was all their lives for the past three years had come down to. A dumpster full of charred trash and a few cardboard boxes of things worth saving. It was up to him to decide what made it in the boxes. He was the final judge on what was garbage and what couldn't be parted with. Ironically, the girls' rooms had been spared the most. It became a test of what was worth shipping to America and what was junk anyway even if it wasn't reeking of smoke, warped, or singed. The largest box became stuff to be donated. Things left behind that would never be missed.

The cashmere sweater was what broke him. Before that, the thought of taking anything from the house for himself that hadn't already been his to begin with never would have crossed his mind. Louis prided himself on his integrity. He wouldn't steal from his friends. The cashmere sweater made him think of how ownership had already been waved when clearing out the house was left to him. If he didn't claim it then some stranger would. It was a purely decorative item. He could have bought a sweater for himself in the same materials and it would have been much more hardy. It would have been something to keep him warm when the months for sweater wearing came around. Men's sweaters were that way: practical and made for hard wear and tear even when you compromise for softness and fashion. The sweater in his hands was a thin, delicate, feminine thing in a shade of blush pink too short to even come to Prue's waist and sprinkled with opalescent buttons that were purely for show. He would have ripped it apart like tissue as soon as he put over his head. It was a stark contrast to what he was wearing: an old checked shirt with two buttons missing that smelled of beer and reminded him he'd forgotten to wash it after using it as a rag one day. The checked shirt was one he loved. It wasn't something he was ashamed to be seen in. It was comfortable and familiar. He was an old checked shirt not a cashmere sweater with buttons that didn't serve any purpose.

He stuffed the sweater into the bottom of his box and covered it with partially charred photo albums and dishes like he was committing a crime. A green dress followed it. He would need a shrinking solution to fit into either. He knew the right dose like he knew spells to grow his hair and vanish his adam’s apple, change the pitch of his voice and transfigure his features. He'd need to find a good padded push-up bra if he was going to pull the dress off. Wily Witch's Growing Elixir only did so much when you didn't have proper breasts to begin with. There were no bras left behind. That meant buying one, and he hadn't faced that yet. Stealing one from one of his sisters would be worse so he'd have to. A floral maxi skirt he'd get more use out of completed the trio.

Ed was supposed to come help him when he got off work so Louis made sure to be gone before then. He didn't want to shut his best friend out, but some things were best left buried and shoved in the bottom of a closet until a better time came to talk about them.

#accepted

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toboldlywrite · 7 years

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tagged by @hklunethewriter

Concept: Post at least a paragraph of your old writing without changes so everyone can see where you came from and newer writers can be encouraged.

Age when I wrote this and/or what year it was written in: I was... 12-13 I think when I finished this piece

What was this piece for (fanfiction, original fiction, poetry, for class, for a school paper, etc.): original fiction! Part of chapter 1 from my story titled: The Land of Dreams book one: the Dream Power. Yes, there was going to be a series. No, I never got further than the first book. 100 pages total (including title pages so).

Any other notes you’d like to share about this piece

I used to only read stories about talking, magical animals, so of course that's what I was going to write. It’s funny I was debating this or a snippet of Star Stuff for getting over 100 followers, so I guess now I get to share both! Fun fact: my sister illustrated a cover for this one :D

Without further ado...

The moon rose to its highest peak, illuminating the pile of silver boulders and the surrounding forests. The endless expanse of green stretched for miles in every direction. A screech echoed through the trees, and the dusty form of a barn owl rose from the woods. Suddenly, a single howl rose from the darkness. Another joined it, and another, and another, until there was a chorus of howls filling the silence. From a village miles away, the people looked up and shivered at the unearthly sound. In a moonlit clearing, a black wolf sat, ears pricked, head raised to the moon. He listened to the sound of his pack, his family. Beside him lay a silver she-wolf, her eyes nervously searching the darkness before her. Paw-steps sounded behind them. The black wolf jumped up, amber eyes flashing gold. A gray wolf trotted into the clearing. The black wolf relaxed.

“I have found a place,” the gray wolf said.

“Where?” the black wolf asked.

“In a boulder pile, just off the mountain, not to far north from here,” the gray wolf explained.

“Lead us there!” the other wolf ordered.

The silver wolf heaved herself onto her feet. And the black wolf looked at her worriedly. “Are you all right Moonwave?” he asked her.

“Yes Blackmoon,” she replied.

The gray wolf trotted off towards the mountain, where he had found a place where the pack could stay, Moonwave and Blackmoon following silently behind him, side by side.

Finally, they arrived at the rock pile, the boulders glowing silver in the light of the full moon.

“This is perfect, Mountain!” Blackmoon exclaimed. Moonwave smiled a wolfish grin of relief. This would be a perfect spot for her pups to be born.

A couple of boulders formed a well sheltered cave a few feet above the ground. A series of flat ledges led up to the cave and a ledge hung under it. Blackmoon climbed up to the top of the pile, raised his head, closed his eyes, and howled. The haunting melody echoed through the silent, dark forest, and then came an answer. Moonwave closed her eyes too, feeling the strength of unity and protection and the stirring of new life within her. Blackmoon was calling the pack to them, telling them where they were and that they had found a place for the next generation to be born. As if out of thin air, the rest of the pack materialized out of the forest. Besides the three that were already there, there were six others. Blackmoon was the alpha male, the leader, and Moonwave was the alpha female, his mate. Mountain was the beta, or second, and Black moon’s brother. Then there was the delta, third, wolf, Ashkan, a big gray wolf, Lenian, another black wolf with gray paws, Lightrunner, a light gray she-wolf who specialized in medicine, Darklight, a dark brown wolf with unusual light topaz eyes, Amberheart, an amber colored she-wolf, and the omega, last, wolf, Moon, a dark gray, almost black wolf.

They all formed a circle around the other three wolves on the boulders, their lustrous fur shinning in the light of the setting moon.

“This is where we will live until our pups are old enough to travel.” Blackmoon announced. Howls of agreement broke out from the pack. Blackmoon barked sharply, and silence returned to the night. For a moment there was only the sound of a few crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. “A Firestar!” Darklight exclaimed suddenly.

“And just at dawn too!” Moon barked. That was true. Everyone looked up to see the glittering star shooting across the sky, leaving its fiery trail behind for all to see. The sun started to appear above the horizon. “It’s an omen of good fortune!” Lightrunner exclaimed. She was an expert at those things. Moonwave closed her eyes and whispered, “Arnica, goddess of light, please, make our children great. And please, please, keep them safe, whatever happens!”

The shooting star faded into the star-filled sky, just seconds before the glittering jewels of light vanished into the dawn.

As you can see, I used to use way too many dialogue tags! But man now you got me all nostalgic I should read through the whole thing lol

Thanks for the tag! But because people can be very sensitive about their older writing, I’m going to tag whoever wants to do it! Seriously, I love reading this stuff so if you want to share some old writing, whether to reminisce on some old ideas or to show how much you’ve improved, please do and say I tagged you! I’d love to see!

#tag game #writing #old works #look it's my magic wolf story

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simplyoriginalcharacters · 7 years

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Mikaela Silvina

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Orientation: Unknown (Is comfortable with anyone though)

Nationality: Filipino

Appearance: Mikaela has long waist length hair that she has dyed blue at the tips. Her eye color had changed from a dark brown to a bright amber after the Portal accident. She’s not very tall, around 5"3, but pretty fit as she spent her training on running and improving her speed. She wears crystal bracelets, each crystal turns into a throwing knife when it is needed. She just wears the dress and rose for aesthetic reasons but also likes the feel of the dress as she runs around. The rose can change color to indicate wether she’s healing or damage boosting a teammate. She doesn’t like to wear heavy armor as it is too heavy for her to run around, she dodges enemy attacks instead.

Personality: (Strength = Resilient) + (Weakness = Sensitive) x (Strength > Weakness) =

This girl is one to break easily but worry not, for she will get back up and continue on.

Mikaela is rather prone to overthink and that may be bad for her health. But because of that also, it’s the reason why she can come back up. She knows that she still can and will do it over and over again.

She has these coping mechanisms that she retreats to a lot. She’s a person who isn’t very comfortable hanging around too many people since she’s scared that she’ll get hurt. And because of this, she tends to daydream a lot and is very imaginative. Instead of being around a group of people, she’s rather read her books and write her own stories. She’s considered a Bibliophile, as she’s usually seen reading a book or writing one.

Her attention span isn’t the best either and along with her memory. As Paradox (Overwatch), she hasn’t mastered her abilities yet as it requires the utmost focus and can’t use firearms to save her life.

This girl prefers to be as truthful as she can and may be blunt with her words but means no harm. Unfortunately, most people don’t trust her with secrets.

She may tend to display a lack of attraction or any desire of romantic interaction. She will tend to show slight disgust toward social interaction in general.

Bio (Overwatch Paradox):

Mikaela Silvina was the only child of Ammon and Leticia Silvina, a rich couple who worked very hard during the Omnic Crisis. But in her youth, she felt neglected by her parents and was closer to her aunt and uncle-in-law. She was sheltered during then to keep her safe. She was homeschooled by her aunt and turned out to be rather intelligent with her hyperactive mind. Unfortunately, that caused problems in her later years.

During High school, she didn’t exactly know how to properly interact with people. She used to have many fake friends because of her status. They had her treat them to a lot of things like food, etc. Her aunt had realised what they were doing and told Mikaela. Once she had found out, she felt angry and shut everyone out, making sure that she doesn’t get any more of these fake friends.

Most of her time was spent alone, doing her studies and reading. She took Engineering since her parents wanted to hand down the family business to her. Although, her aunt did teach her some etiquette and all those essentials for when she was required to attend parties with other families that they did business with.

She met a woman named Althea Torres that she had grown very close to and was her best friend, then her girlfriend, and then her wife. They worked together as partners in Silvus Tech and Thea supported Mika’s career in writing. She was able to create international best-selling books that had inspired many people.

Unfortunately, a storm hit and they were both caught up in it. A tree had collided with Mikaela, impaling her heart. Althea found her and immediately brought her to the hospital. She had to get an artificial heart. And, interestingly enough, Dr. Angela Ziegler had been there to offer her a recruitment to Overwatch. They’ve heard of her skill in Engineering.

Mikaela had talked to Althea about this. She had handed Silvus Tech to her, the person she trusts the most (who isn’t her aunt or uncle or cat), and joined Overwatch.

During her Overwatch years, she has continued with her work as an engineer. One day, she created a portal that could rip holes in the fabric of reality. It was inspired by Satya’s Teleporter, but taken to another level. Unfortunately, she had been sucked in the portal and got trapped in a different layer of reality.

After a while, an omnic had to rescue her from the portal once Overwatch realised her absence. The toxins in the layer had affected her DNA and gave her the ability to create portals (3 second cooldown), reverse the way gravity reacts to her body (will continuously float up for 8 seconds/cooldown: 8 seconds), regeneration (like Mercy’s), charming (can heal 3 people close by, only in line of sight), and Reality Warp (Ultimate: freezes enemies in place to take their hp and transfer it to teammates and self, lasts for 4 seconds, enemies can’t be killed during this ult, not invulnerable).

When Overwatch was disbanded, Mikaela found out that Althea died in a car crash. This took a huge impact on Mikaela and her heart was broken (despite not having one anymore). She shut down Silvus Tech and isolated herself in an uncharted island in the Pacific Ocean.

Hi! This is D, and I’ll be reviewing your submitted profile. I think you’ve got a decent base with Mikaela, but her profile could be expanded on and rounded out better to further establish her character.

Starting with her Appearance section, I think some reformatting would help most to streamline the information as it’s presented to readers. As is, all the details are just clumped together into one single paragraph. Breaking up this section into individual aspects (Height, Weight, Eye Color, Hair Color, etc.) would allow for more focus as well as making sure the basic aspects of Mikaela’s appearance aren’t lost within a jumble. This would also allow you to focus the actual Appearance section on more characterizing things, like her build, what types of clothes she wears, and her posture (as well as things like identifying marks). While you’ve got touches of this included already, spreading things out and expanding a little more would help give a clearer written depiction of Mikaela. I’d also suggest including her Overwatch callsign (Paradox) under an ‘Alias’ entry here as well.

The same advice goes for Mikaela’s Personality section. Streamlining the information and using more direct phrasing would help focus on the key aspects of her character. Also, the trait equation in the beginning isn’t needed if you’re going into detail about Mikaela’s personality immediately afterwords. I’d suggest removing that and keeping the focus in the rest of the description. Like the Appearance section, adding in more subsections would help keep focus on the various aspects of Mikaela’s character in a more easily readable format. Breaking it up into sections such as Likes, Dislikes, Hobbies, etc. would give a more direct way of highlight that information, while also providing space to emphasize Mikaela’s other traits (such as her Goals, Hobbies, and Skills). A fair amount of this information is already included – Mikaela enjoying reading, her desire to be an engineer, and her dislike of crowds – but having specific sections would allow for additional detail while leaving the Personality section more room to highlight Mikaela herself.

Regarding Mikaela’s Background, it could also be streamlined and some sections might benefit from being reconsidered. The general gist of her home-schooled upbringing and poorly socialized high school years are important, but could be condensed into a single section rather than spaced out as much. Conversely, Mikaela’s involvement with Althea could be focused on a little more. As is the progression of their relationship is mostly glossed over and their status at Silvus Tech isn’t explained very well. Do they own the company or just work for it? Mikaela ‘handing’ the company to Althea and later shutting it down implies a high degree of control, but their actual positions at Silvus Tech are never pointed out. Also, inclusions like Althea being the person Mikaela trusts the most to handle the company are good, while the added parenthetical comment ‘who isn’t her aunt, uncle, or cat’ is just distracting. I’d suggest removing asides like this as they break the focus away from Mikaela’s history.

Moving on to the storm, I think that Mikaela’s injury should be reconsidered. Being impaled through the heart by a tree branch (not to mention also being hit by the tree itself) seems like an instantly fatal situation. Beyond that, if the storm is severe enough that it’s uprooting trees, why are Mikaela and Althea out in it to begin with? If the objective is for Mikaela to get an artificial heart and meet Dr. Ziegler, I’d suggest something more recoverable like an illness or genetic issue. I’d also suggest highlighting Mikaela’s engineering skills more beforehand to better explain Dr. Ziegler’s interest in her. What has she made that particularly stands out? What field does she specialize in? If it’s supposed to tie into the 'artificial heart’ thing, having Mikaela engineer her own artificial heart seems like it could work very well given Dr. Ziegler’s focus on medical technology (perhaps she even used some of Mercy’s research to do it, which would segue nicely into her using Symmetra’s teleporter). Making this a more active part of Mikaela’s story would go a long way to helping establish her not only as an engineer, but an asset to Overwatch as a whole.

Regarding the mishap with the teleporter and Mikaela being lost between sections of reality – it seems a bit too convenient of a way to give her powers. It also seems a bit too reminiscent of Tracer being unstuck in time. If you’re determined to keep it as part of Mikaela’s history I’d suggest explaining it more thoroughly. How did her time in this alternate reality affect her personality? What kind of 'toxins’ gave her these abilities? How is she able to use them in the normal layer of reality if they only affected her on the other layer? Personally, I’d suggest having Mikaela’s abilities stem from her own engineering achievements. This would do a lot to keep focus on her skills, as well as serving as a good way to highlight what exactly Mikaela did while working at Overwatch. As is, her two main ‘accomplishments’ were actually accidents that don’t add anything to her agency within the story.

Moving on, given that the game is an first-person shooter I find it surprising that Mikaela’s own weapons aren’t emphasized very much. The only mention in her profile is that she can create throwing knives in her Appearance section (which is a little out of place). I’d suggest making a separate 'Powers’ section to emphasize all of Mikaela’s different abilities, how they work, as well as her Fighting Style and specific Weapons. Also, while it’s great that the profile explains what these abilities do, having explicit cool-downs and individual time durations isn’t necessary. Think of how the Overwatch characters are presented in the animated shorts. While they might use the same powers and weapons as they do in the game, they aren’t beholden to the game’s rules and regulations. Instead, how their abilities work is determined by the narrative rather than numbers.

Also the final section of Mikaela’s background doesn’t do very much to explain her having a presence in the current events of the game. Mikaela’s reaction to Althea’s death seems rather extreme, especially for a relationship that the profile only provides a general overview of. Also her choice to isolate herself on an island in the Pacific runs completely counter to the idea of Mikaela showing up when the game itself is taking place. I’d suggest revising this aspect of her history so it’s not as final and leaving it more open. All of the current characters are involved in Overwatch out of personal interest and had their backstories left open-ended to explain why they are present in the game itself.

Beyond all of that, I’d also suggest adding in a Relationships section. Moving past all of the individual background bits, this is a big part of what makes Overwatch characters so interesting – their interactions and relationships with one another. Mikaela’s profile gives an overview of her different relationships, but doesn’t go into specifics aside from a bit about Althea. Giving more specific details about Mikaela’s relationships with her various family members (especially her aunt and uncle) as well as a specific section to highlight how things progressed between her and Althea would help a lot. Similarly, sections about Mikaela’s relationships with various canon Overwatch characters would help too. Mercy and Symmetra have already been mentioned as fellow scientists – did Mikaela get along with them, or did they disagree about certain things? Would she have kept mostly to Overwatch’s science-types (Winston, Mei, Torbjorn) or would she have gotten involved with the other departments as well? Does Mikaela have any bias against the Omnic members of Overwatch, given the Omnic Crisis’ lingering effects on her childhood? Going by Mikaela’s age, she would have joined Overwatch during its waning years when Blackwatch’s clandestine and illegal activities were beginning to come to light. Did she support Blackwatch’s efforts or did she not know about them at all? What were her thoughts on the conflict between Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison? Where was she when the Overwatch headquarters was destroyed? Overwatch has a lot of history behind it, almost all of which is tied up in the interpersonal relationships between various characters. Highlighting that more would help explain Mikaela’s place in that world as well as add that much more detail to her character.

All in all, I think you’ve got a decent base for Mikaela, her profile just needs some reformatting and expanded sections. Being specific and using more direct language would help to maintain focus as well, keeping the progression on Mikaela herself rather than potentially distracting the reader.

I hope this helps!

-D

#OC Critique #submission #General Help #marilin-mamarin

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jeffreyrwelch · 5 years

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Have a Fearful Dog? Keep These 6 Things in Mind

The post Have a Fearful Dog? Keep These 6 Things in Mind by Amber Carlton appeared first on Dogster. Copying over entire articles infringes on copyright laws. You may not be aware of it, but all of these articles were assigned, contracted and paid for, so they aren’t considered public domain. However, we appreciate that you like the article and would love it if you continued sharing just the first paragraph of an article, then linking out to the rest of the piece on Dogster.com.

My dog Mayzie was rescued by Second Chance Animal Rescue in Colorado. At the time, she was approximately two years old and had spent her entire life at the end of a rope in someone’s backyard. She had little food and water and only the frame of a drawer for shelter. To our knowledge, she had never lived in a house until she went to live with her foster mom. When we adopted her two months later, we knew her history and that she was a “sensitive” dog. But beyond that, we really had no idea what we were getting into. Truth be told, I’m not sure we could ever have been prepared for the enormous project we were undertaking. Mayzie was a truly fearful dog. She was quite literally afraid of everything.

A list of “Items That Terrified Mayzie” included: hardwood floors, stairs, the oven, the dishwasher, the BBQ grill, the umbrella on our patio set, the wind, ceiling fans, walks, getting in the car, getting out of the car … Well, you get the idea.

Today, though, with a lot of hard work, patience and cheese therapy, Mayzie is a happy, funny, confident dog. Sure, there are things that still scare her, but she now has the tools she needs to deal with most things that come her way.

But, oh, I remember how challenging those first few days, weeks and years were. And I realize now that while there are many resources out there on how to help a fearful dog, they generally don’t prepare the human for the unique challenges and rewards that come along with it.

So if you’re just starting your journey or have been at it for a while, here are some tips to help your fearful dog.

1. A fearful dog’s journey isn’t a straight line — don’t expect it to be

Parenting a scared dog is a challenging but rewarding experience. Photography ©Image Source | Photodisc via Getty Images.

Humans seem to be hardwired to want to get someplace by the shortest, most direct path. When it comes to working with a fearful dog, however, it’s best to accept that you’re going to be taking the scenic route. You should prepare for setbacks and breakdowns, and you may have to take an alternate route every once in awhile.

The fact is, setbacks are going to happen and they’re perfectly normal when it comes to a fearful dog. But that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Even in the worst case scenario, you’re likely not going to go back to the place you started. If you stay the course, you’ll be gaining ground and moving forward toward your goal. So when detours happen, acknowledge them but don’t let yourself be discouraged by them.

2. Learn to enjoy the perspective

After adopting Mayzie, I became hypervigilant about everything around us. What were the potential triggers on our walks? What might cause her to fly into a panic in the house? Frankly, it was stressful because it seemed that Mayzie’s many boogeymen were always lurking just around the corner.

But then I slowly began to realize something: I was seeing things in a way I never had before. Maybe the flowers in one of my neighbor’s gardens had begun to bloom. Or maybe another put up a new fence. And, wow, I never noticed that beautiful weeping willow down the street before. Once I began looking at the world through Mayzie’s eyes, I not only helped her, I received the gift of appreciating the world around me in a whole new way.

3. Revel in small victories when it comes to scared dogs

One morning on our walk, Mayzie stopped dead in her tracks and backed up several steps, her body low to the ground. I immediately became extra alert. What threat had I missed? Then I saw it. After a hard rain the night before, a large dahlia bloom had dropped onto the sidewalk and into our path. Any other dog wouldn’t have even noticed. Not Mayzie. This was new and different, and in the past it might have sent her into a panic to get away. I stood still, studying her for clues on the best course of action.

Not sure how to tell when your dog is scared? These are some signs of a scared dog >>

As I watched, she slowly crept her front legs forward, her neck outstretched, while somehow keeping her back legs poised for flight. Closer and closer she inched until she was finally nose-to-bud with the flower. As soon as she sniffed it, all tension released from her body. “Duh, mom, it’s a flower! And you were so scared,” she seemed to say as she trotted happily away. To anyone else, it might have seemed inconsequential. But to me it was another example of how far this fearful dog had come. I smiled all the way home.

4. There will be tough days and you might want to give up

About two weeks after we adopted Mayzie, we had a really, really bad day. Everything that could go wrong, did. I was at my wit’s end and felt completely in over my head. As my husband and I climbed into bed, I broke into sobs and blurted out, “I don’t know if we can do this! Maybe we should give her back to the rescue.” I shocked even myself by saying that. I was raised to believe that an animal, like a child, is a lifetime commitment, but I was tired and frustrated and simply didn’t know what to do.

My husband looked me in the eye and said, “She’s ours now and we’re not giving up on her. You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.” And you know what? He was right. I woke with a better outlook and renewed determination to help my dog. That wasn’t our last bad day, by any means, but I was better prepared for them in the future.

5. Just remember — a fearful dog does get better

Five years ago, I never would have believed where Mayzie is today. Never. I couldn’t have conceived of a reality where she would love to go for walks or that I could flip on the ceiling fan without a second thought. Yet here we are. Some days/weeks/months, it felt like we were making no progress at all. But looking back on it, I realize that things were getting better even if it was hard to see at the time.

One of the best pieces of advice I got was to start a journal to keep track of progress. I started a blog. You might prefer a notebook. But whatever you do, write it down. It’s so helpful on the difficult days to read about how far you’ve come, how much progress you’ve made and how it really has gotten better.

6. Parenting a fearful dog is one of most rewarding things you’ll ever do

I can’t even begin to count all the hours and money I’ve invested in helping Mayzie become the dog she is today: happy, healthy and with a full, rich life. Is she “normal” (whatever that means)? Well, no, I guess not and probably never will be. She was too far behind the eight ball to ever catch up completely. But every minute and every dollar I’ve spent have been worth it. All the work we’ve done together has created a trust and a bond that is rare and unbreakable. It’s been an amazing, challenging, crazy roller-coaster of a ride, and I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Your turn: Do you have a fearful dog? What has been your biggest challenge or reward? Tell us in the comments!

This post was originally published in 2014.

About the author

Amber Carlton is owned by two cats and two dogs (all rescues), and is affectionately (?) known as the crazy pet lady amongst her friends and family. She and her husband (the crazy pet man) live in colorful Colorado where they enjoy hiking, biking and camping. Amber is a freelance copywriter and blogger for hire and also acts as the typist for her dog’s musings at Mayzie’s Dog Blog. She encourages other crazy pet people to connect with her at her business website, on Twitter or on Facebook.

Read more about dog fears and anxieties on Dogster.com:

How to Help a Nervous Dog Overcome His Fears

Help! My Dog is Scared of Everything

How I Taught My Nervous, Skittish Dog to Be Brave

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