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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 27: Intrulogical (TW)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 27 - Your eyes match your soulmate’s hair color. If they dye their hair, your eyes change colors.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! Attempted rape (by unnamed OC), drugging, implied underage drinking (though none is actually seen), emetophobia/vomiting, Halloween, alcohol, characters being tipsy/drunk, parties. Happy/satisfying ending.

Word count: 4.7k

Logan lived his life based on routine. In a world of constant change, it felt comforting to always know what his next step was. His mornings always started the same; wake up at seven o’clock sharp, sneak to the dorm bathroom in an attempt to not wake his essentially nocturnal roommate, and brush his teeth. Wet the toothbrush, pea sized amount of toothpaste, wet the brush again, and start on the left side of his mouth. Brush for exactly two minutes, wash face, and then attempt to calm down the bedhead. He’d sneak back into the room, change silently, and then make his way to the shared kitchen to make cereal for breakfast. The only variable in his routine was which fruit he’d eat along with his Cheerios. Then he’d triple check that all of his homework was packed properly, and head off to his morning class.

Except today.

For someone who rarely got distracted from his normal routine, he was surprisingly still as he glared, shocked, into his reflection. Water still dripped off his face and all over the counter, but he couldn’t tear his attention from it. Because his normally dark brown eyes were now neon green.

“Are you kidding me?!” He yelled before he could stop himself, storming back into their room and dropping back onto his bed.

“What’s’it?” Virgil mumbled, lifting his exhausted face from where they’d been smooshed into the pillows. Logan spun his face up towards the top bunk, jaw clenched, and gestured towards his eyes.

“I have a presentation today!” Logan continued, looking away from Virgil’s failed attempt to cover a smile, “And I look ridiculous! No one will take me seriously!”

“Just in time for Halloween, I guess. They just look like contacts.”

“Hallow-” Logan sprung to his desk to look at his calendar accusingly, groaning when he realized it was in fact the thirty first. “Ugh, I have a paper due tomorrow!”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the party now, Lo. I already promised people I’d go, and I’m not going alone.”

“I won’t back out of the party,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms. Virgil gave a satisfied hum, flopping back into his comforter. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled.

“Out of all people, I’m surprised you forgot.”

“So sue me, if a frivolous game of promiscuous dress up comes after passing my classes in the list of importance.”

The emo snorted. “What’s your costume gonna be?”

“I am not wearing a costume!” Logan’s voice was almost offended.

“You already look like a traffic light. Might as well complete the look.”

Logan grumbled angrily, marching back toward the bathroom to finish getting ready. “I’m not wearing a costume. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Aw, c’mon, Lo. For me?”

That stopped Logan in his tracks. He spun around and took a careful breath, glaring down his overly pleased roommate. “Fine. Just for you.”

Virgil gave another satisfied hum, before squinting his eyes at Logan scrutinizingly. “I wonder if your eyes glow in the dark. Can you imagine if the prof turns the lights off for a presentation and-”

“UUUGGHHH!” Logan yowled as he slammed the bathroom door shut, shaking his head at Virgil’s snickers.

------------------------

They were meeting up at the party at the end of classes (right about when Virgil tended to wake up), so Logan headed there directly after his final class, just as the evening sun was fading behind the horizon. It was already packed with people already picking the snack and drinks table bare, a lopsided sign that said ‘21+ only’ forgotten near an empty beer box. If Logan were to assume correctly, the sign was only there to assuage the conscience of whoever was hosting tonight, and not actually to stop the underage drinking. Even if he was above legal drinking age, he still didn’t experience many of the positives of drinking, so he grabbed a can of iced tea and stood next to a wall to wait for Virgil.

It hadn’t been a full five minutes before a man sidled up to him, sipping from a half empty beer bottle and watching Logan with a careful eye. He didn’t spare so much as a glance in return, barely acknowledging the newcomer’s presence.

“What’s a wallflower like you doing at a rager like this?” He drawled with an almost audible impish smile.

“If this is considered a rager, I’d hate to see what a calm party looks like.”

“Aw, we just haven’t gotten started yet! We’re fueling up for when the moon comes out. And you haven’t answered my question, flower.”

“I’m simply waiting for a friend.”

“Oh, and does this friend have a name?” He purred.

Frustrated, Logan turned to the man, and promptly froze. Looking down at him with pitch black eyes was a person in a costume he couldn’t recognize; a black and white striped suit that looked like he’d raked it through dust, and a mold green tie. The stubble on his face could have been his own five o’clock shadow or makeup, but it only functioned to make him look far hotter than what was fair. What was most shocking though, and Logan was baffled that he’d missed it in the initial approach, was the mop of electric-shock-straight neon green hair on his head.

“He- I don’t-”

“Didn’t take you for the type to get flustered,” The man snorted, taking another sip. “What do you have? Aw, iced tea? And not even spiked? A crime.”

How did he not see Logan’s eyes? The hair was the exact same color; Logan would know. He’d spend the whole day watching his reflection, hoping that his soulmate would have some mercy and dye their hair back to its original color. Neon green was not exactly the most subtle color, and he had not missed the snickers or silent glances from his classmates and professors all day. So the question remained, why wasn’t this guy saying anything?

“I don’t drink. I tend to just become lethargic when I do.” He answered instead, gripping his can a little tighter. It took far too much effort to keep his voice from straining.

“Fair enough. I’m not pressuring you to drink, no worries. At least we’ll have one sober mind at this party tonight.” The taller man winked at him, flashing him that stupidly stunning smile again.

But then it occurred to Logan as he kept searching the man’s dark eyes desperately. His eyes were too dark, almost pitch black, while Logan’s hair was several shades lighter. So... there was no way they were soulmates. Just as quickly as the hope had exploded in his stomach, it dissipated, leaving him feeling more exhausted than usual. Stupid feelings.

“Logan, there you are!” An unusually loud voice called through his stupor and he spun around to see Virgil’s fanged smile. In the back of his mind, he remembered watching Virgil putting together his elaborate vampire costume over the last few weeks, but he’d never seen the full thing put together until now. “Ah, and Remus found you. Scram, Beetlejuice.”

Remus, apparently, didn’t seem at all offended by the jab. Instead, he seemed to smile wider. “Nice to see you too, emo. Is that any way to treat the host of the party?”

To Logan’s surprise, Virgil smiled too. “Oh, shut up. You’re going to give Logan a heart attack.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dracula. Why don’t you go get a drink, and I’ll keep him company?”

“Nuh uh. No way. Not leaving him with you any longer than I have already.” With that, Virgil hooked his arm through Logan’s and led him back to the drink table.

“Remember, Virgil, drinks are only for the big kids!”

“I’m older than you are!” He flipped the bird over Logan’s shoulder to the host, earning a barked laugh in response. “He never lets me forget I’m a whole three inches shorter than him.”

“You know the host of the party?”

Virgil hummed in response, pouring himself a cup of punch that reeked of alcohol. “How else would I get invited? We were in English together in third year, and I haven’t been able to shake him since. He’s like a leech.”

“You seem friendly with him.”

The elder froze, solo cup barely touching his lips as he looked over Logan slowly. “Everything okay? You’re not usually this… quiet.” They could both tell it wasn’t the word he’d wanted to use.

For a brief moment, Logan considered telling Virgil about his brief flair of hope, about how for a single second he’d felt nothing but relief and desire and elation, and how it had been ripped away from him just as quickly. But then he realized that, no, Virgil didn’t need that to bring down the mood of the first party he’d attended in a year, since his anxiety had flared. If it still bothered him after the party, he’d bring it up. That was unlikely, though. Logan was especially gifted in the art of repression.

“I’m just a tad out of my element. Nothing to worry about,” he responded with a smile. Virgil didn’t fall for it, if the way he watched Logan as he sipped his drink was anything to go off of, but he did them both the favor of not pushing it. For now.

“I thought I told you to wear a costume,” Virgil gasped as he drained the cup, immediately refilling it from the same bowl.

“I did.” Logan gestured towards the single piece of paper taped to his white shirt. It took Virgil a moment to squint through the darkening light to make-out the black sharpie, reading allowed.

“‘Error 404, Costume Not Found.’ That does not count, Logan!” He laughed nonetheless, just as a deep bass filled the house. Apparently, the party had begun. He didn’t have a good argument for Virgil’s accusation, since he technically thought it very much did count, but arguing with the other was a waste of time. The two men were equally matched in the stubbornness department.

The lights disappeared for a good few seconds before the house was illuminated in strobe lights, and the music’s volume exploded. Virgil laughed giddily; apparently his plan to get buzzed before the party could give him anxiety was intentional.

“They do, ya know.”

Logan looked at him in confusion, and shouted over the roaring music. “What?”

“Your eyes! They do glow in the dark!”

“Shut up!”

“You look like a glowstick!” He began to giggle wildly, leaning on Logan for support.

“No more drinks for a good half hour, Virge,” Logan chided gently, replacing his solo cup with a water bottle from the table. Virgil whined but plucked out his vampire fangs so he could drink from the small spout easier.

“Let’s dance,” Virgil said, grabbing Logan’s arm and leading him into the crowd.

---------------------------

Logan guessed it was well past midnight when Virgil tugged on his arm for the third time, leaning close to his ear and shouting that he had to go to the bathroom.

“Again?!” Logan called back at the vampire’s back. There was no malice in his words, not when he knew Virgil had been anxious to go to this party and he tended to drink more water when he was anxious. It was just all coming back for revenge now.

To Logan’s delight, the excitement of the party had started to push out the event from earlier. His mood was no longer dampened by the let down of what he thought was meeting his soulmate, and he could finally enjoy the one event he allowed himself to go to this semester. School was important, but he allowed this for Virgil. He hadn’t expected himself to have a good time as well.

It wasn’t even a minute after Virgil had left that there was a loud shout and Logan was jostled harshly to the side, the front of his shirt immediately soaking red from the cup of punch spilled on him. His own drink clattered to the floor.

“Shit, babe, I’m so sorry!” A man Logan didn’t recognize started to pat at his chest with a handful of tissues, an action that for some reason caused the smaller man to cringe.

“No worries. It was bound to happen eventually. Perhaps a white shirt wasn’t my smartest idea,” He responded sharply, taking the tissues from the other and dabbing himself off to the best of his abilities. Slightly relieved that he now had a valid reason, he ripped off his poor attempt at a costume and crumpled up the soaking wet paper in the hand not trying in vain to dry himself. Despite Logan obviously being uninterested, the taller man stayed where he was, watching Logan’s actions with fierce intensity. His lip curled as his eyes trailed down the now nearly see-through shirt.

“If you wanted, I could get that shirt off of you. Fool around, give it some time to dry?”

“I’m so flattered,” Logan deadpanned, “But no thanks.”

“Aw, too bad,” The man cooed, shrugging. His demeanor did a full one-eighty, his predatory gaze replaced with innocence, “Was worth a try. Let me at least get you a new drink, since I ruined your other one.”

“That’s not necessary-”

“I insist.” He laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder, causing a tingling cold to spread through his whole body. The smaller man barely contained a shudder as the man gave him another wolf like grin before disappearing into the crowd towards the drinks table.

Logan was hoping he’d forgotten, and just wouldn’t come back, but the man reappeared in moments, popping open a pink lemonade and handing it to him.

“Saw your other drink was non-alcoholic, so I got the only other one left.”

“Uhm…” Logan looked critically at the can, his alarm bells flaring. But… he’d seen the man open it, right? So it’s not as if he could have done something to it. Perhaps this guy really did have the right intentions, just an iffy way of showing them. “Thank you.”

He took a sip as the man smiled with too much teeth. “So, are you here alone?”

“No,” Logan responded a little less coolly, “I’m here with a friend. He just went to the bathroom.” Another sip.

“Oh, that’s fun! Are you guys in the same year?”

“Yes. We are both fourth years.” The man was acting kinder, and Logan was starting to consider that perhaps their initial meeting had been a misunderstanding on his part. Maybe he had just wanted to help out, but Logan, being cynical as always, had assumed the worst. Wasn’t that just like him, though? Always so quick to conclusions, ruining good things before they have a chance to happen. Trying to chase away his annoyance with himself and the bitter taste it had left on his tongue, he took a longer swig of the can.

“Hey, me too! I’m an English major, what about you?”

“Business with an astronomy minor.”

“That sounds difficult. How many semester hours are you clocking at right now?”

“I… uhm…” And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember. It was a high number, he knew for sure. He shook his head. “Fifteen, sixteen? Maybe seventeen?”

The man whistled. “Damn, impressive. Remind me of your name, again?”

Had he told him in the first place? “Logan.”

“And what brings a studious man such as yourself to a party like this?”

“My- My friend.” Logan couldn’t help shake his head again, hoping the fog in his mind would scatter. That’s what he got, staying out this late when his sleep schedule was usually so precise. “He doesn’t like… parties. So he asked…” He blinked hard a couple times, finding himself swaying on his feet. “He asked me…”

“Hey, are you okay?” The man placed his hand on his arm in an ironclad grip, holding him steady, “Logan, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I… Dizzy,” He murmured, reaching up blearily and grabbing onto him.

“Are you dehydrated? Maybe you should drink some more.”

What were the symptoms of dehydration again? Dizziness, check. Fatigue, check. Confusion, check. Thirst? Yeah, he could drink something, but he’d been drinking all night, so why…

The can dropped from his hand, the second one tonight, and he tried weakly to pull away. Instead of letting him go, the man pulled him closer, wrapping an arm bruisingly tight around his waist.

“You… you drugged-”

“You don’t look so good, Logan. Let’s get you upstairs so you can lie down, yeah?”

“No, I don’t…” He was unable to escape, barely able to keep his feet under him, as the man started dragging him to the stairs. Where the hell is Virgil? Logan could feel tears pricking his eyes as his breathing hitched, and for the first time in years, he felt real panic. This couldn’t be happening. This isn’t-

“Let him the fuck go!”

A voice distinctly not Virgil’s shouted over the music, and Logan didn’t even dare hope it’s directed at the man still clutching him. His luck would never be that good. But through his blurry vision, a pin striped blob with a mess of green hair breaks through the crowd, marching distinctly up to them.

“He came here with me.” Logan could just make out the stronger man’s words through his dizzied state. “He just had a bit too much to drink. I’m going to let him lay down.”

“Like hell you are. Give him to me.”

“How dare you-”

“Logan. Doesn’t. Drink. And I know who he came here with.” Remus snarled, edging towards the duo threateningly, “Now let go of him before I break your fucking jaw.”

With almost as much physical relief as emotional, the man finally released his painful hold on Logan and shoved his way through the crowd, the distant shouts of inconvenienced partygoers near the door the only signal that he’d completely left.

For all his effort, Logan couldn’t hold himself up and collapsed. At first the feeling of strong arms picking him up bridal style caused him to panic and he lashed out, feebly hitting the chest of whoever was holding him. Realizing they were now walking up the stairs, the same place the other man had been pulling him, caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Woah there, Lo. You’re okay. It’s just me, it’s Remus, okay? Take a deep breath, just relax. I won’t hurt you.”

For some reason that Logan couldn’t fathom, the words calmed him down. Somewhere, Logan acknowledged that even though Virgil had known Remus for a while, Logan had only talked to him for a total of five minutes, and he probably shouldn’t trust an essential stranger when he’s like this. He’s just too tired to fight though, no matter how his adrenaline is pumping.

“V’rg’l,” Logan whimpered, clutching Remus' shirt with all the strength of a wet leaf, “W’nt h’m.”

“I’ll get Virgil as soon as you’re safe, okay? Don’t worry,” Remus’ soothing voice rumbled through Logan from where he was pressed to the taller’s chest, making his eyelids flutter. His arms felt like over boiled pasta and his stomach was doing flips, but Remus’ voice broke through the fog he was in and settled him in a way he hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the drugs.

“We’re at the top of the stairs now, okay? I’ll take you to my room, since it’s the only one with a lock. So we know there won’t be any horny college kids in there, making a mess of my sheets. Gotta unlock it without dropping you, hold on, and… A HAH! Got it. You want the light on or off?”

Logan couldn’t compute the question, much less make a choice. He made a sound that was slightly reminiscent of a stalled car engine, letting his head loll towards the lump that he assumed was a bed.

“Let’s compromise.” With all the care in the world, Logan was placed onto the sheets and gently rolled onto his side, a heavy comforter pulled up to his shoulders. Remus shifted away and a dim light flashed through his eyelids, enough to notice but definitely not enough to hurt his throbbing head. A table lamp, probably.

“No falling asleep on me, okay? You need to stay awake. I don’t know what that fucker gave you. I’m texting Virgil now, he’ll be here soon. Just keep your eyes open.”

Logan opened his eyes despite his overwhelming urge to sleep, and was immediately assaulted by a swirl of colors as the world tilted. An explosion of nausea tilted him forward and he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“‘m g’nna-” He didn’t have to finish his sentence before there was a plastic garbage can under his cheek and he heaved, throwing up the remnants of dinner and all he drank that evening. He didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed as he flopped back down onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Oh, Logan,” Remus whispered.

There was a pounding on the door and Logan didn’t even have the energy to flinch from the violent sound. Remus stood quickly and unlocked it, barely opening it before someone barreled into the room, the newcomer gasping for breath.

“What the fuck happened?!” Virgil screamed, dropping on his knees next to the bed, hand reaching up to lay on Logan’s cheek.

“He got roofied by some motherfucker I haven’t seen before. I caught him in the stairwell before anything happened.” Remus was still standing by the open door. The music was flowing in louder now, and Virgil’s raged shouting wasn’t helping his headache at all.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this. I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Virgil, you’re real hot when you’re pissed, but calm the hell down. Yelling won’t help Logan.”

“You’re… shit, you’re right. Okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Watch him. Keep him on his side, bin’s to your left if he has to hurl again. I’m cutting this shit show.”

Logan finally cracked his eyes open as the door shut, Virgil leaning backwards to lock it. When he turned back and saw his friend’s eyes open, he almost wept.

“I’m so sorry Lo, I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“‘s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. I got distracted talking to someone, but I should have come back sooner. You could’ve… You could’ve been…”

“Not y’r fa’lt,” Logan mumbled, reaching over blindly to try and find Virgil’s hand. The other must have sensed his intentions and gripped onto the flailing limb, interlocking their fingers.

“You better not be blaming yourself.”

Technically, he was. He should have been more careful, shouldn’t have taken a drink from a stranger, should have noticed something was off the moment his mind started to fade. Never in his life would he say that this kind of situation was the victim’s fault but… he couldn’t help it when it came to himself. He’d always been self critical that way. Bringing this up to Virgil would be a death wish, though, and an argument he certainly did not have the energy for right now.

The music cut off downstairs and Logan sighed in relief, nearly smiling at Remus’ shout for everyone to get out of his house. For someone he’d met once, he was protective, that was for sure.

Virgil didn’t force him to talk. They both just enjoyed the silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional shout from downstairs and Virgil’s sniffles. Logan couldn’t exactly blame him; he’d cry too if he had the brainpower. He didn’t though, which was the problem, so he allowed his hand to be held and allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of a thumb brushing over his knuckles.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Virgil reached over to unlock it, allowing Remus to walk back in. “Sorry that took so long. Wanted to double check that anyone using someone else as a crutch was black out drunk, not drugged. Here, sit him up.”

Virgil shifted so he was behind Logan and pulled him up against him, holding him steady as Remus lifted a glass of water to his lips. “You have to be thirsty. Do your best to keep this down, Lo.” Suddenly realizing how thirsty he actually was, Logan downed half the glass before Remus pulled it away. “Not so much, you’ll get sick.” There was a clink as the glass was placed on the bed side table. “We need to take him to the hospital. I don’t know how much whatever the fucker gave him.”

“I’m too drunk to drive,” Virgil said, gently lowering Logan back onto his side.

“I didn’t drink that much, but I’m not safe either. You got a friend who can take us?”

“Yeah,” The shorter mumbled as he shakily typed in his phone password, “I’m going to call Patton, just a second.” He moved to the furthest corner of the small room and the conversation faded into the background. At least Virgil was talking… that meant Patton picked up, right?

“Shitty way to end a pretty spectacular holiday,” Remus stated as he sat back on his spot, letting a hand rest on Logan’s leg.

“‘m s’rry.”

“Ah, shit, that’s not what I meant. I’m mad for you, not at you. Ya know,” As he spoke, he reached up and did something to his eyes, almost picking at them, “Halloween’s the only valid holiday in my book. Christmas is too overrated, Easter is senseless, Thanksgiving? No thanks, I don’t glorify genocide. But Halloween? I get to dress slutty or spooky or fucking ridiculous, and no one can give me two shits about it. I get to throw ragers and stab gourds into faces and buy discount candy until I’m fifty percent chocolate. I mean, I dyed my hair green for it, paid extra for the glow in the dark shit, and all I got were compliments.”

His hands had returned to his lap and he was fiddling with something. Logan tried to make out what it was, but it just looked like black plastic. Tiny, flexible pieces of black plastic. That Remus had pulled from his eyes.

They were colored contacts.

“I guess I do kind of blame Roman for getting me into Beetlejuice, but it is one of his least favorite musicals, so it’s also a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to him-”

“R’mus,” He breathed, and even that faint call was enough to snap Remus back to him. The taller man turned to him immediately, and Logan forgot how to breathe.

Because his eyes were brown, and in the dim light of the single lamp, they absolutely shone.

His eyes were the same brown as Logan’s hair, and Logan’s eyes became that offensive green around the same time as Remus dyed his for the costume, and that’s all the confirmation Logan needed to push himself up onto the hands and lunge forward to kiss him. The effort is strenuous and the lurch almost makes him heave again, but oh Lord, he just found his soulmate and it’s actually him and-

“Woah, woah woah woah. Hold on there, cowboy.” Remus gently pushes him back down before their lips can meet, “You are very drugged right now. I am not kissing you drugged. Sober, hell yes. But not like this.”

“Y’re my-”

“Soulmate. I know. I kind of figured when I saw your eyes. But I figured… I might as well get you to like me before I dropped that kind of bombshell. Although… I was hoping that would be accomplished by basic flirting, but then the party started getting out of hand, so I was always busy with-”

“Patton’s on his way,” Virgil spoke up, joining the two on the bed. “You okay, Lo?”

“He figured it out,” Remus said softly, letting a hand card through Logan’s hair.

“I was wondering how long that would take.”

Logan gave a weak smile, his own fear and adrenaline starting wear off slightly. He was safe here, and he felt like he wasn’t going to be let out of sight for a while.

“Drink some more water, wallflower,” Remus whispered, helping him sit up, “We’ll take care of you.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #i kind of visualized that the man dropped the roofie in from his palm when he opened the drink #but i couldnt find a place to add that #not really that important tho #virgil sanders #patton sanders #rape tw #drugging tw #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #ts soulmate au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau

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viridiave · 3 years

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NARUMITSU <ATTEMPTING TO READ THE SUBTEXT PLATONICALLY>

*Wrote all this some time last month so I might be off- really really off- also full disclosure I too am a Narumitsu shipper- this is just me giving myself a bad time doing the impossible and having fun XD

-I am going to fail sooner or later. Looking at you, Bridge to the Turnabout.

FIRST GAME >Turnabout Samurai -Yep. We're jumping right in with 'unnecessary feelings'. I'm going to be put on a stake for this. -This is going to become the main argument with any and all homoerotic subtext present in the first game- that it was unintentional. They didn't actively start making it gay until the second game, and even before then the producer for the games had to warn the development team not to try and insert these themes for fear of getting it wrong and lose the fanbase they'd accidentally caught the eye of. I can still create arguments for why this specific, hilariously meme-able line could be read romantically of course- but as far as the game development team at the time was concerned this interaction was never meant to be read as romantic. -Unease and uncertainty are... very valid feelings for Edgeworth to feel at this very moment and as much as I'd like to joke that he was feeling uncertain about his sexuality after seeing his childhood friend as an adult, this line was really just likely meant to lead up to the conclusion of Turnabout Goodbyes and Edgeworth's character arc for this game. His perfect win streak had just been shattered in a case prior. In this case, he was meant to persecute the lead actor of his favorite show- and in some ways his helping the defense can be taken as his biases getting the better of him. His sense of justice and his entire worldview is about to be overhauled, and I can see how he would regard this budding doubt in himself as an unnecessary (heh) distraction from what he believes is his true purpose in life.

>Turnabout Goodbyes -Edgeworth wanting to keep him away from DL-6 has its own section mostly because of how stubborn he becomes when it comes to Phoenix's insistence in particular. It's clear that this stubbornness is a front, I will concede with that- but there are merits to his initial reluctance in accepting Phoenix's defense. It's evident that Phoenix himself has grown over the course of the game so far, but in both of the times that he faced off against Edgeworth in court, his victories were... a tad bit contrived. For instance in Turnabout Sisters, Phoenix really only wins because Mia was being channeled and blackmailed White as he was about to leave the stand. Turnabout Samurai is a little better- but had him rely on quite a lot of coincidences (proven later to be substantiated) that surfaced during the trial. This is nothing to say of the deeper reason Edgeworth has over dissuading Phoenix from taking his case ("You in particular I cannot ask to do this.")- where I can make an argument for his pride and/or concern over Phoenix's career as an attorney. The stakes are relatively high here as well- if Phoenix fails, Edgeworth is incarcerated, Manfred von Karma goes free, DL-6 goes cold once again with no hope of getting re-opened, and everything that Phoenix has been working towards as an attorney would have been in vain. DL-6 is a case that has ruined many lives- it'd make sense if Edgeworth himself felt as though it would be a waste of time and effort to take this case because of how convinced he was of murdering his own father prior to Gourd Lake. He'd grown up for the past 15 years with a nightmare and a death sentence over his head- I wouldn't be surprised if he simply gave up and accepted that he was going to die at the hands of his prosecuting mentor. Even if he were acquitted for the murder of Robert Hammond, his perceived involvement in DL-6 would have thrown a wrench in his freedom- any lesser attorney would have given up on that. And this is unloaded BEFORE Phoenix tells him about the true reason as to why he became an attorney. -Phoenix's insistence to defend Edgeworth in this case can easily just be read as platonic- his complete, unfettered faith in Edgeworth's innocence is heavily influenced by that class trial, for better or for worse. While I'm perfectly happy to imagine that Phoenix's attachment to his idealized version of Edgeworth grew into something deeper sometime in the fifteen years that he hasn't seen him, I do believe that Phoenix in particular really is just that much of a sentimental person. This is to say nothing of his nature as a defense attorney- and what little time he's managed to spend with Mia has taught him that unbridled trust in his client is what gets him through the day, and he's putting it to practice here. Edgeworth was what he has been working towards the moment he decided he would practice law- as Phoenix at this point in time still believes that he could do no wrong despite seeing what Edgeworth is truly like in court. -Cutting into the meat of Phoenix and Edgeworth's shared past, I made a point earlier to say that Phoenix's perception of Edgeworth as a person is idealized. Every memory that Phoenix has had of Edgeworth prior to the events of the first game were from their childhood- and they had 4-8 months (plus one year if we're generous with the retconning some of the official art gave us) MAX to develop a friendship so strong that Phoenix makes major life decisions just to meet with this man. The fact that this time spent together was ENOUGH for Phoenix in the first place is... really hard to skirt around. To quote Dan from GameGrumps "this is something that you would only do for someone you're trying to marry" and if one of them was a woman I guarantee this ship would be canon already. But then again- since this is Phoenix Wright in particular somehow I can believe that he really is just that sentimental- and that isn't always a bad thing. He'd managed to save Edgeworth twice with this conviction after all. When Phoenix sees Edgeworth, he doesn't see a demon prosecutor, he sees his childhood friend who aimed to become a shining example of justice following in his father's footsteps. They address how shaky his foundations for becoming an attorney were in the Phoenix Wright Files once actually- going through a mini-existential crisis because he'd become an attorney with the main goal of saving Edgeworth from what he'd become, and now that he's accomplished that he's just kind of... lost. Edgeworth himself manages to pull him out of this, though. -man that hurts my case a lot actually but to be fair I was banking on failing -I just didn't expect it to happen so early even with the first game -in fact ESPECIALLY with the first game -though I cannot for the life of me wonder how I can come up with a heterosexual explanation for why the buildup towards Edgeworth telling Phoenix and Maya about his nightmares reads so much like a stunted love confession. I'm serious- just read any high school shojo manga ever. You'll find that it hits a lot of the same beats.

>Rise From The Ashes -It's in this case that we observe some of the consequences that the intial upheaval of Edgeworth's worldview in Turnabout Goodbyes causes him; distrust in the enforcement of the law. Not exactly the time for him to be dabbling in another, meme-able brand of unnecessary feelings. Several things like the Prosecutor's Office's relationship with the Police Department starts to waver with the murder of Bruce Goodman, and this becomes the final nail in the coffin for Edgeworth's worldviews and values as a prosecutor. His and Phoenix's teamwork in this trial becomes prevalent- the story behind the King of Prosecutors award represents this best despite it's currently incomplete state. The backstory behind this award paints an ideal of justice in the courtroom wherein the truth comes out as a result of the efforts of contradictory forces. A broken halberd that can cut through any shield (the prosecution) and a broken, unbreakable shield (the defense). Read as representation the text becomes something of a metaphor for the ideal justice that manifests itself in the best parts of Edgeworth and Phoenix respectively- the duality of their opposing professions rather than something that is limited to their relationship. -The same argument that I've used for Phoenix's unwavering belief in Edgeworth's innocence in Turnabout Goodbyes can be used for this case as well. -Though Edgeworth still goes M.I.A for a year after this case, it does grant his disappearance a bit more context as to why exactly it is that he left- and I'll be taking a tiny liberty with this and apply the interpretation that the Miles Edgeworth Files grants us, and that he left in order to better himself and grow as a person, a prosecutor, and as a friend to Phoenix Wright. It's... difficult for me to want to read this as anything but romantically-charged because the narrative beats are NOT lost on me (the dialogue makes this especially hard. send help.)- there's a possibility that Edgeworth at this point in time realizes the value in having a better, more functional dynamic with the one defense attorney who he considers a true equal in court. This dynamic will allow for less chances to encounter missteps and errors in any verdicts handed down in court, and if Edgeworth is to pursue his ideal of justice- Phoenix Wright is undoubtedly essential to this endeavor. The aftermath of Rise From The Ashes is indicative of this newfound goal of his- the symbolism behind the old King of Prosecutors award and the two halves of the evidence list certainly helps this case. -<"It seems all you do is worry about me." -Miles Edgeworth, Rise From The Ashes> For good fucking reason Edgeworth. You were accused of murder and have implicated yourself on the stand for DL-6 just a few months ago- and if the Investigations games are anything to go by, you're more of a danger magnet than PHOENIX is. I had to say it. The first Investigations game takes place over the course of 2-3 days and the sheer amount of shit that Edgeworth had to deal with in between that interval truly makes me wonder how Phoenix Wright ended up with the title of danger magnet. And THIS time- Edgeworth's car becomes a crime scene because his corrupt superiors needed a convenient way of transporting a corpse. There's VERY good reasons to worry about the livelihood of Miles Edgeworth. -Okay I... can't believe I forgot about the chessboard. Here's the kicker- the one we see from his office isn't even the only one he owns. I... legitimately cannot give you ANY purely heterosexual, platonic explanation for why Miles Edgeworth has THREE (THREE. I CANNOT OVERSTATE THIS. HE HAS T H R E E OF THESE FUCKING THINGS. GOOD GOD. HE CAN'T BE ANY MORE EXTRA.)(there exists a similar, portable set in the Investigations games- and he has a new set by the time of Dual Destinies) sets of custom-made chessboards with personalized, highly-specific red and blue designs made purely to depict his rivalry with Phoenix Wright. I fold. I give up. I forgot about the chessboards I wAS NOT EXPECTING TO FAIL THIS E A R LY- -You know what the real kicker is with Rise From the Ashes? The main argument that I have introduced back in Turnabout Samurai does not apply here. Rise From the Ashes was made as a DS-exclusive case and did not exist in the original GameBoy version of the Trilogy. Which means if there is homoerotic tension written in for this case (and there happens to be a lot. the chessboard is proof enough.), then we can safely assume that the writers at this point were well-aware. So yeah- maybe don't feel TOO bad about the unnecessary feelings line- because ever since then the writers have been playing off of that and it SHOWS. -Is there really a point to this I'm just- everything is stacked against me tryna interpret this platonically -Like I know I make a point to say that a romantic relationship isn't the end-all of all relationships because this franchise LOVES pushing the Found Family dynamic and I'm an absolute sucker for that -good god by the time Dual Destinies rolls around I'll probably just give up and happily say they're happily married -that's literally what they act like don't even pretend

#narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #phoenix wright #naruhodou ryuuichi #miles edgeworth #mitsurugi reiji #i'll probably write more once school blows over #so have the first game for now #trust me i tried #maybe i'm just not an anti-shipper and that's why i failed #uh feel free to set the comments on fire #but like civilly #we're all here to have fun okay #even if fun means shipping

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lovemybluebully · 3 years

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Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

#tickling #tickletorture #tickle #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #wolverine #loganhowlett #xtas #dangerroom #ticklefic #scottsummers #cyclops #marvel #tickleart

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rhomsfanfic · 3 years

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Tease

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

a/n: Some spicy OsaAka because why not :P

Rated: Mature Characters: Miya Osamu X Akaashi Keiji (Haikyuu!!) Genre: Lemon Words: 1790

“You’re imagining things,” Akaashi mumbled against Osamu’s lips as the door to his apartment finally made way for the two to stumble in, arm in arm. “My mother adores you!”

He was cut off again before he could say more, Osamu not wasting time with getting out of his shoes and coat before helping Akaashi, stripping him of his clothes with much pleasure. “Does she adore me-” he asked, urging Akaashi forward into the dark hallway, knowing the way to the bedroom well, “-or my cooking?”

Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh, the sweet, amused sound echoing through the apartment while his pullover came off, landing somewhere between the bath and living room. Neither of them was very bothered by leaving traces of themselves around, hoping that soon enough, they’d be able to move in together and create many more such traces. But for now, pullover, jeans, and socks had to do, leaving a trail from the entrance to the bedroom.

“I’d wager she was equally impressed by both,” he finally replied, letting himself down on the edge of his bed, wasting no time to fumble with Osamu’s sturdy belt. His body was still comfortably warm after wearing his winter ensemble, but all the more exciting were Osamu’s cold hands on his shoulders dragging forward over his arms and to his hands, resting there. It wasn’t always visible what went on in Osamu’s head. Still, he had no qualms when it came to Akaashi’s actions, gladly accepting his boyfriend’s care when it came to undressing him too.

In fact, Osamu might have always been the more impulsive and straight-forward with his desires of the two.

For onlookers, that might be a fact when comparing the two, but not for Osamu. Not for someone who was allowed to be so close and observe Akaashi daily. No one would ever come to enjoy the various facets and adorable gestures Osamu’s boyfriend made over the day. And even more so, no one would know all the feelings Akaashi could stir up in Osamu.

Playing with his pen while Akaashi thought, or the way he always subtly held the popcorn in Osamu’s direction while they watched a movie. The formal yet hopeful question of ‘Are you coming over tonight?’ in his texts, or subtle interrogations about presents for anniversaries. In many aspects, Osamu couldn’t get enough of Akaashi, and it was reassuring to know that Akaashi seemed to feel the same. Even so, he was still full of surprises even after months of dating, but Osamu wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Otherwise, where would the courage and willingness to tease come from? He might have learned it from Osamu, but Akaashi’s perfection of it was his own work. Even now, at the first meeting with Akaashi’s parents, he had not given Osamu any chance to remain calm. As if it wasn’t nerve-wracking enough to meet his partner’s parents, no, Akaashi had made it almost impossible for Osamu to keep his composure. Surely, he meant well at first, reaching for Osamu’s hand under the table, squeezing it reassuringly, but the devil in disguise didn’t fool anyone with his adorable, happy smirk and gleam in his eyes.

Not when his hand wandered way further than just Osamu’s thighs beneath the dinner table.

“I couldn’t help it,” Akaashi confirmed his suspicion as if reading his mind, grinning mischievously. “Thought I’d take some tension off of you.”

“Oh, ya were having fun, alright,” Osamu retorted, but he couldn’t help but grin too. Akaashi gave him an innocent shrug, batting his eyelashes blamelessly as he finally pulled down Osamu’s pants, fiddling at the waistband of his boxers now. But two big hands were quick to stop him, and Akaashi didn’t squirm as Osamu brought them back, pushing his boyfriend into the mattress. “Now’s my turn, though,” he declared, and Akaashi chuckled challengingly under his boyfriend’s watchful eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he retorted, and Osamu accepted his lover’s provocation, licking his lips in anticipation.

With Akaashi’s help, it wasn’t hard to slip his briefs off, legs parting as they were freed of the restriction of underwear, with Osamu kneeling down before the bed. “Stay down,” he instructed as Akaashi was about to sit up again, keeping himself propped on his forearms instead. “Why?” he asked his partner, and Osamu gave him an impish shrug, “Just let me enjoy the view.”

It wasn’t an empty promise of what he was going to do because as soon as Osamu’s tongue rolled over the exposed tip in front of his mouth, Akaashi’s cheeks began to redden. Words he perhaps would have liked to say were stuck in his throat while one hand vainly covered his face. The only adorable sounds that rang out were a mix of moans and satisfaction. His free hand first resting on top of Osamu’s hair before Akaashi couldn’t help the need to grip into the soft and luscious strands under his palm, feeling Osamu smirk against his cock. To Osamu, it was a sight for the gods.

There wasn’t a single second wasted against Akaashi urging, lips closing around his member, causing a wave of emotions in him. Osamu might not have been one to prolong the inevitable, but he sure was a thorough lover, starting out slow with Akaashi’s tip, sliding it over his tongue into the back of his throat, easing both of them into the pleasure. Bringing his hands up to Akaashi’s shaft, he began massaging it together with his mouth, building an effective motion to edge Akaashi on. Both of them liked the idea of watching each other, but Osamu had - quite literally - the upper hand in this, Akaashi barely able to keep his eyes focused on his lover’s pleased gaze.

However, just as quickly as he initiated the caress, Osamu was able to take it away again, not even waiting for Akaashi to call out his name excitedly before he let go of him. Disappointment laid in the way Akaashi’s shoulders dropped, and he muttered out a displeased groan, the cold of the room laying down on his heated skin now that Osamu was gone. “Looks like someone got a bit eager there,” Osamu chuckled, and not wanting to admit his need for more, Akaashi only huffed.

“Tell me, little Owl, where’s it that you want to come? Face? Hands? Or-”

Letting his tongue slip out from his lips, Osamu grinned, his chest heaving in the feeling of victory as he looked at Akaashi’s eyes growing darker with lust upon seeing the open invitation.

“Mouth?” he breathed out sensually, watching the absolutely splendid sight of Akaashi gulping, both of them knowing the only right answer to this question. “You’re awful today,” Akaashi noted, knowing he was pudding in Osamu’s hands. Teasing was an art, after all. Akaashi had studied it well, but Osamu still was the master between the two.

“You mean awfully good,” Osamu retorted, probing his tongue against the shaft once more and reveling in the sound of Akaashi’s sharp breath.

“Just do it like always--”

“Keiji,” Osamu interrupted him. “Choose.”

Biting his bottom lip, Akaashi could only watch the teasing kisses Osamu left on him. It shouldn’t have needed so much overcoming for him to admit what he wanted, but usually, it was Osamu doing as he felt like at that moment. Akaashi never had to voice it before - even when he could have - especially not when all options were very satisfying as long as it was Osamu he could trust with them. But even Akaashi realized it was a game played by two, so there was no weaseling out of it.

“M-Mouth,” he finally stammered out, embarrassed over his own voice breaking. However, the sound of joyous anticipation couldn’t be hidden from Osamu’s ears. “Decided to be honest, haven’t ya?” he teased but wasted no time to envelop Akaashi’s cock with his lips again.

Letting himself fall back into the mattress again, Akaashi tried to take deep breaths in an effort to recollect himself. There were too many things wasted in the quick passing of the day, so at least this feeling, Akaashi wanted to treasure for as long as he could. Sure, there’d be other nights they would spend intimately together, but this one would only happen once.

What Osamu didn’t know was that Akaashi thought alike about Osamu’s habits, as he did over Akaashi’s. Even now, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head of his usually so easygoing partner triple-checking the mirror before they went out to meet Akaashi’s parents. Or how his palms were slightly sweaty when Akaashi reached for his hand under the dinner table. Osamu was many things, especially reliable and a tower of strength for his boyfriend. But besides his on-point teases and the gentle spark in his eyes, today he had been absolutely adorable. Akaashi didn’t even know Osamu could get flustered, but he was humble and sweet in the face of Akaashi’s parents.

He would have loved to treasure these memories of Osamu by fully immersing himself in his pleasure, let it excite every fiber of his so that his body could remember it forever. But Akaashi would have been damned if he didn’t truly enjoy this to the end, and Osamu was practically all he could think about anyway.

“Osa--!” Akaashi still managed to croak out, digging his hands into his partner’s hair. Osamu didn’t even need to think of complying, embracing the pulsating shaft with his lips, feeling the hot spurts over his tongue. He let Akaashi live out the waves of pleasure, causing fragments of ‘Oh gods’ and Osamu’s name to fall even more plentiful from his lips. In fact, he was basking in the view spreading before him, Akaashi completely and happily losing himself - and Osamu wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Letting off, Osamu came to his feet, wiping the corners of his mouth clean and giving Akaashi a winning smirk while the latter’s chest was still rising and falling quickly. “Ready for more?” he asked, and Akaashi’s eyes immediately shot up to him, the shine in them speaking more than a thousand words, but his mouth only muttered, “Really?”

Osamu had to chuckle, realizing it was a question asked in exciting anticipation, and he leaned over Akaashi to kiss him from the corners of his mouth down his neck to his collarbones. “Really, really,” he assured him. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow when I’m through with you.”

For that, he earned Akaashi playfully smacking him in the chest, protesting, “I have work tomorrow!” before the two fell into simultaneous laughter, exchanging another kiss and another.

Both knowing that there were nights, like this one, they’d never forget.

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carmenxjulia · 3 years

Photo

Another Duane interview transcript, coming at you! This one was from a smaller Carmen Sandiego chatroom. There were several interviewers, so that’s why the name of the question asker changes. Get the details below the break! Stay tuned, more interview transcripts coming soon.

Duane Capizzi:

HI EVERYONE! I'M IN!

Sorry I'm late, I got lost on the way haha. Then got lost trying to change my PFP

Thanks for gathering! Shall we get started? Let's do some Q&A!

(as long as they are not geography questions haha)

Fuel:

What characters or plot points were cut from the final product?

Duane Capizzi:

Ooo, starting with a right hook to the jaw!

Let me think about that for a moment: I'm hesitant to give too much away because I'm really hoping we can tell more stories in this world at some point

Which is to say, we tend not to waste anything: if we don't use it when we originally planned, we usually find a way to use something later - and there's usually a "karmic" reason that we waited.

I'll also preface by saying this: I know season 3 was more of a mini-drop and some felt season 4 was rushed. But I wish EVERY season were longer. Season 1: ideally, i wanted the Pilot to be its own event and 10 more episodes after that (but we had to tell the post-Pilot story in 7. At the end of the day, that had its benefits: we got to the Shadowsan turn earlier and I think that's when a lot of viewers realized the ride they were truly in for). Season 2: we initially figured we'd need 5 episodes to have Carmen doing the ACME dance with Chief, and wound up doing it in 3 - mostly because it quickly became clear that Rio needed to be a 2 parter, and the Zack and Ivy backstory a rough 2 parter. So we squeezed 3 episodes worth of plot into 209. It was exhilarating!

So, we had hoped to have more episodes for Season 4 of course. We had a ton of ideas and had to compress things a bit. But honestly in many ways it was for the better. I know we all wanted to live in this world longer, but I think sometimes the flip side is true - when you have big ongoing storylines, it can get frustrating when some things drag out too long. But, we got all the "story" we wanted to tell in Season 4 - we just lost some "incident" if that makes sense. We would have taken longer to get there.

So, all that preface to answer the question: we wanted to do more musical numbers! We had a Bollywood dance sequence in a return to India caper with Paperstar. We wanted to do a famous Elvis suit theft in Las Vegas during an Elvis impersonator convention (Shadowsan's an early elvis guy; Brunt likes the Vegas "jumpsuit" era). We also wanted to do a thread where Gunnar gets captured by ACME so that Julia could interrogate him and he could play mind games with her a la Hannibal Lector and Clarice. CAVEAT TO ALL THIS: these were some ideas that were bouncing around, that may not have seen the light of day if we couldn't get them to work. But they were on our wish list.

re: "other stories" - I could live with these characters for another 32 episodes easily and there have of course been discussions. But alas, that is up to the powers that be. Let's keep fingers crossed - and keep the Carmen love alive online so that someone up there takes note

There is more of course, but those are some things that spring to mind.

Fuel:

Were there any scenes cut for time that were your favorite?

Duane Capizzi:

Not much springs to mind: our directors were amazing at getting everything in the scripts to fit naturally (and in fact, I was the one who was usually suggesting trims to let other things breathe, etc). We were limited to 22 minutes of episode time, NOT counting front and end credits so a little longer than the average show. We have a pretty good idea when the SCRIPT is too long, so the cutting usually happens at script stage before it gets to the board crew so that they don't waste efforts over-boarding material that won't be used.

We had hoped to build out Chase and Carmen teaming up for the first time, meeting at Carmen's hotel lobby etc for more scenes of them together; but had to reduce that to get that all to fit in the VERY packed episode 406. But again, tighter was fine considering. That's one area that leaps to mind. (note that when I say packed, I don't mean that in a bad way: we spend a lot of time pouring over details in editing to make sure everything gets its due).

If I think of anything, I'll circle back at a later point. But the simple answer is that scenes were usually trimmed or compressed at script rather than board or animatic. So nothing comes to mind. I know it's hard to believe, but "shorter is usually better."

except for my answers to fan questions of course

Fuel:

We saw that in s4 episode 6 that Julia's mother(?) is wearing a necklace remarkably similar to the one Julia wears all the time. Is this the same necklace and if so, why was it given to Julia?

Duane Capizzi:

Just when I thought I was detail oriented! Wow! You guys blow me away

I can't take credit for that: it was either the board artist or director who added that. They do slip things in! As I've said before, EVERYONE on the crew really brought their A-game and were as deep thinking and as passionate as I was/am about the show.

It's a nice detail and I would say your interpretation works!

It took me three or four reviews before noticing that the team had slipped in baby Carmen near the play set in Mom's front yard at the end of 408. When I caught it, I was like: bravo!

Fuel:

When they first met, Zack and Ivy said to Carmen that they were the only family they had, do you know what happened to the rest of Zack and Ivy's family?

Duane Capizzi:

I don't. At least, I don't yet until such a time that I might have the opportunity to explore that. It was important to their relationship with Carmen that they be orphans, so they had that common bond (aside from being "thieves who steal from bad guys" - even if it was only gonna be one time for Zack and Ivy).

I know there are writers out there who like to do entire bio's for characters up front but i'm not one of them. It could be a trap in many ways. I like to have a general idea but be open to the demands of the ongoing storyline. You discover things along the way - it's like you're taking a journey with the characters by writing them, and the longer you spend, the better you get to know them (that was not a prepared statement by the way - I just made that up but I'll have to use it again :). So in Z/I's case it wasn't important to the story or Carmen's relationship, we felt. Conversely, we STARTED with Shadowsan's family backstory with 203, but more important to me was that we use it as a platform to explain why he stays with Carmen and crew. He really has no home at that point, so it was relevant to the present ongoing story. Which is what made that especially powerful to me.

Also, there's always a push-pull between telling character back stories while balancing them with ongoing episodic plots. You have to service both. If you just tell back story, then you're writing a biography

Arden:

What was the biggest challenge when designing these characters, especially the pre-existing characters from the series in the 90's?

Duane Capizzi:

This is probably more of a question for Chromosphere, re: challenges. But from my standpoint overseeing that process, the first thing I'll say is that we weren't necessarily trying to be "true" to those characters since we reinvented nearly every one from the ground up. (with the exception of Carmen of course - her trademark red hat/coat weren't going anywhere! But mostly the update with Carmen was in the styling of her "outerwear"

ALTHOUGH: I will admit that I was pushing for Carmen to have shorter hair as Carmen. I thought it would be a cool update. Chromosphere were really passionate about giving her long full hair and I have to see that they were right. The short tomboy cut worked so well for Black Sheep anyway. We had a different hair style for each of her ages.

So about the reinventions: Gunnar is in spirit a similar character to the original (old colleague in Vile and an early mentor if I remember), but his presentation completely different. We weren't trying to be "in canon" with the original. The beauty of CSD is that every incarnation has been its own entity so that freed us to reimagine the characters. THE CLEANERS, for instance: gimme some Cleaner love! There were a pair of janitors from the original game named RICK AND NICK ICK. They were literally janitors, it was too silly for our purposes. But, it's one small step to make them "Cleaners" (in the sinister hit men sense) - and lo, our reinvention.

So to summarize the answer to your question, they weren't really challenges to me so much as FUN to creatively reinvent the original characters (many of which were from the game, so not really "characters" per se with dialogue and inner lives). Whenever we could, we tried to use character names from the originals and update their looks and personalities. Where we couldn't find an equivalent for what we needed, we created characters from whole cloth. For instance, it seemed a miss to do a heist show without a tunnel guy and a high rise climber guy. Hence, LC & ET, everyone's favorite taco truck vendors!

(yes, i've seen some short hair carmen fan art on Twitter - someone did a great one recently!)

Arden:

Are there plans to give us more of the characters in, say, novel/graphic novel form?

Duane Capizzi:

I know HMH has done a bunch and no doubt have more in works. There's currently a novelization of the Pilot with some additional material if anyone's interested. I consulted on the second one, Clue for Clue, because it falls in the timeline while Chase was still Interpol/pre-Acme so was tricky.

And depending on whether another series in this canon makes it to air, I may just approach them about writing one or two myself to get some "further adventures" our there. Anything is possible!

Arden:

If you could go back and change anything about the series, what would it be?

Duane Capizzi:

File under anecdote, but there was what I felt was an important expression on Gray that kept me awake at nights, from his graduation ceremony at Vile. When we revisited those flashbacks in the Gray arc in Season 4, I had them change his expression there (to be more evil less innocent). We had it corrected in 404 so was able to get permission to have Netflix "fix" the Pilot by adding that shot in. I am tenacious!

We really poured over everything, it's the series that I have virtually zero complaints with the end product to be honest. But the simple answer is: I would have gone back to 106 and "un-greek'd" Gray's nametag. It's sort of a rule for international that we scramble signage (which is weird for a show that takes place in many countries/languages, I know I know). It's mostly for localization/translation reasons. And I'm sure there are some countries where Gray's name might be spoken differently. But as a proper name, I think we could have made an exception and seen "Gray" on his name tag. See? Details! But that's about the worst of it

there's also like one small line from Chief in 208 where she indicates she knows Carmen is a good guy (something to that effect) which I felt was too absolute and would have tweaked the line to temper it a bit. It's tiny, but looking back it sort of bugs me and I kick myself for not catching it. But this is absolutely the series I wanted and couldn't be happier.

Carmen:

How did Carmen know she could trust Julia? As far as we know, she has not seen or heard Julia defending her, and in the Fashionista Caper, Julia even held up her gas gun to her, saying she was under arrest. Do you have any opinions on this? Was it just intuition?

Duane Capizzi:

I'm gonna go with intuition

Carmen was raised on an island with some hardened criminal types. I think she's a pretty good judge of character. Poor Julia, trying to be tough with Carmen didn't suit her.

But, great observation! I'd have to mentally step through everything to see if Carmen had any earlier indication but i think you're right there.

Yes, sometimes you just gotta follow your heart

Carmen:

Are there any characters that didn't actually interact that you think would get along well?

Duane Capizzi:

Amazing question! First, I'd have to think more about who DIDN'T meet - you're asking the hard questions haha. But "get along well" is very specific! Hmmm, care to volley anyone?

I'll also add that so many smaller moments get lost in the "binge" of it all, but I am surprised how few fans have noted the first meeting between Player and Julia. THAT was a good one IMO! Very sweet!

Before getting back to your question, I also want to add that we were originally going to find a way for Carmen to lose her earring in Stockholm so that Julia could pick it up and be communicating with Player. BUT, I cut it at treatment stage because I knew we didn't have room in that episode to service it. Circling back to questions 1 & 2, another case where it turned out better saved for later IMO (saving Player meeting Julia, not to mention the earring business in 402 with Ivy).

Oh of course, Julia and any of the other Vile members. It would have been Gunnar for my vote, as mentioned earlier. We probably would not have had Julia meet anyone else and mixed it up more. I like that Cleo sort of became J's personal nemesis.

YES, SONIA & XIFENG (and LUPE PELIGRO, if I can add). The intent was (and is, if we ever get to revisit) to see them again in Carmen's travels. We started to expand Carmen's world but when we finally learned the finite number of episodes we had to finish the story, we drilled back down into the essentials. Would love to see them some day!

I'm hesitant to share too many things I have in mind in this forum for hope that they will see the light of day one day. You know, "spoilers"

Julia:

Do you have any opinions on Zari? Just in general? Some thoughts on her backstory would be nice if possible

Duane Capizzi:

I love Zari! I really don't have any back story on her at this point. She was originally just "Agent B" but when the need arose to give story points to another agent, we chose her because she looked so awesome! And Sharon Muthu gave voice to her so wonderfully.

I love when we finally teamed her with Chase. Hopefully the anticipation was that she would give him a hard time. I love that we defied expectation (organically, of course) and had her respect him by the end of that episode (for believing that he foiled Carmen!)

Julia:

Do you have any thoughts on small facts about any character, major or minor, that you think are fun/interesting to think about, but don't necessarily add to the plot itself?

Duane Capizzi:

Bellum, like myself, likes cats. But you knew that!

I try to put everything pertinent on screen, doing double duty to service any given episode's story but also the overarching story. That "journey" thing I mentioned earlier - we had no idea Chase falling on his own car would be a thing when I first came up with it. But as other characters refer to the incident, it took on a life of its own and made the characters feel more real.

Sorta kinda related to this question and some earlier ones, I will say that I DO think there's more to learn about Shadowsan's past vis a vis Lady Dokuso: it's clear to me that they have a history together, and it's something I hope to explore someday soon (maybe in a book if not another series

Julia:

Are the Carmen Sandiego books a part of canon?

Duane Capizzi:

I only consulted on the first two or three (too busy with series!) and have not read them, so hard for me to answer in a definite way. They are definitely in the universe we've created, but not in the timeline that I know of (which would have been too hard to pull off with our script development running concurrently). But do know that the book team at HMH pays close attention to the series and world so they should be perfectly compatible. Look no further to their clever social media on the series for example.

Kenz:

We saw in season 4 that Julia and Carmen helped each other mid to long term; would there ever be a possibility that Julia would permanently or semi-permanently join team Red?

Duane Capizzi:

Of course there's a possibility. But in a sense, with ACME now finally on Carmen's side, in a sense if Carmen were back in the game Julia, Chase, Zack and Ivy would ALL be an extension of Carmen's crew. But, would J remain with ACME or literally come to Carmen's team at her HQ? As they said in an old radio show: "Only The Duane Capizzi knows ..."

Kenz:

Where do you see Carmen in her retirement (if she retires)? Do you think she would still travel the world or settle down somewhere? Similarly, do you have any thoughts on what some other characters could be doing years down the line?

Duane Capizzi:

That is a big question, and one difficult to answer without some potential future spoilers (and yes, I really want to tell more Carmen stories if you can't tell But I'll answer by giving you one "read" on our open-ended ending as seen in 408 (read no further if you haven't seen it - yeah, right haha). The ending suggests to me that Carmen settled down for a spell to forge that relationship with her mother, to make up for lost time. But, if that is indeed Carmen that we see on the rooftop, I think the ending suggests that Carmen doesn't stay still for very long. If Vile is back, there is work to be done! Carmen has a life mission - she's one determined lady.

But of course, it's deliberately ambiguous: "anyone with your heart, wisdom and courage can be Carmen Sandiego." Is it Carmen? Sonia? Someone we haven't met? I think both endings resonate: Caroline and I always said "Carmen is bigger than a person, Carmen is a movement" would be a great message to end the series on. And I think our ending resolves this chapter of Carmen's journey as a person, but also elevates her to mythic status. Which is why I love it!

And, that seems to me a pretty perfect question and answer to end our chat on. Thanks everyone! Again, I cannot tell you how moved I am to see that we have such a passionate, intelligent and talented fan base. THANK YOU.

Take care guys, thanks again for having me! 'night!

#Carmen Sandiego #CS Crew #Duane Capizzi #Interview #Transcript

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my-arlington-academia · 3 years

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Cliffany part 2

O-kay, and that’s it! I don’t know if I’ll write a continuation tbh since it was just a silly little idea that came out of nowhere. (Although I did have some ideas for more!) I haven’t really been active on my fanblog lately so it’s not like it’ll make much of a difference though haha. By the way, I’m thinking about making my blog more "Dulcet-oriented" rather than just SE. I hope you guys don’t mind? Recently, I’ve been getting more and more into Black Tarot! So expect my blog to change a lil 🔮🕯🌌

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It had been a couple of days now since Tiffany’s last interaction with Claire, and while she was still ignoring her like before, Tiffany’s efforts in doing so had increased. The moment she spotted her in the corner of her eye, she would move at a faster pace, as if running away. Was it guilt after all? No, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with Claire’s annoying and unnecessary empathy. The empathy that she knew she didn’t deserve which made her feel even more frustrated towards Claire.

All she should be worried about right now is getting more followers on Instaglam, not avoiding a nobody like the plague. On that note, spring was coming soon, the flowers started to blossom and the days were getting longer which meant... that the "cottagecore" tag on insta would go trending soon, no doubt! And of course, living on the Arlington campus as one of its students, this gave Tiffany the access to its beautiful garden. Although honestly, she only ever went there to take pictures and this time wasn’t any different. She had prepared some tea sets and dresses for the occasion, all of which she would throw away once spring went away along with its "trends."

Carried by her confident footsteps, she walked to the garden. That confidence was only a facade though. She knew exactly what kind of people and who in particular went to take strolls quite often in this goddamn garden. But hey, it was 7pm and the sun would soon start to set. Knowing that Claire always arrives 15 minutes in advance to any meeting and most likely always wakes up at 6am, there was nothing to be worried about. Chances are, she was either doing her homework before going to bed like a goody-two-shoes or watering her weird-ass plants. Tiffany always had the horror of seeing these at Raquel’s parties. It just didn’t fit at all with the rest of what was going on in the room and ruined the whole "party" vibe.

In any case, there she was, searching for a good spot to take pictures and set up a fake picnic. That basket filled with different colored blankets, tea sets, biscuits, tea and a pie was way heavier than Tiffany had initially thought. Maybe she really should’ve asked for collab pictures with Trisha from the fine arts department. She didn’t really like her but when it came to follower count they were surprisingly close, although Tiffany was still number one of course. Still, if she had asked for a collab they could’ve carried those heavy props together.

After finding a good spot next to the pond, Tiffany set everything up in an aesthetically pleasing manner and got down to taking the pictures. She was taking different shots to post them one by one throughout the week and give out the illusion that she was taking those the same day she posted them. She was ready to upload the first one, call it a day and go back to the dorms without touching any of the tea or cakes. It’s all just useless calories anyways. As she was putting the tags on the picture, she started wondering what were the names of those flowers in the background.

"Ugh, fuck. What are those orange shits called again?"

"Marigolds."

"Ah right, thank y-"

Tiffany immediately snapped her head back. This annoyingly gentle voice could only belong to one person.

"...What the fuck, Claire. Where did you pop out from?!"

There’s no was she was there the whole time, right? It’s true that Tiffany could get lost in what she was doing once she was focused but it wasn’t to the point where she became completely unaware of her surroundings.

"I came by a few minutes ago... Y-you looked so invested in what you were doing that I didn’t want to bother you! I didn’t mean to pry."

Well, Tiffany could always upload those damn pictures from her room. Claire’s arrival just meant that it was time for her to leave. However, seeing that Tiffany started packing up her things, Claire panicked thinking that it’s her fault. Which was in fact, her fault... in a way.

"O-oh! You’re not going to finish your picnic? I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave! Throwing all of this good food away would be such a waste-"

"Are you fucking dumb?"

Did she not get that this was all only a set-up for taking pictures? It was obvious that Tiffany didn’t have any intention of eating or drinking any of that. Not to mention that after everything that happened the other day, she was still not scared of approaching her?

"I don’t give a damn about the food, it was just for my social media accounts you dumb bit- ... dimwit. I was already done anyway so you don’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m leaving."

"I see! T-then maybe I can help?!"

Help? What did Claire even know about- Actually, on second thought. This whole "cottagecore" shtick was a great fit for Claire. She probably already had all of the things Tiffany bought last week for those pictures, even better and more authentic-looking ones probably. This was maybe the one and only time Tiffany would let Claire "help" her. But from her point of view, she was mostly just using her.

"Hm. Is that so? How can you help me then... Claire."

"Wait just a second! I’ll be back right away!!!"

She ran immediately towards the dorms. Well, she'll probably bring a bunch of random stuff. In the end, Tiffany was really torn between the idea of staying and waiting for who knows how long and the idea of leaving right now. Surely, Claire would make a hilarious expression when she’d realize that she was played with and abandoned. While trying to laugh it off, Tiffany accidentally remembered what happened a few days ago, along with Claire’s crying face. Damn... Okay, fine. She’ll wait for her but only because it would be annoying if she bawled again like a damn toddler.

And so she waited until, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a girl with a pink dress running towards her. That girl, of course, being Claire. She carried a picnic basket with her too, but much bigger and more practical. For half a second, Tiffany thought that Claire actually looked maybe, just maybe, a little bit pretty. She erased the thought in a hurry, covering it with harsh words as usual.

"Wh-why did you change your clothes? You think I’m gonna take pictures of you?"

"Ah, no, well..."

Claire looked at the beautiful picnic set-up and the cyan dress Tiffany was wearing.

"I just wanted to fit in with the rest of what you put up, I guess. Also, don’t you think that we kinda match? I brought some of the cookies I baked and my favorite teas and tea set. I think mine will look better with your picnic blanket! Uh- N-not to say that yours looks bad!!!"

She was trying so hard to make herself likable that it was painful to see... and kinda cute. God, Tiffany was really hating her thoughts today. She was just going soft because of Claire’s aura or something. Again, this was definitely the first and last time she was letting Claire help her with anything. I’d be bad if she turns completely brain-dead and clueless like her.

"...Whatever. Show me what you got. I’ll decide if it’s good enough."

Claire was pulling everything out of the basket one by one. Everytime, better and better items were pulled out after the other. Her cakes and cookies gave off a "homey" feeling which was more fitting with the aesthetic rather than Tiffany’s store bought patisseries. Claire was staring at her, wide-eyed and excited.

"W-what do you think, Tiffany? It looks good, doesn’t it?!"

"Uh. Yeah, it’s fine, I guess. I’ll take a few pics."

That was a lie. This looked so much better than the try-hard bullshit Tiffany had done. She was good at riding on the "trend wave" but Claire was a natural when it came to this one specific thing. Tiffany was trying to look as poker-faced as she could so as to not show her satisfaction, but clearly, her apparent enthusiasm for each shot was betraying her. Sometimes, she would accidentally take one with Claire in the shot and ask her to move.

"Hey. You’re ruining the picture with your ugly fac- dress. Move to the right."

Before Tiffany could even do anything about it, Claire was already pouring some tea into 2 cups.

"Woah woah woah, put the teapot down. I didn’t agree to this."

"But...This is a kettle, Tiffany. Not a teapot."

"Oh, shut it!"

Claire gave off such a dejected face that Tiffany, once again, felt like she was kicking a poor puppy to the ground. She held back on going off on a rant.

"But we’re already here and the weather is so nice! It would be such a shame not to use any of this at all..."

Claire looked around, observing this beautiful setting, not to mention, the sun was finally starting to set. Going home right now would be like an insult to the utter beauty of this scene, it almost looked like it came right out of a fairy tale picture book. Without mulling it over any further, Tiffany took a sip out of her cup.

"I’m only doing this because I feel compelled to, got it?"

Claire’s eyes lit up nonetheless.

"Alright! Please try out my cookies too!"

Tiffany contemplated them for a second... is it true that home-made stuff is more healthy? Surely, that’s just a myth, right? A cake from the store and a home-made cake will have about the same amount of sugar in them regardless of who made them and how. Well, she did see Claire share her food from time to time with her friends and while she would never admit it, it is true that she was a bit curious about trying them herself. What was the last time she had eaten anything "home-made"? Or did it ever even happen?

"...Okay, whatever. I bet they taste shitty."

Tiffany reluctantly took a bite... It was surprisingly really delicious!

"It’s bad."

"R-really?"

As much as she wanted to lie about it, she couldn’t after seeing Claire make that dejected face again.

"Uhhh. No, um. Hmm... On second thought, it’s pretty average. It’s okay-ish."

Tiffany really hated herself right now. Being mean has never been this hard before. She couldn’t wait for the moment where they would be done with this ridiculous play-pretend and go back to her room. She tried drinking and eating as fast as she could without making it look like she was in a hurry to run away from this awkward situation. And God, it was so fucking hard...

Unsurprisingly, they were both pretty silent the whole time. Well, it wasn’t like they had anything to converse about or things in common. Right as Tiffany was about to get up and pack up her belongings, for real this time, Claire spoke up. Nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Um. So you know, I have something to confess to you, Tiffany."

Oh God, not now. As much as Tiffany found this timing annoying, she couldn’t help but poke fun at that poor choice of words.

"Confess? Oh my, so you like me in that way, huh? That explains everything."

"Wha- N-no! That’s not it! I mean, realistically speaking, t-that would never even happen!"

Was she implying that she could never like someone like Tiffany? Well, Tiffany herself was the one who brought this up but she was a bit offended at that statement. Regardless though, the way she was trying to deny it so hard was kinda cute. No. Not cute at all! If this went on, Tiffany would really become crazy before the end of this day.

"Last time, you said that I was only being kind towards others to profit off of them and I didn’t say anything but... that wasn’t true at all! I always wanted to help you because I thought that you needed it, I swear. Not to satisfy myself! ... Well. Except maybe..."

"Except...?"

"T-today. I admit that I kind of had ulterior motives."

Now that piqued Tiffany’s curiousness right away. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave as much anymore if it meant that Claire would finally admit that she did some things for her own benefit. Why was it? Did she want to post a picture of herself on Tiffany’s Instaglam to fish for compliments, knowing that she had a lot of followers? Claire hid her face behind her hands and muttered a few words.

"I... wanted you to warm up to me."

"...Huh?"

That’s it? That was it? Claire’s ulterior motive was for Tiffany to "warm up to her."?

"So like, you want us to be friends or some shit?"

"Oh no! Not necessarily that far, just... good acquaintances!"

Is she stupid? There’s no way that she genuinely thinks those "motives" are bad. Tiffany sighed in exasperation.

"Listen. I’m just really tired right now, I don’t have the energy to assimilate all the shit you’re saying. I’m packing all of this up and going back to the dorms."

In complete silence, they gathered all of their belongings and walked to the dorms while keeping a fair distance between the 2 of them. As if to say, "we’ve got nothing to do with each other." Surprisingly, Claire didn’t try anything anymore. Didn’t even wish for a "good night" or a "good evening" which was weird to say the least. Tiffany tried to ignore it and when she got back and unpacked all of the props, she noticed something that didn’t belong to her. One of Claire’s lunch boxes with cookies in them and... a note?

Here’s my number just in case ;3 Please give me my lunchbox back once you’re done eating the cookies!♡

"...Your note makes me wanna barf."

So that’s why she didn’t try anything. That sneaky little... she must've slid that into the basket when they were packing. She already knew that Tiffany would eventually be forced to talk to her again... as if! Who says she’ll return it? She can just throw all the cookies away along with the box... Or so she thought. Tempted, she took a bite, then another one. And another one. Her diet was ruined for sure now. Damn you Claire and your stupidly great cooking skills, as if you needed another skill to be better and more perfect than you already are. Tiffany put the box away, trying to forget the delicious taste and smell. Back to Instaglam she goes. Uploading the picture while adding the "marigold" tag on it. Going through the pictures again, she noticed that some of them had Claire in the corner. She was thinking of deleting them but... well whatever. She can just crop her out later if needed. Her dress looks pretty so it’s fine even if she does appear in the pictures. All we see is a bit of her hair, as long as her face isn’t visible, it’s okay. Yup. It was totally not because Tiffany was slowly starting to feel something towards the girl she was trying so hard not to get involved with.

#sweet elite #claire durand #tiffany #cliffany #crackship #fanfics

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lombredanslaeu · 4 years

Text

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒖𝒕 | l.taeyong

plot: a letter for lee taeyong - the love of your life and the tear in your heart.

genre: angst, fluff

warning: messy writing lol, explicit scene

word count: 2401

proofread: no

Dear Lee Taeyong,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m not sure if I could ever gain the courage or the chance to say what I have to say to you. There are a lot of things I’m not sure about; one of which is how the universe crossed our paths. Was it just for the heaven’s comedy relief or was it because we were meant to find one another? I’m not sure which one I’ll believe. Nevertheless, I’m happy that day happened even if it’s cringy to look back at right now.

The university atrium was crowded with booths and students. Today was the first day of the organization recruitment week. Your brother told you about the joys of meeting new people by joining organizations that sparks your interest. So, you did not waste a second going to the busy fair.

You were currently lining up for the photography organization. To your dismay, there aren’t actually a lot of organizations that suits your interest. You enjoy taking photos and looking at them so you just opt for the photography org.

You were lost in your own world when a tap on your shoulder cut your reverie.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother,” The man said. He was taller than you, his features were smooth & pristine almost like a Disney character. He also sported a pink shade on his hair. “Can I borrow your pen? I’m really rushing to get a slot on the performing arts org.”

You looked down at the pen that placed on the small pocket of your blouse. You weren’t in a hurry but he was. Being the kind person you are, you gave it to him.

“Sure, here.” You placed the pen on his hand.

He muttered a series of “thank you”’s before scurrying off to the really busy performing arts line.

You went back to your own reverie. When you reached the front table, your hand went to the small pocket of your blouse. Your fingertips failed to feel the slim pen and you mentally groaned. Now, you were the one who’s in need of a pen. You looked back at the distant performing arts booth but failed to spot the pink-haired duded who borrowed your pen.

You never saw him again for the next two weeks; he never crossed your mind anyway. That was until a shadow towered over you while you sat in seclusion at the back of the lecture hall.

“I’m sorry for running away with your pain.” The pink-hair dude spoke above you. The vibrant hue on his head faded into a soft, bubblegum pink. That shade suits him better. “I saw you looking around for me when it was your turn to fill out the registration sheet.”

With that, he placed a new pen on your desk. It was wrapped with a small ribbon.

“I was supposed to return it to you but I saw you getting annoyed and I felt so bad.” He explained further.

You chuckled at his gesture. Sure, that event annoyed you back then but now, it just became a funny memory.

“It’s no problem.” You said. “Thank you-”

“Taeyong.” He continued.

There’s so many things to love about you, Yongie. I could list all the things I adore about you. From the way you’re always supportive of the people around you to the way your eyes shine whenever you perform in the university auditorium and you suddenly spot your friends in the crowd. I could go on and on but this letter would probably be ten pages long and I only have so much ink left in this pen. Yes, the same pen you gave me the second time we met. I never used it until today. It held so much sentimental value that if I were to merely use it on a quiz or lecture notes, I would immediately feel guilty. Actually, I retract that statement. I used it one time to fill out the application form for the first job I’m applying to. I was surprised that it still works. I would have thought that the ink has dried out already; after all, it’s been hidden somewhere on my desk until the day I went to that job interview.

You don’t have much time left. Your body clock got used to sleeping at an ungodly hour and waking up during the middle of the day. Your interview starts at 8:20 AM and it was already 7:30 AM. You thanked yourself for showering the night before as you don’t need to do much.

You hurriedly packed your necessities. You always bring a pen with you whenever you go; and with that, you grabbed a random pen sitting on your pen holder.

For some miracle, you made it before 8:20 AM. The secretary gave out a form for you to fill out. You reached for the pen inside your purse. The small jewel decoration at the top of the cap was reminiscent of the smile of the person who gave the pen to you. It was as if this was Taeyong’s way of saying good luck. Whenever you went, he was always there with you.

But as there were many things to love, there were also many things to hate. I feel like we are now in the situation where I’m finally free to talk about these things to you. To be frank with you, we had all the reasons and chances to communicate and talk about these problems. The thing is: we never did. Maybe it was because we came to the terms that we were falling apart. I don’t blame you. I, too, was scared of what would result if we ever had that conversation. To say that I don’t regret not pushing myself to fix everything would be an understatement. I regret everything, Taeyong. I regret not talking to you and making you suffer. I regret ever putting you into that light. However, I cannot help but point the blame to our situation that night. You weren’t talking either and I felt like I shouldn’t exert effort into someone who clearly does not want to fight with me. Was that how you felt that night? No, wait. Don’t answer that. It would crush me to know that it was only me who refused to accept that I was wrong.

You waited for hours. Normally, Taeyong would be the one to initiate a resolution, to seek a middle ground between the two of you. The clock was ticking towards midnight. In ten minutes, the eerie silence between the two of you would turn five hours old. The words you threw at one another bounced back and forth in your head, as if the walls of your brain were the same walls of your shared apartment.

“You never listen to what I have to say!”

“I don’t need to listen when I already saw it with my two eyes!”

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“Stop trying to make it seem like this is my fault.”

“You’re blowing this all out of proportion, of course it’s your fault!”

Before, you and Taeyong were magic. Right now, nothing was sparking aside from the raging frustration between the two of you. It’s been four years of you and him being lovers. Have you outgrown each other this quickly? Why did the fire burn out so quickly and who turned a blind eye on it?

“We’re not gonna fix anything if we just ignore each other.” You spoke. It was the morning after the fight. While you found yourself asleep on the bed, you found Taeyong asleep on the couch. You felt bad, his height is no match for the space the couch could offer. The urge to fix everything was demanding to be felt so here you are, in front of the office he works at.

“You don’t listen to me so what’s the point?” He replied, the look of impatience washing over his face.

“I didn’t come here to form another fight, Taeyong.” You said in a exasperated voice. Taeyong could right through you. You wanted to fix what happened last night. Along with that came a tinge of fear in his heart. He’s scared that your proposition in fixing everything was to take a break or worse, break up. He doesn’t want that.

“Then, you shouldn’t have came here at all.”

What would you do when your ex suddenly calls you at 3:00 AM on a Saturday asking to hold you once more? You weren’t drunk so I believed everything that you said. That was my mistake. I failed to realize that alcohol isn’t the only thing that could make you do things out of your control. Loneliness is a dangerous drug as well. I have to admit that I slept with you not because I missed you but because I was afraid I would never feel loved again. Looking back now, I definitely came back running because I love you. Not because I miss you, but because I was pathetically in love with you and I was scared I don’t know how to stop it. I was willing to swallow my pride, to swallow everything my mother taught me about loving myself because I wanted to feel you with me again.

His hands roamed around your naked torso. Taeyong’s hand were different from the other boys who have touched you before. His lips fluttering kisses all over your neck. For a moment, it felt like you were his and he was yours again; even though the current circumstances tells you otherwise. Your shirt was the first to go, followed by your bra.

You knew the implications of your actions. But all rationality seemed to evacuate from your system the minute his cock bottomed out inside of you. Each hard thrusts signifies his longing and his need to be yours again. Although he can never say these things out loud, he sure did rely them on his actions. You felt like the universe is about to explode inside of you and finally, when it cracks, you get to see a slice of heaven. Taeyong leaned down to kiss your quivering lips, his breathing as deep as his thrusts.

“I bet no one could ever fuck you like this.” He spoke above you, eyes as dark as the sins he was doing to your body.

But I’m over all of it now. I’m over being helplessly in love with you and doing nothing to stop myself from running back to you all the time. I’m done throwing myself under the fire of missing you each time our favorite song plays on shuffle. I’m done worrying about doing things we used to do together, I’m done being afraid if those things will trigger a memory of you. We had grown up over the years and so does how I feel about you. The minute I realized I don’t want to feel okay without you is the minute I realized all the mistakes that we could have easily corrected but never did.

You’re not accepting this fate. You refuse to accept a life that would be spent without Taeyong by your side. There are a lot of things you’re not sure about except for one thing - you would conquer all the odds just to make sure it was him you’re spending the rest of your life with. You just don’t know how and when to make him realize that you’re always down for him.

Him, on the other hand, was racing through traffic to get to where you are. Today was your birthday - your first birthday without him to be exact. All it took was one look at the calendar for Taeyong to realize that he shouldn’t be afraid of mending things with you. Because even if the situation gets rough, you would always be by his side. He mentally cursed himself for ever being scared of talking shit out.

But when he saw you celebrating with your friends and a smile too beautiful it could move a thousand seas, he wonders if he was too late.

Taeyong, you taught me how to be mature. You taught me how to be forgiving even if the people around me aren’t. Most importantly, you taught me how to love fully, madly, and truly. And for that, I cannot thank you enough. I cannot thank you enough for showing me that love isn’t always beautiful but it is always kind. Your love keeps no records of wrongs and I don’t think a love like that could ever exist within anyone else. Thank you for borrowing my pen during the college fair. If I could turn back time and make everything easy for us, I would. You have no idea how much I want to that. But, alas, I can’t. So for now, we just have to live with the burned pages of our past. It is up to you if you want to bury at the back of your mind or if you want to paste them all over your walls. I’m sorry for the pain I gave you - please never forget that it was the last thing I could ever want to give you.

For the love that I will always rejoice upon even in my last living hours, I sincerely thank you.

See you tomorrow at the altar.

Yours until the sun no longer shines,

Y/N.

#this is a reupload hehe #NCT #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct smut #lee taeyong #lee taeyong x reader #lee taeyong imagines #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagines #taeyong smut #taeyong fluff #taeyong superm #nct taeyong #nct x you #taeyong drabbles #taeyong scenarios

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idontdowellunderpressure · 4 years

Text

Hisoillu Week - Day 1: Married Life

Title: Shell of a Son

Kikyo kept quiet until after her son and his husband were seated on the couch across from her. Illumi said straight, his legs together and feet flat on the thick maroon carpet. His hands sat in his lap, ignoring the tray of tea that the butlers had prepared prior to their arrival.

The husband, on the other hand, seemed to intrude on the room despite doing nothing else but sitting and drinking tea. Before sitting, he’d dropped a single sugar cube into the cup on the left before picking up the cup and saucer on the right. He sat down beside Illumi, slouching against the couch so his weight rested against the back of the furniture. His long legs were crossed at the knee, and his left hand held the saucer while the right delicately brought the cup to his lips. His drinking was quiet, but the gentle bounce of his dangling foot on open air to a rhythm Kikyo couldn’t recognize and his loud hair color filled the silence well enough. His silk top shimmered under the lamplight, rolling and waving each time his arm moved the cup between the saucer and his mouth.

Illumi finally moved and picked up the teacup on the left side of the tray.

“So, Illumi.” Kikyo clasped her hands together to keep herself from sinking a knife into the man’s bouncing foot. “How are…things?”

“What things specifically, Mother?” Illumi asked calmly before taking his first sip of tea to indicate the end of his sentence. This was a habit that Kikyo herself had forged since her son lacked the normal cadence of speech and trying to discern when Illumi was finished talking wasted too much time.

“Oh, you know…” It’s not she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t stomach saying them.

“I don’t.”

“I think she’s asking about our relationship,” the man offered. “Perhaps probing to see if you are content with it.”

“Ah, is that the case, Mother?”

“Ahem, yes.”

“It has been going well. Hisoka is easier to contact now that we live together, so I have been able to complete, on average, three more contracts per month than normally. Additionally, his own contributions to our joint accounts has ensured a high standard of living.”

Kikyo nodded, having known most of that already. She had initially feared the union would lead to distraction, but the past few months had proven the opposite. Contract turnover was faster than ever, convenient since Illumi was now the only child that was actively working in the family business.

The silence following Illumi’s report echoed between the three people as Illumi waited for Kikyo’s next question. Meanwhile Kikyo was formulating a new way to phrase the true meaning of her original question. She was loathed to have to repeat herself in any capacity, but was somewhat resigned to the act. Ever since he was little, Illumi had struggled with understanding metaphors and implications. It was main reason why he was never trained in interrogation and Milluki, instead, bore the obligation. Illumi would never grasp the subtle art of reading people and unraveling their intentions, and there was little point in trying to teach him.

It was while she was still thinking, that Kikyo noticed the way the man’s golden eyes slid between her and Illumi. His grin canted upwards as the heavy atmosphere began to smother itself.

“I think your mother was interested in more personal details,” the man finally said, with a coquettish grin that made Kikyo feel indecent just for seeing.

Illumi stared at him and then turned towards Kikyo. She met her son’s impassive gaze, not wanting to put forth the effort in reshaping her question if Illumi was going to put it together from what his husband said. Illumi looked back to the other man, something about his placid expression bringing delight to his impish face.

“Do you mean the emotional or physical details of our relationship?” He asked the other man. Kikyo nearly tutted at Illumi’s need for further clarification.

“I believe emotional is supposed to be more acceptable,” he hummed. “But by all means, discuss the physical aspects if you want.” He licked his lips and Kikyo felt her gut swirl in disgust.

“We have sex fairly regularly, and it is enjoyable. He says very nice things to me. He helps me pick out clothing. He practices new combat techniques with me. It is overall a pleasant experience.” Illumi reported.

Kikyo took in the son before her. His carefully matched clothing, more tailored than he used to wear with purposefully matched colors that complimented his skin tone. He still sat straight and with proper posture, but now that she was looking, his shoulders canted down a bit more and his back was touching the couch. And his face wasn’t the smooth, seamless porcelain from his young adulthood; there were tiny lines carved around his cheeks and eyes. Evidence of smiling.

She didn’t like what this man has turned her son into. The son who was perfectly poised, with nothing on his mind but duty was gone. She hardly even recognized the person in front of her now. Disgusting.

But not quite as foul as the redhead who was smiling at the shell of her son.

Illumi finished his tea and set the cup down into the saucer he’d left on the tray. He stood up in one fluid motion, clasped his hands behind his back, and tilted his head down in a nod towards his mother.

“Thank you for the conversation, Mother. Hisoka and I are going for a walk around the grounds before dinner.”

Kikyo nodded, finding little reason to saying anything, and watched the other man launch himself to his feet in an obnoxious display of lithe power and grace. Illumi didn’t comment on his performance, but did accept the hand the man held out for him to grasp. Kikyo’s stomach receded in on itself, tightening and twisting until there was hardly anything left at the sight.

She could only hope Killua didn’t turn out the same.

-----------------------------------------

Link to same story on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070883

Creator of the hisoillumi week prompt list

@illumiszoldycks

thanks for making this prompt list!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hisoillu #hisoillu week #hisoka #hisoka morrow #illumi #illumi zoldyck #kikyo zoldyck #kikyo zoldyck is a horrrible mother #just married #married life #hopefully I did these links right because I still don't really understand tumblr

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Text

Art From Ashes

So @dirtydancyart and I were talking about the world they created in which Eskel is a biker, Geralt got involved with Emhyr in some underground shady stuff. Then I came along with this in which Cahir is technically Emhyr’s enforcer but keeps getting mistaken for Ciri’s nanny. Long story short, we wanted some hurt/comfort, some Cahir getting kidnapped and hurt, some Eskel coming to the rescue like a badass. Thus, here we are.

CW: Torture, blood, injuries.

Things had been going surprisingly well after that initial meeting. Eskel had apologised profusely for mistaking Cahir for a decorator. And then for putting his foot even more in it by thinking he was Ciri’s babysitter. For not such an auspicious start, he and Cahir actually got along alarmingly well. Not that they had ever told anyone, officially Nilfgaard and the Wolves were still not openly allies so they had to toe the line. That didn’t stop them from seeing each other or from quietly falling in love. They didn’t need grand declarations or even tokens of affection. For them, it was enough that if Cahir came home late and with blood in his hair, Eskel would wash it out for him with tender touches. By the same token, if Eskel had a run to do, he often found himself with a packed lunch on the passenger seat and a little post it with a smiley face on it. It was more than enough for them, knowing without ever saying anything. After all, if they didn’t say it, they had plausible deniability.

It did however mean trying to be a little more secretive. The nights they spent together were marred by the fact they couldn’t leave at the same time so there were no goodbye kisses on the porch or standing by bikes. That had been another flustering moment in Eskel’s life, discovering that Cahir had a bike in his garage. It was sleek, black and as quiet as a bike could come. Plus terrifyingly fast. Cahir had taken him out to a track just the once and Eskel almost had a heart attack - which was rich coming from someone who would happily rev his way down any stretch of road as soon as it was clear.

Another morning meant Eskel had to leave before the rest of the neighbourhood was up. The sun was already shining through the window and he’d kissed Cahir goodbye. Stepping out into the hallway, Eskel sighed and turned to get going. However, he couldn’t resist one final peek through the half open door. A smile twitched his lips as he watched Cahir rummaging for a t-shirt, bare skin on display. It was quite the sight and Eskel sighed, eyes tracing over the phoenix that spread over Cahir’s back, tail and flames dipping down below the waistband of his slacks. Eskel’s breath hitched when, rather than the shirt being pulled on, Cahir’s hands dropped to his flies and his trousers were slowly pushed down to reveal the rest of the tattoo that Eskel did so dearly love to trace with fingers and lips. Confused, eyes flitted up and Eskel’s gaze met Cahir’s in a mirror. A knowing smirk had him blushing which only deepened as Cahir’s finger traced the tattoo along his collarbone before stopping at the flame that licked at his throat, dipping to run over the Nilfgaardian sun that usually lay just about hidden under the top button of his shirts. A wink and a kiss blown at him had Eskel leaving with a smile and a spring in his step.

They weren’t due to see each other for a couple of days. However, the messages Eskel sent Cahir remained unanswered even though they were sporadically marked as read. Worry began to creep into Eskel’s days as the silence stretched on. It was only through Geralt that he learned something was amiss. Emhyr’s daughter had been attacked. While she had been whisked away to safety, someone else had been snatched.

[Who are you and what have you done with him?]

The message he sent to Cahir’s phone was read and, magically, three dots appeared as a reply was typed out.

[Seems the wolf is involved after all. Lies cannot go unpunished.]

Rage flushed through Eskel. Usually he was so good at keeping his emotions in check but his rash actions had caused Cahir problems. He didn’t even want to imagine what kind of punishment his captors would deliver. Throat tight, Eskel’s phone went sailing through the air and bounced off the wall. Searching the news brought nothing up. Of course Nilfgaard wouldn’t go public if one of theirs went missing. Those lower on the totem pole weren’t worth the effort while those higher didn’t want the authorities searching for them. Eskel’s own contacts didn’t bring in much information over the course of the next day. Time was of the essence and he was no closer to finding Cahir. So he did the unimaginable.

“Geralt. We have to talk.”

Thankfully, there wasn’t much need for words. Geralt sighed and shook his head.

“Should have known.” That was all the acknowledgement that there was. “Filavandrel’s men have him.”

That was serious. Worse than expected. Eskel had heard of what those who ran with Filavandrel could do so he began packing heavily for his rescue attempt. What he didn’t expect was for Lambert to silently step into the room and begin arming up. When Geralt did the same too, Eskel gave them incredulous looks.

“You’re not going in alone. We hunt in packs, remember?”

Armed to the teeth, they were on their way. For a change they took Roach, Geralt’s trusty SUV that had seen more blood than most cars. However, they didn’t know what condition Cahir would be in, probably not well enough to hold on for a bike ride. He’d been in Filavandrel’s not so tender care for three days, they were going to be lucky if he survived.

Storming the house Cahir had been kept in was oddly anticlimactic. It was in a quiet suburb and the house naturally had a basement. Well, it wasn’t so quiet as they walked in through the broken down door and shot anyone on sight. Eskel gave thanks for the invention of silencers as he indiscriminately disposed of another scumbag.

Going down the stairs was difficult. It was undoubtedly where Cahir was but Eskel dreaded that they would find. The smell of burned flesh hit them before they saw anything and Lambert swore. There were a few more people in the basement but the wolves were quick to dispatch them. Well, Lambert and Geralt did, Eskel was rooted to the spot as he caught sight of Cahir.

Strung up by his wrists and hoisted so his toes barely touched the ground, his shoulders were strained each time his legs gave out or slipped in the blood on the floor. There was no way to relax in the position and if Cahir’s head fell forward, his breathing turned to a strained rasp. He had his back to the entrance and Eskel could have cried at the sight, the beautiful phoenix tattoo was all but shredded as a whip had torn the skin to strips. Seeing Cahir struggle to get back on his toes, Eskel jerked into motion. Rounding Cahir, he wrapped an arm around his narrow waist and lifted as gently as he could. That earned him a soft, hoarse cry and apologies dripped from Eskel’s lips.

With Cahir in his arms, it was easier to assess the damage. Geralt was next to Eskel while Lambert guarded the door. Their first look didn’t paint a pretty picture. Aside from the oozing lashes on his back, most of Cahir’s tattoos had been destroyed. Deep cuts ran along his collarbones, slicing up the patterns in a mockery of symmetry. There were strips of skin peeled from his ribs where Eskel had liked to trace his fingers over patterns and dates. Worst was probably the Nilfgaardian star. It had been doused in something and probably set on fire judging by the deep, openly weeping patch and the blisters along Cahir’s neck and chin.

“Nenneke. Now.” Geralt barked and wasted no time in helping Eskel pick Cahir up. As Lambert led the way out, Geralt brought up the rear. They’d run extractions all too often so had this kind of thing down to a tee. In the car, Eskel was in the back, holding Cahir and trying to keep pressure off his multiple injuries. With nothing else to do, he could catalogue all the injuries they had missed before - the dark bruising around Cahir’s throat, scrapes to his knuckles from where he undoubtedly fought back, a puncture mark to the crook of his elbow. Who knew what his captors had shot him up with.

Arriving at Nenneke’s, Cahir was taken from Eskel’s arms and whisked away. He wasn’t allowed to see him for almost a whole day but at least he wasn’t chased from the building. Geralt disappeared, probably to talk to Emhyr but Lambert stayed, made sure they ate and drank while they waited. At long last Eskel was allowed to sit with Cahir in his room. For now, he was sedated to help keep him pain free, There were pillows either side of him to stop him from rolling onto his front or his back and an IV dripped steady from a stand.

It was another day before Cahir stirred, eyes opening and struggling to focus. His first words almost broke Eskel’s heart.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was so strained, no doubt the hand shaped bruises on his throat did some damage deeper than the skin. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Cahir slipped back to sleep shortly after that, Eskel’s apologies and promises that he was safe lost as the world span into darkness.

When Geralt returned, it was only to beckon Eskel with him. They had business to sort and Emhyr had a proposition. With backing from Nilfgaard, the wolves went after Filavandrel. They weren’t stupid enough to outright kill him. But they certainly weakened his stance. Viciously indiscriminate, the wolves burned through his network, scorching the earth. Once done, there was just one thing left to do.

By the time Cahir was coherent and out of the danger zone, Eskel was back by his side. His hand was covered in clingfilm and it was something Cahir noted almost immediately.

“Let me show you,” Eskel murmured, all too aware of how quiet the room was. He already felt he filled more than his fair share of it with his bulk, it didn’t need his voice booming through it too. Carefully, he unwrapped his hand to reveal a Nilfgaardian sun. “For the one you lost. It’s a fealty exchange.”

From his pocket, he pulled a wolf medallion and offered it to Cahir. The wolves and Nilfgaard were united now and they were the guarantee of their continued cooperation. Somehow, Eskel didn’t think that was a bad thing by any means. Especially not when it meant he could freely love Cahir exactly as he deserved.

#eskhir #cahir/eskel #eskel #Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach #mob au #cw: torture #cw: blood #cw: injury #hurt/comfort #cahir is my fandom pinata #long post #tldr: don't take what a wolf claims as his

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violet-knox · 4 years

Text

Third Wheel

Year 7 - Chapter 57

Summary: An unwanted guest joins your study session and Severus is less than enthusiastic about it.

Word count: 5422

A/N: I didn’t expect this update to come so late, I’m so rusty but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I honestly cannot wait to get to the next part in this series and I wish I had the time to power through year 7. Good news is this is my last semester so once finals are over in a few months, my schedule should be a lot more predictable.

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

(Y/H/C) = your hair colour

“Why would you invite him?” Severus couldn’t have reacted worse when you’d broken the news to him about the additional invitation you’d extended to a certain Ravenclaw without so much as consulting him first. Then again, what more would you expect from the person who’d been nagging you almost every day for alone time these past few weeks, claiming you were spending too much time out on the field and not enough time in his arms.

“He said he’d been struggling to keep up with Slughorn so I thought, what would be the harm if he joined us?” You looked up at him with the most apologetic eyes you could muster, realizing just how betrayed he must have felt when he’d heard mention from your own lips of another boy intruding on what was supposed to be your time alone as a couple.

“Do you know how hard it was to regain Slughorn’s trust?” His voice rose, his hands dramatically flaring about in comparison to his usual collected self.

“Severus-” You’d stopped him in the middle of the empty corridor at the agitated tone he gave you. It hadn’t even crossed your mind the trouble he had gone through securing the empty classroom from that walrus of a man. But Severus had brought it up yesterday as if it was no big deal, like it was as easy as flying a broom on a clear and still day. You’d never imagined the situation looking as bad as it did to him when you’d invited Connor, and the more Severus went on, the worse you felt for what you’d done.

“I was looking forward to an entire day alone with you.” He looked down at you with a frown you thought you’d never in his life cause and it broke your heart to know a choice you made upset him to this degree, the annoyance hidden in his tone making you wish you had the heart to tell Connor to leave when you got to the potions classroom.

“I’m sorry Sev. I should have been more considerate,” you said, taking a step towards him, your fingertips gently sweeping across his hairline, pushing those long black strands away from his face. You’d love more than anything to see that frown transform into that sweet smile he’d always give you right now. “Let me make it up to you later?”

You wrapped one arm around his neck, letting the other cup his jaw as your thumb swiped his cheek. Looking into your eyes, he saw them soften, matching that gentle smile that always had his heart racing knowing, it was all for him. His own lips couldn’t help but curve to match yours as he melted into you.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip and eyeing yours with a mischievous look.

“You tease!” You let out a crooked chuckle, lightly pushing both your hands on his chest, letting them rest there as he tightened his grip on your waist. Maybe he wasn’t as mad as you’d imagined after all. “What did you have in mind?”

The soft melody of your voice disappeared down the narrow hallway where he stood pressing himself closer to you, trapping you between his body and the wall. Severus let the corridor settle into complete silence, grasping onto your voice as it travelled away before responding.

“We’ll, I wouldn’t mind waking up next to you again.” He teasingly nudged at your nose, whispering his desires to you, trusting you with his heart. He knew you’d understand, that you’d feel his desperate need for your presence weighing on his chest and eventually give him exactly what he wanted.

“That can certainly be arranged,” you whispered, pulling him closer, feeling the buckle under the jumper he wore press into your stomach. You gave him a little smirk, unable to keep your excitement down any longer. You had to tell him. There was no delaying this any longer. He deserved to know and besides, this little secret project you’d been trying to find the right time to share with him could very well help with his desperate need to spend every waking moment of the day with you.

You nudged back at him and let out a small giggle as you both danced around the idea of a kiss neither of you would ever deny. You smiled, feeling the light brush of his breath against your lips. Weaving a hand through his hair, you tangled your fingers between his locks, gripping them tight as you held your place, millimeters away from his lips.

Severus had no intention to give you that kiss he knew you craved, and he didn’t have to wait long before he felt your teeth grazing his bottom lip, your hands gripping him tight, pulling him flush against you. He grinned at your evident desire for him, taking a few steps forward, pressing your back against the concrete wall. You arched your back as the cold stones nipped against the thin fabric of your top, threatening to steal the heat building between you and Severus.

You’d barely been together a year and he already knew how to take your breath away, teasing you, pushing you into his arms as you always seemed to find your heart begging for his touch. Finally, you gave in and pressed your lips against his, soft, loving moments passing by as you cherished every bit of his taste. Moans flowed through his throat like a melody the instant your lips met, satisfied by your show of defeat.

He parted the kiss just when your eagerness began to show as you dug your fingers deeper into his hair, your tongue swiping his bottom lip. You almost cursed when your excitement was cut short by his need to push your desire for him further. Well, if that’s how he wanted to play, then so be it.

“Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after dinner today?” You bit your bottom lip, batting your eyes ever so subtly as you teased him, rocking your hips and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.

“Or,” he said as he edged forward, sure to press his chest to yours. “We could forget about potions and head there now.”

You smiled in satisfaction when you saw that twinkle of desire in his eye, begging you for your touch. “Tempting, but you know how behind I am Sev.”

And it wasn’t a complete lie. You truly had fallen behind, and Severus had taken it upon himself to book time in the potions classroom to catch you up. It was such a sweet thing for him to do, something you knew he’d never do for anyone else.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, taking your hand and resumed your way towards the dungeons.

This year had barely begun, and it had already proven to be a lot more of a challenge than you’d initially anticipated. The first game of the season was approaching rapidly, and you still had so much training to put your team through (though they would claim otherwise). Severus, of course, did his best to support you without letting go of the burning need to spend time with you. At times, you wondered whether or not he’d take offense to bringing up the possibility for him to join a club or to simply expand his social circle a little more so long as he kept away from those horrible Slytherins he used to hang around before you’d come along.

You were grateful for the kind, passionate man he was growing to be, but you couldn’t help but think back to the years he’d spent wasting time dabbling in the Dark Arts with his horrendous ‘friends’. His life surely would have turned out much darker if he hadn’t abandoned them but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find other hobbies, other people to hang around. You shouldn’t be the only person in his life he felt comfortable around.

“Hey Connor,” you greeted your friend as you walked into the Potion’s classroom, the Ravenclaw boy already setting up his station, potions ingredients laid out, textbook on the table and cauldron set atop a burner.

You placed your bag on the table, grabbed your textbook and flipped it open to the first page of the Amortentia chapter. Keeping a mental list in your head, you made your way over to the storeroom to retrieve the ingredients you’d need for your potion as Severus went to fetch you a cauldron.

“(Y/N) says you’re a wiz in potions,” you heard Connor try to strike up a conversation with Severus and you smiled at the idea of your boyfriend interacting in a conversation that didn’t end with him demanding his converser to eat slugs. You only hoped he wouldn’t shut down the idea of speaking with Connor before putting in some effort.

“Did she.” Severus couldn’t have sounded more agitated if he tried.

“Yeah, which is impressive if you ask me. Potions as never my strong suite, too much technique and precision. I’ve always preferred much more straightforward classes like Charms.” Poor Connor had brushed right past Severus’ tone, continuing his attempt at a conversation and you knew you had to hurry before Severus' patience ran thin. You’d done your best to calm him before entering the classroom, but there was only so much you could do since it had been your choice in inviting Connor that had worn his patience in the first place.

“I’m sure,” and there it was, the pessimistic reply you knew was coming. “What potion are you brewing?”

Finally, you’d finished gathering all your ingredients, huddling them all in your arms as you quickly joined the boys, setting yourself between them with Connor sitting adjacent to you.

“Sleeping Draught,” Connor said as he turned on the burner under his cauldron. You sat down beside Severus, finding your station all set up and ready to go for you as you placed your ingredients on the table, just in time to hear Severus sneer at the simplicity of the potion Connor was brewing. You didn’t have to ask, you knew what was running through his mind right now; pure judgment and some words to describe Connor you hoped he’d never say aloud.

“What will you brew, (Y/N)?” Connor asked, eyeing the ingredients you’d brought as if trying to figure out the potion himself. Ravenclaws always seemed to have a knack for challenging themselves every which way they could and you really did admire that, but sometimes you wished they’d pick the right time for such things. Trying to challenge McGonagall’s knowledge of Animagus’ in the middle of class like that blond girl had in yesterday’s class for instance, really wasn’t a smart move.

“Amortentia,” you said. “It’s one of the hardest potions to make but Severus seems to think he can help me brew it.”

“It’s not as difficult as Slughorn makes it sound,” Severus spoke lazily as he looked over the ingredients you’d brought over, disappointed to find you hadn’t taken note of the advice he’d given you in class last week. “(Y/N), I told you to start with rose water, it’ll speed up the seeping process.”

“Right,” you said, kicking yourself for forgetting such a vital thing when he’d gone on and on about all the alterations he’d made to the potion, in an attempt to improve it in class. He’d always go out of his way to help you despite the dirty looks and the exchanged whisperings of ‘traitor’ comments he’d get from his own house and here you were showing less than no appreciation for it. “I’m sorry Sev, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” he said irritably. “But maybe start taking notes in your textbook to make it easier like I’ve been telling you to do.”

Severus pulled out a quill from his bag and handed it to you before making his way to the storeroom to fetch the ingredient you’d missed. Smiling to yourself, realizing how much he’d truly tried to help you with your studies, you pulled out your inkwell and scribbled down ‘Rose water’ next to the list of ingredients.

Taking on the position of Quidditch Captain this year had taken quite a lot of work, and you just couldn’t help your mind wander during class to the various plays you’d been trying to work out the last few weeks. You’d been relying too heavy on Severus lately to take notes for you, and it wasn’t fair to him. You had to do better and start paying better attention in class. If you had, perhaps you would be spending your time snogging in the Astronomy Tower right now instead of reading this damn chapter and brewing this stupid potion all over again.

Severus returned shortly after, swiftly taking his seat beside you and handing you the rose water. You thanked him with a gentle please forgive me smile before pouring in the rose water and turning on the burner beneath your cauldron. Making sure this time to jot down every alteration Severus suggested, you did your best to keep your mind off of Quidditch and make the most of your time with him while trying to catch up on your work.

It wasn’t easy to get over the look of irritation Severus gave you every time Connor spoke, but the simple touch of your fingers rubbing gentle circles on his knee under the table was enough to keep him calm and push through the evening with minimal protest. And sure, he was glad you were taking notes and paying so much attention, but couldn’t you just write a little faster and speed this along? There was just so much time left in the day and if he wasn’t going to play one-on-one tutor with you tonight then the least you could do was finish your potion early and grant him some time with you before dinner. Holding on to the thought of your promise to meet him in the Astronomy Tower tonight is all he could looking forward to, convincing himself it would be worth the torture he was being put through now.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Severus’ attention had snapped to Connor and you both froze at his sudden outburst. The air grew stiff and time suddenly passed five times slower than usual as you looked Severus wide eyed.

“... Adding some Standard Ingredient,” Connor said slowly as if speaking to a wary mother bear protecting her cub, hovering a fist full of the herbs over his brewing cauldron. You cautiously placed your hand on Severus’ leg, gently rubbing it, silently begging him to keep his cool and tone down his theatrics.

“You should crush it first,” he said as if Connor had missed a vital step that could lead to nothing less of a catastrophe. The seriousness in Severus’ tone was all too adorable and you had to press your lips together to keep from smiling when you could see how mortified Connor was from the storm your Slytherin boyfriend caused.

“But the book says-”

“The book’s wrong,” Severus interrupted Connor the second he mentioned the stupid textbook filled with nothing more than old outdated recipes written by Potion Masters too cowardice to experiment and advance in their field. “It’s much more beneficial if you crush it and release its essence, it’ll strengthen the potion and speed up the brewing process.”

“No kidding? Thanks.” You were pleasantly surprised at Connor’s acceptance of Severus’ advice without even batting an eye at his teaching method. “Got any other tips for Sleeping Draught?”

It would have been an understatement to say Severus was caught off guard by Connor’s attitude; a deer caught in headlights would have had a less shocked expression on its face. Severus felt his throat dry as he tried to compose himself. No one had ever taken his help with the smile and gratitude Connor showed right now when he snapped like that, not even you. Then again, any price would likely be worth paying for knowledge in a Ravenclaw’s eyes, even if it meant the needed tolerance to deal with his temper.

Unlike his Slytherin peers, he’d always loved having Potions with the Gryffindors, giving Lily a reason to spend time with him and of course, this year he was beyond grateful for every class he shared with you. Not once had it crossed his mind that sharing Potions class with the Ravenclaws would have likely benefited him much more, giving him the opportunity to have an actual challenging, academic conversation with someone. Connor, of course, was probably the last Ravenclaw he would have approached but if he was able to converse with him over such a simple potion, he could only imagine the type of conversation he could have with a Ravenclaw that had the mental capacity to brew potions properly.

You sat there in complete silence, wondering if either of them would notice you gone if you just got up and left with how deep in conversation they were in. It was sweet to watch them bond and you thanked Merlin Severus was actually talking so passionately with someone other than you. He finally seemed to have opened up to the idea of befriending Connor and you couldn’t have been happier.

“Seems like you’re almost done.” Your thoughts melted away as Connor’s voice snapped you back to reality. Looking down at your cauldron, you realized the colour of your concoction had cleared, telling you it was ready for the last ingredient.

Reaching for the jar of rose petals, you dropped seven of them in your cauldron one at a time, the rosy tone of each petal seeping into the potion, darkening it as it began to take effect. Naturally, your potion was near perfection, though what more would you expect with Severus holding your hand every step of the way.

“Just turn down the heat and let it simmer for a while,” Severus pointed out to you, packing up his things as he turned to the clock, realizing that by the time you cleaned up, you’d both have to head to the Great Hall for dinner. At least he still had the Astronomy Tower to look forward to.

“So, what do you smell?” Connor peered over your cauldron, taking a small whiff of your potion. You set aside your ladle and hovered a safe distance over the steaming cauldron, closing your eyes and taking in the sweet scents, trying to differentiate between them.

“Old books... freshly cut grass... ash from a burnt fireplace… and… potion fumes.” Connor gave a small chuckle at the last scent you described, unaware it was in no way intended as a joke but was indeed what you smelled every night you cuddled with Severus after your Potions class. Severus smirked as you exchanged a quick look of passion. “What do you smell, Connor?”

You took a step back and gave Connor room to hover over the cauldron instead. “New books… leather… lavender… and … the smell of grass after rain,” he said, smiling as he stepped back. Perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea to inhale such a strong potion by the look on Connor’s face. It was like a drug you could never stop taking, the scent you smelled when you were close to Severus combined with the scent of the air around the Quidditch pitch in spring had to be the most majestically addicting thing you’d ever experienced.

“What about you Severus?” You spun around and asked, mostly curious to know if he’d smell your scent.

“Must you ask?” He rose a brow at you and brushed off your question as if the answer was written in the air in front of you. Giggling, you tucked your hair behind your ear, a light blush of pink appearing across your cheeks. The look he gave you was all you needed to see to know what he desired most; you.

Severus fought back a smile watching your face light up with obvious bliss. It was amazing how well you both had learned to communicate with one another like this, the trust and bond that had built between you. He’d never felt anything like it before, but it made him feel complete and he was ever so grateful for everything you were to him.

“I’m going to see if I can snag some empty vials,” you said as you quickly hopped out of your seat, wandering away from them, worried Connor would catch onto the spark you’d accidentally ignited between you and Severus. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your relationship from him, but the air between him and Severus had already been so dense since the day they’d met and you didn’t want Connor to assume that just because you were dating, didn’t mean you couldn’t all be friends. Besides, they were just starting to bond, there was no need to break the harmony that was forming between you three now when it had yet to settle.

Connor turned his attention back to his own potion as you left and Severus began eying his cauldron, noticing he was practically finished as well. Such a simple potion should have been easy for a sixth year to brew, in fact Severus was sure that given the chance, he could brew it with his eyes closed in less than a half hour. He pitied Connor really, what sort of Ravenclaw could possibly perform so poorly in Potions? Then again, not everyone had grown up with a Potion’s Mistress as a mother, learning potions at a young age in an attempt to tether themselves to the Wizarding World without a wand at hand.

Throwing all distaste for the boy you’d decided to befriend aside, he walked over to him and began instructing him on the last steps of the potion, explaining the science behind Sleeping Draught when he was asked. You’d returned to find Connor in deep concentration as he followed the scribbles Severus had drawn out on his version of Advanced Potion Making. Quietly making your way back to your cauldron as to not disturb them, you simply observed Severus and the passion that emulated off him as he tutored Connor.

It took everything in you not to burst out in glee at Severus finally opening himself to the possibility of spending time with Connor, but knowing he’d immediately lunge away if you’d shown even a slimmer of delight, you did what you could to retain yourself. Instead, you brought your attention back to your own cauldron, looking down at the potion that had suddenly appeared almost pitch black to you with a glimmering layer of emerald green covering the surface, giving it quite the alluring look. You filled up all three vials you’d snagged from the storeroom (no need for Slughorn to know that) and reluctantly wove your wand over the cauldron, vanishing the remainder of the potion.

“Find any more of those vials (Y/N)?” Connor asked, turning off his own burner and setting his ladle down. You leaned over his cauldron to find a nearly perfect Sleeping Draught before your eyes went back to him. You were going to say no since the less vials that went missing, the less suspicious Slughorn would be, but such a potion could really come in handy. You couldn’t really tell whether it was the stress of your N.E.W.Ts class, the pressure that had grown on you as Quidditch Captain or the sorrow you felt at the thought that it would be your last year at Hogwarts, your future and Severus’ still so unclear but, you’d hardly slept over the last month, always waking in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep.

“Yeah,” you said, “There’s a tone in this wooden crate under the shelves on the left.”

“Thanks.” And with that, Connor set off towards the storeroom, leaving you and Severus a alone at last. Unable to hold in your excitement any longer, you turned to Severus, smiling as if you’d found out a happy little secret he was too embarrassed to speak of.

“So, does this mean you’ll finally consider Connor a friend?” You whispered to him, smiling from ear to ear as you leaned in just a little closer.

“I have no bloody clue what you mean (Y/N).” Severus fell back into his usual defensive self, his hair falling over his face as it would when he felt the need to hide himself from the world. He hadn’t done that to you in quite a while and it just had you giggling at the situation. Who knew Severus Snape could be so easily flustered?

“Oh come on!” You took a step closer as you began teasing him. “You like him.”

“Shut up,” Severus immediately spit out, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, regretting his words as soon as they left his lips. Wide eyed, he looked at you, praying you took no offense to his agitated tone, only to find that smirk on your face still resting there, silently badgering him.

“Fine,” you said, putting on an overdramatic show of annoyance as you quickly turned your back to him and looked over your shoulder just to display your taunting smile. “I supposed I’ll just go to bed after dinner tonight.”

Severus grunted in discontent at the mention of you cancelling the only thing getting him through this treacherous evening, knowing fully well you didn’t mean it by the sarcasm in your tone.

“So,” you said as you shook one of the vials filled with Amortentia in front of him. “What colour do you see?”

Severus smirked, quickly spinning around to take a peek at the storeroom, checking to see if Connor was still rummaging through the crates, looking for empty vials before gently pulling you into his arms by your waist. “(Y/H/C),” he whispered to you. “And gold.”

“Gold?” Your cheeks speckled pink as you smiled. Is that really the colour he associated with the thought of you? How royal.

“Of course,” he said, letting his hands slip down to rest on your hips. His eyes flickered down to your lips as he slowly began to lean forward. He really didn’t get enough time with you.

The rustling from the storeroom followed by the creek of the door Connor closed had Severus sliding his hands off of you. He ran his fingers through his hair as he walked past you, feeling his frustration rise to a level he himself was unaware he could reach. If only he could apparate you both away right now or reach for his wand and scare off the intruder. But even if he had either ability, he knew how disappointed in him you’d be. Besides, the nosey Ravenclaw didn’t seem so bad after all. At least he had half a mind compared to those Gryffindor’s you hung around.

You let out a gentle sigh as you pressed your lips together, your eyes following Severus as he made his way around you until he’d disappeared behind you. Turning your attention back to where you’d seen Connor approaching, you found yourself face to face with him, holding up three of his own vials.

“That man needs to organize that room better,” he said as he stepped towards his cauldron and began filling up the vials one at a time.

You chuckled in agreement, but your mind had strayed, and it was too late now to snap back to thoughts about something as bane as potion. There was really only one thing to do now; pack up as quickly as you could, say goodbye to Connor and find a dark corner alone somewhere to enjoy the remaining fifteen minutes you had left before dinner. Looking over at Severus as you made your way back to your own belongings, you saw him zipping up his own bag, obviously with the same thought you had running through his head.

“Here you go Connor,” you said as you passed a vial of Amortentia over to him, another to Severus and the third found its way safely in the inner pouch of your bag. “Careful with that, it’s very strong.”

“Of course. And here,” he passed you a vial of his own potion, handing one to Severus as well and like you, stuffed the third in his bag. You thanked Connor (on behalf of Severus as well as yourself) for the Sleeping Draught as he quickly wove his wand to vanish the remainder of his potion.

“Well, we better head to the Great Hall,” you said as you sloppily put away your cauldron, grasping at every potion’s ingredient Severus hadn’t grabbed first. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

The speed you both were cleaning made Connor appear as if he was living in slow motion, just barely finished with closing up his bag as you both returned from the storeroom, grabbing your things and making your way out the door, you shouting a quick ‘see you’ to Connor (once again on behalf of you and Severus) as you left him in the potion’s classroom.

“You don’t think that was rude of us, do you?” You whispered to Severus as you speed walked down the hall of the dungeon making your way towards the basement. “I feel a little guilty for running out on Connor like that.”

“No, no. It’s fine, I’m sure he didn’t pick up on anything.” Severus honestly couldn’t care less right now how Connor felt about their abrupt exit. All he cared about were the remaining eleven minutes till dinner he had full intention of using to his benefit, making you wish you’d never invited Connor to their late evening of studying potions together.

Once out of sight of roaming students, Severus quickly took your hand and pulled you into a nearby corridor, aware of the little time he had and immediately resumed the dance you were playing before your afterhours potions class. His lips connecting with yours, his hands found your wrists, pinning you against the wall, slowly sliding them to rest above your head.

Always so needy and you absolutely loved feeling wanted in this way. He lived off your love for him and you’d felt the same way for a while now too. You moaned into his mouth, back arched, your chest pressing against his as you gently tugged your hands down, wanting nothing more than to feel him under your fingertips and that is exactly the reaction he was looking for.

Tightening his grip around your wrists, he firmly held his place, quickly parting from your kiss leaving you completely unsatisfied only to leave the gentlest of kisses down your jaw and towards your neck. He didn’t bother loosening your tie and instead pressed his lips to the fabric of your collar, teasing you even further.

“Severus,” you whined, your legs ever so slightly beginning to rub together as you desperately tried to free yourself and take from him what he so evidently was denying you. But unfortunately for you, his resilience and your weakness for his kisses kept you locked in place, having to slowly endure this torture he was putting you through.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself whimpering at the loss of contact when Severus exclaimed time was up, picking up his bag from off the floor, stepping back from you. Never had you felt so unhinged with him before and because you knew him so well, you were sure his actions were a result of the invitation you’d extended to Connor to apparently ‘ruin your evening’.

“So, shall I see you in the Astronomy Tower after supper?” Severus asked with a grin, his tone giddy as if he’d just found out he’d come first in all his classes. You quickly picked up your bag and crossed your arms, showing him just how unhappy your denied request for his affection had made you. But of course, you couldn’t be mad at him for that and the smile that made its way to your lips gave that away. Spinning around on your heels, you huffed in annoyance, making a bit more of a show than you’d intended, and stormed away.

“Is that a yes?” he chuckled, shouting after you, content that his point had come across much stronger than initially intended. Smiling to himself, he could only think of the events that would take place after dinner tonight as he jogged a few paces to catch up with you.

Yup, that’s a yes.

Next Chapter

@dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @sparklingkeylimepie @nameless-sovereign @justanobodyinthisbigworld @soft-slytherin-sweetie @youtube4life10 @scarletmoon83 @fluffymadamina @sleepysnapesnake @retroillustrations

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

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Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

**A Chris Evans Story**

Previous Chapter Here

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language, generally a bit awkward

Notes: This is a long chapter, sorry. Any comments welcome, good and bad.

Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

“Let me just bring up your booking here, one moment please.”

The lobby of The Langham was an ocean of grey and blue. The sun was shining brightly outside, the hottest day of the year so far, and it reflected in every surface of the space and accompanying bar. It was sparse on the usual detailing, instead preferring a minimalist approach; the check-in desk consisted of a mere iPad and one lily artfully growing from a tall, geometrical glass vase. Random art hung from all sides. One looked vaguely like a donkey, Sarah was sure. There was also what she thought was an ash tray balanced on a pillar to the left of where she was standing but she didn’t dare to investigate it any closer in case it cost the price of a small car.

It had the same over-perfumed odour as the fragrance section of a Macy’s. The tiled floor look so clean and fresh you could be forgiven for thinking it had only just been laid that very morning. Sarah felt a pang of guilt walking in wearing her scuffed Converse. She always felt so out of place in places like this. It was the kind of place she would run a mile from if she had the choice but Greg had an “in” with the manager and now here she was.

“So that will be four nights in our Executive Suite with Central Park view. You also have the bar allowance of $150 per night. You just need to take the elevator up to the 32nd floor and it’s the second door on your left. Would you like a hand with your bags, madam?” She motioned for the concierge to come over but held her hand up when she spied the puzzled look on Sarah’s face.

“I’m really sorry but I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I didn’t book a suite, just a standard double and I don’t think I pre-paid for any bar allowance. I didn’t even know I could do that to be honest.” Sarah chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to diffuse the tension but it fell on deaf ears. She handed the key card back to the lady, unsure of what else to suggest.

The lady showed practically no emotion at the possible mistake and simply took another look at her records before confirming that she was in fact correct with the initial room choice. “It’s definitely your suite, and...everything is paid for in advance. Could it have been made on your behalf? It looks like it was upgraded yesterday afternoon.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if she was asking her a question or telling her. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t biting her hand off but she hoped she hadn’t made some kind of horrific error her bank wouldn’t forgive her for. She could barely afford the double room she’d booked as it was and she’s sure the college wouldn’t have upgraded her without letting her know in advance. It made zero sense. They couldn’t have that kind of money going spare, putting students up in posh suites. She had no clue what could have happened.

Unless...Chris?

No, it wouldn’t be. He was less than pleased to hear she’d be away as it was. Except...well, who else? Sarah rolled her eyes a little too obviously before accepting the key card back. “That’s OK. I think I know what’s happened. It’s only the one bag. I can manage it.”

The lady nodded her thanks and, smiling politely, pointed her back towards the elevators. Sarah couldn’t move away from her fast enough.

Arriving at her floor, Sarah emerged from the lift expecting someone to come running up to her to confirm that they had in fact made a horrendous mistake. She slipped the key card into her door before pushing her way in to find her new home for the week.

The bedroom was large, uncomfortable so, with the bed positioned just off the middle in the room. Sarah figured the designer for a psychopath. It was big but not as empty as the lobby would have had her believe. In fact, it seemed reassuringly cosy despite the windows, so many windows stretching around the suite. There was a soft blue curved sofa opposite a screen that she’d seen smaller versions of in a cinema. Cushions fucking everywhere and fluffy white slippers she’d probably never take off again.

Everything seemed to be controlled from an iPad set in a stand by the bedroom door; the lights, the curtains, the air freshener, some background music for ambiance if she wanted. The windows tinted darker to block out the sunlight. Even the $1300 coffee machine was remote controlled; she had recognised it from the last edition of Home & Country Jocelyn had mailed to her, the exact one Shanna had been dropping hints about to Chris as a potential Christmas present.

The lounge offered her the clearest view of Central Park and with the light at this time in the afternoon, it was beyond stunning. She snapped a picture and considered texting it to Shanna but thought better of drawing attention to where she was staying. There was no way she could pass this off as a standard room even with her best efforts.

It was almost a shame to waste all of this on just herself. This room deserved romance, she thought.

Around the same time, Chris was on his third beer of the afternoon and lounging on his sofa. He had a new script in one hand, one he wasn’t particularly keen on but offered to read as a favour for a friend. He was so relaxed now that he had to re-read the last ten or so pages simply because it wasn’t landing. The whole room was lit softly by the sun outside. It had gone 4 o’clock when his phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Bernette! How was the journey?” he smiled into the phone as soon as he saw who it was.

“The bathtub is the size of my entire bathroom.” She announced, not giving him room to breathe. She heard him laugh heartily at the end of the line and could picture him looking smug and proud of himself, the dick. “I could have an orgy with the Patriots and still have room left.”

“Hey, don’t go getting any ideas.” he jostled with her. He placed the script down on the tablet to give her his full attention. “So, you like it, huh?”

“It’s...it’s absolutely gorgeous and utterly ridiculous. Seriously, dude, you did not need to do this.” She could sense his growing pride from here. “I’ve never stayed in anything like it. I have, like, a hundred towels.”

“That’s why I did it in the first place. Not for the towels, obviously, but just because you deserved something different. Something nice.” He enthused. “Don’t fight me on this, Bernette.”

“You should see the view. It’s so beautiful. I think I can see the museum.” She was stood on her tiptoes, pressed against the glass, looking at the tiny people milling around on the street so far below her.

“i know,” he responded. “You’ll be there for a week and best to be comfortable, right?”

She didn’t want to argue with him. She was tired and extremely grateful for the kind gesture. She’d be able to enjoy the place and her time in the City more if she could firmly separate her work from any space in which she could chill out. It wasn’t like she was going to be raving all night nor have much chance to see places at this rate, so more space was probably a good thing. She hadn’t had an unbroken night’s sleep in...she couldn’t even remember when.

“Thank you, Chris.” she spoke softly after a brief pause.

“You’re welcome.”

She put her phone down on the bedside table and set about removing her clothes from her suitcase. Well, “clothes” in the loose sense. What she’d packed was basically gym gear, sweat pants, t-shirts, nothing remotely attractive, and a simple paid of black trousers for the exam day itself. Who was going to see her anyway? Shanna had thrown a jumper in the mix without her realising, dismayed at her insistence that she was not going out to bars to hook up with someone.

“But you’ll be gone the next day! It’s. The. Perfect. Crime!” Shanna had said, exasperated and throwing her hands in the air in dismay.

The majority of space in her suitcase has been taken up with journals and textbooks, ones she hadn’t see since she left medical school and had long since expected she would never see again. Funny what opportunities life threw at you when you least expected it.

She was soon feeling the push and pull of the day and had planned on spending at least a couple of hours studying that evening, so she had a clean-up and threw on the first set of sweatpants that fell out of the closet. She tied her hair up and out of her face, pulled out her notepad and switched her Macbook on. The TV was showing some repeat of a gameshow with the sound on low, more for background company than anything else, and she finally figured out how to get the coffee machine working thanks to a small tome buried inside a drawer underneath the coffee table.

Chris 9.44pm: All OK? Need company yet??

Sarah 9.45pm: I love you guys bt I can’t tell u how amazing it is having space to myself. Been a looooong day

Chris 9.51pm: ah

Chris 9.52pm: OK maybe don’t look outside your door

Momentarily confused, she rubbed at her eyes trying to come up with a pithy response.

Chris 9.56pm: well this is awkward...........

Sarah looked at the door and then back at her phone. Looking up at the door again, she unfolded her feet from underneath her and slowly walked towards it. Pulling it open, she found Chris looking up at her through his lashes, sheepishness drenching his entire body.

“OK, funny story,” he said. “But I thought this might be romantic and then I got carried away and now I’m here and I can absolutely go if you need me to...?” He half-turned his body in the direction of the elevators. “I’m so sorry, honey. I just thought it might be nice and not at all annoying but it’s annoying, isn’t it? It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything. Dammit, I really thought I pitched this right.”

“Chris, it’s fine.” Sarah finally found her voice to speak. “Honestly. I’m...I’m just really surprised is all. I was not expecting you to...drive? All this way?”

He nodded. “Yeh, I just bombed it down the ‘95.”

Awkward silence fell between them as they stared at each other unsure of what to do next. Finally picking up on the fact he remained in the hallway, a backpack thrown over his shoulder, she moved out of the way and he entered the suite. Relieved, he placed his bag down and turned to see her close the door behind him. He looked mildly embarrassed and she was all too aware she wasn’t welcoming but it was getting late and her eyes had started to hurt a little as she rubbed at them with the back of her hand.

“Fuck, that’s a long couch.” he announced, taking his black suede jacket off and placing it over the armrest nearest to him. He glanced over and saw papers strewn over the coffee table, her laptop light blaring brightly and looked back to her. She was working hard and he had ruined it.

“I am so sorry. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go home, I promise.” He held his hands up by way of an apology but she shook her head in response.

“Stop apologising.” she chuckled. “Do you want a beer?”

He nodded gratefully and looked so adorable that any annoyance she might have felt finally dissipated. “How about I give you a hug and then leave you to it? I need a shower and I can amuse myself in there for a little while. I don’t know why I just said that.”

Sarah laughed again and a little more relief moved through him. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so nervous when he had been so confident of his decisions in the car all the way here. He’d rehearsed his lines and imagined her big smile when seeing behind the door. He had wanted to stop off and buy flowers but he was so eager to see her, he’d just kept driving. No daydream could live up to the reality of seeing her face up close.

He watched her from the bathroom doorway. She was cross-legged on the bed, studying the thickest textbook he’d ever seen with colour-coded notecards laid out across the duvet. He had earlier glimpsed a page over her shoulder but decided against pursuing medicine as a new career when he was faced with photographs of god knows what. He tried to remove the images from his mind by drinking another beer and thinking of Sarah in her scrubs. That tended to work well for him these days.

She looked so cute sat on the bed, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. He wanted to come up with a joke, calm the tension a little that had grown between them in the meantime, but she looked pretty hot. More hot than usual and it was distracting. Like a sexy Librarian and for the second time this month he discovered something else he was into.

One pen was stuck behind her ear but she’d forgotten she’d put it there and was now using a different one. Her hair was tied up at the top of her head in a messy bun that she hadn’t touched since she’d arrived, more and more strands falling loosely around her as the evening wore on, framing her perfect, round face. She seemed to engrossed in what she was doing.

He was still a little wet from his shower and pondered whether she would notice if he just whipped his towel off and offered himself to her. There really wasn’t anything he wanted more at this moment in time than to have her touch him, to have her run hands gently over his chest, to tease him a little bit. There’d be some time, he reasoned, and right not it was just was exhilarating to think of her being here alongside him knowing it would be just the two of them for a little while.

He perched on the end of the bed in front of her. She barely moved, barely seemed to notice him. He took one of her blank notecards and carefully placed it on the open page so as not to lose her place. She leaned back slightly, allowing him to gather up the papers and place them in a pile on the floor besides the bed before turning back to lean in towards her, one arm stretching out across her legs. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes again. She wanted peace and quiet and he decided to rock up just because he could. He sighed to himself. He was such a dick sometimes.

“Do you mind me being here?” he asked her, fully resigning himself to leaving if she now asked him to as hard as that might be. He’d got so caught up in his idea of surprising her that he hadn’t fully registered just how important these exams were or how well she wanted to do. Passing them wasn’t an option for Sarah; she wanted to knock it out of the park. She wanted to do better for herself and the more he got to know her like this, the more it became his favourite thing about her. And he related. He related perfectly. He knew exactly what that was like. “Cos I can go if you need me to.”

“Chris, I’ve said it’s fine. It’s nice that you’re here. I would just hate you feeling bored if all I’m doing is studying all the time.” She nervously twirled the pen between her fingers while taking in how amazing he looked following a shower, a little steam rising off his skin.

“I won’t get bored.” he assured her. “It’ll be nice hanging out with you. Just the two of us.”

He plucked the pen from behind her ears and she rolled her eyes realising the mistake she’d made. He tucked strands of hair back and leaned in placing a quick, soft kiss to her lips. He smelled like her coconut shampoo and she just now understood how truly spontaneous his trip had been.

“Listen, there’s another reason why I’m here. There’s something I need to talk to you about and I couldn’t wait until you got home.” he stroked her arm gently, looking down into her lap. “It’s been going around in my head and I’m not entirely sure what to say about it to be honest, but...it looks like Jenny’s done an interview with a magazine. A full thing with a photoshoot and stuff and it looks like I might be involved.” He closed his eyes for a second before correcting himself. “Not might actually, it’s pretty much definite that I’m in there for a large portion of it.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded. He for sure seemed weary of the whole thing and she felt for him.

“I just, I know she can be pretty unfiltered at the best of times, so-”

“-but she won’t have said anything negative, right?”

“No, no, not negative. I’m not worried about that exactly. It’s just that...” He was struggling to find the words. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about us, about me and her. I expect she’ll have this hyper-romanticised view of things and I guess I didn’t want you thinking it was some great love affair which is what I think she’ll spin it as.” He couldn’t quite meet her eye while he was talking. “I’m not proud of myself or of what I said or did at the time but I was low and she was there and it was...easy, I guess.”

He immediately regretted his choice of words. As much as he wanted Sarah to understand, he didn’t want Sarah to think he was dismissive of his relationships in this way. “Matt’s figuring out some damage control with them. Hopefully, it’ll go away as quickly as it comes.”

“You think he’ll be able to clear it up?”

Chris nodded. Matt was a formidable guy and he was assured things would look and read much better by the time it went to print. He placed his hand on her thigh and it was only now she registered just how close he was to surrounding her. “I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve all too often but when I do, they know about it. I want to make them aware of exactly how I feel about them and I didn’t do that with her.” He dipped his head to catch her eye line. “So, when I do something for someone, it means something, y’know?”

“Yeh, of course. You’re a good guy, Chris. Everyone knows that.” She took his hand and lightly interlocked their fingers together.

“I guess I just didn’t want you worrying about her ‘cos there’s absolutely nothing there for me. Never had been.”

“You don’t need to explain this to me, I’m not going to hold anything against you.” she stroked his chin with her thumb and felt him relax into her hand. He glanced down at the mess he’d made on the floor and started picking a few things back up.

“How much left do you have to do tonight?” he whispered as his lips closed upon hers for a fleeting moment.

“I could do with finishing some notes but...half an hour, maybe?”

“I’ll hold you to that.” he kissed her again and got up from the bed, lifting her books back on top. “Just come get me when you’re done, yeh?”

Finishing up in the bathroom, Sarah switched off the light and moved towards the bed. She kneeled alongside Chris who was lying flat out, naked except for the duvet bunched across legs, reading what she assumed was the hotel magazine only to find upon closer inspection that it was in fact one of her medical journals. She giggled as she grabbed the moisturiser from the bedside table and began rubbing a small amount up and down her arms, regarding him as his nose creased up in apparent disgust at something he’d just read.

“Did you know the body has ten times more microorganisms living in it than actual human cells?! That’s bacteria, Sarah. Living, gross bacteria. All over us.” he looked at her, shock and horror crossing his fine, perfect features. She wasn’t sure whether to pat him on the head or laugh.

“It’s mostly good bacteria, though. Only, like, 1% of it is bad for us.”

“And when exactly were you going to tell me about this?!”

She creased up laughing and flopped on to her side next to him. “It’s all information that’s out there for the world to see. Remind me not to tell you about eyelashes.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever removed from somebody’s ass?” he asked.

“What? Why is that always a question people want an answer to?”

“I don’t know. It’s just weird. Humans are weird.” he muttered, turning back to the pages in front of him. She was glad he had chosen one without pictures. That was the last thing she wanted to see before falling asleep.

“So, have you learned something new?” she asked, curling her legs under the duvet.

“I have. I think you should test me and if I get a question wrong, you can do whatever you like to me. Deal?” he asked, smirking. She shyly smiled and he tossed the book onto the floor. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She repeated. She watched as his eyes slowly travelled down her body. It was unreasonable how much he managed to disarm her with only a look.

His hand reached out to gently caress the side of her thigh, nudging the duvet slightly down before moving back up to her hip, a ticklish area he’d picked up on the last time they were together. He leaned in and kiss her on the side of her jaw, so feather-like and soft she barely felt it if not for his warm breath she could feel on her neck.

“You smell nice.” he whispered, looking at her from underneath his eyelashes. “We could have showered together, y’know? Save the planet?”

As much as she was getting used to the little things he would do when they were alone, rubbing her arm, tucking hair behind her ears, saying nice things about how pretty she looked, having him here in such close proximity with no else around to distract them or force them into the light...it was getting risky. Not that Chris ever pushed her, mind. He’d been nothing but understanding and respectful and she was grateful for that but also growing concerned he was perhaps a little...bored. Why else would he drive over state lines to see her. None of this was normal and the more time went by, the more she became fretful of what they were doing.

“What are you thinking about?” he kissed her shoulder. “Is it dirty? If it’s dirty, I wanna know about it.”

Sarah smiled and placed her hand on the side of his face, running her fingers gently over his beard. He’d thoroughly given up shaving but she liked how soft it still felt under her finger tips and judging by the breath he released as he closed his eyes, so did he, relaxing into her hand. He kissed her again. She was hoping he’d take charge so she could put off talking to him a little longer but instead, he refrained from pushing them any further and leaned back a little, looking into her eyes. “Talk to me.”

She could feel his hand move slowly and deliberately up her arm until he reached the back of her neck, his fingers playing with the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her messy bun. There was no getting away from this.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? It’s OK for you to tell me what you want.” She could feel his breath on her skin, his voice low and rough. His fingers moved again and she felt them touch her lips, one of them running back and forth over her lower lip until she parted them ever so slightly and his finger softly dipped inside her mouth. He seemed to like that and kissed her again, a little harder this time.

“Just keep kissing me.” she whispered, relieved that se finally got some words out.

He smiled at her, satisfied with her response, and kissed her again. Slow, wet, a kind of kiss that was full of promise of what he wanted to do and it made her whole body thrum with anticipation.

One hand now resting on the bed beside her and the other moved from her cheek back down to her thigh. She was frozen to the spot, this man focussed on her so intently, prepared to give her whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, expressing so much in a kiss that she didn’t register when her hand began moving slowly, grazing a finger ever so slightly over the waistline of her shorts.

“...and what else?”

A little more, he moved his hand until his fingers dipped inside her underwear until he felt her skin, hot to the touch. She broke the kiss momentarily to let out a breath, one hand resting on the back of his neck for leverage as he continued tenderly moving his fingers until he got to where he wanted to be. Feeling her wet for him seemed to spark something inside and she felt him push her carefully until she was lying back on the bed, head just off the pillow, and he leaned over her. He adjusted his hand ever so slightly until she could feel his fingers pressing at her entrance before moving in small circular motions, riling her up.

“Look at me, honey.” he whispered, his voice rough and turned on as he wanted her grabbing at the covers as he stroked her. She tried to but she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing again, zoned out with only his smooth and confident movements to focus on. It was almost getting too much with him hitting her at just the right spot for her to lose herself completely when, just like that, he pulled his hand away and grabbed both sides of her underwear to pull them down and off her legs. The next thing she remembered was the feel of him skilfully grabbing her from underneath her thighs, his tongue swiftly taking over.

It didn’t take long for her to feel like was she coming undone and him feeling proud of himself. She couldn’t fight it and with one arm draped across her lower tummy, he certainly had not intention of letting her get away. Any feelings of awkwardness were soon a thing of the past as she let the gentle, unbridled bliss he was giving her wash over her completely. She honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this before, she was so out of it. He was covering her completely, her wetness mixing with his own, his beard rubbing against her smooth skin adding another level of pleasure.

She ran her fingers through his hair, messing it up. His tongue hit her clit again and again causing her to give him a short, sharp pull. His groan was so filthy and deep from within him, she felt it reverberate through her, raising goose bumps up and down her skin.

He wanted her on the edge as much as he felt he was. He wanted her to want him, to tell him exactly what she wanted him to do. He wanted her on fire. He wanted to hear her beg.

Just as she was on the edge for a second time, he stopped and blew softly across her wisps of hair. He chuckled when he heard what sounded like a quiet yet frustrated groan leave her lips, followed by a chuckle, something innocent and familiar. Her hands loosened from his hair as they stared into each other’s eyes, their mutual breathlessness the only sound they could hear.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered, the breath from his words scorching her skin. He moved his tongue just a little lower, not breaking eye contact, and she felt him dip ever so slightly inside of her, his arm wrapped around her thigh and the pad of his thumb taking care of the rest. He did this a second time, then a third, and when he returned to pressing his tongue over her clit, drawing her into his mouth, she was soon grabbing at him in any way she could in a futile attempt to take the edge off the orgasm that was coming at her like a freight train.

She was close. He knew she was so close now and he held his arms tightly around her to keep her close to him. One more swipe of his tongue right....there...and she was gone.

When her breathing even out, she slowly opened her eyes to see him move up and over her, placing soft, wet kisses on her hip, her tummy, her neck, and finally on her lips. He seemed cautious to kiss her, unsure of whether she wanted him to but she grabbed his face with both hands to pull him back down to her, kissing him as passionately as she could manage with what felt like no energy. She could taste herself and it was so much more erotic than she could ever have imagined.

She felt him smile into the kiss as he carefully settled his body on top of hers, allowing her to wrap her legs around him. He moved the hair that was sticking to her forehead and stroked her face with one finger, gently mapping her eye and her nose and her cheek. She couldn’t reconcile this being the same man who had minutes earlier been so dominant. He had so clearly wanted to say something at that point if only his hardness hadn’t been so distracting. He mover one arm under her neck, using the other hand to move hair from where it had clung to the side of her face. Holding her as close to him as possible and feeling blissful when he felt her legs wrap around his own, he entered her and held still, enjoying the moment.

“We should’ve done this years ago.” he spoke and for a brief moment, without realising, she was pulled from their intimacy, a pang of guilt taking its place.

He was too busy pushing into her, needing whatever she had left to give him. He grabbed at the back of her neck to keep her in place, his face buried into her hair. She felt her skin heat up all over from his breath as he panted at her side. It was more frantic than he’d wanted it to be as he groaned and moaned and pushed his whole weight into her with force. It was really all she could do to just hang on to him as he fucked her deeper, as he surged towards his own orgasm, then letting go when she felt him shudder insider her minutes later. He sounded helpless and as much as he tried to hold himself up from collapsing on her, he soon gave up trying and laid his head on her shoulder.

His warm breath continued covering her skin as she ran her hand gently over the back of his head. She felt him chuckle a vibration into the top of her arm before a wet kiss landed just underneath her ear, a place he had deigned his own after he realised how sensitive she was on that particular spot.

Finally rolling off her to lie on his back, he kept his arm stretched across her lower tummy and rubbed his fingers across the apex of her thigh. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in this position but at some point he leaned over her to turn the bedside light off plunging the room into complete darkness and they continued to lie there in silence not really sure if the other was asleep or not.

He eventually turned onto his side to face her, keeping a firm grip on her waist. He was across her pillow and she could practically feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he watched her in the dark, a soft outline gradually appearing as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, making out her features. she felt his hand move up and down her ribcage and over the inside of her elbow, another sensitive spot that made her shudder and him chuckle again when he realised she was in fact still awake.

She turned onto her side to face him and his hand moved to her lower back where it finally rested over her hip. She pushed her leg in between his and he seemed content and comfortable in how they were existing in this space, both aware they didn’t have to worry about getting up any time soon. He was running his fingers up and down her spine in slow, circular motions and it felt wonderful. Too wonderful. And there was that guilt again.

“What will you do tomorrow?” she asked.

He took a deep breath in contemplation at her unexpected question. “Gym looks pretty good. I have a book and a couple of scripts, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” she murmured but he knew she was dwelling on something.

“I wanna be here for you if you need anything and if you don’t, you won’t even know I’m around. I promise.”

“I know that, too.”

She could sense him smile at her even in their dark. “Good.” he said. “It feels nice knowing I’ve made a good decision for a change.”

#chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #fan fiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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chibimuiwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

MMA Fighters HuaLian - Meeting

Right. I’m just going to post this. The backstory to the Hualian MMA AU idea I thought up of how they initially met. This is not edited btw, so apologies for any errors.

----

They meet in a match.

Xie Lian has met many people in matches before, he is one of the best MMA fighters out there after all, so usually he doesn’t remember most of his opponents—but he remembers this one. He remembers him because he is tall (not an issue), lanky (he’s experienced enough to know skinniness doesn’t mean lack of strength), has an eyepatch covering his right eye (a handicap?) and is absolutely, ridiculously, unfairly, gorgeous.

The referee counts to three, the whistle blows, and Xie Lian tenses and is surprised when the other man barely moves a muscle. Just looks at him, expression unreadable. There’s an intensity to his gaze, but it’s not the usual look of a fellow fighter preparing to attack, it’s… it’s something else. It unsettles Xie Lian for a moment, makes his heart beat just a bit faster, but, well, if his opponent will not make the first move then that’s their mistake.

A rookie perhaps?

He launches forward and feels his heart sing when the man not only catches his blow, but dodges to the side in a way that looks effortless, but Xie Lian knows speaks of unbridled skill. Not a rookie then.

Not a rookie at all in fact.

The match is one of the toughest Xie Lian has had in ages. The other man is incredibly defensive and catches Xie Lian’s punches, kicks and feints blow for blow, although rarely making an effort to strike out himself. It’s mildly frustrating, somewhat confusing, and incredibly invigorating. It’s fun. It’s a joy Xie Lian hasn’t truly felt in a fight in ages. He dances around and is somewhat glad for the mask he wears so no one can see the ridiculously large smile he can feel stretching across his face. This is why he loves martial arts. This is why he loves fighting. So that he can dance with people like the man in front of him.

He’s almost sad when he finally manages to pin the other man on the ground for a count of three, and the referee blows the whistle again.

‘Winner, give it up for The Crown Prince!’

The referee holds his hand up, but Xie Lian can’t take his eyes off his opponent, who by this point is already sitting up and also looking back at Xie Lian as well. He looks unphased, unruffled. He does not look like a man who has just lost a fight. In fact, the small smile on his face somehow makes it seem like he was the winner of this match somehow.

His is registered under the fighter name ‘Crimson Rain Sought Flowers’. The people in the mixed martial arts underground call him Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian remembers him and looks forward to the day he might be able to fight him again.

It takes another year before Xie Lian is able to meet Hua Cheng again—and it’s not for lack of trying. After their one match he had tried to seek him out, find out more information about this mysterious opponent who had stepped into the ring and fought with Xie Lian like he had just decided to do it on a whim, but there was nothing. There had been no previous fight records, and no fights he had signed up for afterwards. It was truly as if he had just appeared to fight Xie Lian and then left.

Mu Qing had commented dryly that maybe he had scared the other man off, as he did to so many other earnest newcomers, but Xie Lian didn’t see how that was possible. Hua Cheng had not been a rookie fighter, and Feng Xin had agreed on this as well. But, whatever the reason—Hua Cheng had never reappeared until now.

Once again Hua Cheng stands before him looking deceptively relaxed. If Xie Lian were anyone else he might have felt insulted. After all, he had won their last fight—Hua Cheng should look at least somewhat wary. But he doesn’t. Instead something about his expression makes Xie Lian feel like he’s just as excited for this match as Xie Lian is himself. Xie Lian smiles under his mark, forgetting for a moment that Hua Cheng can’t see his face. It’s nice, to face an opponent who not only isn’t intimidated by him, but appears just as excited and actually has the skill to back up their own air of confidence.

Xie Lian’s heart skips a beat as he catches Hua Cheng’s single eye and can’t help but shiver in anticipation of the match to come.

The whistle blows, and this time Xie Lian waits. He wants to see what Hua Cheng will do, but Hua Cheng does nothing. In fact, the both of them stand still for so long, the audience begins boo-ing and Xie Lian’s mounting excitement begins to curl into confusion, and then into frustration.

Hua Cheng merely raises an eyebrow, “What is gege waiting for?” he drawls, smirking.

“I could ask you the same question.” Xie Lian replies.

Hua Cheng nods his head, as if he’s considering Xie Lian’s words very seriously, “Hm… that’s true.” And then he launches himself forward.

Xie Lian had been prepared, this is what he had wanted after all, but it shows just how skilled Hua Cheng is that for a second Xie Lian can’t track his movements at all and he is hit with a spike of surprise. It is only through muscle memory, born from hours and hours of training, that allows Xie Lian to effectively dodge Hua Cheng’s fist, following immediately with a counterattack of his own, which Hua Cheng also effortlessly dodges in return.

They continue like this for a few bouts, and it’s similar enough to their last match that it causes Xie Lian to pause. Despite Hua Cheng opening with the first strike, they’ve somehow fallen into a pattern where Xie Lian is on the offensive and Hua Cheng only defends and it’s… it’s frustrating. Xie Lian has never really cared about the actual competition itself, he simply joined matches for the sake of being able to fight others who were just as crazy about fighting as him, and so now he just feels incredibly put-out that it seems like Hua Cheng isn’t taking things seriously.

He stills, pulls out of his last punch and as expected, Hua Cheng jerks his arm back at the last second as well instead of taking the obvious opening to his advantage. Once again, they’re just two opponents, standing in the cage, staring at each other but neither of them moving. Neither of them have even taken a stance—standing almost casually, albeit somewhat alert. The crowd has also noticed the pattern of the fight, and some bystanders have begun jeering at Hua Cheng specifically.

“Come on! Put up a proper fight or just get out!”

“Don’t waste His Highness’ time!”

Both of them stand and listen to the calls of the crowd and while Xie Lian usually doesn’t like to encourage this sort of heckling, he can’t help but cock his head to the side and ask, “Well, are you going to take this seriously?” because what other conclusion is there to draw from this bout? It’s obvious that Hua Cheng doesn’t want to beat Xie Lian at all, doesn’t even really want to fight him at all. It doesn’t make sense and it makes Xie Lian wonder why he’s even here.

Hua Cheng simply smirks at him, but his posture doesn’t change. “What makes you think I’m not taking this seriously, dianxia?”

“You’re not even trying to go on the offensive. Any other person would have felt insulted by now.” Xie Lian replies.

“Well, it’s good that you’re not any other person then isn’t it?”

His voice is low and velvety smooth and it makes Xie Lian feel warm for reasons besides physical exertion. “Perhaps, but I also refuse to continue a match with someone who clearly doesn’t want to engage.”

He turns to the referee who also looks like he’s one second away from giving both of them warnings and it’s this that finally seems to pull a genuine reaction out of Hua Cheng.

“Wait--!”

Xie Lian turns and cock his head to the side again in question, since Hua Cheng can’t see his face.

“You’ve got me gege, this newcomer didn’t mean to offend. I was simply excited at being able to spar with you again and wanted to do anything to extend the time as much as possible.”

Xie Lian lets out a huff of air, feeling somewhat affronted.

“And what makes you think going on the offensive would have made the time shorter? Either you think too highly of yourself, or you are severely underestimating me.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head vehemently, “No, I can assure you I would never!”

Xie Lian signals to the ref to stand down and that he will handle things before turning back to face Hua Cheng properly once more, “Then, are you going to fight me properly?”

Hua Cheng nods.

They both return to the center of the cage and take up positions, eyeing each other warily. Since no time outs were taken, there will be no whistle to signal a new start—it is simply up to one of them to make a move.

The fight that follows leaves everyone breathless.

It is Hua Cheng that makes the first move, and when he does it is clear that he had been holding back. His attacks are quick, aggressive, and absolutely wild, but what is perhaps even more wild is how composed Xie Lian managed to remain in comparison. The only sign that he may have been struggling lay in the fact that despite the sharpness of his own moves, equally quick and unforgiving, he still had not won.

Attack are blocked, grabs and holds are escaped from and used to lead into secondary attacks, throws that would have had most fighters winded on the ground ended with miraculous recoveries with both parties somehow still on their feet. Even when the fight had devolved into wrestling, as Xie Lian struggled to pin Hua Cheng down for three counts, it was hard to see who was at an advantage—but eventually, a winner was decided.

The crowd roared with enthusiasm, a whistle was blown and as for the fighters themselves…

Xie Lian flinches when the referee grabs his wrist, having nearly forgotten where he is and what he has been doing. He had been too immersed in the fight. Too immersed in Hua Cheng. He hears nothing but the blood that is still roaring in his ears, continues to feel nothing but the soft panting of Hua Cheng’s breath on his skin as they had rolled on the ground, and sees nothing but Hua Cheng’s eyes as the other man continued to stare at him from his position on the ground—gaze dark and dangerous.

Then he blinks and he is back in the cage, his arm being held up, the crowd cheering. Hua Cheng stands and dusts himself off, calm and cool as ever, although even with the noise Xie Lian could still hear the ragged panting of his breath—matching his own laboured breathing.

“Good fight.” Xie Lian hears himself say, truly meaning it as he shakes the other man’s hand. It is warm, strong, and Xie Lian can still feel the traces of where those hands had left marks on his body. He represses the urge to shiver.

“It was truly an honor to be able to fight you again, dianxia.” Hua Cheng replies, smirking once again. Were it anyone else, Xie Lian would have been sure they were mocking him, but there was something in Hua Cheng’s voice that sounded more like reverence. Xie Lian drops the other man’s hand and laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“I think the honor should be mine, you really didn’t make things easy for me.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t reply, and afterwards they are ushered out of the cage to make room for the next match. When Xie Lian turns his head after toweling off his sweat, Hua Cheng is already gone.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing both tell him to forget about Hua Cheng. They are, and have always been, Xie Lian’s best friends, so usually Xie Lian does try his best to listen to their advice—they care for him after all. But he cannot forget about Hua Cheng. During training he imagines the other man in front of him, he walks down the street and pictures fights with him in his mind, he goes from competition to competition seeking him, tries and fails to search him up on social media, but just like last time, it is like he has disappeared.

“You’re thinking about him again aren’t you,” Feng Xin grumbles as he sits down, practically throwing his tray of food onto the table of the university cafeteria.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xie Lian replies promptly as he takes a bite of his own lunch.

Mu Qing takes the seat beside Feng Xin, placing his tray down more gently and completely ignores Xie Lian to turn to the other man at his side, “He was thinking about him again, wasn’t he?”

“I wasn’t!”

Feng Xin has the audacity to grunt and nod as he slurps up his noodles at an alarming pace.

“Hey! I said I wasn’t!”

Mu Qing lets out a sigh that Xie Lian thinks is supremely unfair, given the fact that his friends are the ones being rude to him. Then, Mu Qing grabs something from his bag—a piece of paper it looks like, and places it on the table. “We’re only doing this because we know you won’t stop mooning about him otherwise.”

“I’m not—mooning? I’m not mooning!” Xie Lian splutters, but he grabs the paper anyway, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm and then stops short.

It is an address and apparently it is for a place called Ghost City. He’s heard of Ghost City. Xie Lian frowns. Before he can ask the question though, Mu Qing already gives him the answer.

“He’s there. We told you to give up on him, but we knew you wouldn’t so we thought it’d be better to just see for yourself what type of person Hua Cheng really is.”

Ghost City was an underground cage match arena—everyone who was anyone in the MMA world knew about it. It was for the fighters who desperately wanted to prove themselves beyond the world of sanctioned, formal, competitions. For the fighters who truly wanted to test their skill in a match where they had to put everything on the line. The only rule in Ghost City was the one: there were no rules. Although Xie Lian loved fighting, this was a place he had no interest in. He had never been interested in hurting and dominating others, he simply just wanted to test his skill and to experience the skills of others.

If Hua Cheng was there though…

“Please, just remember to be careful alright Xie Lian?”

Xie Lian nodded, gripping the paper more tightly than was probably necessary. He looked up at his friends, at Feng Xin who continued to studiously eat his noodles as if they had somehow offended him just by existing, and at Mu Qing who was looking somewhere off to Xie Lian’s left looking disgruntled, and smiled. “You two really are the best.”

Neither of them bothered to give him a reply, but the address was enough.

#tgcf #heavens official blessing #hualian #MMA AU

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freakyfeline · 4 years

Text

The things I have done

Part 4

// Gotta appreciate the irony that I started this drabble on father’s day.

-----

That evening proved to be the most excruciating dinner that he had ever had in his life.

Fuyumi had somehow assembled a family gathering and managed to convince both of her brothers to join in, even though they were probably reluctant to do so.

It was the first dinner together, after almost eleven years.

One would assume that being hated is the worst feeling that one could experience, but Enji had discovered, that indifference was much worse.

Shoto was always pretty straight-forward about his feelings towards his father. For a long time he was fuelled by his hatred, anger and resentment towards him and the things he had done.

However something changed him in during of the course of his study at U.A, and his gradual use of his fire quirk.

It was a kind of acceptance that he had to co-exist with his father because of necessity, but that was as far as he would go. He had no interest in building a relationship with his father beyond that.

This evidence had come after a training session. Enji suggested staying at home for the weekend, of which Shoto had responded rather diplomatically that he was very busy, and that it was better to stay at the dorm.

However logical his reasoning may sound, the feeling beneath the surface was the same. His prodigal son didn’t want to deal with him any more than what was necessary.

You reap what you sow.

His conscious hounds him in his sleep. He couldn’t just expect to be forgiven for the things he did.

Will he ever deserve a peace of mind? Could his deeds be measured to the amount of atonement that he does?

It was a burden for him to carry all alone.

He felt appreciation for the effort that Fuyumi made in order to make this dinner happen. It was amazing to him that she actually managed to change Shoto’s mind after his initial refusal.

~~~

So finally on a Friday evening, the four of them gathered around that old dinner table.

Natsu held his chopsticks a little too tightly as he shoved the noodles in his mouth in hurried manner, keeping himself occupied in order to block his surroundings.

Shoto was staring at a distance and looking very distractive and pensive. Eating at a leisurely pace, but pausing from time to time.

Fuyumi sighed frequently; sometimes glancing at her brothers and trying engage them into conversation.

She was his only ally.

But the seemingly quiet and normal dinner didn’t last long.

In sudden fit of irritation, Natsu stopped and slammed the chopsticks on the surface of the table “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand sitting at the same table with him”, he remarked bitterly.

Enji could not understand his son’s behaviour. Disappointment bit away a great chunk of his hope for a successful evening. His large body towered over his children when he stood up, the table trembled when he slammed the surface with the palm of his hands.

“STOP BEING SUCH A BRAT. SIT DOWN AND EAT YOUR FOOD” he roared in rebuttal.

The room went silent, and the children stiffened. Natsu’s expression changed from frustration to fear. He stood frozen there only for a few seconds, but then he turned around and left to his room without uttering a single word. Fuyumi’s hands were shaking, there was terror in her grey eyes, wanting to escape but she is unable to.

Those grey eyes are too familiar.

Enji slumped back in his chair, he touched the sides of his head and curled forward.

No, he shouldn’t show any weakness, not in front of the children, but he suddenly found himself unable to breathe.

Both Fuyumi and Shoto looked confused at the sudden change. Fuyumi’s initial fear turned into sympathy and she walked by his side, placing a hand over his large back, “father?”

How could she feel sorry for a monster like him?

Shoto seemed shocked about his father’s behaviour but he did nothing. He remained there, uncertain of what to do.

This was the worst possible scenario, to have a break down right there and then in front of them. If he left now he would only be a coward, it would make things only worse.

“I’m fine”, he said pushing Fuyumi away “I need some water”, he responded, using it as an excuse to recollect himself.

“You two can sit down and continue eating” he added as he walked towards the counter to fill a glass from the sink’s tap water.

But no one was hungry anymore. Shoto covered his bowl with plastic foil and placed the leftover in the fridge. “I’m going to my room” he announced to no one in particular and went off.

Not knowing what she should do in this situation, Fuyumi decided to busy herself by clearing the table.

Enji tried to think of what he should do next. He could go to Natsu’s room or even Shoto’s and talk to them, but he knew that it would be futile, because nothing that he could say would make a difference.

He felt humiliated

Enji placed the glass in the sink and decided to go to his training room. As she saw him leaving, Fuyumi was about to say something, but she hesitated and then it was too late.

His training room floor was covered with tatami mats and there was a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. On the side, there were other various training equipment.

It had an empty space which he uses to train Shotokan Karate. It was a martial art that he practiced since he was young.

This was the only place he could let off steam when he wasn’t working. He changed his clothes and started with a light warm up, then did some punches and kicks on punching bag.

So much energy, so much anger was stored up inside of him, and sometimes he did not know what to do with it. However, being a hero was the only way he knew how he could let it all out without fearing of the bad consequences.

His fire quirk didn’t make it any better, or so he grew up to believe. He had heard several interviews and shows that discussed the concept that the quirk models a part of the user’s personality. It seemed like it made sense enough, but he had always been too aggressive and generally disagreeable.

It made it harder for him to be able to relate to his children, especially towards his sons. He had spent a long time focusing only on his ambition. His drive to be number one was like a carriage horse, he was blinded from all sides except the way forward.

There was a knock on the door, and he saw a speck of white hair which he hoped it was Natsu, but it turned out to be his daughter, what a drag, why does she have to check upon him?

“Are you hungry? I brought snacks” she said and he knew perfectly that food was an excuse to talk to him.

“No I’m not hungry but thanks”

“Ok uhm… “She opened her mouth to add something but hesitated.

“What?” he replied with impatience

“You should to go and talk to them” she added, after a long pause.

“It’s a waste of time” Endeavour answered abruptly, shrugging his shoulders

“Not it’s not…you’ll never be able to reach them if you don’t try” Fuyumi insisted “Do not…give up on them”, she added.

Anger came back again, but he tried to keep himself in check by clenching his fists so hard that his hand started trembling. He didn’t want to see her being scared of him, again.

“Well it’s late, don’t you have work tomorrow? Go to bed” he shooed her off, mostly as an excuse to have some time alone.

“Of course” Fuyumi answered, but lingered for a moment reluctant to leave. However she could bring any excuses to stay, so she turned and left. She seemed disheartened.

Do I do anything right? he scolded himself, what would I do if she ended up hating me as well?

He lounged a frustrated punch towards the punch bag, the strike was so forceful that it hit the ceiling and then continued swinging violently for a while.

Sitting here with folded arms, won’t do much good, he thought to himself and so he made his way out of his training room and down the hallway, to Natsu’s room.

Endeavour stopped right in front of his son’s door, not knowing exactly how to make conversation, and even less how to start one.

It was a plunge

He knocked the door.

“Who is it?” was the response. It was somewhere mid –pitch voice which projected itself in an annoyed tone. A shiver ran down Endeavour’s spine.

It was a voice of a stranger; A voice of his son.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#The things i have done #drabble series #bnha #fanfiction #endeavour #Enji Todoroki #Shoto Todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #Natsu Todoroki #Part 4

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Through His Eyes - Part 8

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

“I’m home,” you called out after successfully unlocking the door to your apartment within the first three attempts and stepped inside. You turned and bowed to your new minder, Suzie, and fare-welled her before closing the door.

“You’re home much earlier than I anticipated.”

You sighed heavily, stepping into your slippers and following the ramp up into the living area. You were now used to calculating your steps in the back of your mind as you did other tasks, and placed your bag down on the table before heading to the refrigerator. Feeling in the door for a bottle of water, you pulled one out and took it over to a chair at the table. “Don’t ask.”

“You seem unhappy, was your day bad?” You heard another chair pull out and your mother sat down, reaching for your hand gently. You frustrations eased with her touch, and you forgot all about your initial barrier of continuing the conversation.

“I have to do a group project.”

“On what?”

“We’re reading a classic novel called Jane Eyre at the moment and instead of doing an essay on it, which I would have much preferred, our lecturer has assigned us into groups of four to come up with a presentation on a topic within the novel. And of course, none of my partners are happy they got stuck with me.”

“I’m sure they aren’t that put-”

You placed your bottle down with more force than needed and shifted your head towards her direction. “They must think blind people are deaf as well, because they didn’t seem to realise I was nearby when they started to complain about having a disadvantage!”

“Oh.” Your Mum shifted uncomfortably in her seat, no doubt feeling angry hearing of another incident of you being singled out. You felt sorry for her having a daughter that faced so many woes within her education, when in the past you had never caused her any need to be concerned about your academics.

“And to top it off, others were very happy to not have me in their team. Do they think I can’t do the project because I’m blind?!”

“You work even harder than the average student to make sure you don’t fall behind. I’m sure when they realise that, they’ll be more accommodating towards you.”

You shook your head. “It shouldn’t be that I have to prove to them that I’m good enough though. They have no idea who I am, and how many offers I used to get from artists and galleries for my work in the past.”

“But that isn’t who you are now, Y/N,” she reminded gently, and you snapped your head towards her again, anger rising within your chest. She seemed to sense it and reached for your hand once more, which you shook off immediately. “It’s hard I-”

“IT’S ALWAYS HARD, ISN’T IT?!”

Getting up in a rush, you stumbled towards your bedroom and then slammed the door shut, panting heavily with your outburst. Soon the tears came and you sank to the ground, wrapping your arms around you for comfort. Ignoring the knocking and the calls on the other side of the door, you felt ashamed for taking your mood out on her. You hated that even when you were hurting the most, you still felt guilty towards how much she did for you every day and the sacrifices she had taken to help you.

“But for one day, I wish she would just allow me to complain without giving me the known answer,” you mumbled aloud before burying your head into your arms.

Two days went by and your mood had darkened further with the lack of faith from your fellow partners with the presentation. Since it was the weekend, your mother went to help your Aunt run her vegetable store, which you welcomed greatly.

You didn’t intend to move from bed for the entire day.

Around mid-morning, your stomach had other ideas however, so you relinquished to the hunger and went out to make some breakfast. Once fed, you stood within the middle of the living room, wrestling with your options. Bed had been your original safety zone, but now that you were up, it was tempting to go on your computer and waste your day listening to Youtube videos, catching up with online friends in the blind community, and peruse some trivial websites. After grabbing a bottle of water, you headed back into your room and opened the curtains, wincing at the same time as rejoicing in the bright light invading the room. It was an odd experience, you hated the intensity of the light at times, yet it made you feel as close to normal in your greyscale world as you could be.

“Let’s check my emails first,” you said to yourself as you set about the computer, mimicking the sounds the accessibility settings did as you navigated your way around the device. You opened your emails one after the other, listening through the message the robotic voice delivered and then discarded or replied to them as necessary. You were onto the last email when you froze, listening to the message as a cold sweat rushed over you.

“Y/N is invited to the opening of Lee Jaemin’s debut art exhibition, by the title of Expressive. The event-”

The computer started making incomprehensible sounds as you banged on the keyboard to make it stop talking, your breathing becoming erratic. You held your hands to your heaving chest as the sentence repeated over and over in your head, your body shaking at the idea of the girl opening her own exhibition. She had been your biggest competition throughout the years and had always come second to you in major events. Now with you out of the competition, not only had she been able to take your places within the local art scene, but was also offered what you had been working towards earlier this year.

For the first time since the accident, you hated Im Jaebum. For those first few moments, as you digested the information, you cursed your love of GOT7, of kpop, of even knowing the seven men existed. As your body shook all over with anger, you wanted nothing more than to return to the day you had won the exclusive pass and decline the opportunity.

You wanted your career back.

Yet, just as fast as it came, your mind travelled to that fateful moment, your once seeing eyes widening as you noticed the faulty beam first. Your instant reaction to save him, and the weight of the beam hitting you before it all went black. As the tears fell rapidly, your thoughts stopped on every gesture Jaebum had done for you since your world had turned upside down. The anger subdued for a bit, as you coped with the intense grief and guilt you suffered from wishing the beam onto him briefly instead. You rocked back and forth in the chair, unable to cope with the rapid directions your emotions were taking you, hoping your thoughts would ease off.

Instead, your needs narrowed onto one thing and you eventually stood up, heading out of your room as you roughly wiped the tears aside, as if the removal of them would assist in your blind search through the apartment for what you required. Feeling yourself around the walls, you found the storage closet and began using your hands and other senses to locate what you knew your mother hadn’t thrown out like you had insisted her to. It didn’t take long, your fingers falling upon the well-known texture of canvas, shifting along to find four others beside it. You yanked them all out from their hiding spot, tapping around on the ground for any of your tools. You found a bag and pulled that out as well, stopping when you banged into something as you moved the bag. You took that out too and then dragged your discoveries out around you, dropping in between it all and taking a steady breath.

You felt irrationally calm in that moment, and not because you were finally surrounded by what your life had consisted of. The need to feel each object in a slow, methodical examination outweighed anything else, letting your fingers run over every inch of each item. You became familiar all over again with how your tools felt, brushes and sculpting tools all being recognised by your hands. You soon realised the item next to the bag was the prized vase you had made earlier in the year, the ribbons awarded to it still attached. Your attention soon turned to the canvases, the bumps and textures making you think of all the Braille lessons so far, except the words were spoken in an art form, with no distinct answer as to what each piece was. For an immeasurable time, you attempted to guess what was which piece you had created. Every time you thought you had an answer, the next bump of paint would throw you off, frustrating you further. By the fifth canvas inspection, you were rigid, unable to understand anything you were touching.

The pent up emotions built until you could no longer suppress them and you got up, throwing the canvas down with a heavy thud. The sound it made seemed to provoke some kind of release in you and so you bent down, fumbling to find something else to throw, becoming fully invested in destroying everything you had just spent intricate effort in deciphering. The more noise, the more vigorous your actions became until the sound of the shattering clay hit you as if you were shattering your own heart. You crouched down in exhaustion from your emotions, crying consistently until you heard the keypad signal go off.

You didn’t have any energy to move to greet your mother, or to do anything about cleaning your mess either. You waited for her scolding to begin but the rushed feet towards you sounded too heavy to be her. You were confused and for a moment, you guarded yourself, not knowing what to expect.

“What…” You heard Jaebum utter and this was enough to make your legs give out, a cry leaving your lips as you landed on the shards of clay. “Y/N what are you doing?!”

“How did you know the passcode?” you asked tiredly, not giving him any help in lifting you away from the destruction scene. All the same, he attempted to pick you up again, your body trying to fight but had no energy left to leave any effect. He placed you down on the couch and you glared at what you hoped to be his direction. “Im Jaebum!”

“Your mother called me,” he explained, his hands ceasing in their examination of injuries. He shifted back, concerned at how you had spoken. “She told me you were having a hard time and so I said I would come and see you today in between my schedules. I was outside banging and pressing the doorbell, but you didn’t hear me at all. So I used the code I’ve seen you put in.”

You didn’t answer, unable to decide if you were angry with him for interrupting or thankful for his presence.

“Why were you doing that?” he questioned softly, his hands slowly returning to your legs. “Y/N, you’re bleeding.”

“I don’t care.” You looked away from him and tried to push his hands away. He grabbed your hand instead, his gentle nature having an effect on easing your frustrations. Even so, you attempted to hold onto the agitated emotion for as long as you could. “You should just go.”

“I’m not leaving you like this, you should see this place!”

“I wish I could!” you blurted out, and his grip on your hand eased off. You got up shakily from where he had put you and walked back down to where you had been. He grabbed you before you stepped on anything and you pointed to it desperately. “This is me, this is my world. Do you see how shattered this all is now? That is me!”

“Is it really?”

You nodded fervently. “You told me to express how I feel so I am! I’m sick of becoming something new. I am not an English Lit major, but an Art and Design student! I created all of this myself! Now… now I can’t even paint a single line across a piece of paper! Whilst people who I had worked hard to impress for years are now giving Lee Jaemin all the opportunities I was aiming for, I’m here in sweatpants and a tee with no hope of looking good to anyone, let alone impress them that I am someone to invest in. I’m here unable to do anything I want to because, because-”

“Because of me,” Jaebum concluded from behind you, lowering his head to your shoulder and his body began to shake with his own emotions. You moved around in his arms and hugged him tightly, both crying until you could no longer.

For some time you didn’t speak, not having any words to share with each other. And then you felt Jaebum move away from your side, his hands reaching for something on the ground. “This is beautiful.”

“What is?”

“This sunrise over a building top,” he mentioned and your mind went towards the artwork you had created after watching their You Are music video. “It’s captured beautifully.”

“It was inspired by you.” “It was?” You nodded and felt Jaebum move back to your side again, his hand reaching for yours and passing you the canvas. You felt the weight within your hand and sighed.

“I painted it after the You Are MV.”

“Ahh.” He was silent again, but moved back to the mess upon the floor. From his examination, three of the canvases were salvageable, whilst two remained helpless on the floor with the ceramic vase.

“I guess there is a lot of mess to clean up,” you said sadly, lowering your head and holding onto the sunrise canvas more preciously than you had all day.

“But we can clean it up and heal from it together,” he replied firmly, referring to more than the physical mess you had made.

You smiled, nodding your head. “I like the sound of that.”

_________________

[Part 9]

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