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somethingpoetichere · 3 years

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lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden.

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered.

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra.

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve.

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless. Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it.

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?”

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull.

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you.

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door.

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it.

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything.

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.”

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

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kickthecan-revolution · 2 years

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I dreamt that Kimo, Simone and I were in Australia. I think I had invited them to go. I thought we’d been invited to go to dinner at a house with vague directions, something like “the only house on the beach in so and so location”. It was the only house in the general area but I was still hesitant. Kim charged ahead in the fog, frustrated by my indecision and hesitancy of where we were and if we were at the right place.

The longer we explored it , It was clear that it was some kind of facility.. I tried what I thought was the front door and it was blocked by barbed wire, which is when I realized all the entrances were blocked by wire as well.

We got inside and it was some kind of prison but they weren’t cells, they were rooms. Some doors were unlocked and slightly ajar. We could hear people/noise behind some rooms, it was dark and very ominous.

All of the sudden we got increasingly frightened and were desperate to get out. Simone ran up a flight of stairs to hide and I was so concerned for her that she’d done that but I kept going, feeling like we’d potentially lost her. Kimo and I stopped and a few older white women who were normally clothed but seemed to be nurses came in with food. They had that vibe of slightly older, a bit overweight but benign church ladies with a midwestern energy who don’t ever seem bothered by anything, but there was undercurrent of evil to them. One said “yes we serve them the specific kind of food that will make their triggers react - they intended on giving them the kind of food that they knew would activate the kinds of issues they had as a means of punishment or torture. They were bad people behind the helpful, kind, serving up meals.

I laughed and said in this knowing way ahhhhh, I know what you’re up to, very clever. Very smart. And the main woman holding the food - she was in charge - knew that I knew and there was camaraderie there.

They had been watching us using cameras and said “well you were only in Alpha” as though that was the easiest level and there were more sinister, difficult levels elsewhere, but then seemed very concerned that Simone had gone upstairs to another location.

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annecoulmanross · 3 years

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Top Ten Historical Figures Done Dirty by The Terror (2018)

So, we all know and love Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh’s beautiful show, right? Of course. But it’s important to set the historical record straight, especially when there are real people’s life-stories and legacies on the line.

(NOTE: this list is biased heavily toward upper-class individuals because the historical record does a better job preserving those voices for us. Was the real Cornelius Hickey as nasty a person in real life as he was in the show? Almost certainly not – which is why we’re given “E.C.” as a nod to the fact that we shouldn’t assume these characters represent real historical villains, even when the narrative makes them antagonists; HOWEVER, not everyone in the show was given the same courtesy as the OG “Cornelius Hickey.” Which is why this post exists – to show you the best sides of some people you might not otherwise appreciate for their full humanity. That being said, keep in mind the sources used – and, for instance, who has surviving portraits and who doesn’t.)

Thus, below the cut, I give you this list, (mostly) in order from #10 (honorable mention, only somewhat slandered) to #1 (most hideously maligned) – my list of characters from The Terror who deserved better.

(Please don’t take this too seriously – I know there are reasons why choices had to be made in order to make this show work on television, and I do very much love the end product. But I also genuinely think it’s a good idea to remember the real people behind these characters, and think critically about how we depict them ourselves.)

Bottom Tier – The Overlooked Men of the Franklin Expedition

#10. Richard Wall – & – John Diggle

We’re combining these two because they had a lot in common, historically speaking! Both were polar veterans, having served as a Cook (Wall) and an AB-then-Quartermaster (Diggle) on HMS Erebus under the command of Sir James Clark Ross in the Antarctic expedition of 1839-1843. Certainly we do get some good scenes with them in the show, but there was plenty more to explore there – for instance, Captain Ross was apparently so taken with Richard Wall that he hired him on as a private cook after the Antarctic expedition. (One imagines that Sir James may have regretted letting his friends of the Franklin expedition steal Wall out from under him.)

(If you want some more information on Diggle, the brilliant @handfuloftime found this excellent article on him – fun facts include the detail that Diggle’s only daughter bore the name Mary Ann Erebus Diggle.)

#9. John Smart Peddie

Now, I don’t think we should go as far as the Doctor Who Audio Drama adaptation of the Franklin Expedition, which makes Peddie into Francis Crozier’s oldest friend, someone “almost like a brother” to Crozier (no evidence of ANY prior relationship between the two existed, contrary to whatever the Doctor Who Audio Dramas would have you believe!) but Peddie probably earned his place as chief surgeon, however fond we may all be of the beautiful Alex “Macca” MacDonald, who was, in fact, the Assistant Surgeon, historically speaking. It’s hard to find information about Peddie, but someone should go looking! I want to know about this man!

(If you want to know more about the historical Alexander MacDonald, there’s a short biographical article on him from Arctic that you can read here.)

#8 James Walter Fairholme

The only one of the expedition’s lieutenants who doesn’t really get any characterization in the show, which is a travesty! The historical Fairholme (pronounced “Fairem”) was, as they say, a himbo, and the letters that he wrote home to his father are positively precious. He loved the expedition pets (lots of kisses for Neptune!), and he needed two kayaks because he couldn’t fit into just one with his beefy thighs. Fitzjames loaned him a coat when all the Erebus officers had their portraits taken, and then called him a “smart, agreeable companion, and a well informed man,” and Goodsir singled Fairholme out as “very much interested” in the work of naturalist observations. Just a lovely young man who could have gotten some screen time, you know?

(Also, as @transblanky discovered, four separate members of the Fairholme family gave money to Thomas Blanky’s widow when she was struggling financially in the 1850s, making them, combined, the most generous contributor to her subscription.)

Middle Tier – Franklin’s Men Who Didn’t Deserve That

#7. William Gibson

Alright, I want to talk about how uniquely horrible the show’s William Gibson is: this is a character willing to lie and accuse his partner of sexual assault that didn’t happen. I get there were extenuating circumstances, but if I were a historical figure who died in some famous disaster and someone depicted me doing something like that? Let’s just say I’m deeply offended on the real Gibson’s behalf.

What do we know about the historical William Gibson? Not much – but we know a little. Gibson’s younger brother served on an overland exploratory venture across Australia in the 1870s… from which he never returned. (God, the Gibson family had the worst luck?) This description of a conversation that young Alf Gibson had with expedition leader Ernest Giles only days before his death is VERY eerie:

[Gibson] said, “Oh! I had a brother who died with Franklin at the North Pole, and my father had a deal of trouble to get his pay from government.” He seemed in a very jocular vein this morning, which was not often the case, for he was usually rather sulky, sometimes for days together, and he said, “How is it, that in all these exploring expeditions a lot of people go and die?”

I said, “I don't know, Gibson, how it is, but there are many dangers in exploring, besides accidents and attacks from the natives, that may at any time cause the death of some of the people engaged in it; but I believe want of judgment, or knowledge, or courage in individuals, often brought about their deaths. Death, however, is a thing that must occur to every one sooner or later.”

To this he replied, “Well, I shouldn't like to die in this part of the country, anyhow.” In this sentiment I quite agreed with him, and the subject dropped.

(From Giles’s Australia Twice Traversed which you can read here)

Beyond that, one thing we do know is that William Gibson was probably friends with Henry Peglar – they had served on ships together before, and Gibson may possibly have been the poor fellow found cradling the Peglar Papers, according to researcher Glenn Stein. So we might imagine the historical Gibson as a much kinder man than the show’s depiction of him – this was someone who befriended the clever, playful Peglar we all know and love from the transcriptions of his papers, so full of poetry and linguistic jokes. It’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to meet this real Gibson, who actually knew the Henry Peglar whom we love so well.

#6. Stephen Stanley

Look. There’s that one famous line in James Fitzjames’s letters to the Coninghams about how Stanley went about with his “shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he would not mind cutting one’s leg off immediately – ‘if not sooner.’” And certainly Harry Goodsir had some mixed opinions of the man, saying was “a would be great man who as I first supposed would not make any effort at work after a time,” and that he “knows nothing whatever about subject & is ignorant enough of all other subjects,” whatever…. that means….

But Fitzjames also had some rather nicer things to say about him, that he was “thoroughly good natured and obliging and very attentive to our mess.” Also, the amputation comment? Very likely had a quite positive underlying joke to it – Stanley may not have been much of a naturalist, but he was actually an accomplished anatomist, who won a prize for dissection in 1836, on account of his “bend of the elbow,” which was “a picture of dissection,” according to Henry Lonsdale, who also called Stanley his “facetious friend” and “a fine fellow” (Lonsdale 1870, pg. 159). So, the real Stanley probably was rather droll, but the perpetually cruel Stanley of the show misses some of the real man’s major historical virtues and replaces them with historically unlikely mass-mercy-murder.

#5. John Irving

Now we’re getting into the territory of characters who did get some good development, but are missing a bit of historical nuance. As I’m sure many of you know, the historical Irving was indeed very religious, but the flashes of anger (i.e. against Manson) we see from Irving in the show don’t seem terribly consistent with the Irving depicted in this memorial volume, where John seems more like a quiet, bookish, mathematically inclined young man, with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a gentle sweetness. It’s really not at all far off from the version of Irving we see with Kooveyook in the show – I just wish we could have seen more of that side of Irving.

Top Tier – The Triumvirate of Polar Friends

So, these three DO have many good things to recommend them in the show, but because I’ve done such deep research on them, it can be quite jarring to watch certain scenes in which they behave contrary to their historical personalities, and I find myself pausing when watching the show with friends or family to explain that NO, they wouldn’t do that!

#4. Sir James Clark Ross

First thing – we LOVE Richard Sutton. He did a beautiful job with the material given to him. (This is true of all the actors on the list, frankly, but it’s doubly true here.) But that scene at the Admiralty where Sir James tells Lady Franklin “I have many friends on those ships, as you know,” to shut down her argument for search missions? At that time (aka 1847), historically, Sir James Clark Ross was actively campaigning for search missions, planning routes and volunteering his services in command of any vessel the Admiralty even vaguely contemplated sending out. You could see this real-life desperation in Sir James’s morose attention to his whiskey glass in that scene if you’re really trying, but I think the more historically responsible thing would have been to make vividly clear that James Ross risked life and limb, as soon as he possibly could, to try to rescue Franklin and Crozier and Blanky, men he’d known and cared about and bitterly missed – and, in the case of Crozier, “truly loved.”

#3. Sir John Franklin

The historical Franklin had plenty of flaws – his contributions to British colonial rule certainly harmed no small number of people, and we should question the way that heroic statues of Franklin are some of the only memorials that serve to honor the lives lost on Franklin’s expeditions – especially considering the steep body count of not only Franklin’s final voyage, but his previous missions in Arctic regions as well. (DM me and I’ll scream at you about counter-monuments! Is this a promise or a threat? Who knows!) With that said, most contemporary accounts agree that Sir John Franklin treated his friends, his family, and those within his social orbit with kindness, and his cruelties were systemic, not personal. In this light, the image of Sir John viciously tearing into Francis Crozier’s vulnerabilities in the show feels very off. Though there was certainly some friction over Crozier’s two proposals to Sophia Cracroft, historically speaking, there’s no evidence at all that Sir John discouraged her from marrying Francis – Sophia may have had many reasons of her own (*clears throat meaningfully in a lesbian sort of way*) for not accepting any of the several marriage proposals offered to her (from Crozier as well as from others), and we ought to keep in mind that she remained unmarried all her life. The notion that the real Sir John would have considered Crozier too low-born or too Irish to be part of the Franklin family isn’t grounded in historical fact.

#2. Lady Jane Franklin

Again disclaimer: the real Lady Franklin left behind a legacy with much to critique. Those who rightfully point out the racism of her treatment of the young indigenous Tasmanian girl Mathinna should be fully heard out. Observations of her own contributions to imperialism are important and valid. Though I tend to see her feud with Dr. John Rae as somewhat understandable – given that Lady Franklin didn’t have the benefit of our hindsight knowing Rae was correct – the levels of prejudice that she enabled and even encouraged in the writing of Charles Dickens when he attempted to discredit Inuit accounts of Franklin’s fate are inarguably deplorable. These things being said, everything noted for Sir John re: Sophia Cracroft goes for Lady Franklin as well – there’s no reason to imagine a scene where Jane would bully Francis Crozier within an inch of his life, seconds after a failed second proposal, when, historically, Lady Franklin felt the situation was so delicate that it required the quiet and compassionate intervention of Sir James Clark Ross, a dearly loved mutual friend to all parties. Tension does not imply aggression; conflict is not abuse. We know this can’t have been an easy experience for the historical Francis Crozier, but the picture is a lot more complicated than what can be shown in one small subplot of a ten-episode television show. Because of this complexity, however, Lady Franklin’s social deftness suffers in the show. (I could also write an entire essay about Jane Franklin’s last shot in the show, at the beginning of Episode 9: The C the C the Open C – TL;DR is that framing is very important, and, at the very last moment, the show reframes Lady Franklin as a mutilated corpse, a speaking mouth without a brain, which is….. a choice.)

And, at number 1, the person done most dirty by The Terror (2018) is….

#1. Charles Frederick “Freddy” Des Voeux

Look. I’m biased here because I am fed daily information about the historical Freddy Des Voeux from @frederickdesvoeux so I’ve become, I think understandably, a bit attached.

But this is very plainly the clearest cruelty the show does to a historical figure – the historical Des Voeux was a very young man (only around 20 when the ships set sail) known always as “Frederick or Freddy” to his family, and described by all parties as bright and sweet – Fitzjames said that he was “a most unexceptionable, clever, agreeable, light-hearted, obliging young fellow, and a great favourite of Hodgson’s, which is much in his favour besides,” and described him cheerfully helping to catch specimens for Goodsir. Des Voeux is named “dear” by Captain Osborn in Erasmus Henry Brodie’s 1866 poem on the Franklin Expedition (43) and Leo McClintock reported the young man’s well-known “intelligence, gallantry, and zeal” in his 1869 update to his account of the Franklin Expedition’s fate (xlii). None of this is consistent with Des Voeux’s behaviour in the show, especially in the later episodes.

To reduce Des Voeux to an easily-detested figure, over whose death one might cheer, is not a kindness – the creation of a narrative where his death is satisfying does damage to the memory of a real person, a barely-more-than-teenager who died in the cold of the Arctic and left behind only scraps of a shirt and a spidery signature in the bottom margin of a fragmentary document.

Television shows may need their villains, but it’s important to remember that real life isn’t like that. Surely the historical Frederick Des Voeux was most likely not a perfect person, and, as an upper class officer contributing to a British imperial project, he does bear some responsibility for the harm done by the Franklin expedition, but it’s not accurate to assume he was any less worthy of sympathy than the other officers who considered him a friend – those men whom we now venerate, like James Fitzjames. So as far as I’m concerned, Freddy Des Voeux deserves at least as much consideration, care, and compassion from us.

#franklin expedition #franklin expedition fictions #the terror #the terror amc #terrorposting #long post

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Kisses Like Wine: Part 3

In honor of the new photo, I think I will post this now. :)

Warnings: Nothing, the reader remains a blank canvass. Might have cursing.

Summary: The reader is working undercover where she things the next heist will be, while trying to figure out the Thief's ways…

Note: There really are diamonds in all these colors! I spent way too much time looking it up.

“Joe F. Gambrel and Co., how may I direct your call?” I shifted in my seat a little. The chair was not that uncomfortable, but I felt like I was definitely out of my comfort zone. I listened to the person on the other side, put them on hold. Started an email to my boss. Took them off hold. “I am so sorry. Mr. Larsen is in a meeting, may I take a message?” I typed the message in the email, hung up, hit send.

This was the shape of my day. Take messages for my reprobate boss, who was never in the office, and try to look like someone else. Act like someone else.

And, most of all, case the joint. I wondered, briefly, if the Thief ever called his work that…casing the joint. Probably not. He did not look like someone who used twenties gangster slang.

As I wandered the office suite, I hoped I was not wasting my time. I was working for a high end antiquities firm. If you wanted something, they got it for you. They did not have a lot of staff, and the bosses seemed to be out of the office more than not. The floors directly below me were home to a large business dedicated to restoration.

I’d been studying, and I was ninety nine percent sure that this was the next place the Thief would break into. The crown was — just a crown. Pretty, historied. I suspect he took it because he could, not because he wanted it. After all, it had been right there.

No. He had come for the Star. Almost a half a year prior, someone had stolen The Golden Queen. And now, if I had guessed right, he would be coming for a incredibly rare, beautiful pink diamond called The Compass Rose.

I went and looked at it, not for the first time. At the top floor of the high rise, the company — and Keith Larsen — kept the Compass Rose on display in an act of hubris that was sure, if Greek Myth was any indication, to anger some God eventually. It was in a huge room, the ceiling was all glass that arched up to a sharp point that was illuminated at night. The floor was marble, the walls a warm sandstone. Four benches, one on each side of the pillar that held the diamond’s display case. One wall held a fountain and greenery, meant to look like a small, exotic waterfall. The water trickled softly as I went as close to the case as I dared. And there. The largest pink diamond that had ever been discovered in Australia, glittering deep rose. It was one of a kind.

My thief was collecting a full set. There were three diamonds, including this one, in Midas’s Rainbow that the thief had not stolen.

He could have gone after one of the other ones. I could be wrong.

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. I had bribed my way in, under a new name with a perfectly wrought set of identification papers, even a credit card. I dyed my hair and carefully applied my make up so that I made my face a little different. So if I ran into him, he wouldn’t immediately know it was me. It was not, probably the best plan, but my training consisted of books and watching Leverage.

I was staring at it too long, the security guard peeked in.

“Miss?” The security guard peeked in. Older man, with warm, friendly eyes and a lovely voice that seemed not to match his age. We’d spoken a few times on my daily check of the diamond. No one was allowed to be in the room too long, and he was gently reminding me it was time to go.

I went out the door, leaned against the wall next to him, and asked the question that I’d been asking myself for weeks, since I started working here. “If you were going to steal the Compass Rose, how would you go about it?”

He stared at me for so long I thought he was going to go report me. “That’s not a smart question to be asking, around here.”

“There’s no harm, though.” I said. His voice bothered me. I wanted more, if I could listen to it a little longer…

He shook his head and didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry if I offended.”

He gave me a gentle smile, touched his ear and pointed to a corner of the room. Then he shooed me towards the door.

Back at my desk I snuck out my steno notebook from its hiding place in a stack of unused notebooks in my desk drawer. It was where I kept my plans. Layout of the building. Everything I learned. Since my purse could get searched at any time, I only had it at work. One steno pad looks like all the others, right? Locked in my drawer, under a box of tampons.

The fountain has to be the way in. There needs to be a way to service the pipes behind the wall.

If I could break something in the fountain without getting caught, someone would have to fix it. Someone would have to open the door or the hatch, and I’d know how to get in.

And the thief always liked distractions. But what kind of distraction would he manage to create?

My work day ended, I grabbed my purse, made sure my desk was locked, and started out.

“Honey?” The first front desk receptionist called after me.

I smiled and crossed over.

“I just wanted to remind you, tomorrow they are bussing in a bunch of high school students to tour the floors so they can see what it takes to restore old art.” She smiled at me. “You’ll want to make sure to get here early before they get here…it’s going to be a madhouse.”

Cue distraction.

The next day I went to see the madhouse for myself. I wanted to see the teachers. Most were women. I didn’t discount them completely, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t shave his mustache if he could avoid it. There. Curly, dark hair. Tweed jacket with elbow patches. What century did he think this was? I followed him as he ushered bored looking kids, careful not to let me see his face. Finally I went around a dented suit of armor and managed to get face to face with him. “Hey!” I said cheerfully.

It wasn’t him. Eyes too far apart, nose too small, just not him.

I apologized and walked off just as one of the teachers asked, brightly, “Can we see the Compass Rose?”

“Well. There’s no reason why not. The public are allowed to go in, but only one at a time, I think?” The woman who had gotten stuck showing the group around said. I hid as quickly as I could, not wanting to be pulled into the conversation.

I walked back to my office, hoping no one had noticed I’d slipped out, to be sadly disappointed. My boss was sitting on the corner of my desk.

“Where were you?” He asked me.

“Just wanted to see what all the noise was about.” Behind him, the lady security guard who switched on and off with the one I usually saw stood, looking that part angry, part unamused way only a security guard could.

“Open your desk.”

“What is this about?”

“The Compass Rose. It’s gone. I want to know if you have it. You spent enough time looking for it…made jokes about stealing it. So. Did you?”

I unlocked the desk and the guard pushed me aside, dumping the contents on my desk. I held my breath when she flipped through the notebooks, but they all were empty.

Empty. Oh, no.

I let her paw through everything I owned. Let her pat me down. “Unless she swallowed it, sir, I don’t think she has it.”

“I didn’t swallow it!” I let panic creep into my voice. It was not hard.

I let them x-ray me. I did. I admit it. The lab tech a few floors down gave me sympathetic looks as I stood there, shivering, in my gown.

And then I let them fire me. The frustrating thing was the lack of knowledge. They refused to let me know anything. What happened? How? Why? Was a playing card left behind? I wanted to know.

But most of all I wanted to know where my notebook was.

Two days later as I packed up my apartment, I received a package. My name…my alias, rather, in quotes. Quotes. I grabbed a letter opener and ripped it open with more force than I needed. I suspected, already, who would be cheeky enough to put quotation marks around my fake name.

My notebook.

The last page, there was a five of diamonds tucked in like a book mark. The back of the card the same as the one I carried with me wherever I went.

Across the last page he’d written, “A five star card for a five star effort. Not bad for your first try. I wish I’d thought of the fountain. That was clever, if a bit damp.” A couple of crabbed notes along side my own. Suggestions. Not actual plans. No, I’d need to catch him to find out how he did his theft, if he could be convinced to tell me even then.

I sat down, hard. He knew where I was. Where I lived. Knew I had a steno notebook, knew I’d hide it because I could have my belongings searched. How? How did he learn so much about me? I thought over the people I had met, since getting that job.

I imagined large hands carefully drawing things out of my purse, lining them up neatly on the marble of the entry way desk. “Sorry about this, miss.” The guard’s voice said, as he went through my things. Large, but graceful hands. A warm voice that bothered me because I’d heard it before. The security guard. He’d been guarding the damned diamond all along.

“Five star effort? Oh, I’ll show you. I’ll show you.”

I worried about telling my family of my failure, then I realized. He’d given me a clue. The cheeky bastard had given me a clue. Because one of the other diamonds was kept in a five star hotel overlooking the Rhine.

He was telling me that he was going to steal the Heart of the Rhine, a mossy green diamond worth millions. Now, if only I could believe him.

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys

#casillero diablo wine commercial #the thief #pedro pascal

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silylilboi · 3 years

Text

What I would do with the sides if I wrote them in different AUs

Or the sides (plus occasionally Remy, Emile, and Thomas) in different situations and other random things because I’m bored again.

Hamilton

Logan as Hamilton

Patton as Eliza

Roman as Angelica

Virgil as Laurens

Janus as Burr

Remus as Maria Reynolds

Thomas as Peggy

Remy as Mulligan

Emile as Lafayette

Harry Potter

Logan as Hermione

Patton as Ron/Neville

Roman as Harry/Fred or George

Virgil as Neville/Draco

Janus as Draco

Remus as Fred or George/Crabbe or Goyle

Remy as Lee

Emile as Cedric

Thomas as ??? (I have no idea. Let me know who you think he would be)

Gravity Falls

Logan as Dipper

Patton as Mable

Roman as Pacifica/Wendy/one of the two cops (idr their names)

Virgil as ??? (I couldn't think of someone)

Janus as Bill (duh. Basically the same person tbh)

Remus as Stan/Old Man McGucket (was that his name? It's been awhile since I've watched it. Sorry)

Remy as Wendy/Pacifica

Emile as Soos

Thomas as ??? (Couldn't think of one for him either)

Beauty and the Beast

Logan as Belle

Patton as Mrs. Potts/Maurice

Roman as Gaston

Virgil as Lefou

Janus as a mix of Lumier and Clogsworth

Remus as the Beast

Remy as ???

Emile as Maurice/Chip

Thomas as Chip

Aladdin

Logan as the sultan

Patton as Genie

Roman as Aladdin

Virgil as Jasmine

Janus as Jafar

Remus as Iago

Remy as Abu

Emile as Carpet

Thomas as ???

The Little Mermaid

Logan as Sebastian/Grimsby/King Triton

Patton as Ariel

Roman as one of the sisters/King Triton/Flottsum or Jettsum (how do you spell their names? One of the eels is what I'm talking about)

Virgil as Flounder

Janus as Eric

Remus as Chef Louis/Ursula/Scuttle/Flottsum or Jettsum

Remy as Ursula/Flottsum or Jettsum

Emile as Max(?)(I don't really know)

Thomas as King Triton

Princess and the Frog

Logan as Tiana/Evangeline

Patton as Ray/Louis

Roman as Naveen/Lottie/Louis

Virgil as Tiana

Janus as Dr. Facilier

Remus as Lawrence

Remy as Lottie/Naveen

Emile as Mama Odie/Ray

Thomas as Louis/Lottie's Dad

Cinderella

Logan as Lady Tremaine/Prince Charming/the king/the royal advisor

Patton as Cinderella/the king/Gus Gus

Roman as one of the step sisters/Prince Charming/Fairy Godmother/Jacque

Virgil as Fairy Godmother/the royal advisor

Janus as Lady Tremaine

Remus as one of the step sisters

Remy as one of the step sisters

Emile as Cinderella/the king/Gus Gus

Thomas as the king/Jacque/Gus Gus

My Little Pony

Logan as Twilight Sparkle

Patton as Pinky Pie/Fluttershy

Roman as Rarity/Rainbow Dash

Virgil as Fluttershy

Janus as ???

Remus as ???

Remy as Rarity

Emile as Fluttershy/AppleJack

Thomas as Spike

Hogwarts Houses (where I would place everyone)

Logan in Ravenclaw/Gryffindor

Patton in Hufflepuff/Gryffindor

Roman in Gryffindor/Slytherin

Virgil in Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw

Janus is Slytherin/Ravenclaw

Remus in Gryffindor

Remy in Gryffindor/Slytherin

Emile in Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw

Thomas in Hufflepuff

Which country they would be from (if they weren't from the US)

Logan from France

Patton from Australia (just a slight accent though. Just enough to tell where he is from. And no, he does not kill the freakishly large spiders there. And yes, he does still hate spiders.)

Roman from Spain/Mexico

Virgil from Scotland/Ireland

Janus from France/the UK

Remus from Germany

Remy from Brazil

Emile from Italy

Thomas from Italy/Brazil

Highschool Cliques

Logan as a nerd

Patton as one of the nice, lesser known popular kids/theatre kids

Roman as a theatre kid/jock

Virgil as one of the loners

Janus as a loner/popular/smart kids

Remus as a theatre kid/jock

Remy as a popular kid

Emile as one of the nice,lesser known popular kids

Thomas as a theatre kid

What everyone's sexuality/gender identity would be in a human AU

Logan would be a biromantic Demisexual male, he/him

Patton would be a pansexual male, he/him

Roman would be a gay trans male, he/him

Virgil would be a Non-binary bisexual, they/them

Janus would be a gender fluid bisexual, any pronouns

Remus would be a gay trans male, he/him

Remy would be an omnisexual male, he/him

Emile would be a pan romantic gender fluid, pronouns depend on the day

Thomas would be a gay male, he/him pronouns

Which store they would go to in the mall

Logan would go to the mall just to keep an eye on the others

Patton would go to Box Lunch/Old Navy/Bath & Body Works/Build-a-Bear

Roman would go to Box Lunch/Build-a-Bear

Virgil would go to Hot Topic

Janus would go to Spencers/Hot Topic

Remus would go to Spencers

Remy would go to Starbucks

Emile would go to Box Lunch/Build-a-Bear/Bath & Body Works

Thomas would go to Box Lunch/Build-a-Bear

Dr. Dolittle (the one with RDJ)

Logan as Dr. Dolittle

Patton as Lily Dolittle

Roman as Lady Rose

Virgil as Stubbins (there's just a lot of parallels between Stubbins' arc in the movie and Virgil being accepted as a light side in the series)

Janus as Lord Badgely

Remus as Müdfly

Jurassic World, including other movies (both people/dinosaurs)

Logan as Dr. Wu/Claire/Blue

Patton as Grey (I think that’s how his name is spelled)/ankylosaurus

Roman as Owen/T-Rex

Virgil as Zach/Delta(smart but also the first one to die)

Janus as Dr. Wu/the main bad guy from the second movie(can't remember his name for the life of me)/Indoraptor

Remus as Hoskins/Allosaurus(mainly for the split second it get hit in the face with a boulder)

Big Hero Six

Logan as Tadashi

Patton as Honey Lemon/Callahan(if I do write this AU he would be the villain)

Roman as Wasabi

Virgil as Go-Go

Janus as Hiro

Remus as Fred

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Logan as one of the gargoyles

Patton as one of the gargoyles

Roman as Phoebus

Virgil as Esmerelda

Janus as Quasimodo

Remus as the jester who tells the story(and maybe as Frollo? I don't really know)

#patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #random #head canon #alternate universe #sanders sides #i still don’t know how to tag #please help

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 1

Summary: Adelaide Park meets Henry Cavill for the first time and she is obviously very nervous.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, just let me know. And please let me know what you guys think. I’d love to hear your thoughts about it 😘

Masterlist // Introduction // Next chapter

I’ve never been to Italy before. Actually, before I was a renowned actress, I never came outside of LA. Growing up, my parents never had the money to go to a different city, let alone other countries. My vacations were spend solely in our small one room apartment back in Los Angeles by myself.

My parents were never rich. My dad worked long hours in a factory every single day, but earning just enough money to pay the rent and for me and mom to eat. One night, I saw him scraping the packages or our plats clean, so he had something to eat as well. After I saw that, I never ate all the food off my plate, because I realized that my dad was working the hardest, but was eating the least.

It always broke my heart to see both of them struggle. My mom used to be a cleaning lady, but after she got fired, she became a live-in nanny, which basically meant that from my sixth birthday, she was barely home anymore and I had to raise myself.

Hours on end I was alone. Back in school I barely had any friends—correction: I had no friends at all—and when I came home from school, I’d sit outside to do my homework, because dad didn’t have enough money to get a second set of keys.

I never complained about it, because I knew they were trying and I learned all too well from that one time when I asked for a Barbie doll back when I was five and I kept crying about it, because other kids had Barbie dolls and I was the only one who didn’t. My mom got so mad, that she grabbed my empty plate and threw it against the wall, while she was screaming something about how ungrateful I was. Mom never got mad, she was always admirably calm and collected, even when life got in the way like it did with us. Seeing her like this, meant she was serious and I never said anything about something like that anymore. I never asked for anything, at all.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I am so thankful for everything they taught me and did for me. It may have been a hard time, but every year for my birthday, they gave me something. It was always something I really needed, but I always appreciated how they went out of their way for me, wondering how many meals they skipped for this present.

It all became worse when I finished high school at the age of nineteen. I was older than everyone else, since I read so slowly and didn’t even understand it most of the time, causing me to get behind on many classes over the course of the years. Besides, our school wasn’t known for having the best results overall, so the fact that I didn’t score well, meant I was blending in with the rest.

I was working in a diner, because I wasn’t smart enough at all for a scholarship, when my mom got in a terrible accident, when she walked back home and she was hit by a car who ran through a red light. She was paralyzed from her waist down and besides the high hospital bills, she also needed psychical therapy, something that unfortunately isn’t free.

With what my dad and I were earning together, we couldn’t even pay two percent of those costs. I was thinking about putting myself up on a sugar daddy website, but I know I couldn’t lie to them, when I would come back with a lot of money. Besides, my dad was always very strict about what mom and I could and couldn’t do to make money and sugar daddies were off limits. He told me multiple times—even after mom’s accident—that we had nothing to worry about. That he would take care of it.

But I had something to worry about, because my father wasn’t getting any younger. He had been working too hard for too long and all he wanted, was staying with his wife, who he still loved so so much, despite everything they had gone through. I took up more shifts at the diner, only slowly coming to terms that, even with the tips I was receiving, it was never enough to cover the bills.

In about two months, my mom would be discharged from the facility, if we hadn’t paid at least something significant.

One day, I was walking back home from work, when I saw a huge billboard, with a message that a studio was looking for someone to star in one of the biggest sitcoms of that time: Remembering High School. Apparently, one of the new main characters (who was an adult) was having a flashback from when they were in high school—the main premise of the show. And that character happened to be an Asian lady.

I went in and decided I would try it out. I mean, I had no acting experience and solely did it to earn some money, but being Asian American was apparently enough and that was the beginning of my acting career.

At first the amounts of money I made were not enough to cover the medical costs, but it was enough to delay further payment and my mom could stay in the facility.

For years I had difficulty with reading, let alone reading out loud, with an audience, but somehow on the set, I could forget about that. I could finally be someone I really wanted to be. For a few moments I could forget all the sorrows and worries I had resting on my shoulders.

The first five weeks, I’d combine my new acting career with my job in the diner, but after awhile I became a recurring character and for a whole year, I was part of the cast. I remember walking into my mom’s room, showing both her and my dad the first episode I was going to star in. ‘I’m from Minnesota,’ was my first line and the beginning of a very promising career.

My parents were so proud of me. My dad didn’t even care about the money I made at first, because he was so happy that I was doing something that from the looks of it, I actually enjoyed.

Over the years, I’ve come to love acting, but no one knows I do it because of my family. Actually no one knew about my family situation and since I have zero friends, even in the industry (because I barely talk about my personal life and I never budge, even when the try to pry information about it. My co-stars are acquaintances, almost like neighbors: you know one another, but you don’t know them), no one is aware that every penny I earn, goes directly to my family.

Nowadays I make millions, but I’m mainly spending it on my mom, but also on other people who are paralyzed and need psychical therapy, but were in the same boat as my family and my parents met over time in the facility. Money doesn’t mean a lot to me and these people can use it a lot better than I can.

Besides, my parents worked so hard for me growing up, this is the only way for me to pay them back. Despite not having any money themselves, nor stuff, they always taught me to share, to make sure that other people are well taken care off.

The flight from Japan to Italy moved along pretty quick, but maybe that’s because I was traveling first class. My latest movie took place in Japan and though I loved it there, I really want to see what Italy is like, after spending eight months in a lousy hotel in Japan.

After becoming an actress, I went to a lot of great places for shooting movies. I went to Suriname, Canada, Spain, Australia and this time it was Japan. I’m so blessed that I get to travel, knowing really well that other people are still struggling with what I used to struggle with. Sometimes I donate the earnings of a movie to movements that catch my eye, that help kids in certain areas of California with their school work, and with access of clothes and food. I always donate anonymously, not wanting to seem like a philanthropist who is doing this solely for her own image.

I always think that if you really care about something, you would do it without earning praises.

Participating on ‘The Celebrity Project’ wasn’t something I would normally do, but when they reached out to me, I was actually delighted that I was going to be part of this. Maybe I could finally show the world that I’m not as stupid as I appear in interviews.

Being a loner, a slow reader and probably has multiple learning disabilities (if I actually got tested, but the tests were too expensive and no one at school seemed to care and I’m actually too embarrassed to get myself tested now I’m a twenty-five year old), I often come off as an airhead and it’s my own fault really. I do give them enough stupid material to go on about that accusation.

However, I’m really nervous. I mean, I’m going to work together with Henry Cavill. He is charming and sounds so intelligent. When I was done filming and back at my hotel room, I’d watch his interviews, because I wanted to know what I was going to work with. The way he is so articulate and he obviously knows what he is doing, makes me feel even worse about myself. I’m a total disaster and already a burden to him I presume.

I’m sitting in a taxi, waiting for traffic to calm down a bit. It’s early in the mornings and thankfully I got to make myself a bit more presentable in the plane already. I notice the tiny camera’s being strategically placed in the car. It really begun, I think to myself. I’m part of a reality show now. ‘How are you feeling, miss Park?’ the taxi driver asks. ‘I recently heard about this program.’

‘I’m a bit nervous,’ I say, wondering whether or not he is payed to to talk to me about this. I rummage through my purse, hoping I can find my lip balm.

‘Are you looking forward to work with Henry Cavill?’

That name alone makes me nearly make me shit my pants already. ‘Yeah, he seems like a nice man, so I really look forward to work with him.’ And I sure as hell hope that I won’t let him down.

The drive to the hotel is about an hour, but it feels like time is going by a whole lot faster. The chauffeur talks about his family and how his wife is actually a fan of my movies and has watched every single one of them. I took a few pictures with him and signed the inside of the cracker box, because that was all he got with him for me to write something on.

After I said goodbye to him, I’m told that I should go to room 346. With my suitcases with me, I step into the elevator, a cameraman close by. They told me that at one point, these cameramen would just be invisible to me, but I highly doubt it. They are only with us during the assignments. In the cars and at the place where we’re staying, the camera’s are hidden.

When I’m in front of the door, I take a deep breath.

I can do this I think to myself. I have starred alongside other talented people. My first real role was playing Keanu Reeves’ daughter, I was Angela Bassett’s assistant and I also had some pretty steamy scenes with David Castañeda, after his Umbrella Academy days. I can handle being around Henry Cavill, right? I knock on the door three times and I open it a bit, peeking my head around the door.

I can conclude that I’m severely underdressed. I’m wearing a simply jean short, white crop top with some lace on the borders and socks with the same lace details as my top, paired with white sneakers.

I look like a slob, compared to Henry, who seems like he stepped out of a Disney movie. His white blouse, off-white pants and those loafers. The only thing that is missing, is his yacht with the name Serenity.

A smile creeps up on my face, as I step into the room, rolling my pink suitcases with me, because he actually looks approachable.

‘Hi there,’ he says with a small smile on his face. He walks up to me, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Henry, nice to meet you.’

I can’t help but blush. He is so charming and his accent makes him so posh. I place my hand in his and it almost disappears. Not to be that girl, but my size kink is activated right here and now. ‘Adelaide,’ I say. ‘Uhm, it’s nice to meet you… Too.’

I curse my tongue.

‘How was your flight?’ he asks, as he gestures to the couch for us to sit on.

I take place right next to him and I feel like a child sitting next to her dad. Why is he so massive? ‘It was okay. Yours?’

‘It flew by.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Was that… a pun?’

Henry chuckles nervously. ‘Maybe, I’m sorry.’

I look around me. The hotel room seems okay, but I bet we’re not going to stay here for long. I stare at the silver tray in front of us, with a set of keys and an envelope with our names on it.

Henry takes the envelope from the tray and holds it in front of me. ‘You want to read it?’

I shake my head. ‘No, you go.’ The whole idea of reading out loud without practice, makes me want to vomit. Before the table reads, I use this program that will read everything for me, even using the right intonation. I stay up for way too many hours for that, because once I’ve heard it, I made notes, I can better read it.

Back when I was doing ‘Remembering High School’ I had the woman who played the adult version of me read it to me, because I had to portray the young her and keep her character in mind. Since she was an established character on the show, she had certain ways of saying things I had to copy. She never knew the real reason I wanted her to read it out loud for me.

He cocks an eyebrow, but then opens the envelope. He clears his throat, before a dramatic reading of our first assignment rolls out of his mouth. How can he make a simple note sound so… Sensual, almost? His deep and dark voice, making it sound way more intense than it actually is. I wouldn’t mind if he read my scripts out loud for me.

‘Dear Adelaide and Henry, the adventure of ‘The Celebrity Project’ has officially started,’ he says, tilting the card a little, so I can read a little bit with him. It’s a nice gesture really and I appreciate the thought. ‘We have provided you with a nice car, to drive to the little cottage, specially arranged for the two of you. Tomorrow will be a nice day for you to relax (because you two are both severely jet lagged we presume) and the day after that, you’ll be expected for your first assignment. Enjoy the car ride and remember: look out of your window every now and then. We are aware that Henry is really handsome, Adelaide and you’ll be forced to only look at him, but nature can be beautiful too.’

I scrunch up my nose. That last sentence seemed so forced and this is exactly the reason why I don’t like these types of survival, borderline reality shows. It’s not reality. It’s this forced setting, hoping to get people to believe that this is how real life should look like.

And I don’t like deceiving people like that. I almost regret participating.

‘Right, well, we might as well just go,’ he says, his tone flat, maybe just as annoyed with that last sentence as I am. Probably even more so.

◎ ◎ ◎

Why is there a pink carseat in the passengers seat? I mean, I’m not the tallest, but I’m definitely not that tiny. I look around us, only to see no member of the crew around. This is great. I want to take the seat out, because I don’t want to sit on it, but it’s securely fastened and only with a different set of keys, I can undo it.

And of course I don’t have that.

I really regret being here.

However, I still sit on the carseat, because I don’t want to sit in the back because I’ll get carsick and when I see Henry’s cocked eyebrows and a poorly hidden smirk, I simply say: ‘Don’t.’

Okay, maybe I do understand why they put me on a carseat, because this man looks so enormous and otherwise I’m simply non existent. He starts the car and simply drives off. I don’t know whether or not I should say something to him, because I feel like we should talk. I mean, that’s why the camera’s are here right?

‘What is your newest movie about?’ Henry asks.

‘About a woman escaping from her past and she moves to Japan, when one day an old friend becomes her new manager,’ I say.

‘Romantic comedy?’

‘Of course.’

He nods. ‘You don’t get tired of doing those?’ he asks.

Yes, I do get a bit tired of them, but there are two things: for starters, just like those romance books (that I would buy my mom one for her birthday every year, because I knew how much she loved those), romantic comedies sell really good. And no one wants me for something else. I feel like directors don’t trust me with big roles, like Rose in Titanic or someone else major. Besides, I’m Asian American, when was the last time one of us got a major part in a movie that’s not a romantic comedy?

But I don’t want to seem ungrateful and it’s a nice stream of money coming in every time and that’s basically all I want.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. You shot something new… new movie… Right?’ For fuck sake, Adelaide, you were doing so well.

‘I did, actually,’ he says. ‘It’s something I’m very excited for. It’s more of a dramatical part.’ I listen to Henry, as he is talking about this movie. How he plays a single dad, trying to figure out this parenting part with his daughter, when his brother and sister-in-law pass away and he has to take in four monsters of boys in his house. The way he talks about this, I notice a shimmer in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologizes. ‘I let myself go there for a second. It’s just I’m really excited about this movie.’

‘No, I get it,’ I say, as I look out of the window. I let out a deep sigh, as we drive over the sandy roads. Before I can say something else (as if I knew what), Henry hits the break and like the cliches in the movies, he holds out his arm in front of me, as the car comes to a halt.

There are four dogs and one owner on the road and the man screams something in Italian to us. Clearly we were supposed to stop for him. ‘Shit, sorry,’ Henry mumbles, as if the man could hear that.

His warm hand dropped to my bare thigh and with my pointer finger I tap him on the back of his hand. ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

‘Oh no, terrible sorry,’ he says quickly, retracting his hand. ‘What do you think the cottage will look like?’ Henry asks, when he pulled up again, not driving as fast as he did before.

Shrugging I play with my water bottle. ‘I don’t know, but I think I know one thing.’

It takes me a while before I can get the words out of my mouth, but Henry doesn’t force me to say anything, by asking something like: ‘Care to let me in?’ He actually lets me find the words and it feels nice not to be rushed into saying something.

‘I bet there is one bed that is large and comfortable. However, there is also one uncomfortable couch, too small for you. So people want to see whether or not you are a… gentleman and offer to sleep on the couch.’

‘You think?’ he asks frowning. ‘A bit far fetched, don’t you think?’

When we arrive at the tiny cottage, we walk inside. It’s nice decorated, warm colors mixed with nice hints of different pastel colors. My eye falls on the very uncomfortable looking couch that is pretty tiny if Henry is supposed to be sprawled out on that, but we don’t know what the rest looks like.

After a small tour through the house, we have come to the conclusion that there is indeed only one bed. I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting Henry’s. ‘See?’

Taglist: @thelastsock // @jolly-polly // @henrythickcavill // @maan24 // @diegos-butt / @agniavateira //

#henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x actress #henry cavill x adelaide park

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monster-bait · 4 years

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Monster Match: Bodi the Komodo Dragon Lizardman, NSFW; M Lizardman x F Human

A Monster Match for the super wonderful @ivymemnoch — thanks for all of your patience and support! I’m 5’8 cis gender female and straight. I’m a bit of a workaholic and work in the motor trade but also do wildlife rescue/ rehabilitation volunteer work, specialising in reptile and amphibian care…

(Special tip of the hat to my friend @kwat01 for helping me breathe through Aussie slang-induced panic attacks and teaching me the sliding scale of bogan-ness!)

You were able to smell him long before you saw him that day.

Not that he smelled bad, of course. His subtle aftershave was just that—subtle, a barely there green scent that reminded you of early morning rain, wet and earthy, when the whole world was calm. You could almost feel the gentle patter of it upon you, sluicing over your naked skin as you stood before him on a wide, empty beach. His giant, well-muscled form cast you in shadow, your breath catching as he raised one of those meaty, clawed hands to cup your…

“Big man alert.”

The voice of one of your co-workers shook you from your daydream and you snapped back to reality with a flush, wishing you had traded away today’s shift.

It was inappropriate to have such thoughts about your boss. You knew that, and you tried to be dispassionate on the days he was at the centre, when you weren’t able to avoid him all together, which was what you strove to do most days.

The table beside you seemed to vibrate as his heavy tread thudded on the floors, huge and powerful and—

“Morning, ladies.”

He looked especially good that day, you noted dourly, in a wrinkled camp shirt that hugged his thick arms, with several small skinks clinging to the cargo pockets of his trousers. An image of his big thighs, dripping in sea water flashed through your mind as you stared at the skinks, and you realized belatedly that he’d addressed you, had spoken words that you’d missed, too lost in your daydreams. The air in your lungs caught, stalling your inhalation, leaving you incapable of answering with anything other than a strangled wheeze.

Bodi turned from the coffee machine to glance over to you, cocking his brow at your apparent apoplexy. The seconds seemed to stretch, time ceasing to hold meaning as your body refused to draw breath.

“Morning, chief.” Barra grinned up, her pink tongue flickering. “Didn’t expect to see you in today. Thought you’d be posing for the telly.”

The big lizard snorted derisively, turning away from the gecko woman. You had a feeling you weren’t the only person at the centre who fancied your giant dragon director, although you were possibly the only human who did. The handful of co-workers with whom you shared a species were all coupled off—married or engaged, or otherwise accounted for.

You’d started at the animal rescue centre a year earlier, with the reptile and amphibian care facility being your main home. It was volunteer work you were passionate about, and it had been a good way to get out and meet people, in the beginning.

You’d always been adventurous, although picking up and moving to Australia had tested the limits of your bravery at first. You were terribly far from home, and very much alone, but you’d always been comfortable with your own company. The rescue facility had been a welcome oasis from your job, you worked with a great group of fellow volunteers, and you fell in love with every slimy and scaled critter that fell into your care.

Then there was Bodi.

You’d never met a komodo dragon lizardperson before, had never known someone so big and imposing. You’d graduated with two orcs, but neither of them had seemed to completely fill a room the way Bodi did, no one had the presence he commanded. His stern face matched his size, and the long, hooked claws that graced his fingertips gave credence to his aura of intimidation.

You’d met him towards the end of your second week at the rescue facility.

“This is the director of the reptile and amphibian program,” the small woman who was in charge of the bird rehabilitation introduced. “Bodi, come say hello. We have a few new recruits, and this one says she has some experience with monitors.”

The big dragon that turned to face you would have frozen you to the spot, had you not been working on the monitor in question. He was impossibly tall, thick with corded muscle, his long tail swinging, walking with a heavy, confident tread to where you were patiently changing the dressing on the leg of the injured lizard. You felt his keen eyes trained on you as you worked, and it was a small wonder your hands hadn’t been shaking.

“Is that so? I might just need to steal her away to my team, in that case.”

Since then, you’d worked almost exclusively under his direction. If he’d just been nice to look at, your crush might have already faded, but the time spent working with him had only fanned the flames.

He was gruff and standoffish, but then again, so were you, at first, and you’d chanced upon him more than once in a quiet moment, working to calm a frightened animal or gently stroking the head of one of the injured inhabitants.

He checked all of your boxes, and although you got on very well together, you were, you reminded yourself frequently, just a puny human, and likely not even on his radar.

There had been a moment, a few months earlier, when you’d thought differently. The centre had sponsored a training session for aquatic care, and you and Barra had been the only two volunteers from the reptile house who’d expressed interest. On the day the swimming aptitude test was to be administered, Barra had called in with car troubles.

“What do we say to getting this done in the open air, yeah?” Bodi had asked you with a smile, his big forked tongue making an appearance as he grinned.

You’d ridden together as he drove to the beach, saying a silent prayer of thanks that the navy two-piece you wore beneath your clothes was brand new and well-fitted. Chopping through the waves was a breeze, and after timing your ascent and return from a buoy, he’d stripped off his shirt and joined you in the water. You’d frozen, bobbing like a cork, in danger of swallowing half the sea as his sculpted pectorals and hard abdomen were revealed to you.

His scales were a mottled yellow and slate, and as his tail undulated through the waves, the sun had sparkled off his broad, dappled back.

“Let’s see how long you can tread,” He’d called out over the crash of the slowly rising tide, and you’d felt the bump of his big tail against your bare thigh, sending a thrill of excitement between your legs.

He’d circled you in the water as he asked about your family and career, casually wondering if you’d moved for your husband or boyfriend’s job. When you’d admitted that you’d moved simply for the adventure of it and that there wasn’t any significant other in the picture, his big, flat head had dipped into the water, masking what you’d been certain was a smile.

All the while, you treaded in place, rotating as he circled you, a predator closing in on his prey, and you’d wondered if his flickering tongue had been able to taste your arousal in the air, or if the water had thoroughly concealed it. You’d both been laughing as you finally left the crashing waves, and it had been nice getting to see a different side of him—smiling, more playful than the smart-arsed grump he was at work.

The water made his board shorts cling to his thickly muscled thighs, and you’d not been able to help yourself from following the water running in rivulets down his broad chest. His scales glistened, more yellow than grey as they moved down his belly, and you’d been hypnotized by the flex of his arms as he’d reached for the towels. The water droplets moved down the hard plane of him, and your gaze had been pulled like magnets to the bulge at his groin. There’d been no room for guilt, for you hadn’t missed the way his gold and black-flecked eyes had moved over you as you left the water; had practically been able to feel the drag of them up your legs, pausing on your breasts, encased in the dripping blue spandex.

There had been a moment where you thought he might kiss you; a charged instant when your small hand had brushed his as he passed you a towel, when you’d both paused, a frisson of electricity passing through you. Your eyes met, and you’d held your breath, feeling the pounding of your heart throughout your body. It had passed seconds later, when neither of you had moved, and you’d wrapped yourself in the towel with a blush, hoping it muffled the sound of your heart.

If he hadn’t been able to sense your arousal in the water, surely the smell of your dripping sex would have been evident to his tongue on the ride back to the centre.

Still, nothing had changed since that day. He was the same gruff-voiced professional, seemingly paying you little mind on the days your paths crossed, and you’d chalked it up to being a one-sided fantasy. The disappointment had faded and a deep sense of foolishness had taken its place, leaving you tongue-tied in front of him in a way you’d never been before. Not that it matters.

“They’ve got plenty of suits in the office for that job,” he grumbled into his coffee. “They’d have to do a good bit of censoring if they put me in front of the camera. Bloody government would have us shut down by dark. I’m going to have you and Cal head over to the main building for the week, Barra, they need the hands.”

You watched Barra’s face scrunch, clearly unhappy with the news that she was being sent to a different part of the facility. By that point, everyone had been shuffled over to “the main building” for a stint, doing what could be done for the steady stream of wildlife injured in the fires.

Your volunteer work at the centre had always been important to you, but now it was importance on a different plane. You’d only been sent over to the main for a few short days, had held yourself together well enough, or so you’d thought. It was easy to push emotions aside when adrenaline was high, but once you’d returned to your flat in the evening, the horrors caught up with you, and you’d drowned your tears with wine and long baths.

You’d not been sent back to assist with the burned koalas and motherless joeys, and although you were relieved, it bothered you that Bodi had never sent you there again; to think that you hadn’t done a good enough job in the few days you were there.

“Guess that just leaves us today,” Bodi casually remarked once Barra and Cal had gone, never raising his head from the paperwork in front of him. “You’re stuck with me.” His ringed amber eyes raised to yours at last, his smile showing his glinting teeth, and you forced a smile of your own. Bloody brilliant.

Making good your escape once his attention had turned to the ringing phone, you busied yourself in the tanks. Row after row of spacious, well-appointed habitats for each of the centre’s patients, it was your favorite place to be. There were defrosted rats to pass out to hungry snakes, and crickets to be distributed to the smaller lizards. You visited with an eastern long-necked turtle who’d recently had her shell glued back together, and checked on the well-being of a scuttling house gecko with a splintered leg.

Your favorite patient was Rosie, a frilled dragon who’d come to the centre in her own bodgy crate; dangerously dehydrated, in addition to being rather worse for wear after an altercation with a bigger animal. Pulling up a rolling stool, you rolled up to Rosie’s tank, smiling when she scuttled up a rock to get a better look at her visitor. You became aware of eyes resting on your back as you filled out the small chart on the front of her tank, signing off that she’d been fed and watered, and wondered how long he’d been tracking you.

“You’re very good with them.”

He framed it as a statement rather than a question, and rather than thanking him for the compliment, you decided to agree. “I love coming here. I have to work with people all day, it’s nice to be able to disengage my brain. I don’t have to be nice to people, I don’t need to be ‘on’.” You wondered if he would pick up on your not-so-subtle hint that you wanted to be left alone.

“Well,” he went on in a low voice, intent on ignoring your meaning. “I’m glad this is where you’ve decided to spend that downtime.”

Several long moments passed in silence. Rising from the bench, you moved on to Rosie’s neighbor, topping off his water bottle and distributing crickets. You’d just been about to move between the tanks, skipping up an aisle and escaping his keen gaze when his next words turned your feet to lead.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your foot seemed to be cemented to the ground as you tried to lift it, to escape this, escape him. You didn’t want to relive how embarrassed you’d felt in the weeks after that afternoon at the beach, once you’d realized how one-sided your feelings were. You’d tried to divert your romantic inclinations towards the handful of dates you’d been on since then, but it was no use. You were completely smitten with every gruff, taciturn, muscle-bound, bursting-with-sex-appeal inch of the lizardman behind you, and it was hard enough coming to terms with that and still working here.

You didn’t want to relive it and you certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered flatly, finally willing your feet to move.

“I’m sorry for acting inappropriately,” he blurted in his rough voice, the sound of a heat storm brewing over a sun-baked stretch of valley. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I thought that…it doesn’t matter what I thought. You’re great with the animals, I don’t want the centre to lose you. Maybe we can talk to one of the other departments, if you’d be happier moving to the–”

“No!” Your cheeks flushed at the thought of being moved because he was uncomfortable with you since that day at the beach. “I don’t want to be transferred. I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve not been avoiding you,” you lied. His words had brought a deep flush to your cheeks and you balled your fists. “And I don’t want to be moved, I love it here. You’re the one with the problem, not me.”

“Ever since that day you’ve barely been able to say two words to me,” he growled. “If you feel like you need to make a report to the intake office, then go ahead and do it, I never should have made assumptions about…I don’t want the animals to lose out if you decide to leave.”

“Make assumptions?” The embarrassed flush that had colored your cheeks darkened to red fury at his words. He assumed you fancied him because you’re the most obvious idiot in the whole damned city. The notion that he might have been pitying you for your unrequited crush made you furious. “You’ve got so much…the audacity that you think…you are the biggest tosser I’ve ever met!”

You watched him draw in breath, his wide mouth open to retort, but the shrill ringing of the office phone saved you. Bodi’s golden-black eyes pinned you, daring you to leave as he turned up the aisle quickly, making for the office.

You should leave. It would have been a shite thing to do, but you didn’t know if you could face having to continue the argument with him, didn’t want to have your crush the reason he—

“How many? All critical?”

The sharp bark of Bodi’s voice interrupted your thoughts. He was pacing, the hand that wasn’t holding the phone balled into a fist, his hooked claws curled over his scales. His brow was furrowed as he listened intently to the information being relayed through the receiver. All thoughts of walking out of the centre flew out of your head as his eyes raised to yours from across the long room, golden-black, pinning you to the spot. Something was happening, you realized, something bad.

“We’ll be ready. Send them all.”

Music spilled out of the pub, raucous laughter ringing in the smoke-hazed night, and you glanced up to your companion with a raised brow.

“What?” he barked defensively. “It’s a perfectly good pub. You want a drink, right?”

“It’s a pub,” you clarified with a laugh as Bodi huffed. Dipping your head to hide your smile as he held the door for you, you stepped inside. “We’ll see about calling it good.”

There were a cluster of gnolls, wearing trackies and navy blue singlets, playing darts near the door, their outsized beers catching the lights as they tipped them back. Beyond their group, overly-loud conversations rang out from every direction. It was low-end and unpretentious and, you decided on the spot, absolutely perfect.

“I didn’t take you for such a yob,” you giggled, and he huffed again. You got the distinct impression that if he’d been able to blush, his scaled cheeks would have been scarlet.

The gnolls gave you a look over as you moved through the crowded pub, patrons clearing the path as Bodi moved behind you, his big tail swinging. This was the kind of place where alcohol-fueled scraps probably broke out regularly, but Bodi towered over the room, his muscular form and stern countenance keeping even the most pissed patron in check. The weight of his clawed hand at your lower back steered you through the crowd to a small two-top just beyond the bar, drinks placed in front of you within minutes.

A burst of high-pitched laughter broke out amongst the gnolls, and he grunted into his pint.

“Bloody ockers.”

You both still smelled of smoke.

Another reptile facility, several towns over, had succumbed to the smoke, narrowly missing the flames, and the creatures in residence had all been transferred to your centre. For the last four hours, you and Bodi had worked side-by-side, moving quickly to prepare tanks and enclosures, as snake after snake, thorny devils and monitors, bearded dragons and dozens of skinks, all in various states of infirmity, arrived.

You didn’t think they would ever stop coming.

It was fast-paced and frenzied, but you never stopped moving. When the final clutch of frightened skinks had been tagged and placed in a warm tank with food and water, you’d been trembling at the onslaught, wondering how many of these animals had permanently lost their homes.

Bodi had laid a concerned hand on your shoulder and you’d melted against him, the huge bulk of him holding you up. The weeks of avoiding him, of feeling tongue-tied and embarrassed, it all seemed inconsequential just then. You’d fisted his shirt, burying your face against his broad chest when his strong arm folded over you, lightly stroking your hair.

“Let’s get out of here,” he’d rumbled. “We did good work tonight, we’ve earned a round or four.”

The noise of the pub obliged him to lean in close as you spoke, trading stories about nothing as the glasses before you collected.

“Are we good?” he blurted, interrupting your supposition that the reptile house would need an expansion. Heat stole up your cheeks as you considered his words and took in the earnestness of his face. You’d been a good team tonight, were a good team together. Your feelings were one-sided, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t continue to be a good team at the centre.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

He sagged in relief. “That’s…yeah, okay, good. I told myself I wasn’t going to let a crush get in the way of the job and what do I do at the first opportunity? Stick my fucking foot in it. Glad you’re willing to stick it out, despite me being the biggest tosser you’ve ever met.”

Bodi continued to talk, segueing back to talk of a future expansion, but all you heard was the sound of your heartbeat, drowning out the noise of the pub. He had a crush? The drink had addled your mind, you thought, looking over your shoulder to see if there was someone else there, someone else to whom he might have been talking.

“What do you mean you weren’t going to let a crush get in the way? What crush?” you demanded, cutting him off.

His gold-flecked eyes narrowed as he leaned in once more. “I thought we were good.”

You blew a breath of frustration. “I’m just asking you to clarify your point, yeah? Who has a crush? You?”

Bodi didn’t say anything for a long moment, his nostrils flaring as his head lowered. When he spoke again, his voice was a low growl, one that made heat pool in your belly. “I’ve fancied you since you started, alright? Like I said before, I don’t want the centre to lose you. If you need to—”

“I’ve fancied you too.” Heat burned up your ears, but you didn’t pull away. Your heads were inches apart, and the high chorus of laughter from the gnolls seemed very far away. The fork of Bodi’s big tongue flickered out, tasting the air as you edged closer.

His mouth wasn’t designed for kissing, but that didn’t stop either of you from giving it a go. His teeth nipped at your lips and your tongues danced, and you realized that you’d each spent the last several months secretly wanting the same thing. Bodi’s eyes narrowed again as your shoulders shook in laughter. “We’re both really stupid.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, shaking his head with a grin. “Pashing on like teenagers, we’re no better than the blueys up there.”

There was paperwork to finish.

You weren’t due back at the centre until the end of the week, but you couldn’t help thinking about the mountain of paperwork there would be after the huge intake of injured lizards and snakes from the previous night.

Bodi had followed you home from the pub. Your mouths had met once more, standing on the pavement outside your flat, and the feel of his claws dragging lightly down your back had set your blood aflame. You’d been fumbling with your keys, pulling him to follow you inside when his big hands had landed on your hips, freezing you in place.

“I think,” he’d groaned, nosing at your hair, “that we should say goodnight.”

“But don’t you want to—”

“I do, fucking hells, I do…but I don’t think we should do anything we might regret tomorrow. It was a long day, we’re tired, we drank…I don’t want a quick root tonight to change things in the morning.”

You’d kissed his scaled cheek and said goodnight, simultaneously disappointed and warmed, glad he was thinking of tomorrow, hoping that meant he wanted more than a casual hook-up. We are a good team.

Now you were back at the center, entering through a side door that would take you to the office. With Barra and Cal at the main building for the week, the reptile and amphibian house would be understaffed, and the paperwork would need filing. You’d been working for nearly forty minutes when a tell-tale heavy tread thudded through the empty office, followed by a metallic chink! of the lock being turned in the door.

“You’re not on the schedule today.”

His voice was a rumble at your back, raising goosebumps on your bare arms.

“No, but I wanted to work on some of this intake paperwork. I know we’re shorthanded this week, I figured you could use the help.”

He was right at your back, his warm breath above you, claws grazing your shoulders. You head knew it was inappropriate, but your body didn’t care as you pressed back against him, feeling his groin at your back. “Well, aren’t you so helpful.” His voice dropped another octave as his clawed hands landed on your hips, pulling you flush to him. “I could have used your help this morning in the shower, but better late than never.”

The soft green scent of him caught in your nostrils, like petrichor rising from the earth, and the solidness of his body, huge and looming, pressed you into the desk. “Is there anything else I can help with? I made a good dent in this intake, if there are…other things, you needed a hand with?”

“You’re sure?” Another shiver down your spine as he lowered his head, forked tongue grazing the shell of your ear. “I want to take you out this week. Someplace nice, a proper date. I don’t want this to just be a secret office thing.”

“That sounds nice.” Your voice was barely a whisper, breath hitching as he brushed back your hair. “I think we’re a good team…but that doesn’t mean I can’t help with things now.”

Bodi’s strong arms spun you, pulling you flush to his front, giving you a chance to let your hands roam across his chest. You were able to feel the solid press of his twinned erections bulging at the front of his pants, pressing to your belly as his tongue tickled your collarbone.

“I can think of a few things I could use a hand with.” His voice was a rumble in your hair, and as he spoke, his own giant hand moved from your waist to your ribcage, one of those long, hooked talons flicking your pebbled nipple beneath the thin cami you wore. You gasped, surging upwards, pressing against his cocks, gratified to hear his grunt of pleasure.

Your hand was small and the girth of him was enormous, as you stroked him through the front of his pants, tracing the shape of one large cock, then its mate, giving them each a firm squeeze in turn. There were matching spots of moisture already seeping through the khaki-colored fabric, and you wanted nothing more than to undo his buttons and set them free, to suckle their tips and taste the essence they were drooling.

You didn’t get the chance.

With a squeak, you were scooped up and swung through the air, landing gently on the long desk, which Bodi cleared with a massive hand. Those same hands were gliding up your bare legs a moment later, claws grazing you with the lightest pressure, until they reached the edge of your shorts. You rarely wore shorts at the centre: bare skin was vulnerable to being accidentally scratched or un-accidentally bitten by a frightened or injured animal. Today you’d not planned on leaving this arrid office, and were thus dressed far more revealingly than you ever normally were, in shorts and a cami, but you were thankful for the fortuitous circumstances now.

Thick fingers worked your shorts open until he was tugging them down your hips, a claw pressing to the front of your knickers as his tongue laved at your neck. Wriggling your hips, you assisted him in pulling the shorts down your body, before your legs were spread wide. His powerful tail hooked around one of the rolling work stools, bringing it close and dropping to it, before jumping up again with a grunt.

“A bit too tight for comfort, that. Look at the state you’ve got me in.”

Your breath came out in shallow gasps as he undid his straining fly, gripping his cocks in one hand, giving them a slow pump. A slow grin spread across his face, teeth glinting, as he watched you watching him. You’d be lying to yourself if you pretended watching him stroke himself wasn’t wildly erotic.

Bodi leaned back, letting you take a good, long look at his impressive assets. Thick and veined, dark pink and shiny with lubrication, deepening in color at the heads, his cocks jutted from a slit in his scaled abdomen. Thick and long, bigger than any partner you’d had previously, but not so big that he would hurt you. There was a ridged line of up the underside of each length that you knew would rub deliciously inside of you. He groaned, pulling upwards slowly, twisting over his cockheads before repeating the motion, giving you that devilish smile once more. You were panting.

When Bodi released himself, his cocks sprang apart, bouncing.

“Now, where was I…”

Your knickers were tugged down your hips and down your bare legs, which he dropped between on his rolling stool, spreading you open. His flickering tongue danced across your thighs, teasing over your mound until you were gasping, desperate for contact.

“Greedy girl…is this what you want?”

You were glad for the empty room, the locked door, the absence of any co-workers as you moaned, Bodi’s long tongue sliding through your slick folds, darting back and forth, a constant onslaught against your clit. When it pressed into your opening, your hips lifted from the desk. His deep groan vibrated up your thighs, rattling up your spine, crying out again when he resumed licking at your aching pearl.

Several days of constant sexual tension already had you wound up like a clock, and the constant attention and rough texture of Bodi’s tongue was enough to easily send you over your peak. For several shaking moments, nothing existed but the pulsing of your sex and the crisp, green smell of him, temporarily pushing the acrid smell of smoke which lingered in the center from your nostrils. He groaned again as your thighs trembled, lapping at the gush of fluid from your release.

When you stilled his head, he rose from the stool, looming over you, cocks bobbing. He was so tall, so big and solid and muscular, and you were in a perfect position to pull on his open pants, leading one of his weeping cocks to your mouth.

You had a vision then, one of Bodi lying in your bed, the sheets mussed around him as he pleasured himself, gripping his cocks together in one big hand, smiling up as he stroked them rhythmically.

You had all weekend to make that vision a reality.

His cocktip was slippery against your lips, tasting the pre-come he wept steadily before lowering your mouth down his length, sucking as you did so. There was no way to fit his entire length into your throat, so you wrapped a fist around the base, ignoring his other cock for the moment, pumping as you sucked. That textured line of ridges depressed easily under your tongue and must have been sensitive. Bodi moaned deeply, jerking as you tongued him, and you repeated the motion, earning a similar reaction.

You were excited to have him inside you, wanted to feel the texture of all those bumps and ridges, were just about to ask if he’d had enough oral stimulation when his claws grazed through your hair, holding the back of your head as his hips began to match the rhythm you’d established.

“Can I finish in your mouth?”

It was not what you were expecting.

You did ask if you could help him with anything, you thought, nodding. There was plenty of time to do more, and he had taken care of you first. His release was hot and his groans were deep and noisy as he filled your mouth, the hand in your hair tightening. His wide, scaled hips jerked once, twice, and then he was slumping, spent and satisfied. His slippery cock was already softening when it slid from your mouth, and he pulled you back into a sitting position atop the desk.

His other cock was still hard and straining.

“Can we have dinner tonight?” he asked, guiding his weeping tip to your entrance. Bumps and ridges, pressing into and dragging against your inner walls, making you clench around him in ecstacy. He was thick, so thick, but he pressed in slowly, giving you time to adjust. Good partners. “Yes,” you gasped, raking your nails down his hard scaled back. “Your pick…I have a company party in a few weeks. Do you have a nice suit?”

His chuckle was low as he bottomed out at last, pulling back several inches, giving you a few shallow pumps. “I’ll have you know I clean up very well, don’t let my choice in pubs fool you. Just say where and when. You can come to Sunday lunch at my brother’s place next week, meet the whole clan.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond, for his next thrust was deeper and you lost the ability to do anything but gasp and moan. “Tha—that sounds nice,” you wheezed after you regained the ability to speak. “I’m looking forward to it.”

You were looking forward to it. You were looking forward to waking in the morning pressed to his wide chest, to walking to some dodgy little pub for a morning fry up after a late night, to movies and concerts and holding hands, to more afternoons at the beach. You were looking forward to him.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he groaned against your neck. Your legs were over his elbows, and as he moved, clawed hands slipped under your rear, lifting you from the desk, forcing you to cling to his neck. From this new, more intimate angle, you were able to feel his heartbeat thudding against you, and its cadence nearly matched your own. A very good team indeed.

“So am I.”

Read Bodi’s Revisit

If you like what I do, please don;t forget to follow and reblog! Monster Matches available on my ko-fi!

#monster boyfriend #monster match #exophilia #monster lover #monsterbait writes #lizardman #lizardman boyfriend

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ambivrted · 3 years

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[ zepthan smith-gneist, cismale, he / him, orange ] hey have you seen TUCKER HAYWARD ? HE lets me borrow A PAGE OUT OF HIS WORN MOLESKINE DIARY. oh, you know them! they’re TWENTY THREE and they’ve been at Roy G. for THREE YEARS. They are known to be a total AQUARIUS. no wonder they’ve picked up the nickname AMBIVERT! i’m surprised you haven’t heard them blaring WHITE FERRARI BY FRANK OCEAN all night. they remind me of PASSING STREETLIGHTS AT 4AM ALONE IN YOUR CAR, CLENCHED JAWS, AND PENSIVE SILENCES . anyway, let me know if you see them !

— introducing . . . PARADOXICAL HUMAN BEING , 𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 :

helloooooo i saw an orange muse was wanted so hyuk-hyuk ( goofy laughter ) , here i am ! .

i just watched waves (2019) and am really in my feels about that , so here tucker is . . his entire life is the soundtrack to that incredible film .

dumb but smart

funny but sad

you CAN have it all ladies

he was born on february the 14th so yes literally he’s a secret romantic so what ?

is a himbo , but a himbo with substance

definitely that guy you look at and say ‘ oh thats a jock ‘ , and when you talk to him you say ‘ yep thats a jock ‘ , but then sometimes late at night , on rooftops , or on lonely benches in the middle of parks . . he’s got his shoulders hunched over and is writing in his diary , and he’ll suddenly say something very soft and sad and philosophical

he feels everything 10000 % of the time . his emotions control him more than he controls his emotions . he’s a bit emotionally inept . if he’s happy , he’s really really enthusiastic . if he’s sad , he’s very very d*pressed . if he’s angry . . he’s downright m*rderous . he never quite learned how to just feel emotions in a more spoonful type of manner

masks a lot of his suddenly serious moments by breaking out into laughter , or turning it into a joke . he FEELS things a lot , and sometimes if he feels that change in the air - or somebody looking at him differently / uncomfortably , he’ll be like ‘ ah abort abort ! u overshared , u idiot ! ‘ and he’ll quickly diffuse the situation

as quickly as he can diffuse a situation , he can also ignite it . like i said . . paradoxical boy !

surprisingly always took schoolwork seriously and was decent at university . considerably average .

in general he describes himself as pretty average , and that’s why he tries so hard to be the funny guy , or be memorable in some capacity to people . he thinks he’s quite forgettable . so he channels that energy towards making ppl smile when he CAN

loves making people laugh . loves it , loves it , loves it . he falls in love with people’s laughter .

he lives by himself and honestly ? he’s a bit of a lonely boy . he KNOWS a lot of people and is quite outgoing and extroverted at times , but he’s the definition of ‘ when your battery runs out of charge ‘ and very quickly just turning into the :| emoji bc he’s done being social for the day

maybe he just wants to be loved . . maybe he just wants to be held

he lowkey is quite self critical and self hating . he has abandonment issues ( his parents just kinda left him super alone as a kid ) and is a sensitive heaux about things at times

BUT when he’s good, he’s GREAT ! he’s super up up up , super fun , outgoing . he’ll be the life of the party , yelling along to songs , hardly ever gets embarrassed . knows how much he can drink and incapacitate himself . gets messy to a certain degree but tries to keep things under control

will sleep with anyone at any time . . he is a sl*t but also doesn’t like sleeping alone ( what a baby ! ) . so honestly . . if u wanna get ur heart broken or break his heart . , , , lets go i’m ready ( i don’t do m x m though . . sowwy ! )

draws inspo from steve harrington ( stranger things ) , kevin pearson ( this is us ), nate archibald ( gossip girl ) , jung joon - hyung ( weightlifting fairy kim )

as u can tell i’m still working on him at the moment . i work better crafting characters when i actually rp them u know ? anyways , hi hello i’m g ! i’m 24 , cisfemale , use she / her pronouns .

i don’t have plots at the moments because i like to work off chemistry too , but PLEASE use me for as much drama as u want . hit me up with anywhere u could see tucker fitting in . literally he is here for all u sexy bitches to use as u desire .

feel free to im me on discord ! 🌈sugar (g)ay#4182

i work 9-5 , and live in australia so my activity is SCATTERED at the best of times but i’ll always endeavour to reply and match ur enthusiasm !!!

i hope u like him and me !

#roygintro #this is so hastily put together like my entire life #i will get to ALL intros and stuff ASAP but im gonna make dinner real quick hehe

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bausele · 3 years

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Fitness Tracker Watch

Visit here: https://www.bausele.com/collections/vintage-smartwatch

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 4 years

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Replay ch. 3

Chapter is rated M

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

Rayla got up at seven, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep last night. “Noooo. UGH.” She turned to angrily glare at her alarm that had interrupted her rain noises. Aberdeen wasn’t the rainiest place in the world, but the sound of a rain storm always helped put her to sleep. Her mum and da always joked she was named ‘Rayla’ because she was born right when the moon shone through a stormy night.

Rayla went through her emails quickly, making a note in her phone to call both sets of her parents this weekend. She missed the days in Scotland when Runaan would speak French with her and talk cheese or helping Ethari in his jewelry business. Runaan ran the books while Ethari ran the artistic side, his work with metal and jewel placement both tasteful and modern while taking classic elements from Celtic art.

Her parents had yet to retire from being bodyguards, but they regaled her with stories of Africa and Asia and Australia, how kind people were, the different foods and cultures. Sometimes, she wished she could have grown up going with them. Other times, she knew they had made the right choice leaving her with Runaan and Ethari. They wouldn’t have had much time for her anyways.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed. She had a breakfast date with Corvus before she had to be at the office. God. She hated those pricks sometimes; a lot of old money lived in that office. She had thought she was leaving classism behind when she did her study abroad in the States for her law degree. Apparently, America just hid their classism really well instead of openly displaying it like they did back in the UK.

She lived well, was paid well, did better than anyone had expected her to do, probably. She had been more focused on athletics as a kid, leading Runaan to force her into ballet (‘you already know some French. It’s perfect!’), Ethari insisting on Irish step dance (‘Lain’s mother was Irish. It’s a world wide sensation, Rayla!’), and her own parents signing her up for kickboxing when she was in high school during their vacation from work. Her teachers had been frustrated that she was smart but didn’t ‘apply herself’ whatever that meant. She got good grades, did better in college, got into law school in another country, and passed the bar. She could apply herself just fine. She just liked to be active.

Rayla sighed as she stepped into the hot water of her shower. She had made a good choice buying this shower head. Slowly, she felt the burn that had started last night begin to build back up again. Green eyes entered her mind again, as well as a voice that she would love to hear calling her name out while she rode him. ‘Calm down, Rayla.’ She couldn’t meet Corvus horny. Rayla sighed, putting her forehead against the shower wall before starting to massage her breast. She tried to imagine it was Callum’s hand stroking her, dipping down to touch between her thighs where she ached.

Would his hands be soft or rough? There hadn’t been any obvious calluses when she had shaken his hand at the cheese shop. She moaned, dipping her fingers into her wet heat. Her thighs rubbed together as she tried to chase that elusive release. She didn’t have time for this. The more she tried to speed up, the more it just wasn’t happening. Growling in frustration, she tried to play with her clit, breathing deeply as she finally found a rhythm that was working. Rayla bit her bottom lip and sighed as she came, inwardly crowing with satisfaction. There was no worse start to a day than being unable to cum after a wet dream or being too horny to function.

She washed and dried off, stretching her muscles before dressing. The green pantsuit and black top showed off her toned figure without drawing too much attention to any one place. Her heels made her even taller and, hopefully, a little intimidating to jerky clients or coworkers. She grabbed her purse and went out the door. When she finally made it to her car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. Had she really started her day off by masturbating to a guy she met YESERDAY?

She shook her head, driving off until she made it to the little café she and Corvus frequented. Corvus also worked in the same building, but for a different law office, specifically divorce. Rayla had no idea how he did it, but someone had to. She saw Corvus at their usual table, smiling at something on his phone. “Your boyfriend sent you a naughty text?”

Corvus smirked back up at her. “Nope. Just something about one of my latest clients. Well, their soon-to-be-ex.”

“Good news or bad news?”

“Well, considering it’s a custody case, it’s good for my client.”

“Abuse?” Rayla frowned.

“I would not be smirking if that was the case. No. Apparently, the ex has been mismanaging the children’s money. Lying about putting it in a back account for them and spending it on gambling debts.”

“You don’t call that abuse?” Rayla smiled up at the waiter who came over, ordering an earl grey, a coffee to go, and an omelet.

“Thank you,” Corvus nodded to the waiter. “I do, personally, but everyone views that differently. The children were never struck, no record of emotional, mental, or oral abuse. It seemed like it was going to go 50-50 custody, which tends to be the ideal situation, but my client was concerned about the gambling problem.”

“So best case scenario, gambler’s anonymous and supervised visits eventually leading to 50-50 custody?”

“Best case scenario. Probably won’t happen, but we can all hope.”

Rayla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it. I didn’t do criminal law or divorce law because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing evidence of child abuse all day.”

“It’s a lot. We try to spread those cases around as much as we can, because it gets to be too much when it’s all you see. When police reports come into play, it’s even worse.” Rayla nodded. “While you work for old money. Tell me, how’s Kasef doing?”

“Hitting on me, again. Got upset when I told him off for glaring at a guy in a cheese shop for asking me a question.”

“He comes down to our office on his breaks and hits on half the women there.”

“Believe me, I know. His father gets really upset about it.”

“How is Mr. Ahling?”

“Still insisting we call him ‘Mr. Ahling’ and not the proper ‘Mr. Patel.’ His health is starting to go downhill, so we’re hoping his daughter graduates soon and can start to learn how to take over the office.”

Corvus shook his head, smiling at the waiter with her when they brought their food. “Thank you. I’m telling you, join our office. You could be really good at gathering information.”

“Thank you, but, no thanks. I grew up believing in true love with both sets of my parents. I’d like to continue believing in it.”

“You still believe in love. I love my boyfriend so much we’re moving in together.”

“Well, congratulations to you both. You moving in to his apartment or is he moving into your’s?”

“Mine’s bigger and closer to both our jobs.”

They talked work for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the time. Rayla sighed as she looked at Corvus. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“My hairdresser would love to do your hair. Those layers are cute, but maybe you need a new look.”

“Ha ha. My hair’s fine, thanks. You remember me mentioning a guy in the cheese shop?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he asked to draw me. He said it’s cool that I brought a friend and I would like to bring you. I don’t really have any other friends in the city.” She finished her tea, opening the lid of her coffee to put some cream in.

“He seem legit?”

“I saw his art. He also runs a YouTube channel with his friends and little brother?”

“What’s his name?”

“Callum Evans.”

“Katolis Squad!” Corvus smiled, clapping his hands together.

“You know them?”

“Of course. They do a lot of food stuff. I found this café because of one of their videos. Also, my boyfriend’s a baker, remember? Ezran and Claudia do a series on baking and sweets and he likes to watch them. Callum Evans is also kind of known in the art scene in town and I’ve met his aunt a few times. Lovely lady, so’s her wife.”

“Huh. Apparently, I’m out of it.”

“You just arrived in Katolis last year. I grew up here. You remember my boyfriend’s beignets you liked so much?”

“Those were delicious.”

“Ezran’s recipe. His grandmother’s friend was from Louisiana and she taught him how to make them like it’s done in the French-Quarter.”

“Huh. So, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure. Callum Evans seems harmless, but since he already approved it, might as well take advantage.”

“Agreed. I can take care of myself, but, you never know.”

“Where’s it going to be?”

“At his house. He said he has an art studio there. At least, that’s what he implied. I’m waiting for a text from him to iron out the details.”

“Maybe he’ll ask to draw you nude?” Rayla flushed red at that, looking down at her almost finished breakfast. “Oh? Something you want to share with the class? A reason you were distracted during kickboxing last night, perhaps?”

Rayla glared up at him, taking a few harsh bites of her omelet. She swallowed, keeping eye contact with him. “He’s cute, I’m single, that’s it.”

“He’s single.” Rayla paused. “He broke-up with his last girlfriend months ago. She made a big Instagram post about it, saying they wanted to focus on their careers. Which was weird because no one even knew they were in a relationship.”

“So, he’s probably used to people trying to use him for fame.”

“Most likely. He keeps to himself.”

“I saw that when I went digging online. His step-father’s the governor and his mother was in the military for a few years, rising through the ranks very quickly.”

“Yeah. They try to keep their channel separate from all that, though. People are always asking them questions about it and they’ll either ignore it or say they aren’t a mouthpiece for Harrow Williams.”

“Fair. I’ll text you the details. I’ve got my coffee, gotta go.” Rayla put a $20 on the table and waved good-bye to Corvus, leaving to head to the office. Well, this just got even more interesting, didn’t it?

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

Callum rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. All night, he had dreamed of Rayla. Her white hair down and around bare shoulders, purple eyes starting deep into his. ‘Come on, Callum. Make me feel good.’ He tossed and turned in his bed, suddenly thankful for the fact he lived alone. His cock was at attention and it was not going to be going down any time soon. Rolling out of bed, he took his sleep clothes off as he made his was to his shower. He winced at the cold water, but sighing in relief as his erection went down. He had no time to rub one out. He was already running late for his meeting with Ezran, Soren, and Claudia. They had to go over whether or not to actually hire a crew now that their channel had six million subscribers.

It would be a smart move. Claudia’s home-made beauty series was getting a lot of attention, as were her and Ez’s baking series. Soren and Ezran’s sub channel and Twitch channel was getting a lot of attention in the video game community for their let’s plays and commentary. Even Callum’s art sub channel was getting more and more attention. He was just worried about going bigger because, if they did, what if drama followed? It had been a PR nightmare when his ex-girlfriend had posted on Instagram about going their separate ways for their careers. Callum had asked her to keep it between them because he wanted to keep his personal life and his YouTube life separate. She had apparently felt that, after they broke-up, what he wanted didn’t matter.

As he quickly ate breakfast, he couldn’t get the idea of Rayla from his dreams or of her in a forest out of his head. Those eyes haunted his every though. ‘She’s a freaking fae. That must be it.’ Callum rubbed his eyes again, sighing. He sent a quick text to Rayla asking if she would be alright with her modeling for him in the woods outside of town. She would probably say ‘no’, but Callum needed to get this image out of his head and out of his system. He had just met her and she was distracting him already. Still, Callum wasn’t so sure he could ever get someone like her out of his system. Even if they had sex a week straight, he would probably still crave her. ‘Stop getting ahead of yourself, Callum. She’s probably in a relationship, you just want to draw her, and you have other things to focus on right now.’

All day, as the group discussed the benefits to do YouTube full-time, barring Ezran because he was still in college, a Scottish accent and a pair of soft eyes stayed in the back of his mind. Beckoning him to find her and take her under a waterfall in the forest. Would she scratch and like it rough or did she like to go soft and slow, like a wave?

Ezran snapped his fingers in his face. “Callum, focus.”

“Right. So, I think taking a step forward is a good idea….” He didn’t have time to be thinking about faeries in suits from Scotland.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #tdp #the dragon prince #au #replay #moonbase fanfics

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hereisleo · 4 years

Text

unsolvable equations

w/ s.mg ft. j.yh

g/ non-idol!au, friendship

a.n/ something that stems from listening to eden’s discography while on the train, peak nostalgia hour

t.w/ none

In the drowsiness of four in the morning, Mingi sat in his chair, hunched over various papers, textbooks and notes. His hand continuously wrote lines upon lines of numbers and symbols. What started as a liked subject in high school had plunged him into the depths of a sophisticated system. He remembered his teacher saying talent was a pursued interest. Here he was awake at four instead of sleeping, he couldn’t stop until he figured out what was waiting for him at the end of the massive equation. The small desk lamp flickered, he knew soon the batteries needed replacing again. He could have bought a new lamp but there was no other light source he would rather work with this late.

The door of his room crack opened and a mop of messy brown hair peeked inside. Mingi sat up and winced, his back cracked after being in the same position for far too long. “Ya, still up?” His roommate and best friend of many years came in. A steaming mug of a mysterious beverage in his hand. “Milk and honey, it’ll help you sleep,” he placed the mug on the desk’s only clear spot, a coaster blocked off part of the wooden surface. It was purposely reserved for instances like tonight. “Thanks, Yunho.” Mingi smiled and sipped the night treat as he watched his best friend fall into his bed. Yunho pointed at the lamp, voice laced with sleepiness, “You’re still using that wretched thing?” Mingi gasped in mock offence and clutched his heart, “Wretched thing? My precious baby?! You’re the one who gave me this loyal babe. How dare you!” Yunho’s chuckles were muffled by the pillow, his cheeks rose adorably.

He noticed throughout the years, Yunho’s facial structure stayed the same. The squishy cheeks he couldn’t seem to shed became what Mingi called ‘Yunho’s health scale’. No sound came from his long-standing roommate and Mingi turned his attention to the compact yet worn lamp. Scratches and tiny dents littering the metal surface were hidden by stickers of countries he had flown to for his work. The wretched lamp ate its batteries faster than Mingi could fill his thick hardbound notebook with numbers. He picked up his pen, a well-loved Pilot Custom Heritage 92 demonstrator fountain pen from his mother, the only one he used upon receiving it. Mathematical equations and numbers were as concrete as it possibly can but Mingi was anything but.

The grey ink sloshed back and forth in the converter. He was once asked, “Why grey ink?” It reminded him of the wooden pencils he started out with, the shade of childhood on paper and the stains on his fingers and hand from the graphite. Before the ink had a chance to bleed onto the paper, a click of tongue and rustling sheets were enough for Mingi to cap his pen. He drained the rest of the milk while it was still warm and headed to bed. He occupied the empty space beside his friend, mathematics could wait. He won’t be seeing his friend for sometime after tonight. He took one last look at the lamp, reminding himself to remove the batteries and pack the device into his bag. The body heat radiating next to him was the last thing Mingi felt as the grips of dreamless sleep overtook him.

The aircraft intercom crackled to life, Mingi recited the pre-flight announcements from rote memory. He straightened his grey suit jacket and made his final round of safety checks. Once he sat down, he inhaled and exhaled methodically. He hated takeoffs and landings, the years in this field still didn’t completely curb his fear of height. He wished his friend was here to hold his hand. Alas, it was a moot thought. Yunho who pursued a career in the entertainment industry was back in Seoul at the company, recording or dancing or both and he who chased after his dream to be a flight attendant was in a flight bound to Spain. He proudly presented the wings he earned the same time Yunho was set to debut. The eventful night was spent in excited screaming and future prospects before it mellowed out to sombre conversations. Two friends lying on the floor, eyes memorising the ceiling of the house they wished to visit more often. How far they had come in their lives.

Mingi closed his eyes and flooded his mind with numbers from his hardbound notebook, fingers writing the continued equations on his thigh. He would transcribe them later. The equation he bred was lauded as innovative by the professors of the university. They did express their concern over the complexity and the possibility of it not being solvable. He knew. He thought of it prior to presenting his rough draft but he wouldn’t settle for second best. Solvable or not, it was his and his alone. Having no closure was closure itself and he needed to know what lay beyond it, disappointing or not. The image of the compact lamp flickering and the mug of milk and honey flashed to the forefront of his mind. Yes, he would be fine.

His fellow flight attendant squeezed his shoulder with a slightly worried smile. The plane had reached a stable altitude. He smiled and told her softly he was fine and thanked her for being concerned. He unbuckled the seatbelt and helped with drinks distribution. Somewhere way at the end of the aircraft, he heard a baby wailing. As usual, he would go up to the parents and ask if it was acceptable for him to help their soothe the baby. Most would be relieved to place their babies in his arms, Mingi understood, there was nothing wrong in wanting a little respite, there was nothing to feel guilty. He gently took the infant into his hold and walked up and down the aisle rocking the babe, mumbling sweet nothings. He didn’t come back to their seat until the baby was fast asleep.

The Spanish sun blazed in winter. Mingi shed his outer coat, leaving him in a simple long sleeve shirt. The green pastures of the highland stretch for miles all around him, flocks of sheep grazed and bleated without a care in the world. He trudged up the dirt path toward the quaint cottage. He couldn’t travel with his friend last time but it didn’t stop Yunho to list all the places he had been all over Spain, Mingi was equipped with chicken scrawl writing and badly drawn structures and maps on the postcards. They made sure none of them was neglected in any way. Two differing personalities yet they knew how to take care of each other without saying a word. Time truly flew without waiting.

Red brick walls greeted him at the end of the path, the metal gates creaked open with a push of his hand. The reclusiveness of the location swept Mingi into a whirlpool of nostalgia. Passing by the abode and around to the spacious back garden, the blue expanse of the Mediterranean Sea in the distance embraced him. The groundskeeper found him drifting off in the hammock, the sun blanketing him in warm rays and the wind brushing through his hair in loving strokes. He deciphered what the keeper told him in accented English, if he had come here years before, he would have blurted out his iconic line from the Australia trip, “I cannot English.” He thanked the keeper and pretended he didn’t almost trip from getting out of the hammock. The sheepish smile on his face and the mirth dancing in the keeper’s eyes were enough for Mingi to know he wasn’t slick. He stayed outside until the sun set below the horizon. The golden hues gilded the area and Mingi imagined if this was the shade that was perpetual for the gods at Mount Olympus, if this was the same sight Yunho witnessed. The Mediterranean Sea shifted into a pool of liquid gold then to abysmal black when the sun spun to the east.

A pack of AA batteries sat ready to use on the wooden desk beside the four-poster king-sized bed. Of course, Yunho knew Mingi would forget the batteries for the lamp, half the world apart and he was still being taken care. The baggage check security confiscated the batteries because he didn’t remove them beforehand. He had been doing this a lot recently, losing himself in reminiscence. The keeper called him down for dinner, classic Spanish dishes graced the table and Mingi was fed until he couldn’t. An amicable conversation of the cottage’s history, the highlands and each other’s lives lingered in his ears. He couldn’t help but to close his eyes from time to time, savouring the Spanish accented English. He was sleepy by the time he returned to his room with a pot of Lady Grey. He drew open the off white curtains and left the windows ajar. The moon was full and bright, it seemed closer than when he was in Seoul.

He should get some sleep before jet lag settled in but he gravitated to the posh wooden desk. If he was his younger self, he would pick the bed, no hesitation. The Mingi now was even surer of himself, the passion simmering under his skin and lighting his eyes were no longer hidden under a pretence of foolishness. He was still the “work smart and my way” Mingi everyone knew yet the refined confidence oozing from his presence turned more heads and the sharp intelligence landed him in the opportunities of his dreams. He placed the batteries into empty slots and flipped the switch. The room was dimly lit by warm white light. The nib of his fountain pen glided across the white pages, spilling grey inks in numbers and symbols from memory. The wind came through the open windows and ruffled the papers. Mingi didn’t sleep until the blue hour descended and the birds said good morning.

The Seoul winter welcomed him home and the summer of Yunho’s affection wrapped him tightly in its embrace. His friend had come to pick him up from the airport, Yunho in his street clothes and Mingi still in his grey uniform. The metro ride to their shared apartment was spent by telling each other the adventures they were up to while apart. His heart warmed at the mention of their shared place being too empty without him. The feeling was mutual when Yunho was on world tours. Occasionally, they would be lucky enough to be on the same flight. Mingi dragged his suitcase into his room and collapsed onto the bed. He felt blanket being draped over his shoulders and a hand patted his head, “Goodnight and sweet dreams.” There was much to do after this. Yunho started to unpack his suitcase, the crunching of plastic bags didn’t bother him. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier and he didn’t know when he gave into the clutches of a well-rested sleep.

February, the coldest month of the year, the last Friday of his time at Seoul National University. He came to the contentment of the unsolvable as the tassels were moved from right to left. The finale of the current chapter had arrived. Mingi ran toward his friends, the seven who he held dearly to his heart, the seven who accepted him for who he was. The winter wind bit his skin and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. The blue-and-black robe swung from his movements and the cap fell off his head. The equations were not meant to be solved. There was no right answer for it. Only the progress mattered. Show the work. He was thrown into the air amidst cheering. At that moment, Mingi knew he had reached his closure. The sunlight broke through the coverings. The equations mutated itself, as cold as these numbers could be they were novel. Life was never meant to be solved.

“Dr Song Mingi!”

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eugenesmorphine · 4 years

Text

A Game Of Chasing // Robert “Bob” Leckie Imagine

Taglist: @alienoresimagines

Words: 1,903

The squad sat in a circle within a foxhole. Runner was busy cleaning his rifle, Hoosier was smoking and shooting the shit with Chuckler and Robert. Y/N was leaning against the packed up dirt wall, just watching the group of men. A smile on her lips with a lit cigarette between them. Robert looked at Y/N.

"Hey Doll, can you pass me a cigarette?" he asked, nodding towards Y/N. Who chuckled and shook her head, reaching for pack of smokes that rested in her left breast pocket. Tossing him the pack.

"Sure thing Bob. Just one thing though, I'm not your 'Doll'," Hoosier chuckled and shook his head. Robert and Y/N had a weird thing going. They were always flirting. But not in the usual flirty way. More like Robert chased her like no tomorrow. Compliments, promises, straight up telling her that he knew that they would get married one day and have a family. That this war brought them together. Whilst Y/N always shot him down with comebacks and sarcasm. But each comeback just made him want her even more. Though, Y/N never truly meant the comebacks as crude and mean insults, she always said them with a smile and laughing. Many thought Robert was trying all this time to get in her pants like any other Marine. But, he truly fell in love with the female Marine. And some thought Y/N truly didn't like Robert, but they were almost just as wrong as the people that misread Bob. She fell for Bob, she just didn't want to admit it. She knew with this war it was too difficult to love someone. So she put off her feelings and just played along with the cat and mouse game with Leckie.

"Aw come on Y/N, you know you love me," Bob spoke with a smile. Y/N shook her head and pushed herself up to stand. She smirked at him and plucked her almost finished cigarette from her lips and flicked it away. Looking back at the Marine that sat between her friends. She then gave a small wink to Robert and turned, stepping out of the large foxhole and walking off to wherever.

"You've got it bad for her don't you, Leckie?" Hoosier laughed while Robert smirked. He crossed his arms and puffed out of the smoke from his cigarette. Hoosier's question grasped the rest of the guy's attention.

"I'm telling you guys, her and I are gonna get married! I promise you that!" he spoke loudly, placing his hands behind the back of his head and leaned back. While the other guys scoffed and told him to keep dreaming. But, Robert just chuckled and ignored them.

///

Weeks later, the Marines were in were Melbourne, Australia. They were dressed nice in their service Charlies. It was the second night in the Australian city, where the squad was out at a nice bar and dancing joint. Hoosier actually got up from his nap to come join the group of men and the one lady. They sat around a table in the beginning, drinking and smoking whilst talking with each other. It wasn't long before the guys found women to dance, flirt, and grab at. Leaving Y/N sitting by herself as she drank. That's right, among the men in the group that went and grabbed an Australian broad, was indeed Robert Leckie. He was tipsy, he couldn't think straight she guessed. So she just sat at the table drinking, watching her friends have fun with some girls.

Hoosier came and dropped back in, seemingly bored. He looked at the woman who was just fiddling with her drink. Trying to figure out if she wanted to act on her feelings or not. And Bill knew exactly that. He chuckled, catching the female's attention. Who raised a brow at him as she pushed her empty beer glass away. "What?" she asked.

"Go talk to him. You know that the moment you ask he will drop that chick and bend to your every will?" He scoffed. Y/N's cheeks reddened, already knowing who he was talking about, not even needing to heat his name. Her gaze went from him, straight to her empty glass that sat in front of her.

"I don't know what you're talking about Hoos," Y/N straightened her back and swallowed hard, looking back at the Marine that sat to her side. Who just raised an eyebrow and chuckled sarcastically. Knowing that she understood his words, just didn't want to admit it. Though, before he could speak, Y/N stood and excused herself. Quickly turning and walking out of the bar. Hoosier just sat there and sighed, turning to look at Leckie, who was looking back at him and pushing away the Blonde that was on his lap.

In Robert's infamous tipsy wisdom, thought that if he used a random Australian girl to flirt and grab at, maybe Y/N would step up and try to talk to him. Leckie got Hoosier to try to get her attention after the plan wasn't exactly working, and look how far that got him. He pushed away the Blonde, who now was quite angry but huffed and walked away. Leckie walked over to Hoosier and huffed. "What happened?" he grunted. Hoos shrugged and stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You're plan wasn't all that smart, buddy," Hoosier answered. Giving him a face and walking passed him. Whilst Bob just looked at the door that Y/N just walked out of. He pursed his lips and pursued the female's footsteps. Pushing open the door and walking outside. The brisk air hitting his skin and the smell of salt water from the nearby ocean filled his nostrils. He looked to his left and saw Y/N who was struggling to light her cigarette.

"Aw come on! Son of a bitch," she cursed as she repeatedly kept flicking the lighter with her thumb. It just wouldn't light. She huffed and tilted her head up, the cigarette sticking up from her lips. That's when Robert swooped in. A smirk on his lips as she didn't notice his presence right away.

"Need a light?" he asked, holding up his lighter. Y/N jumped, nearly dropping her cigarette. She placed a hand on her chest and looked at him. Bob was now chuckling while still holding up his lighter for the woman.

"Goddamn it Leckie! Don't sneak up at me like that! I thought you were some fucking Jap!" she cursed, snatching the lighter out of his grasp and lighting her cigarette. Handing the lighter back and looking away. It was clear the imprint of him with his paws all over some other woman was still making her upset. Leckie noticed the behavior and his face softened as he stood next to the woman.

"Hey Doll I," he started, trying to give an explanation. Like stated before, their chemistry and relationship was kind of strange in explaining what it actually was. Y/N just plucked her cigarette from her lips and blew out the nicotine filled smoke. Holding the cancer stick between her index and middle finger. A sigh leaving her lips.

"Save it, Leckie," she spoke. Robert noticed how bad he must've messed up. She only called him by his last name when she was either really upset or angry at him. He was guessing she was feeling both those emotions heavily towards him. He just turned his body to look at her. He was clearly about to not save his words.

"It's a funny story actually. I got that girl so I could try to make you jealous and maybe you would come dance with me or," Y/N cut him off with a scoff and a sarcastic laugh. She threw her cigarette butt on the ground quite harshly. Robert quickly noticed her feelings of anger. Her head tilted to the side as she turned to look at him.

"How much of a broad do you think I am to just get all upset to see you with another girl? We aren't together Leckie! God, sometimes I think you are just like the rest of the Marines around us. Just trying to get in my pants," she hissed. Robert pressed his lips together. Not at all realizing the effect this had on her. "How about that girl you were pawing over and kissing, I don't think she was in on the joke. You men treat us women like objects! God, I thought you weren't like all the others! Turns out you are just some horny grunt that wants to get some!" each of her word cut into him like a dagger. He thought over his actions and realized he was in fact an idiot. He didn't even know how to defend himself against these woman's words. Though, with him just staring at her wasn't making her feel any better.

"Look Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or make you feel these ways. I just," he tried to defend.

"You just wanted to get my attention," she took a step towards him and grabbed onto his collar tightly. "If I was a boy I'd clock you one right now. Maybe even twice. One fore me. And one for that Blonde in the bar," Y/N spat. Leckie's breath hitched as she was just inches away from him. Noses almost touching. He grabbed her wrist, her hand in a fist. Bringing it up and pressing it under his chin.

"Then do it, give me a big black eye, Y/N," he huffed. For a brief moment, there was silence. The tension between the two was astronomical. Y/N huffed and pulled him down by his collar harshly. Smashing his lips onto hers. Leckie's eyes widened in shock at first, but quickly moved his arms to grab at her waist. While both of her hands locked onto his collar. Their lips moving together perfectly. Like a puzzle coming together perfectly.

The kiss lasted for about a minute and a half. He pulled away slowly, staring down at the feisty woman in front of him. "Feisty, I like it," Bob said. Y/N chuckled, her anger seemingly slipped away.

"Watch it, Robert," she spoke, placing a finger on his lips. He just laughed and shut his eyes for a moment. Trying to process what just happened. "I'm gonna turn in for the night, you can go back to boys. But I don't want to hear you dancing with some other girl!" she warned jokingly. Leckie nodded quickly. Snapping to attention and saluting.

"Yes ma'am," He shouted. Y/N shook her head and slapped his shoulder, pressing her lips to his cheek. Leaving an imprint of her victory red lipstick on his cheek.

"Oh hush there Marine. You got my lipstick on your cheek, that way those girls know your taken," with those finishing words, Y/N lit another cigarette and placing it between her lips. She turned and walked the street. Walking towards a trolley bus in order to hitch a ride back to the stadium. Leckie just sat there, still shocked as what happened and the major turn of events. He wasn't complaining though. He just turned around, and with a smirk, he strides back into the bar. Ready to boast about what just happened to the boys.

#robert leckie imagine #robert leckie #the pacific #the pacific imagine #john basilone #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #hbo imagine #HBO Series #hbo #hbo war #eugene sledge #Snafu Shelton #Merriell Shelton

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