#the art block continues lads

[northwest-cryptid]

Since people seem to have a want for OC and Sona stuff, I shall drop it below the cut for anyone who wants that stuff.

I think the big thing I gotta start off with is saying that for me, Sona and OC are two different things; every Sona is of course an OC, but not every OC is a Sona.

So for the sake of explanation I personally define it as such (and if you define it differently, that's perfectly fine I'm just saying this is how I personally define it for the sake of explanation). An OC is simply an Original Character/Creation, it's a work that comes from myself and not an outside influence such as a video game, tv show, or other media. While a Sona is a "Personification" or a "Persona" of a thing, typically representative of myself, but sometimes it could be of an aesthetic, a concept, or a genre. An example of this would be that I used to have various Sonas for the different styles of music I made (which was a trend back in the day god I feel old saying that).

Okay now to actually get into the stuff people actually came here for. Kicking things off with Sonas I use to represent myself in various media we have first on the list:

Velvet/VelvetSoul

Velvet has been and continues to be one of my main Sonas and a representation of myself that I use for things like VRC, while the outfits are generally in need of a lot of work (they're pretty basic with a very simple pixelation effect thrown on to give off that dreamcast vibe) the more defining features of their hair/eyes and such are based heavily on my OCs from various media and D&D games. Note that yes these are both intended to be the same character, I'm genderfluid as hell and appreciate being able to outwardly present as a more masculine or feminine design at times. The beanie that masculine Velvet wears is a sort of callback to a beanie I wear a lot IRL because it gives me a place to display my collection of pins, I will eventually update it accordingly however for the time being it works just fine.

For the spooky season I gave Velvet a silly ghost appearance where I decided to take some inspiration from the Jet Set Radio aesthetic of big ol' feet and slightly larger hands, I've always enjoyed the concept of playing around with anatomy in a stylized fashion, I however once again didn't go too hard on the outfit since I'm honestly still working on these characters and have a ways to go before I'm going to be happy with them. I however dropped the pixel look here that we see on the original Velvet design:

While some may argue that this isn't recognizably the same character, I would argue that variety is the spice of life and I am fucking SPICY.

I did do a little work on facial expressions to make sure they didn't horribly disfigure the face which was fun

Another Sona often used to represent myself, and one that I hold dear to me is Akito/Aki, probably the one I'm best known for:

I really did my best to throw more Native inspiration at this lad, and honestly I still have a long ways to go on them. They as well have a feminine design that looks wildly different I don't know why I'm like this but I enjoy it:

and as per usual I'm not 100% happy with how they came out so I'm gonna keep working on them because I love my dumb blorbos but I can never stop "improving" the designs lol.

I think my main issue with the current design for Akito is that the artist who drew the VERY FIRST ever commissioned piece of art for Akito did such a good job and no one has been able to capture the same vibe this sketch has this dude did it for like $5 and I gave him such a big tip because I was so annoyed that he was underselling his work because HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THIS and you want to know the worst part? I got blocked out of my twitter account recently and as I'm unable to access my twitter account I literally do not know what the artist changed his handle to though I remember him changing it before I got locked out, so I literally have no idea what the hell he's going by and I really want to give him a proper shoutout so I'm absolutely going to figure it out because he deserves credit for this piece to the point I'm salty he didn't like, sign it or anything.

This is art that never gets seen and it kills me because for those who don't know, the original design concept for Akito was a sort of mix of 3 things, Kallian (Xenoblade), Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy), and general Space/Owl motifs given that the general concept design philosophy behind Akito was the idea that, Hihankaga The Owl Maker, a Lakota deity who judged Nagi on their way to the afterlife; was essentially retiring and had placed Akito in her place as the new Owl Maker. My main idea behind that was that people would come to the Owl Maker and tell her their life story the same way I was doing challenge runs in games that would typically follow a character (such as Chester from my Kenshi playthrough) and thematically it would be a sort of "retelling of their life" I was originally, and might still do this mind you; going to have a website dedicated to a sort of "Hall of Fame" where I would write a short bio for each character who's major arc has been completed on the streams and determine if they had lived a life fit for being worthy of an afterlife or whether I'd deemed them unworthy and cast them into the abyss. So basically Akito was meant to be this sort of cosmic owl spirit with wings and stars and the whole nine yards, but still be a more comfortable/easy going sort of individual. The key concept behind Akito as The Owl Maker was simply that Akito never wanted to cast spirits into the abyss so they specifically did everything they could to help people live a fulfilling life just so they could rightfully deem them worthy of their afterlife. Hence why I love the idea of them just wearing really casual clothes and like, a comfy scarf, also I like scarves. The red on the scarf is not just a gentle nod to the color of the four directions but also to the fact Native people are often referred to as "red skins" and generally when it comes to Native imagery such as the symbol for MMIW it's done in red. As a quick aside, if you don't know MMIW is for "Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women" and if you ever seen Akito wearing a red hand-print over their mouth, it's because of this:

(I believe the design on the right was created by Despertar1111 but don't quote me on that seeing as the only place I could find a credit for the image was fucking redbubble but I digress)

The thing no one talks about when it comes to doing Vtuber stuff is the fact that if you're poorer and you save up like $400+ for a model and rigging you'll still get artists who ignore half your design and riggers who generally speaking can't rig full motion so do your research and don't settle on a design/rig that's sub par, I know this now and going forward I'm likely going to make sure the artists and riggers I work with are quality, I already know my next model will be rigged by none other than Neapolitanrime and as for my artist of choice I have no idea because I don't even have the money to consider that sort of thing yet but SOME DAY!

MOVING ON!

One of my OCs and an old OLD Sona for my sort of Grunge Punk music days was such an edgy lad, I'm very like; closet edgelord but you know I mostly keep it to myself; that being said this dude is named Xploit and I love him to death:

General design philosophy here was very grungey street punk vibes, I did in fact slap the same exact beanie that Velvet wears on him but like again clothing is very placeholder with these and basically meant to give a general vibe. Xploit was originally made after my old band and I went downtown and saw some graffiti that was talking about the exploitation of lower class workers where the bottom of the letters were shaped like knives all pointed at a singular entity, likely the laborer in question. I ran with that design to create the logo for Xploit that mirrors his 3 fangs (middle tooth and side fangs) with the X, the L and I, and the T in his name.

Also because I'm 3edgy5u I made his eyes X's (I just thought it looked neat)

I still have a lot of work to do on the shading since I'm working with very simplified 3D model making software instead of making models from scratch in something like Blender like I should be doing to have as much control over it as I want to. That being said it's meant to give an illusion that he has no facial features such as nose/mouth until otherwise speaking, at which point his fangs are meant to be prominent. Everything about his outline from his eyes to his hair is intended to be extremely sketchy and rough.

and because I have a soft spot for making even my edgier characters silly little guys, I made it so when he gets surprised his eyes bubble up.

Since I know there's some controversy regarding characters with bandages and the like I'd like to quickly make mention that none of the bandages worn by my characters are ever intended to suggest self harm.

Admittedly this is far from the complete roster, but we're eliminating anyone/anything that sprung up from games (I do consider them OCs to a degree but I understand they are influenced by the media they were created from/in and I don't feel like that should be necessarily included on a list of original characters that I specifically defined as "not being from media") and these are the ones I've been working on most recently so they're more in the forefront of my mind; I have plenty more for things ranging from music Sonas to just various OCs I've used for D&D and the like. That being said I'll likely throw together another one of these for the other OCs when I have more time/I'm not as busy.

You can have these drawings though:

Akito and Nazo who is @the-sum-of-ones-parts' sona. They are also the one who drew this. They also drew this of Nazo and Velvet

They also drew Akito in a dress (they are giving Melia vibes and I'm all for it.)

and they ALSO drew Akito and Nazo for the Outlast 2 stream we did.

Note that Nazo is a shapeshifter.

Big shout out to @the-sum-of-ones-parts for drawing so many of my dumb OCs/Sonas (like you guys don't understand there is more but I'm trying to not make this post 10 miles long)

THAT BEING SAID I HAVE A BUNCH OF DUMB MEMES OF AKITO YOU CAN HAVE (if you can't tell Akito is my most public OC)

If you have any questions I probably have answers (hopefully) so ask away my friend.

#Oh god it's a mess of a post lol

[goodomenslady]

Good Omens Fic Rec List 19

A collection of human/demon AUs. Aziraphale as a priest being tempted by demon Crowley is a popular theme! Enjoy these selections.

1. In the House of My Father by @entanglednow Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/34490506 Rating:  E Word Count:  12,158 (one-shot)

Father Aziraphale is summoned to the estate of Lord Gabriel, and is confronted with an imprisoned demon, Crowley, from whom he has been ordered to extract information, and to clean up the demon's wounds sustained from nightly torture. He knows he shouldn't pity this creature from Hell, but he can't help but feel that Lord Gabriel's methods to be rather extreme. Crowley seems able to heal from the wounds dealt to him nightly, but Aziraphale finds it impossible to remain aloof, and once Crowley starts appearing in his dreams, he finds himself drawn ever deeper into a forbidden relationship. As Gabriel increasingly demands answers to his questions, the pressure on Aziraphale mounts until he is driven to make a choice.

2. A State of Bliss by @janara7 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/39295611 Rating:  E Word Count: 10,849 (one-shot)

This fic features the lads from Radio Omens. Aziraphale is a writer who's had enormous success with his first book, but now he simply can't get his next one off the ground. The publishers are putting pressure on him. And then he's approached by a stranger named Crowley, who reveals that he's a demon who can help Aziraphale out. But he doesn't want his soul. In exchange for sex, Crowley will get rid of that pesky writer's block. Aziraphale is appalled at first, but the deadline is looming ever closer, and once Crowley gives him a little taste of unfettered creativity the likes of which Aziraphale's never experienced, his resolve starts to waver. This fic is HOT. Great slow build-up of pressure as Aziraphale struggles to get back his writing mojo on his own, but with his publishers breathing down his neck and Crowley sauntering across his path every so often, this is some serious temptation.

3. Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned (And I Plan to do it Again) by HidingInTheInkwell Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609598 Rating:  E Word Count:  15,355 (7/7 chapters, complete)

Aziraphale is a deacon who does his best, but somehow it never seems to be enough for his superior, Gabriel, who is continually criticizing his looks and actions. Until he encounters Crowley who, although a demon and a creature he knows he ought to shun, is the only one who truly sees Aziraphale and his worth. CW for physical and emotional abuse.

4. The Bargain by @holycatsandrabbits and PrimeBubbleLad Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/39097902 Rating:  E Word Count:  3,986 (one-shot)

Aziraphale is a lonely librarian who becomes rather smitten with a demon in one of his books, and decides to summon him for...companionship. Crowley fulfills his secret yearnings, he's confident and dominating, yet kind too, and considerate of Aziraphale's feelings, and he discovers that he really likes it when Crowley takes charge.  This was fun to read, with a little twist at the end that deepened the feels. Includes some most excellent art!

5. The Serpent's Dreams: A Thief in the King's Garden and Other Tales by siderism Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/39425421 Rating:  E Word Count:  4,782 (one-shot)

Aziraphale finds an intriguing old book at an estate sale, filled with erotic stories and paintings of a beautiful red-haired man. The front of the book is full of the names of previous owners, with one space left for one more name. As he reads a chapter each night, he begins having vivid dreams, all of which feature the lovely man from the book, who for some reason seems quite keen that Aziraphale ought to sign his name. CW for possible dubcon, though that's more in relation to Aziraphale's soul rather than the steamy acts these two get up to.

6. Come in, father by DarkHedgehog Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/34805665 Rating:  E Word Count:  2,758 (one-shot)

Father Aziraphale has been invited to the house of a wealthy man, Crowley, one dark night, where his faith is challenged. With his skillful musicianship, his every smirk and knowing word, Crowley knows exactly the effect he's having on Aziraphale, and he won't take no for an answer. CW for dubious consent.

7. How To Catch a Demon by @holycatsandrabbits Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512651 Rating:  E Word Count:  11,374 (3/3 chapters, complete)

Aziraphale is a college student who works in a bookstore next to Anathema's occult shop. He's a skeptic of all things supernatural, and loves debating about the existence of ghosts,  demons, and other entities with Anathema, which makes it a bit challenging for his boyfriend Crowley, who happens to be an actual demon. Not that Crowley minds Aziraphale's skepticism exactly, as it keeps things interesting, but it does mean hiding who he really is. Until the day he and Aziraphale walk into Anathema's shop in the middle of a hold-up, and Crowley takes action against the robbers.  A fun, sexy tale featuring a mischievous Aziraphale and naga Crowley.

8. Ekstasis by @wargoddess9 and @zadusk Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/34496314 Rating:  E Word Count:  58,057 (16/16 chapters, complete)

Many years ago Aziraphale gave up his vocation as a priest for the love of a demon. Being with Crowley has extended his lifespan by a miraculous amount, but he's still only human, and now he's passed away. In the midst of insurmountable grief, Crowley's only goal is to be reunited with his love, wherever his soul has gone. The question remains, though:  has Aziraphale gone to Heaven, as would be right for a person as good and kind as he is? Or has he been sentenced to Hell, for daring to love a demon? This fic is a rollercoaster of emotions, of despair and grief and hope, as both Crowley and Aziraphale remember their long life together and become ever more determined to find their way back to each other. Includes some truly gorgeous art!

#good omens #good omens fic recs #bottom aziraphale #top crowley #good omens fanfiction #fic recs

[opal-owl-flight]

Can I just say, I love seeing Susie get what’s coming to her. She's evil, just like her father. You know what would make it all the more satisfying though?  Having someone like Kirby or Taranza get angry and smack her around. The good, soft lads being genuinely terrifying as they make this capitalist quiver in fear. After Magolor gets his go, of course.

Before I answer this ask, Ive added another tag for this arc. Its Susie neg — please for the love of god, if you dont like seeing this content, just block this tag (or me) and move along. Someone else said it better; the tags are not for “positivity” only. Theyre for organization. This is under a character’s tag bc THEY ARE IN THE ART. Continuing on…

Things dont exactly end up that way…

Mags didnt STAB her like what some people say. He let Dwarf feast on her negative energy. Sometimes, a Dark Matter will make the emotions feel worse, to generate more negative energy for it to feed on.

Mags only did this for a moment.

Then let her go.

This act of mercy made Susie get her shit together, but shes pretty much banned from Popstar for all shes done.

#kirby #kirby fanart #Legacy arc #magolor #taranza #susie haltmann #/neg #susie neg #opal owl’s nest #really dont get how this counts as hate tbh; its…just how the story unfolds #and by the way she was getting AWAY with her continued conquest scott free! #everyones too scared of her to really investigate/look into what shes up to! #Mags meanwhile suffered IMMENSELY for the Crown incident; maybe a little too much. but he suffered those consequences definitely #torment tw #torture tw #(…implied)

[your-local-enigma]

uhh new pinned post yippee (do read)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

before you follow:

🎣 | hey. i'm gabe. i'm in the splatoon fandom and draw traditional fanart for the characters and things. been arting since i was a wee lad... (i'm a minor.)

🐟 | i go by they/them and he/him prns. i'm agender and stuffs.

🐠 | DNI: basic critera, transphobes, homophobes, proshippers, t*rfs, rads, conservatives (though, this is tumblr...), zoophiles, all that shit. if you're over 18, i'm fine to talk about light stuff/discussion. but i know predatory behavior when i see it, okay. don't even attempt. i WILL block/report you.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

tags tags come get your tags

🦑 | art tag: #enigma draws

🐙 | ask tag: #enigma answers

🦐 | others tag: #i yell shit (#enigma talks is archived, still a thing if you wanna see my old stuff...)

🦀 | oc tags: #bairds (oc) for my splatsona, and a bunch of other agent tags but you'll know them when you see them lol. (i gave up on my splatoon fanfic bc it was cringey LMAO i'm in no place to write rn)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

other medias/sideblogs

🦞 | i'm not continuing my wattpad bc well... wattpad. i do have a twitter and ao3 but idk i don't feel motivated to try to gain traction there. maybe later.

🐡 | my sideblog (that i don't really use that much tbh.): @harmonious-cephalopod - reblog/reference on the go.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

uhhh... yeah. that's it really. here's some extra stuff:

🦈 | you may use my works for things like pfps, edits, and moodboards with proper credit given. the internet is a wide place, ya know.

🐋 | you CAN draw my ocs, dummies. some restrictions apply on people like bairds (splatsona) and ikura (neo agent 3), as they are minors.

🐳 | if i do or say anything stupid (socially unacceptable), please do not hesitate to inform and educate me.

🐬 | okay bye have fun.

(edit:) from now on, i will be using the #artists on tumblr tag. idk.

#pinned post #pinned intro #intro post #about me #artists on tumblr

[dragonsarecool]

Day 1 Whumptober - Unconventional Restraints

One: Unconventional Restraints

A/N: Set after 'Alph Art'. Also available on Fanfiction.net and AO3 under the name catkid3

It was quiet.

Almost too quiet for Tintin's liking.

He didn't mind the quiet; after all, that was one of the benefits that came with living at Marlinspike. All of his old apartments had always been in busy city blocks, where he was constantly bombarded with the sounds of traffic and other residents. At Marlinspike, the only expected noise would be the Captain yelling something at Nestor, or Snowy attempting to chase the Captain's cat for the tenth time in one day.

It did made Tintin suspicious, however, that it was so quiet when Abdullah was currently staying at Marlinspike. Despite having grown significantly since their last meeting in Italy, Abdullah had continued to maintain his habit of performing irritating and frequent pranks, which did little to ease the ageing Captain's nerves.

Tintin was just about to open the front door and go for a stroll when he heard it.

"TINTIN! TINTIN! BLISTERING BARNACLES, I'M GONNA SKIN THAT LITTLE SEA URCHIN!"

Tintin almost dropped his keys, only to catch them at the last minute. "Captain?!"

"TINTIN! GET ME OUT OF THIS MESS SO I CAN PULVERISE THAT ICONOCLAST OF A PRINCE!"

It had taken a couple of minutes for the reporter to deduce which room the Captain was in, as his voice had been fairly faint. He'd tried yelling out to the Captain, only to realise the older man couldn't hear him over his continuous violent threats towards the prince.

Tintin eventually found himself walking past the kitchen, and would have kept walking if Haddock hadn't let out another stream of violent English expletives that Tintin couldn't translate.

Upon poking his head into the kitchen, the younger man instantly spluttered. "Bon chagrin!"

"Tintin, this isn't funny! That little delinquent is gonna pay for this…this..!"

Tintin lost his self-control and allowed a hearty laugh to escape his throat. He felt embarrassed at doing so, obviously, but it was such a ridiculous scene that he felt his reaction was justified.

After all, the image of the Captain lying on the kitchen floor with two skipping ropes and a ball of cooking twine wrapped around his whole body was never going to leave his head. Ever.

The Captain growled from his supine position on the floor, squirming pathetically in his bonds. "Blistering barnacles, you daft lad, get me out of this before I go crazy!"

It took Tintin a few seconds to calm himself before proceeding to kneel on the floor next to his friend. "How on earth did this happen?!"

"I was on my way in here to grab a bottle of whiskey, but it turns out that little brat was hiding behind the door and tripped me with his foot!" The Captain spat angrily. "Ohhhh, wait until I get my hands on him, that little sh-"

"But Captain," Tintin finished unwrapping the skipping rope around the Captain's legs and set to work on the one tied around his arms, "he's only a boy-

"A boy?! A demon, more like!"

"No, I mean how the hell did he tie you up like this?"

Haddock almost looked as though he'd been ask to relieve his worst nightmare; his face instantly paled and a haunted look filled his eyes. "It was all a blur, Tintin…his little devious hands moved so fast I could hardly keep up. And besides, I was pretty winded from the fall. He's damn lucky I didn't kill myself during the fall - I nearly hit the countertop! - because now I'm going to kill him!"

With a heave and a grunt, Tintin managed to hoist the older man into an upright position, leaning him against a set of cupboards. "How long have you been-"

"Two. Bloody. Hours." The Captain hissed. "Imagine that, Tintin. Two damn hours. In your OWN home, nonetheless!"

Tintin was taken aback by the harsh tone of voice, but he fought to remain calm and continued to untie his friend. "Captain, remember that I once got kidnapped outside my own apartment; I know the feeling. But why didn't you call-

"Of course I wanted to yell out, you daft sod! Only reason I'm still in this mess is that it took me that long to get the gag out," Haddock motioned his head towards a crumpled tea towel lying near his feet.

Tintin allowed a puzzled look to cross his face. "Why didn't you just pull it out with your knees?"

"Because I'm not a flexible young man like yerself, Tintin!" Haddock snapped. "Blistering barnacles…"

Tintin sighed as he threw aside the second skipping rope. He'd regretted that comment as soon as he'd said it - he kept forgetting that he'd been in similar situation more often than the Captain, and at a younger age as well. "Keep talking, Captain; I'll just grab a pair of scissors."

"Bottom drawer I think, lad," The Captain stretched his legs, groaning at the relief it provided. "I don't care if it was a harmless prank, Tintin, I want that boy out of my house!'

"It could've been worse, Captain," Tintin rummaged around in the drawers, his quiff sticking above the kitchen countertop.

"Thundering typhoons, lad, how the HELL could this be any worse?!"

Tintin resumed his position at Haddock's side, clutching a pair of meat scissors in his hand. "Calculus could've found you instead of me."

Haddock's face instantly fell. "I'd probably be still on the floor, wouldn't I?"

Tintin nodded as he snipped away at the last of the string, shoving it in his pocket as the Captain let out a groan of relief, straining his arms.. The young man allowed Haddock a few moments to regain feeling in his limbs as he helped him to his feet, steadying the older man as he wobbled. "Still, Captain, I don't think resorting to murdering Abdullah is the right suggestion-"

"WELL I THINK IT IS! NESTOR!" Haddock hollered over Tintin's head, ignoring the cringe of pain from the younger man. "NESTOR! GET ME THE EMIR-"

"Captain!" Tintin shouted, grabbing a firm hold of the Captain's jacket. "How about you sit first and just have a drink?! That is the whole reason you came in here, isn't it?"

It took Haddock a moment before he relented, sighing as he threw himself into one of the dining chairs. A few minutes of silence passed between the two men as Tintin prepared a cup of tea for both of them; the older man slumped over the dining table, twiddling his thumbs absently.

"Here you are, Captain. And this time," Tintin set both cups down, "I am not putting a drop of brandy in it."

If Haddock had heard this remark, he gave no signs that he did. He sipped his tea thoughtfully for several minutes before he suddenly spoke, giving the younger man a tired expression. "You know, Tintin, I, uh…you remember what those bandits did to me in Peru, don't you?"

Tintin finished his mouthful of tea, astonished at this rare comment of distress from his friend. "How they ambushed us with Zorrino?"

"And left me wrapped up like a turkey in the middle of the night," Haddock tried to repress a shiver. He shook his head as he swallowed another sip of tea. "I mean, I-I know it's not the same, but when…when Abdullah s-shoved that tea towel…and, and all those ropes around me…I couldn't help but think I was back on that mountain-"

Tintin instantly moved his seat closer, placing a hand on Haddock's shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Captain. You experienced a traumatic event, and this has reminded you of that event, even if Abdullah didn't intend it."

The Captain sighed deeply, rubbing his face furiously. "But lad, you got tied up all the time!"

"It doesn't mean it was never frightening, Captain," Tintin said quietly. "You're allowed to express feelings about it. Don't act like it never happened."

Haddock appeared to be deep in thought for several moments before he patted Tintin's hand. "You're a good lad, Tintin. Now how about you help me sort out Abdullah?"

Tintin let out a laugh. "Non-lethal methods only, Captain."

"Absolutely."

A/N: Bon chagrin = good grief

#whumptober #whumptober2022 #tintin #the adventures of tintin #adventures of tintin #fanfiction

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S FATE - CHAPTER 36

*Warning: Adult Content*   

"Missing? What do you mean Miguel is missing? Since when?"

Incipient panic makes Marti Hunter’s voice high and breathless and Skylar West rests a steadying hand on his back as darkness creeps across his vision.

"Sometime last night," Alpha Dane Hunter says in his unflappable cop voice, a voice trained to remain calm and cool even when delivering words that make worlds fall apart. 

"The exact time is... uncertain," he adds.

"Miguel seemed a tad quiet and withdrawn yesterday," Ambrose Thorne says, "but that's not unusual for the lad, so we didn't much remark on it. We watched a movie with the other children after dinner but Miguel excused himself. Said he was tired and went up to his room."

"I checked on him a while later," Noah Hunter says. "It looked like he was sleeping with the sheet over his head to block the light. I figured he'd had a rough day at school and didn't want to disturb him, so I let him be."

"It was this morning we grew concerned," Ambrose continues. "The other children were up early and Noah made them pancakes for breakfast. When Miguel still hadn't come down by seven, I went up to check on him. It appeared he was still sleeping soundly but when I pulled back the cover, I found the bed empty. He'd arranged pillows and a blanket in an approximation of his form."

"Classic move," Dane remarks. "I remember you and Travis doing something similar once and leaving Noah behind as your cover."

"Miguel's not like that," Martin snaps and then gasps as air rushes to fill the void in his lungs. "He wouldn't... run away."

"Kids do all kinds of crazy things for all kinds of crazy reasons," Dane says. "As I'm sure you're aware. Even good kids do dumb shit sometimes. Can you think of any reason Miguel might have been upset?"

Martin frowns at his brother.

"He's naturally quiet but generally happy. I think."

"What about at Flora's Shifting celebration?" Dane asks. "He ran into the woods and you followed him, didn't you?"

Martin’s frown grows more pronounced and he cross his arms defensively. 

"That was a misunderstanding. He'd overheard something I hadn't meant for him to overhear."

"Could he have overheard something again?"

All the things Martin and Skylar had talked about in the last twelve hours run through the single father’s mind but at last he shook his head. 

"I don't see how he could have. That's why I had the kids stay over here. I didn't want..."

Martin cut himself off as Julian Hart approached, leading Nico and Rio by the hands, with Flora trailing after.

"I think these young men have something they'd like to tell you," Julian says.

Nico and Rio sniff and scrub their eyes.

"He said not to snitch," Nico says, pouting.

"Yeah," Rio agrees unhappily. "He said if we told he'd never let us use the 'tendo again."

"The what?" Alpha Dane asks under his breath.

"The Nintendo," Martin says. "Their game system."

“Ah.”

Martin kneels in front of his twin boys. 

"Hey, you remember the no trouble rule? This is what it's for. You guys can tell me anything."

"And we won't be in trouble?"

"And you won't be in trouble. I promise."

They exchange glances, the almost telepathic communication unique to twins passing between them and each seems waiting for the other to speak first.

Martin sighs. 

"How about you both tell me on the count of three. Okay?"

They nod.

"Okay. One... two... three."

In perfect unison, they shout... 

"HE WENT HOME TO GET HIS DRAWING STUFF."

Martin blinks. 

"His... His drawing stuff?"

Completing one another's sentences seamlessly, they spill forth their tale.

"We had to use the bathroom in the movie..."

"—and we saw Miguel tryna sneak outta window. Uncle Nono said..."

"—to stay inna house, so we were gonna tell but..."

"—Miguel said he left his art stuff at home an' he..."

"—wanned to go get it, an' he'd be right back, an' that..."

"—if we told on him we'd be in big trouble, an' you'd take the Switch away an'..."

"—even if he got it back he'd never let us play with it again."

Slim shoulders and narrow chests heaving, they stare up at their father with trembling lips and watery eyes. 

Martin presses his hand over his mouth, mind racing.

"We din't mean 'a keep secrets," Rio adds.

Martin open his arms to them and pull them both into a hug. 

"No, mijos, you're not in trouble. Thank you for telling me." 

Looking up at Noah and Ambrose, Martin asks... 

"Do you remember what time that was? When you paused the movie for a potty break?"

Martin knows for a fact that no matter how many times they've seen it, the twins will insist that the movie be paused so they don't miss anything.

My brother and his mate exchange a glance.

"I was still doing the dishes," Ambrose says. "I remember because Flora came in for a chat while she waited for her brothers. So... just a little past 6:30, I think."

Martin does the math and swear silently.

By the most direct route, their house is a mile away on foot. 

Miguel could easily have gotten there in 15 minutes without breaking a sweat, which means he would have arrived just in time to hear everything he and Skylar had said.

If he'd made it that far.

He hadn't been at home this morning and he wasn't here and that meant...

Panic tightens around Martin’s chest like a vise and pain lances him like a spear. 

Gasping for air, he release the twins and reaches for his mate as he begins to hyperventilate. 

Skylar catches him as he loses strength, supporting his weight as he clutches helplessly at his shirt.

"Sky... We'd have sensed him, wouldn't we? We'd have known if he..."

"Shhh, Martin, breathe," he commands, lips barely moving as he leans close to me. 

"Slowly now. In... and out. That's it. You're alright. Just breathe."

The Merman is using his Voice but Martin doesn't care. 

He shut his eyes and surrender completely, letting it wash over and through him like a calming wave, until his grip on his shirt goes slack and he rests his head against his lover’s chest.

"Miguel..." Martin murmurs. "We'd have... sensed if he was... listening. Wouldn't we?"

"I can't say," Skylar whispers. "We were absorbed in our own business and had no cause to think we'd be overheard. If he did eavesdrop, though, I'm fairly certain he left before... er... 'storytime' turned to 'show and tell,' if you get me. We were alone then. I'm sure."

Martin nods. 

"Me, too. The bedroom's not that big."

Alpha Dane clears his throat.

"So. You guys are... Uh... I mean it seems as if..."

Rousing himself, Martin get to his feet with Skylar's help and faces his brother and Alpha with firm but modest resolution.

"We are Mated, yes." 

Martin looks to his children next and meets each of their eyes in turn. 

"Flora, Nico, Rio... I know it may seem sudden but Sky and I..."

"Cannot yet be recognized as Mates," a new voice interrupts.

Martin turns, along with everyone else and a shot of ice goes through the single father’s veins.

His ex-wife Elena stands on the sidewalk at the edge of Ambrose and Noah's property and Martin’s oldest son, Miguel stands at her side. 

His head is bowed and his shoulders hunched, his eyes trained on the pavement at his feet.

Elena smiles. 

"Don't worry, my dear," she says. "I'm here to help."

[texasthegreatdestroyer]

And I’m back, Mother fuckers! And I’ve got a blog update!

Now that I have a little more free time once again, I’ve got some news. So let’s get the main thing out of the way. I’m done with the Sims 4 anti paywall Community. They’re a bunch of team killing fucktards, and they’re gonna eat themselves alive, and uh, as a good song once said. “I have no fucks to give, my fucks have run a-dry!”. Worst case scenario, if shit hits the fan, and we end up back at square 1 with EA, where they aren’t enforcing their policies, and CC creators are illegally profiting off of their content, I’ll do what I did before I found the anti paywall evidence community. I’ll pay for tiers, nab the content, and leak it with burner accounts. Point is, I couldn’t give less of a shit about the morons in that particular community. Karma is a real fuckin bitch, and everyone’s gonna get what’s coming to them eventually. It’s just a matter of time. P.S. There’s also been a lot of discourse since a bunch of screenshots dropped by Mack, and everyone’s bitching about how she was being dumb for it, and irresponsible, and I have to laugh at those people. Since she’s not online anymore, I might as well spill the tea for ya. Yes. We’ve been talking off of tumblr. She blocked me on tumblr, something I personally told her to do, because it wasn’t worth her getting dragged into my shit, but eh. It happened anyways. What can you do? News flash my guys. People don’t have to shun others just to make you feel better about yourselves. If you think that way, then all I can really do is tell ya to fuck right off. Like seriously, sit the fuck down, Diet Mean Girls, Virgina George will always do it better than you, simply because she’s prettier and smarter. Regardless, yes, we had been talking behind the scenes. I knew she was going to drop the screenshots. She was in the middle of actively investigating that shit, got tired of everyone’s bullshit, dropped the screenshots, and left like a fuckin mad lad. So please do continue to bitch about how the dropping of the Harrie legal threat ring screenshots was done irresponsibly, because literally it’s a bunch of people losing their minds over shit they caused to happen in the first place, lol. It’s fucking comedy gold. You want things handled sensitively and responsibly, maybe don’t treat the person doing it like a punching bag. That in mind, I’m doing a content shift, and when I say content shift, I mean I’ll be going back to my roots. I’ll be returning to the writing and drawing aspect of my blog that it had been the majority of this account’s time on tumblr. It’ll range between regular and random art, fandom stuffs, as well as my own original works. Maybe even the occasional Sim, CC recolor, and house build as Sims 4 has become one of my primary creative outlets. I’ll also be looking through my followers, looking for iffy accounts, and removing them from my blog. Mostly because I know there are individuals who’d love to sit there and look over my account every second of the day like the fucking schizo lunatic they are (They will not be named, because I’m not drawing more attention to them than I need to, if you know, you know.), might as well clear out the weirdos that are either leaking them shit from my account, or allowing them to even look over my account, as well as ultimately burn some unneeded bridges. If I get asks about certain things in regards to anti paywall stuff, I’ll still respond so long as it’s to that and nothing else, but otherwise, I’m not going out of my way to be apart of community structurally built on selfishness that attracts fake ass bitches. (Yeah. I see some of you stupid hoes in the back who were originally holding the same stances as myself, only turning your back on them when they weren’t popular anymore. I suppose I’m not surprised in a community where the figure heads are a bunch of pick me girls.) I want to do my own shit again, speak on shit that interests me, and post my creations. If that ain’t your kind of content, then I’d unfollow. Otherwise, that’s it folks. Expect a change in content.

[bethfuller]

didn’t know what to draw so i drew eowyn

#the art block continues lads #thanks for the suggestions tho :)))) #eowyn #lotr #lord of the rings #the return of the king #witch king of angmar #tolkien #rohan #Illustration #Digital Illustration #digital painting #radarplz

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: A Rising Chorus

A/N: \o/ It’s done! Been working on this off and on since Balmung finished its Firmament, and I’m so happy I finally get to share it.

RATING: G WORD COUNT: 3032 WARNINGS: Spoilers for the final Ishgard Restoration quest line that begins with “Not By Bread Alone;” tooth-rotting fluff. Crossposted to AO3!

After months of hard work by Ishgardians and outsiders alike, the Firmament lies finished: the last of its homes ready to welcome the indigent of the Brume; its new businesses awaiting eager customers; and the warmth of Snowsoak prepared to soothe the aches and pains of its residents.

They’ve already had one impromptu party...time for an encore!

---

Hoarfrost Hall cast a long shadow over the Firmament as the sun set, the welkin overhead shading from gold to rose to inky blue with the first of the stars beginning to twinkle into existence far to the east. The image of the Hall’s belltower crept down the Abacus, ever closer to the crowd gathering at the far end of Saint Roelle’s Dais, but the growing gloom was offset by the work of the lamplighters, steadily making their way from Featherfall to the New Nest and Eastern Risensong, and the warm glow of candles and hearthfires spilling from the windows of newly-occupied homes. A low susurrus of noise echoed from the Dais as the assembly talked amongst themselves, the sound broken by the occasional bright peal of laughter or the strident twang of a violin being forced back into tune.

Synnove leaned on the railing overlooking the Dais, chin propped in her hand as she watched the Risensong Players warm up for their encore concert. The piano wasn’t Rereha’s usual choice of instrument—she was fonder of violin and lute and harp—but she had cracked her knuckles and thrown herself into that first practice before the first concert with relish, pulling a swirling song from the instrument even as she had complained about being horrifically rusty, the show-off. And better Rere than herself.

She shuddered. Just because she could hear aether as music did not mean that she had any talent or inclination for the art. And wouldn’t that have been the omen, a Warrior of Light and participating skybuilder mucking up the Firmament’s celebratory concert?

At least Rere could say she had participated during the Restoration; her creative talents lay strictly with music and storytelling, but she could plane wood into lumber.

She caught the sound of footsteps coming up behind her, and Synnove turned around in curiosity—and smiled. “Fancy meeting you here,” she drawled.

Aymeric, dressed down in simple leathers, laughed softly as he came to stand beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Synnove pushed herself to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek—he beamed at her, as pleased as any knight when their love bestowed their favor—while he said, “I hope this time I’m not too late!”

“Just in time, my love,” she said fondly, leaning into him. “They’re finishing warm ups, by the sound of it.”

Her knight pressed a kiss into her hair, causing her to beam in turn, and they settled into comfortable silence, looking out to the Dais as a similar hush fell on the crowd. Synnove could vaguely see familiar forms in the press of people, even at this distance: Uncle Edmont with Artoirel (no doubt still wearing that expression of bewildered delight at having his own composition as the showcase of these concerts) and Honoroit; the Haillenarte siblings clustered close to where Francel sat at his piano, radiating pride so fiercely they nearly flavored the aether of the Firmament with it; Heron, off to the side so she wouldn’t block anyone’s view, Amandina and Roksana perched on either shoulder and Arvide with his jaunty beret beside her. Alakhai lurked among a group of Forgotten Knight staff and regulars and Tailfeather hunters at the back of the crowd, and not far from there, Lucia successfully snuck up on Hilda and her Hounds.

(Nobles, commoners, outsiders, even a few of the dragonets who perched on streetlamps and statues. The sight of so many disparate peoples coming together set a warmth in her chest.)

Even this far from the Risensong Players, anticipation made the air nearly hum, no less potent than it had been for the noon show, and Synnove drew in an expectant breath along with Aymeric beside her as the Players raised their instruments or bows to the ready. And then—

—the first notes from Rereha and Francel’s pianos rang out, and their fellows—Handeloup and Emmanellain still on flute, Elaisse and Lizbeth still on violin, and Potkin and Augebert still on cello—joined the symphony.

For all that she didn’t consider herself musical, Synnove found herself humming along, and both felt and heard Aymeric do so, too. She recognized some of the melody Artoirel had used as part of a popular Halonic hymn, but rather than the martial or dirge-like tones of the versions she had heard when she had first come to Ishgard, it had been transformed into something happy and brilliant and celebratory and hopeful. The Firmament was practically giddy with the music, its ambient aether overwhelmed…or perhaps it was harmonizing instead.

Aymeric drew away from her, and she twisted around to look at him in surprise that quickly morphed into delight when he bowed and held out his hand to her, smiling fit to burst all the while. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Synnove took his hand with a grin and replied, “My lord, it would be my honor.”

He pulled her close, his other arm going around her waist as she brought her other hand to his shoulder, and he dropped a kiss on her nose. As she giggled, he twirled them around, turning her giggles into breathless laughter. They made up the steps as they went along, an awful mix of a minuet and a rigaudon, nearly tripping over their own feet, Synnove’s laughter becoming inelegant snorting cackles and Aymeric snickering into her hair. Over the sounds of their mirth, Synnove could hear the crowd clapping along with the music, and out of the corner of her eye she spotted the movement of other spontaneous dancers.

Aymeric and Synnove collided to a halt as the song ended with a final flourish and the crowd cheered, pressing their foreheads together as they tried to catch their breath between residual giggles. The air between was white from their panting, and she was about to suggest they go to try one of the new food and drink stalls in Featherfall for something hot when the cheery twang of a fiddle rang out across the Dais.

They turned their heads, and even from here they could both see Rereha had abandoned the white piano in favor of her beloved violin, and her bow whipped across the strings to begin a popular reel that was quickly picked up by the other Players, flutes and cellos and piano. Another raucous cheer went up from the crowd, and without prompting, they began to clear a large, open area where lines of dancers quickly formed of both Ishgardians and skybuilders; couples like Lucia and Hilda were hand-in-hand, and friends and family dragged loved ones into the merry scrum. The hulking form of Marcelloix, shaking his head and hunching his shoulders, was easy to pick out, and though the person leading him determinedly through the crowd to the lines couldn’t be seen, there was no doubt in Synnove’s mind that it was Audaine. Those that weren’t lining up to dance instead clapped in time, and in a few more beats, the dancers had begun to dip and spin and whirl about one another in a fast-paced cotillion.

“Turning it into a proper party, this time,” Synnove laughed softly. “Shall we join them?”

Aymeric kissed her temple. “In a little while,” he said. “I’d like to have you to myself for a bit; I’ve barely seen hide nor hair of you in the past sennights.”

“That likely could have been mitigated if a certain someone hadn’t been holed up in parliamentary meetings for whole days at a time…”

“Now that, my love,” he said as they began to dance again in a proper waltz, turning up his nose in faux affront, “is unkind and unjust.”

“But not untrue!”

Their teasing continued as they danced, stepping lightly as the laughter of the crowd and the joy of the music echoed from the Dais. They were coming to the end of the song and slowly twirling towards the Abacus to head to the Dais proper, when—

[Oh! Oh! Is that dancing?!]

The pair glanced up in surprise at the voice that rang out, just in time to see Ehll Tou swoop out of the lamp-studded gloom to gracefully backwing and land a few fulms away. Hautdilong, in a boy-sized fleece-lined leather jacket popular with airship pilots, slid off her back and pushed his flying goggles up to the top of his head, blinking rapidly against the light. His dragon friend, meanwhile, dashed over to the railing, placing her dexterous front hands on the stone and leaning forward with an excited, gravelly trill.

“Oh, goodness,” Hautdilong said, looking out at Saint Roelle’s Dais with wide eyes. “What did we miss? Ehll Tou and I were visiting Gullinbursti and the moogles at Bahrr Lehs the past few days.”

“We finished the Skybuilders’ Monument,” Synnove said, grinning down at the boy when he looked up at her, mouth dropping open. She fought the urge to burst out laughing when Hautdilong’s gaze slid from her to the man next to her and he registered just with whom she had been dancing, and saw Aymeric give a brief half-bow to the lad in acknowledgement. “To make a long story short, a few of the residents wanted to put together a thank you for Francel for his work in overseeing the restoration, and put together a music troupe that performed for the first time earlier today. This,” she gestured at the reforming lines of dancers and the swelling crowd as the Risensong Players began a new song, “is the encore!”

“That explains why I saw Lord Tarresson begin to pack for a trip just as we left this morning!” Hautdilong said. “Someone must have sent him word; he had been speaking to us of how excited he was to see the Firmament finished.”

Ehll Tou suddenly barreled over in the manner of a dragon who sometimes forgot she was much bigger than she used to be, skidding to a halt before she could topple into her two-legged friends. [I want to learn to dance like a child of man!] she said, hopping from foot to foot and wearing her wide, excited smile. [Will you teach me? Please?]

Synnove blinked, momentarily stunned, but it was Aymeric who recovered first. “It would be our honor, Sky Lady,” he said warmly. “Perhaps one of the circle dances to start?”

[I have no idea what that is,] Ehll Tou said, her smile still in place. [But it sounds like fun, so yes!]

“You’ll have to teach me, too, lover-boy,” Synnove teased good-naturedly, poking him in the arm. “You, Hersande, and Baptistaux taught me quadrilles and other court dances, but none of the properly fun ones.”

“Then we will correct that deficiency posthaste,” he said cheerfully. “In fact... Master Hautdilong?”

The boy whipped his head around to Aymeric. “Ah, yes, Lord Speak—er, Ser—” The poor thing had the look of the suddenly nervous and overwhelmed.

“Just ‘Aymeric,’ is fine, especially among friends,” her knight said with a broad wink. Hautdilong slowly smiled back, while Aymeric continued: “Would you happen to be familiar at all with Coerthan circle dances? Particularly the ones from Eastern Coerthas like the branle?”

“I am!” Hautdilong said. “My mother is from the Eastern Lowlands and I was fortunate to travel with her to her home village for the spring planting festivals before the Calamity.”

“My own mama was from the Eastern Highlands,” Aymeric said. “And there’s just enough similarity in some of the town traditions that I believe we’ll manage to teach the ladies well enough. And perhaps some of our other friends, too?”

At that last, he raised his voice, calling out in the shadows, and a with a whoop, a gaggle of children came pelting up the Abacus and rounded the corner to their overlook. Synnove recognized Maelie, Noalle, and some of the Rolanberry Fields children—Lycelle, Peyraquile, and Julchiezain at the forefront—among the group, and following them were a handful of the shier dragonets whose names she had yet to learn. She had been so intent on Aymeric and the music and their mutual joy that she had completely missed the audience they had acquired.

Hautdilong was beaming and, without prompting, began organizing the group of Ishgardian and Dravanian children into a proper circle, with Ehll Tou and her cousins obediently tucking their wings close to avoid knocking other dancers off balance at his suggestion. Synnove dutifully allowed herself to herded elsewhere, exchanging a grin with Aymeric as she was shuffled into the circle between a blue dragonet on her left, who stood on tippy toe to ensure she could properly reach, and Julchiezain on her right. Synnove took a moment to ruffle Julchiezain’s hair—the boy tried to duck around Maelie on his own right to get away from it, but Maelie deftly dodged in turn and shoved him back into his spot and Synnove’s reach with a giggle—before her attention was drawn to the little dragonet tugging at the bottom hem of her vest.

“Hello, little one,” Synnove said, bending down so her face was at level with the dragonet’s. “What can I do for you?”

[My name is Ahm Sorn,] she said shyly, and Synnove melted only a little bit at the sweet, fluting notes of her mental voice. [May we teach this dance to the moogles and our other friends when we return home?]

“You absolutely may!” Synnove said with a smile. “Dances like this are the kind to be shared.”

Little Ahm Sorn made a small, purring little burble in the back of her throat. Synnove’s heart skipped a beat, but she absolutely did not gurgle and try to yank the dragonet into a cuddle. Aymeric shot Synnove a warning look anyway, which she ignored with only a slight pout as she stood up straight once more. She wasn’t actually going to forcibly adopt every sweet little dragonet that crossed her path!

(…She would ask Ehll Tou later who Ahm Sorn’s dam was, and if her dam would like an occasional minder for her daughter.)

Finally, once everyone was settled and hands and paws firmly linked, they all turned to Aymeric expectantly. He smiled at them all and said, “All right, the first set of movements goes like so…”

The next handful of bells were spent stumbling, tripping, and laughing their way through multiple circle dances, most of them Coerthan, until Aymeric made a sly, off-hand comment about Gyr Abanian dances that had the group of children clamoring for Synnove to teach them what she knew. Then Ehll Tou took lead to show them a grounded version of the fluttering, hopping dances that the moogles and dragons of Bahrr Lehs performed, and finally, as children always did, they took turns in making up new dances from what they had learned, until their laughter nearly drowned out the music soaring out from the edge of the Dais.

But all good things came to an end, and eventually the children began to droop with exhaustion and the party wound down. They fit in one last circle dance—a bit too slow for the song the Players were performing to end the encore show, but easier on tired feet wanting to shuffle rather than skip—and finished to the applause of parents and guardians come to take their charges home. They dispersed to all corners of the Firmaments, though most headed south into the New Nest; Noalle passed out almost as soon as her father picked her up, her cheek pillowed on his scaly green shoulder, and Marcelloix and Audaine fell into easy conversation with Rasequin, Gontrandoix, and Pehainel for the trek home while Lycelle, Julchiezain, and Peyraquile helped herd their fellow orphans along, with the older children each carrying one of the smaller ones piggyback. Ehll Tou crouched down to help Hautdilong onto her back, and they—and Ahm Sorn and the other dragonets—waved goodbye before winging off into the night for the sanctuary of Ehll Tou’s workshop roost.

Synnove and Aymeric collected the twins from Heron, off to the Forgotten Knight with Alakhai, and they meandered arm-in-arm up Quill’s Trace while Roksana and Amandina dozed in the crook of Synnove’s opposite arm. When they reached Bright Ballad’s Passage, without saying anything, they simultaneously turned to look out over the Firmament.

The district glowed with golden light, a mirror to the river of stars spangling the black velvet of the sky above. The soft blue glimmer of the new aetheryte system provided spots of color among the shadows, and the faint shapes of people passing in front of windows could be spotted in the houses closest to the Passage. And even with midnight nearing, the Mendicant’s Court still bustled with the night owls of the skybuilder corps, hard at work crafting goods for the residents of the Firmament or lifting off in manacutters from the Skysteel Workshop for the Diadem.

Sighing quietly, a sense of pride and satisfaction settling in her chest, Synnove leaned her head against Aymeric’s shoulder. Her knight kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek on her hair, moving his arm to wrap around her waist and squeeze tightly.

“Even seeing it,” Aymeric said, voice hushed and reverent, “it’s difficult to believe the work is finished. The repairs to the Brume and Foundation are still ongoing, of course, but knowing so many of my countrymen no longer need to worry about where to sleep at night…”

“It’s difficult to fathom the hopes for one’s home coming to fruition within your own lifetime,” Synnove replied, leaning into him. “I never thought I’d see Ala Mhigo free. I never thought a cure for tempering would be found. But here we are: griffon flags fly in Ala Mhigo; capture by a primal is no longer a death sentence; and Ishgard stands at peace and ready to do whatever is necessary to take care of her people.”

Her knight sighed, as satisfied sounding as she felt. “Our star is far from perfect, and its people less so,” he said. “But by Halone, it’s wonderful to see them try, and succeed.”

Synnove hummed her agreement and together, they turned, the Firmament at their backs, and wandered home.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ishgard restoration #ishgardian restoration #oc: synnove greywolfe #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #ehll tou #hautdilong #dt's writing #IT DONE

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me: Thistle & Bloom (CH7)

Jamie and Claire end up in Claire's shop. More revelations, a mysterious phone call, and exchanged promises. SO sorry about the gap between chapters! I've been pretty sick over here, and just needed a break to get better. I'm feeling better and glad to be writing again!

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER SEVEN

Claire Beauchamp’s front porch, a late October night, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

“Claire, I--” he swallowed and took a step back from her. She noticed that in the distance he created, his hand still held onto her waist. His fingertips pressed into her flesh and goosebumps erupted under the fabric. She met his eyes and sank into their ocean depths.

“I’d verra much like to kiss ye. May I?”

Words had never failed Claire before. She spent her free time letting sentences flow around her, wrapping her in warmth and comfort. Words were her solace and succor. When Jamie’s eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes in question , in longing , any word she thought of failed her completely. She nodded quickly, for it was all she could manage in the moment. Whatever she had been expecting from Jamie, whatever she expected a first kiss to be like with the stranger who had enchanted her from their first meeting, whatever she expected failed in comparison. Jamie leaned forward, and steeled himself with a slow swallow. Claire watched his throat bob with the effort, and for the first time, wondered to herself how much power he was holding unchecked in the moment. There wasn’t time to think before he had regained his composure and moved closer into her. His clear blue eyes had darkened to the color of Claire’s favorite coastline, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she met his eyes, everything faded away. There were no words, no chill in the late October air, no more spiraling thoughts… there was just Jamie. His woody cologne swirled together with the scent of fallen leaves on wet, worn bricks; their air mingled together, and it was happening. His mouth found purchase with hers, softly, tenderly. He tasted like a smoke-filled whisky and something so inexplicably him. Had she been sober, she might have had the thought to hold back some, to not devour this man before her… but she wasn’t sober, and couldn’t have been with the intoxicating feel of him against her body and in her mouth. Her hands moved from his chest up his neck and into the curls at the nape of his neck. He moaned when her fingers moved upwards into his hair. “God, Claire…” His hands roamed around her waist and up the expanse of her back, down her ribcage and almost to her arse, but pulled back to crush her to him instead. She moaned in protest and he laughed breathily as he whispered, “Ye have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss ye like this.” Claire smiled through his returning kisses. An arm snaked around her waist while the other ran up the length of her spine. She was being greedy, she knew it, and couldn’t stop it. Her tongue softly ran along his lips and he nearly spasmed at the contact. Apparently one little tease was all the invitation he needed -- a hand was in her hair, his tongue was in her mouth, her body was crushed against the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. They were playing a dangerous game, the two of them, and she was ready to explode with the fire he set in her.

“You’ll stay…?” He moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling her earlobe just a bit. “God, Jamie…”  Hot breath from a small chuckle made her skin erupt in shivers. “You’ll stay? Tonight?”

Stubble scratched her neck, soothed by wet kisses. “Hmmmm?”

She drew his face back to hers in her hands and kissed him soundly. “Come upstairs with me, Jamie.”

Navy orbs met dark gold ones in the glow of lamplight. He made for their mouths to meet again, but didn’t close his eyes. He released her finally, but kept a tight grip on her waist. “Yer so beautiful, Claire.”

She felt her cheeks burn at his compliments. How did he do that to her? Just a few words, a pointed look, a whisper in her direction and she was absolutely melted. She reached for his hand and moved to open her door, but Jamie stayed rooted to the spot.

“I cannae go inside wi’ ye tonight, mo nighean donn.” Surely she hadn’t heard him right. Was he rejecting her? She dropped his hand and stepped back, turning toward the door to turn her key in the lock.

What the fuck happens now? Claire turned, stood up straight, and outstretched her hand. “Well, this really has been a great night. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She tried to keep the hurt off her face, but knew she was failing.

Jamie looked at her hand like it was a foreign object, and stepped forward. He took her small hand in both of his and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Claire, ye have to know how much I want tae go inside with ye. God, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want ye in this moment. But lass, I don’t just want this moment… I want so much more with ye. The way I feel about ye, I know ye feel it, too. I’m not willing to let this get out of hand. Ye mean too much to me. This, means too much to me. I’m going to do this right, mo chridhe.” Claire’s whole body had felt warm with adrenaline moments before, but now it surged with affection for Jamie. “If ye wanted to kiss me like that again though, I wouldna complain one bit, though,” he added with a smirk breaking through his serious facade.

Claire laughed in earnest and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. Her hand rested on his heart and it pounded faster with the seconds shared in their kiss. Before she was lost in him once again, she pulled away and he let out a strangled cry at the loss of her. His eyes hadn’t opened before she had completely extricated herself from him and had her front door open. “Goodnight, James!” she laughed.

---

“You’ll be the death of me, Sassenach!” The door was closed before he had time to recompose himself. He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed curls. He absolutely stood by what he said about wanting to honor what they had, and he had not planned on following her to bed tonight. He wouldn’t treat this like it was disposable or quick. Then again… no lass had ever kissed him the way Claire Beauchamp did. Before he could knock on her door and beg her to let him in, he forced himself off the porch and down the sidewalk. One more look at her windows, one more second in place thinking about her, and he’d end up back in her arms tonight. One day, lad. One day.

Jamie had mentioned he had to be at the bookshop the next day, and Claire had every intention of not bothering him at work. She had planned to answer a few emails and do some administrative work with a coffee and then head down to her own shop to work on propagating some of the rarer plants. She loaded her leather messenger bag with her laptop, notebook, writing notebook, an assortment of her favorite pens, and headed down the street. Twenty minutes and a large chai later, she aimlessly strolled toward her shop on Garden Street. She found herself drifting a few blocks south of the direction she should be headed in and a few blocks closer to Fraser Literature. Surely there was no harm in working at one of the tables in the courtyard at the bookshop, right? She wandered through the streets with a new purpose and was soon setting up shop at one of the familiar cafe tables outside her favorite shop. Had the store not been open today, she would have wasted the morning away there in the courtyard, letting the sun glow around her, warming her chilled surroundings. Alas, being a business owner was not exactly as freeing as someone may think and she had work to do. A while later, Claire was zoned-in on an email about variegated monstera deliciosa orders when a voice behind her nearly made her fall out of her chair.

“Whatcha working on today, Sassenach?” She clutched her chest and turned to see Jamie arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly pleased with his startling announcement of arrival.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Are you trying to give me a heart attack over here?”

“Ach no, jes’ reveling in the fact that ye clearly can’t get enough of me. Getting me drunk at dinner, encouraging puir decisions, the way ye kissed me last night, trying to get me into yer bed, and now, I find ye waiting for me outside my shop. I jes’ find it interesting , is all.”

“I was doing no such thing! This is just were I work! I’d been working here long before I knew this was your shop!”

“Likely story, Sassenach.” Claire assumed he was trying to wink, but in much the same way an owl does, he just blinked both clear blue eyes at her and scrunched up his nose, making Claire snort in laughter at his attempt.

“I do actually have to work, though, and now that I know you’re distracted, I should go so we both actually get something done today,” she said, and began to pack up her bags.

“Tis a timely distraction, actually!” Jamie handed her a yellow notebook and raised his brows when he gestured throwing her empty drink in the trash.

Claire nodded in response to the cup and continued to pack up. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“We’ve been getting some feedback from customers lately that they’re very much enjoying the ‘atmosphere’ of the store, and more and more people at checkout say they like all the plants hanging around! The boys and I were discussing taking that idea and running with it… kind of an arts experience, ken? The music, the books of course, and bring nature into it all. I’d like to add in some more plants, but dinna ken what would work best. Is there any way ye could help me figure it out? Maybe I could stop by your wee shop sometime and we could talk it out?”

Claire swung her bag over her shoulder and smiled at Jamie’s nervousness in asking her for something so… chill . “Of course you can stop by, Jamie! Actually, I’m headed there now, if you’d like to join?” His smile could have rivaled the sunshine for brightest thing in the courtyard. Claire waited inside the store’s entrance while Jamie told Angus and Rupert he’d be back in a while and noticed the way Jamie’s ears pinked at the tips when Angus leaned in to whisper something and Rupert playfully punched Jamie in the arm. She pretended to fuss with something on the bookshelf, but smiled to herself nonetheless.

“Ready, Sassenach?” Jamie was waiting by her side a few moments later. It was Claire’s turn to beam up at him.

“Always.”

---

Thistle and Bloom was Jamie’s second-favorite place in all of Boston. It was the word “thistle” that had originally drawn him into the shop shortly after moving to the city. It reminded him of home, of the Highlands, and of all the things that just felt like home. He had met the redhead behind the counter a handful of times, always hearing the owner was out back working, or gone searching for herbs, or otherwise occupied. He and Geillis had become friendly over the years, and the other lads had become more than friendly with her on more than one occasion. It was Geillis that had invited them all out to karaoke, and he would forever be grateful for how fate had worked in his life. Geillis, this shop, his bookstore, Scotland… all of it played a part in getting him here today, with Claire.

They approached the storefront and Claire absolutely beamed with pride. The outside of the shop was ornate for Boston, but beautiful. The building was brick, with a white-washed wood first story with large arched windows. Painted with forest green on the arches of the facade, a heavy naturally-stained wood had the name of the wee shop painted in gold lettering, and a heavy carved thistle painted in gold sat as the crowning jewel in the signage. English ivy crawled and sprawled up the planters on the sidewalk and up the white wood over the green arches and up the antique brick. Whisky barrels sat in front of the windows exploding with blooms in modern arrangements, like they had truly come to life in the most whimsical and elegant way. Now knowing it was Claire behind it all, everything made sense. He thumbed a rogue branch of the ivy, it’s Englishness not lost on him. Inside the store, Jamie saw it all with fresh eyes.

Jamie was a fair gardener -- truth be told, he hadn’t needed explicit help in finding the right plants for his store, but he’d near say anything to spend time with Claire. She nervously showed him around, occasionally muttering the scientific name of a houseplant or remarking about the rarity of another under her breath. Only once did she catch one yellowing leaf on something that trailed up the wall, and she plucked it off and shoved it in her jeans pocket. Jamie shook his head in exasperation at her -- didn’t she know, everything she did was perfect? They continued their little tour and examined every plant in the store for Jamie’s needs. Jamie occasionally hummed or nodded in agreement of Claire’s assessment of the plants, but he knew she really wasn’t talking to him. Sometimes, she’d look at Jamie or ask for his opinion on a plant, but otherwise, she existed in her own little world. Claire had amassed a collection of medium-sized plants on the counter she assured him wouldn’t be too much work but would flourish with his attention, and turned the most brilliant shade of pink when she caught sight of him watching her work.

Seeing that the shop was empty for the moment, Jamie moved in toward Claire. Watching her like this, in her element, so happy, he just wanted to kiss her again. Just steps away from her, she turned to him, smiling. One more step until bliss…

Jamie jumped. His phone rang loudly from his pocket. Rushing to silence it, he pulled it out of his pocket to a blonde woman’s smiling face on the Caller ID. He shut off the ringer and looked for Claire. She was shuffling plants at the counter, not really rearranging anything but trying to make herself busy nonetheless. Ifrinn. She saw the damned phone.

“So, Claire…” he was interrupted by a voicemail notication. He ignored it. “I was wondering if ye grow these plants yerself, or…” another loud beep followed by another indicated he was getting texts at a rapid pace. “Jesus, fuck!”

“If you need to get that, it’s really fine, Jamie!” Claire was trying for a breezy tone and failing miserably. She’d seen the beautiful woman on the phone. They never said they were exclusive or anything, it was awfully presumptuous of her to assume that in the two days they’d known each other, that he didn’t have any other ties. She was spiraling but a warm, steady hand brought her back down to reality.

“I dinna need to do anything, Sassenach. Nothing matters to me now except for being here with ye.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and with only the briefest hesitation to make sure she was caught up with his feelings, he kissed her chastley. “Now, I was asking how ye came to amasse such a small jungle.”

Claire smiled adoringly at Jamie, pushing any nagging thoughts about the mysterious caller to the side. “I’d like to show you something, if you can be away for a little while longer,” Claire said. Jamie nodded and followed her when she went out the back door of the shop.

Instead of finding a back door leading to an alleyway or a small yard, Jamie stepped into pure light. A white wooden door with paned glass led the way into the most beautiful greenhouse Jamie had ever seen. It was a few small rooms, each terraced with a few cement steps leading into the next. Slowly walking through, Jamie noticed each tiny room was a different biome: one for tropical plants, one for houseplants, one for cacti and sand-dwelling plants, and one with plants he’d never seen before. The windows were probably once crystal clear, but now the glass was clouded with condensation and moss in the corners. The cream paint on the window and door panes was chipping away in places, and the floor was covered in loose dirt and a few errant leaves. Everything was diffused light and shades of green and white and warm air. It was warm inside and Jamie wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead. He turned to Claire, who stood in the far corner, awaiting judgment like a child. She smiled shyly, hugging herself and leaning against a potting bench. Her hair was conspiring with the humidity to add more curls to her head at an alarming rate, and she looked like the queen of her own personal Jumanji. Jamie had never seen a more ethereal sight in his life.

“Ye know, I always come here when I miss home,” he held a leaf the size of his own head in his hand and made his way along the rows of flora as he continued. “Scotland is so green, ken? I think it’s the thing I miss most. The traditions there are so old but it’s so green and fresh and new out in the moors and the lochs and munros. This shop, yer shop,” he smiled at her, “it always felt the way I felt about being home in Scotland.”

“Have I told you I grew up in Scotland?”

Jamie’s head snapped up at that. “Ye said ye were from Oxford?”

She nodded. “Yes, originally. I went to school in Oxford, and Oxford was where I thought I’d build my life. Actually though, in between travelling with my uncle, we’d always end up in Scotland. My uncle had a place in Glenfinnan?” Jamie’s jaw dropped. “I take it you know the place?”

“Aye! I’m from Inveraray!”

“I’ll jot that down in the list of things we have in common!” She laughed. “Anyways, he had a croft up there and we’d go all the time. It’s mine now, but I haven’t had time to make it back there after opening up shop here in Boston. Scotland holds a very special place in my heart, though. All the important moments in my life happened in the Highlands: my best birthdays, my first kiss, my biggest adventures, it’s where I went when I left my ex, when my uncle died…” Jamie came to her, stroking her arm when he saw her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “The highlands always felt wild and peaceful and magical to me. I wanted to have a slice of that here. It’s obviously for work, too, but this… this is my favorite place. My oasis. It feels…”

“Like heaven,” Jamie finished. The moment he said it, he almost wished he could take it back not because he didn’t mean it, but because it really did feel like heaven here with her.  

“Like heaven,” she repeated. He found her staring longingly at him, and he couldn’t help it then. He kissed her with as much admiration as he could possibly muster in a kiss, and it still didn’t feel like enough when she drew back for air.

“Having you here with me, in this place… This is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Make me a promise, Sassenach?”

Claire was puzzled. She brought him into her very favorite place, and he’s asking for random promises right now? “Yes, Jamie?”

“Promise me we’ll end up in Scotland together. I’ll take ye up the munros and down in the lochs and we’ll laugh and drive and get caught up in sheep herds together. We’ll drink ‘til we cannae walk we’ll talk about how the universe conspired to get us here. Me and you, mo nighean donn. Promise ye’ll let me follow ye around the world and back to the place we both love. Promise me that one day, we’ll get back there together.”

Despite knowing Jamie for such a short time, despite the day that was supposed to be a fun, non-committal one picking out plants, Claire found herself swimming in the depths of his ocean eyes with no plan to get out and dry off. Despite the rational part of her brain telling her she should not be making plans so soon, she saw an entire lifetime in his face. Maybe it was the ethereal atmosphere, maybe it was that he made her drunk on his presence alone, maybe it was magic that made her match his eyes and say, “Scotland it is. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#in which tessaactually tries fan fic #songs about me fic #outlander fic #outlander fan fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #FIRST KISS FIRST KISS FIRST KISS #things are amping up to get v angsty #but until then #things are V FLUFFY #and are about to get vvv smutty.

[joshslater]

Grimsby pt. 7

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I was speechless and touched. I was too exhausted to figure out what this meant though. Did he expect something from me now? Before I could gather myself Jace picked up his bag and started walking towards the exit.

- We should of a pint.

I wasn’t audibly breathing heavily any longer, but I could feel I was still pretty wound up. Flush, sweaty, and definitely thirsty after this shock introduction to the gentlemen’s art of self-defense. I felt a pint was too far away and I needed to drink right now, so I stood up and started to walk towards the drinking faucet. “You’ll regret it,” Jace remarked, barely looking my way. He was half right. The water tasted of metal pipes, but it felt good to splash my face with cold water and cool it down. There were empty holders of a mirror pane mounted on the well. At some point the mirror must have cracked and never been replaced. I wondered how I looked after such a beating. I cupped my hands and brought water up to dump in my hair, and was quickly reminded of how little of it I had left. I could feel trickles down my shaved sides and neck. The sound of the door closing made me realize Jace wasn’t waiting, so I rushed out of the locker room, out through the main doors, and caught up with him slowly walking back the way we came.

It didn’t take long until he deviated from the path we followed to the club. I had no idea where we were, or really where he was taking me, but it was obviously a route as well optimized as the path we took going here. Mostly road, but a few shortcuts through people’s back yards. It looked kind of familiar, but I’ve only walked around these blocks very tired, hangover, drunk and/or high. Now I could add beaten up and exhausted to that list. As we rounded a corner I saw a painted sign hanging out from the building, stating “Fawn’s Head”. I'd seen that pub at some point earlier in the week, but never been near it.

For some reason it looked deserted on the empty street, not that you could really tell about a pub with its door closed. Looks were deceiving, sure enough, because there were quite a few people scattered around inside the pub. It was decidedly not a high-brow clientele. Everywhere I looked I saw track tops, worker's high-viz clothes, and quite a few paint-spattered sweatshirts. I recognized some people from yesterday evening, though not by name. A few people glanced our way, garnering no interest.

I followed Jace over to the barman and witnessed a play in gestures. The barman gave Jace a nod. Jace gave him a nod. Then he nodded sideways towards me. Then the barman poured two lager, and placed them in front of us. Jace was clearly a regular, though I wasn’t even sure he was 18 yet. Without a word we grabbed our beers and started to empty the glass. It was the best-tasting beer I’ve had all week. Not because of the beer, but because this was the end of a hard day at the end of a hard week. Whatever part of my body didn’t hurt after hauling ice and fish, Jace had made tender, either directly by knocking me out, or with the bag punching exercises. But this was the end of...

- HEY!

Jace had turned towards the room and shouted at the top of his lungs. It instantly became dead silent.

- Is Chayse innit!

Everyone shifted their eyes onto me. What the hell was Jace doing?

- Fuck with him, fuck with me!

There was a second of tense silence in the room. I didn’t dare breathe.

- On me. Cheers!

The room erupted in loud cheers, followed by an explosion of chatter. Some guy in blue carpenter trousers and a blue sweatshirt, both splattered with hundreds of tiny white dots of paint, jumped up from his seat and grabbed the first of the new beers. As he was turning to get back to his table, he stopped as if he realized he should pay for the beer somehow, and slapped my sore shoulder.

- Connor’s the name. Why don’t you lad join our table for a wee bit?

Before I could even agree to that, he started shoving me in the direction towards the table. I pulled an extra chair and sat down with his crew of builders. Conner, Kieran, Tommy, and Callum. To my surprise their work stories about bad shoes, early mornings, lunch places, all felt relevant to me, and I had a few insights that fit into the conversation. Once I’ve emptied my beer I excused myself for a smoke, but Callum got up and told me to follow him. We walked out on the back and there was a large smokers patio with two groups in either end talking. Callum brought me to one of the groups and the others there greeted me and introduced themselves.

It turned out that none of them actually knew Jace, but they had seen him around. They themselves didn’t know each other that well either. They usually sat with their pals and then just came together outside for a smoke. As they started to move back inside, a tall, hard-looking guy from the other group walked across the patio.

- Hey come here!

He was shaved bald, wore shiny, black Puma clothes with red zippers and details, and a pair of black Dr. Martens. He clearly worked out, but even if he hadn’t his height alone was intimidating. It didn’t sound like a request either. Callum got the hint and quickly stubbed out his fag.

- See you around. - Yeah.

While he returned inside the pub the shaved guy motioned with his shiny head towards the other two who silently smoked at the other end. They looked every bit as tough as this guy. A bit older but just as muscled, one with buzzed heads and tracksuits, the other with a mohawk, adidas top, and dark blue adidas joggers. As I started to walk towards them, the shaved guy walked behind me, like he was herding me. Dammit, I’m also shaved, although not completely. I must stop thinking of myself as looking so different than them. Anyone who stumbled out into the patio would assume we four were a group. As I stopped he pushed me in the back to force me uncomfortably close to the other two. The older of the two, standing just in my face, made a deep drag, and blew a cloud of smoke in my face. I’m sure it was intended as disrespectful and intimidating, but it took all my self-discipline to not inhale it, even though I had just finished a smoke myself. He gave me a nod and spoke.

- Jace new runner innit. - I don’t know wh... - Shut the fuck.

I could feel the color draining from my face. Apparently there was a reason why they all left me alone outside with these guys. He continued.

- I don’t give a fuck what you do, but stay out of our business. If you see any of us you do as you’re told. Got it? - Yes. - Good. Now lick my balls. - What? - You heard me mate.

A wave of fatigue washed over me. I had been shaved and punched and drugged and so much more. Everything was unreal. This was not me, this was not my life. It’s just that with a pint in my hand and nice people around I slipped and forgot. Like an emotionally drained whore on her tenth fuck for the day I silently went down on my knees in front of his crotch. He patted my head on the exposed skin.

- This is what we like, lads, innit.

And then he tilted my head back up and looked me in the eyes.

- Remember your place next time we tell you to do something.

Then he let go and looked up at the others.

- Let's go for another, lads.

He dropped his smoldering fag on the ground in front of me as they left, and I hated that my first instinct was to pick it up and put it in my mouth. Who were they? What did they mean by Jace's runner? They had already left the patio by the time I got up and looked around. A group of patrons just walked into the patio and nodded in my direction. I nodded back and headed back into the pub, past them. I needed to find Jace and ask him what the guys meant. It wasn't hard to find him inside the pub, despite it filling up in the moments he had been out. He was standing next to a table close to the entrance, towering over the guy standing next to him. He probably towered over most people. The guy next to him was passionately talking to him. Jace saw me, and reached out like for a handshake.

- Oi Chayse, be a minute.

I grabbed his hand and felt something small in my hand. Jace winked at me.

- First one's free bruv.

He handed me a half-emptied pint glass and turned back to the guy. I stepped away and looked into my hand. A small, white pill. I felt both neglected and thankful at the same time. Of course he should finish whatever this is, but I felt we needed to talk right now. I took a large swig out of the glass and realized as I swallowed that I had already put the pill in my mouth. I was just running on autopilot after everything that had happened during this week.

Something was moving in my peripheral, and I turned to see a few guys at a table waving at me. I went to join them to kill time. I felt like I was losing grip of reality again, because the man who waved me to the table came back from the bar with a fresh lager and sat it down in front of me, while one of the other guys at the table was talking about their day of road maintenance. I was jolted back into the present, looking up at the man, Rob was it? He was smiling at me kindly. I thanked him and took a sip of the beer, and a shiver of pleasure went through me. It was even better tasting than the one I had earlier. The guy who was talking was detailing all the problems with one of the stores next to the road where they had laid stones during the day. He was about my age, but more tanned and crow's feet by the eyes after having been outdoor so much. No, this was Rob. His pitch-black hair was gelled up, and his face was framed on the other side by a black T-shirt with a big, yellow "Powell Construction" logo. I realized I had stopped listening to him and was lost in his grey-blue eyes, when he asked me something.

- Sorry mate, I have to piss.

At the moment I said it I realized it was actually true, and somewhat wobbly got up and headed towards the gents. They nodded and smiled. Jace wasn't standing where I had last seen him, I noted on the way to the gents, nor did I see him anywhere else. I wasn't sure I could trust my senses fully. What had he given me? Molly? It must have been part of it, as everything and everyone was lovely. I double-checked the sign on the door and entered the gents. Two sinks, two urinals, and a door to a proper toilet. As I walked by the mirrors over the sinks I turned my head, almost like a reflex, but stopped in my tracks.

I looked horrible. It wasn't the brutal hair, or the eyebrows, or the piercings, or the clothes. I looked like a criminal mug shot. My face was subtly swollen and bruised from the pummeling I've gotten from Jace an hour or two ago. There wasn't any specific thing I could point out. Just that I looked off. I didn't look like me anymore. Fascinated, almost mesmerized by my own ugliness I touched and poked my face. Nothing hurt. Not specifically anyway. I'm sure it would look better tomorrow, but it was unnerving still.

As I reached the urinal I realized I had a stiffy. I hoped the black adidas joggers had hidden it from Rob and whatever his name was, but I couldn't be sure. Well, this wasn't the place to do anything about it, so I simply aimed forward and let go, pissing straight into the wall of the urinal. Despite me swaying more than I would have liked or expected, the only thing I got on me was a fine mist of back splatter. I was clearly more intoxicated or high or whatever than I thought, so I don't know how long I stood with my dick out and forehead against the wall, just waiting for the dripping to stop. I was kind of hoping to also get soft, but had to settle for a semi.

I was pulling my joggers up when someone entered. I didn't take any notice of him until someone shouted "Hey" in my ear, and pushed me into the room with the toilet. He shoved me down on the lid facing him, and locked the door. It was one of the goons from the outside patio, the one with the mohawk, adidas top and joggers. He had a week-old beard and looked a bit tired as well. I knew I should be intimidated by him, but somehow I just felt like I wanted to hug him. I had this unexplainable urge to touch him. He glanced at the ceiling, looking for a smoke detector, then picked a cigarette and a lighter from a pocket. While looking down on me he slowly put the cigarette to his mouth and lit it, inhaled deeply, and exhaled the smoke on me. To his confusion this time I inhaled deeply as well. Not only did I want to embrace him. I wanted to french kiss him and suck the smoke out of his lungs. What the fuck was wrong with me?

He regained his composure. He was also clearly a bit drunker than before.

- I want to be fucking clear with you. When we tell you what to do, you do it. - Sound, mate.

This wasn't going how either of us had expected. My eyes kept darting between his face and the chain he had around his neck. Somehow it looked so pretty, glittering in the fluorescent tube light. Everything looked pretty. He struggled with what to do next.

- Lick it. Lick the groin.

I looked down. The loose, dark blue adidas joggers didn't reveal much, but a little bump indicated where his dick was. For some reason, I don't know why, I did as he said, leaned forward, and let my tongue run up and down the fabric. It didn't taste like much. I moved forward and licked with a bit more pressure. I could hear him inhale from the cigarette again.

- Ok, alright. I need to piss.

He grabbed me and stood me up with one arm, and unlocked the door with the other.

- Share the fag? - What?

It took him a second to realize I asked for his cigarette. His intimidation ploy had not gone the way he wanted, though I was at the same time both zen and wondering what the fuck was going on. He handed me the cigarette. I stepped out and he closed the door behind me. I finished the cigarette and threw it in the urinal.

[rebelsandtherest]

NORAD, baby!

At various times with various levels of historical accuracy, the Hetalia fandom has showered love on all the amazing alliances and partnerships that exist around the world, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an APH take on the amazing partnership that exists between these two mad lads and their respective air forces. So let’s talk about it!

The North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD), previously known as the North American Air Defense Command, was founded in 1958 as a bi-national organization between the United States and Canada. NORAD was founded with the intent to provide a comprehensive early warning and air defense response the North American continent at the height of the Cold War, but remained a successful and amicable US-Canadian partnership even after the Cold War tapered off. It remains an important fixture of both the American and Canadian air force branches. NORAD continues to serve North American defense to this day, and stand ready to alert the armed forces in both nations in the event of an impend attack—although most people these days probably know them better for their annual ‘tracking’ of Santa Claus on his Christmas journey around the world.

Historically, NORAD has been helmed by an American commander (four star general or equivalent) with a Canadian vice commander (three star general or equivalent). NORAD headquarters are also based in the United States (near Colorado Springs, to be exact), and through much of its history operated out of the formidable mountain fortress of Cheyenne Mountain (which continues to act as a standby HQ). though NORAD-associated facilities exist elsewhere in the U.S. as well as Canada.

Explanation of uniform choices below!

I had a lot of fun drawing the U.S. and Canadian air force uniforms here, I’ll go ahead and blame @historihet​ because their art really bit me with the historical clothes bug. However, these clothes aren’t actually “historical” in that sense, and reflect the modern uniform policies of either nation as best as I could figure based on info on the internet.

Matthew here is styling the lovely blues of the Royal Canadian Air Force, and as you can see from the three thin black and silver stripes on his sleeve, is sporting the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel.

I like to think that he is actually a four-star general (although "star” is the accepted nomenclature for both Canadian and U.S. generals, it is worth noting that Canadian epaulets use maple leaves, not stars, to indicate a general’s rank, see below) but that he dresses down to fit whatever job he’s assigned to at the time.

Though they’re very messy and hidden by his stance, the ribbons on his left breast are indeed based on real Canadian medals:

Most of these are awards of valor, national orders, national decorations, or war and operational services medals. Matt’s been around the block for, you know, some time, so he has quite the rack of ribbons to wear whenever the occasion calls for it; I’m sure he gets plenty of double-takes. How could such a young, sweet face match the uniform with all those ribbons?!

Unable to completely hide his beautiful head of hair, Matt is also sporting a galley cap (or flight cap) rather than the bulkier wheel cap which he refuses to wear but on the most formal of occasions. He likes the flight cap because it folds flat when he’s not wearing it, and is easy to tuck into a pocket or a belt.

Moving over to Alfred, he’s in much the same condition as his twin, except in a darker shade of blue. Al here is sporting four stripes on his sleeve, which marks him as a colonel. As with Matt, I figure Al outranks just about everyone but George Washington (for those who don’t know, George Washington remains the only U.S. General ever awarded six stars, and it is likely to stay this way as every time a living general catches up, George is posthumously awarded another star, because no one should outrank the OG), but he likes to dress below the command level, because he finds it “way more fun.”

Though you can’t really see them, his epaulets sport matching silver eagles clutching arrows, each facing toward Alfred’s front, that mark his rank. There is also an identical pin in the left side of his cap, though you can’t see it here.

Like his bro, Alfred also favors the flight cap over the wheel cap. However, perhaps even more vehemently than Matthew, Alfred intentionally wears his hat all kinds of crooked. You just can’t keep that hair pinned down!

Also like Matthew, Alfred is sporting quite the selection of ribbons on his left side, underneath the silver set of wings that mark him as a command pilot:

Like I said, they’re very roughly drawn here, but any curious passerby with a decent literacy in ribbon colors might start gawking at the stack this fellow has. The highest commendations in the USAF, combat awards, a purple heart, a POW medal, campaign medals from everything from WWII to the present day, and missions for multiple organizations carried out on every continent including Antarctica. He’s got quite the spread, our boy Al—and on top of all that, he’s got a medal for being a great flight instructor! However I will say that I intentionally did not include any medals pertaining to the Global War on Terror, because in my own personal headcanon, Alfred was incapacitated at the height of these efforts, and was in no shape to do much of anything military-adjacent, let alone fly. (Incidentally, Matthew flew on a lot of missions in the early 2000s. Don’t come out here and tell me Matthew’s not the protective one).

So... yeah! Give me more content of these bros being bros not just by blood, but in the skies as well! They share the majority of a continent between them, and have to have each others’ back. They might not always feel like the closest of allies when Alfred is making an ass of himself (again), but they will always be each other’s closest neighbors and friends, ready to help the other whenever and however he needs. That’s what brothers do!

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk!

#aph america #aph canada #matthew williams #alfred jones #hetalia #aph #alfred #matthew #art #my art #historical #na bros #north america brothers

[bluegarners]

AHHHH YOUR CARD LOOKS SO GOOD!!!! maybe hope is scary with young bruce and dick ?

Ugh, dust, you know I’m such a sucker for them!! Thank you so much for sending in your request, I hope you enjoy it~ @dustorange

Hope Is Scary

Bruce never really realized how quiet the Manor was until he began to notice the echoing of padded footsteps that weren’t his own. Alfred was easy to tell, polished shoes with prim heels step step stepping along waxed hallways and carpeted floors. Easy and comforting in a way that Bruce was accustomed to and found a strange warmth in. Alfred had been wearing the same brand of shoes since coming to work for Wayne Manor. The same color and shoe size, and though Alfred had lost some weight over the years, he still carried himself like the young man at heart he’s always been.

But the additional pair of footsteps was new to Bruce and the dim creaking of stairs and uneven floor boards made that apparent to him. 

Dick didn’t like to wear socks. He said they were distracting and made it easier for him to slip and fall when he was running around and trying to do intricate flips off of the railways and walls. When Bruce suggested that, maybe, he just not do those things, Dick had leveled a look at him that made him feel as if he had just stepped upon his parents’ graves. Which, perhaps, he did. This was Dick’s livelihood. All he had ever known. To ask him to stop flipping and twirling was like asking him to stop breathing. It just couldn’t be done.

Bruce buys him some socks with rubber pieces on the bottoms as a compromise. Dick wears them only once before stowing them away in a drawer. He says he doesn’t like not being able to feel the floor.

And maybe that’s something Bruce should have been paying more attention to. That key part in Dick’s reasoning. He’s new at this though. New to being a p... a guardian. To being responsible for the well being of another. Bruce doesn’t interact with children. Ever. Sure, he’ll smile at the camera and kiss a couple babies on the head so the Gotham Gazette has a nice picture and headline, but he’s never actually had to take care of a child before. What do nine year olds like? What do they do? Are there certain rules he has to follow? Rules Dick has to follow? It’s not like Bruce can go up to him and ask what his parents usually did because that would be horribly insensitive and Bruce doesn’t want to replace Dick’s parents. He doesn’t. 

It’s only been a month since Dick arrived at the Manor. A little more than three since the Grayson tragedy. The weeks in between were days Dick did not like to talk about. Why Gotham thought a juvenile detention center was the next best thing to house an orphan still infuriates Bruce. He tries his best not to think about it. Dick doesn’t seem to be bothered much by it, however. In all actuality, Dick has been remarkably resilient so far.

Again, maybe that’s something Bruce should have been paying more attention to. The stability factor. It didn’t align with everything that had happened recently, but Bruce had taken it as a sign of hope for the small boy. That perhaps he wouldn’t be as badly affected by the murders or the things that happened afterwards. Of course, these were all stupid and foolish notions Bruce had convinced himself of. He’s studied psychology before, knows the signs and symptoms of PTSD, but Bruce kicks himself sometimes for not having invested enough time into child psychology. 

Bruce’s room is three doors down from Dick’s. Between them is a guest bathroom, a guest bedroom, and a spare closet Alfred likes to keep his dusters in. They had allowed the nine year old to choose his own room and when he had realized Bruce would be down the hallway from him, a strange look had passed over his face. Dick had looked up and down the corridor, something similar to trepidation flashing across his young features, and Bruce had glanced around too, searching for the thing that had caused that look. It was just an empty hallway though, a picture here and there of a late Wayne or some sort of art piece Bruce has never really bothered to look at.

Briefly, Bruce had allowed a sliver of panic to settle into his chest at the idea that it was himself that was the problem. Perhaps Dick didn’t want to be so close to Bruce, a near perfect stranger offering a house to live in, and maybe three doors just simply wasn’t enough for the boy to feel comfortable. The initial anxiousness had passed after a week though, Dick showing no further outwardly signs of distress at their proximity. In fact, he was a rather cheerful child.

Was, being the unfortunate key word.

The small but sure steps that echo down the hallway at twelve thirteen a.m are Bruce’s first clue that something is wrong. It’s not uncommon for any one of them to get up in the middle of the night, seeking an out from the nightmares or sleepless dreams. Alfred’s habits usually just had him retiring into bed late and getting up early, something Bruce has been trying to coax him out of by taking melatonin pills. Bruce himself is a deep sleeper, his REM cycle taking only about ninety minutes to take over, but even then he can’t seem to sleep more than five or six hours at a time. 

The smallest things will forcibly wake him up, now ingrained into him not to ignore them ever , and that has resulted in him listening very carefully to the patter of tiny feet across wooden floors. It’s Dick, Bruce knows this, and it’s not uncommon for Dick to get up late in the night for water or exploration. The boy was still learning to accept the fact that neither Bruce or Alfred would be angry with him for exploring the Manor, peering into all the rooms and invading the attics. Bruce had done the same thing when he was younger and he does remember it being quite fun, but Dick carries the notion with him that one little slip up will spell out his removal from his new home.

Bruce struggles with reassuring the boy. He hasn’t made any head-way as of yet.

The footsteps stop outside his door and Bruce can see the shadow of small feet beneath the gap. The lights are on, dimmed in the hallway, and the figure stands there for several moments, refusing to move. The handle shutters, like someone grasping at it but failing to fully turn the mechanism, and Bruce sits up in bed unsure at what to expect. The handle slowly turns again, jerking back upwards when the door opens a crack, and Dick stands in between the door and the corridor. His slight figure blocks out some of the light, shadowing the child’s face, and Dick continues to stand there, seemingly staring into the void that is Bruce’s room.

“Hey,” Bruce whispers, completely lost on what he should be doing or saying. “Are you okay, bud?”

Is he allowed to say that? Is it alright for him to use nicknames yet? Bruce has heard Alfred refer to Dick as “lad” or “chum” a few times, old English nicknames second nature, but Bruce has been careful not to overstep his bounds. He still doesn’t know what the boy thinks of him. What he thinks of his… guardian. 

No sooner do those thoughts enter and leave his mind does Dick turn around and begin walking away. He pads away almost as noisily as he came and Bruce tosses off his sheets to follow the boy. Just as Bruce steps out his door, he sees Dick re-enter his own room, leaving the door wide open. The lights aren’t on in Dick’s bedroom, bathed in darkness, and as Bruce takes measured steps to check in with the boy, he hears Dick begin to cry.

It’s a sad and hollow cry, one that Bruce himself is much too familiar with, and his heart skips a beat as he fumbles with the light switch. Dick is sitting on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him like he’s fallen, and for a moment Bruce wonders if he did fall and hurt himself. He crouches down beside the boy, hands hovering and unsure of what’s appropriate for him to do.

“Dick?�� he asks, trying to look into the boy’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The nine year old ignores him though, continuing to cry and look down at the carpeted flooring. The tears that pour down his face and drip off of his chin sadden Bruce deeply, a strange pang in his chest as he merely watches the boy sob in earnest. Should he get Alfred? No, the man gets little sleep as it is. Besides, Bruce is an adult. He can handle this, he’s handled much worse before.

“Dick,” Bruce tries again, “Bud, please look at me. What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

He’s ignored again, the boy’s small shoulders shaking beneath the weight of his tears. Cautiously, Bruce reaches a finger under Dick’s chin, tilting it upwards so he can see his face. Dick’s eyes are open but there’s a lull in them, like he’s not quite focusing on anything at all and is merely just staring off into space. They contract and expand like normal though and carefully Bruce waves a hand in front of his face. This seems to be the wrong thing to do as Dick flinches back, a whimper escaping him. At the sound, Bruce feels himself pale a bit.

“Sorry,” he is quick to rush out. “I didn’t- sorry. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

It’s like Dick can’t hear him though as he continues to whine, hands fidgeting with nothing and grasping at air. His mouth moves in patterns like he wants to speak but has forgotten the right words, and his eyes dart about as if picking one thing to look at only to find it gone the next. It scares Bruce. He doesn’t know what’s going on. What’s happening? What is happening? 

Despite his better judgment, Bruce reaches out a hand again, gently placing it on the ankle of one of Dick’s splayed legs. He’s wearing SpongeBob themed sleep-wear, and though Bruce nor Alfred know hardly anything about the cartoon, Dick’s smile had bloomed at the sight of them and had shyly given them each a hug. It was like receiving a… gift. Full of love and gratefulness that Bruce isn’t used to getting. It was warm. Genuine. Kind. He places his hand, that is neither warm nor kind because he has hands made for punching and handling sharp things, atop the ankle-cuff of the silly pajama bottoms and Dick screams. 

Bruce jerks his hand back, immediately shuffling backwards, and he’s about to say something, say anything, say sorry because he’s still new at this, still doesn’t know where the boundaries are, still doesn’t know if Dick is even happy here at the Manor, but Dick is still screaming and wailing. He’s staring off into a dark corner of the suddenly too massive room and a chasm yawns before Bruce as he struggles with the urge to help and the knowledge that it’s not wanted. He steals a glance towards his open hand, half-way expecting to see blood or angry red or something that would tell him what he did, how he hurt the boy, because that wasn’t his intention but he should have known. He should have known.

His hands are not made to be gentle.

Soft and thunderous footsteps pound against the wooden floors and Bruce surges upwards as Alfred enters the room, robe half on and feet clad in old gray slippers. His crinkled eyes are wide open, searching for the distress that had announced itself so loudly, and with a presence of mind Bruce himself isn’t capable of having at the moment, flicks on the light switch to the room.

“Good heavens,” Alfred cries as he finally sees the sobbing child. “Master Dick, what in the world-”

Finally, Alfred’s eyes flick over to Bruce’s guilty and hunched form, a hand hidden behind his back and an awful look of shame shrouding his sharp face. “I don’t know what I did,” Bruce says, shaky and uncertain. “I didn’t hurt- I didn’t mean to hurt him, Alfred.”

The butler just frowns though, neither unkind nor scolding. Instead of a lecture or some reprimand, Alfred cautiously approaches the nine year old, who is still staring sullenly into the far corner of the room and heaving with great hiccups that expand his small frame to a great degree that was surely painful. Carefully, in full view of the child, Alfred lowers himself to the ground and assesses with an experienced and all-too-ready gaze. 

“Master Dick?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me?”

There is no response other than the continuing tears and rough hiccups that echo in the much too wide room. One would think with the impossibly thick pillows, soft blankets, and even softer still carpet, sound would travel as if stuck in a tube, but each cry is as loud as a gunshot in Bruce’s mind. He caused this. He did this. He… didn’t mean to.

Bruce is a man composed of glass shards and copper stained cement. There is nothing gentle about him. He should not have tried to be.

Alfred stands then, hands on his knees as he heaves himself off of the ground. Were his joints bothering him? Bruce thinks he should look into getting another physical therapist for the butler. Maybe a chiropractor or massage therapist as well. It couldn’t be good to crouch and bend so often and the man has-

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says, “a word, please.”

At the beckon, the younger man takes a few steps forward, meeting the butler halfway to the door. The brighter lights from Dick’s room bleed out into the dimmer hallway, a shadow of sorts created between the two sources as their figures shroud the doorway. Carpet meets wood and Bruce wonders if Dick chose the softer texture for a reason. If he chose the cushioned floor so he’d have something nicer to land on when he falls. 

“I don’t like it when I can’t feel the floor, Bruce. I just don’t.”

Bruce sighs heavily and with the knowledge that he was never fit to be any sort of guardian to Dick. He had fooled himself into believing he could save this child from the same fate he’s cursed himself into, save the child from years of torment and ache that came from the bones of murder and the empty graves of justice and peace. Who was he to think he could save someone from that when he was still stuck in that chasm himself, still struggling to use these scarred hands of his for anything else other than exacting his vengeance in the dark night.

“Alfred,” and Bruce hates the way his voice cracks but he’s so lost and still so young himself, “I didn’t-”

“No,” the butler sighs, placing his own calloused hand on Bruce’s sagged shoulder, “No, you didn’t, my boy. I know you would never hurt that child, not if you could stop yourself, and even then that would be some fight.”

“But, Dick, he’s-”

“He’s fine, Master Bruce, I promise you that. He won’t even remember any of this come morning.”

The younger man looks up, still so horribly ashamed and confused. “I don’t understand. He’s crying. He- He screamed when I touched him, Alfred. He’s terrified of me. I must have done something to make him so scared. Maybe this was all a mistake. I thought I could help him by bringing him here, but I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”

Alfred’s face is a weathered one. The creases in between his brows tell of many nights spent thinking, frowning at the future and unknowns. The crow's feet that dance and jump at the corners of his eyes also tell of many days spent laughing, smiling, embracing the present. He, too, has his own scars to tell about stories that are best left unsaid, marks that are proof of a life that could have been but would never be. There are a thousand words alone that can be thought of through the visage of the old butler’s weathered face, but sometimes, it’s good to say them aloud. Sometimes, they are needed, deserved, to be said aloud. 

“My boy,” Alfred says, a softness in his eyes belaying the heartache in his face, “you have done a tremendous thing, bringing Master Dick here. A tremendous and kind thing. In the few weeks that boy has been here, I have seen remarkable growth and healing. This,” Alfred motions to the crying nine year old still on the floor, “is all part of that. This is a sign of hope, Master Bruce.”

“He’s frightened of me, Alfred. He… I’m not good for him.”

“These are simply night terrors, Master Bruce. When you were a child, you had them too. I know it’s… scary to look upon but you must understand that they are here because the boy finally feels safe. Master Dick finally has a place, a home , to feel safe and happy in once more.”

Dick wails again, forlorn and raw, and Bruce flinches at the sound. The palm of his hand stings with the phantom touch of soft fabric and the echoes of wrong-doings.

“What do I do?” he asks, head bowed and voice hardly above a murmur. “I don’t know how to help him.”

Alfred squeezes his shoulder, a grounding and solid gesture. “For now, my boy, you must merely be there for him as I once was for you.” Alfred sighs, releasing Bruce’s shoulder and letting his arm fall back to his side. “Talk to him. The terror will be over soon enough, but in the meantime, comfort the boy. Coax him back to bed. This will pass, Master Bruce, but please. Do take it as a sign of hope for the boy. He is in desperate need of it.”

Alfred’s muted footsteps go back out into the corridor and Bruce is left standing halfway between the open doorway and the weeping nine year old. The carpet feels like grain beneath Bruce’s toes as he shifts to face the boy, tugging against his feet as he takes the three steps that distance them. Slowly, gingerly, Bruce lowers himself to the floor and criss-crosses his legs. He does not touch the boy, does not dare get close enough to even consider it, and folds his hands together in his lap. The bumps and fine lines he feels on his own palms make him cringe and he hides them deeper into his knees.

Dick doesn’t stop crying. His bright blue eyes stay transfixed into the far corner of his bedroom and Bruce wonders what he sees. What captures his attention so completely and holds onto him like that of cold hands and wilted flowers. Alfred said Dick won’t remember tonight. Won’t remember coming to Bruce’s room. Won’t remember cowering away from Bruce’s touch. A small part of Bruce hopes that he doesn’t. Hopes that tonight remains forgotten in oblivion, the only shred of evidence of it all being the wet stains on SpongeBob pajamas.

Dick mutters something, voice small and a jumble of nonsense, and Bruce’s heart clenches in his chest. His hand twitches to wipe away the salty tears that slide down the boy’s face but Bruce resists the urge and continues to sit motionless. Yes, it was better to have this chasm between them. Dick is kind and pure, composed of things that would only become crippled when exposed to what makes up Bruce. 

He was not made to be gentle.

Bruce sat with the nine year old into the night, well after the terror had stopped and Dick had fallen asleep once more. He leaves before the first creep of morning, slinking back into his room, and splashing cool water on his face. By eight, Alfred is ringing him to come down for breakfast and with heavy limbs and an even heavier heart, Bruce lumbers down towards the kitchen. 

He freezes when he spots Dick happily munching away on eggs and toast, mussed up and pillow-worn hair splayed in different directions. He sees Bruce as well and gives a sloppy wave, sleep still tugging at his small arms and droopy eyelids. 

“Mornin’, Bruce,” he says. “Alfie made toast.”

And it’s just as Alfred said it would be. Dick doesn’t remember any of it. Bruce does. He always will. But this is hope, right? This is what healing is: searching eyes. Tears. Screams. Terror. Helplessness. 

This is hope, Bruce reminds himself later that night as his door creaks open again and footsteps slap against the wood floors. Dick screams at him again and howls at the walls, grieving over things he won’t remember in the morning but will bounce around in Bruce’s head for weeks after. 

This is hope. This is healing. This is Dick feeling safe and comforted. It has to be, it has to be.

But it scares Bruce.

#Dick Grayson #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #bad things happen bingo #hope is scary #night terrors #so if it's not clear Dick is not afraid of Bruce at all #he trusts Bruce completely #i didn't want to ramble in the actual fic so i'll explain it here #when someone is recovering from a traumatic experience symptoms don't always show right away until that person's brain feels safe enough to #essentially freak out- which is what is happening here #my little brother had night terrors for a week straight and he would scream for hours and point at his closet saying that a bad man was #in his closet- he never remembered it happening when he woudl wake up the next morning #many children go through night terrors and it doesn't have to be from trauma #it can just be a bad sleep cycle or their circadian rhythm is off #they're very scary to see if you don't know what's going on #dustorange

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 17

AO3 :: Previously

“You must stay close, Fraser.” John Grey’s tone is stern, clipped and anxious.

“I didna intend to let her out of my sight.” Jamie breaks away from the phone for a moment to shove his head through a shirt neckline, and checks his mobile for the hundredth time.

It has been a tense two weeks, while the SCD gets their paperwork and warrants in order. There cannot be any mistakes, or the MacKenzies and their company will get away scot-free, no pun intended. Jamie had returned to the office with little fanfare, but was well aware that he was being watched again. His decision to send Claire away had been a good one.

There had been certain buzz about the upcoming event, but Jamie hadn’t received an invitation himself—for obvious reasons, he thought. He had appraised Murtagh of the fundraiser so he could contact Grey, but no one knew anything; purposefully orchestrated, but no specific details beyond that. Wheedling Louise to add his name to the list to no avail, he’d had to come up with an alternative plan to be close to Claire and protect her as he’d promised.

Grey prattles on in Jamie’s ear, and he looks at the screen once more. No new messages from Claire; the last had been an hour ago, a racy selfie of Claire in her barely-there underwear as she dressed for the fundraiser. Suddenly, a certain word brings him crashing back to Earth.

“What? Ye can’t!”

“Of course I can’t, Fraser,” Grey says irritably. “I only said I wished I could arm you. But you’re a civilian, so that’s a no-go. I’ll have a detail there to help out.”

“I wouldna ken what to do with a gun even if ye did.” Jamie swallows hard, fear in his throat. “Ye dinna think it will come to that?”

“I’m hoping it won’t be. Keep your eyes open and stay alert, Fraser. If you see anything untoward, anything suspicious, call Murtagh.” It would be a very public takedown, and Jamie is equally excited and apprehensive. The videos SCD had discovered apparently show Bonnet’s face clearly, exculpating Jamie from Alexander McGregor’s death.

With a final warning to be careful, Grey ends the call. Almost immediately after, Jamie’s phone beeps with a new text. It’s Claire, in a beautiful yellow gown, blowing a kiss to the camera. Jamie’s confidence is renewed and his spirits lift, to see his Sassenach so beautiful, so brave, so irrevocably his.

X-x-X

The venue is sumptuously decorated, as befits Glasgow’s Gallery of Modern Art. Claire grips her coat as she hands her invitation to the guard at the door and is admitted. Geillis walks beside her, already looking for the servers with drink trays.

“Here ye go, get ye properly soused.” G hands her a flute of champagne. Claire sips slowly, looking around for a tall head of red hair. It’s not noticeable, and she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that her Viking Scot is well-concealed; she desperately wishes Jamie could be at her side. Claire watches as her co-workers mingle and laugh, eating and drinking. She chats with a few of her colleagues, and while talking to Joe Abernathy, she spots a bright mop of curls skulking behind a set of cubicles acting as the servers’ station. Excusing herself to the loos, she sidles close to the station and faces the room, grabbing another glass flute as she senses Jamie at her back.

“Mo nighean donn, ye look beautiful,” he breathes on her neck, leaning in as close as he dares. He has spent his time hiding out behind the flimsy cubicle walls. Blending in with the servers, he’d made his way through the back-entrance gangway, pretending to be working with them tonight. No one had batted an eye or asked him anything. Donning a white jacket a bit too tight across the shoulders and at least three inches too small at the wrists, he pretended to sort through the champagne glasses and handed full trays out for servers to parade around the museum.

A sudden commotion near the entrance has her craning her neck to see Colum MacKenzie arrive maneuvering in an electric wheelchair, followed closely by Dougal. Claire sees Tom Christie, the hospital director, rush over to greet and flatter them. She can feel Jamie tense behind her.

“Claire, the MacKenzie…”

“I see them, Jamie. Don’t worry.” His hand slips into hers for a moment, warm and strong. She doesn’t dare turn to look at him. His mere presence at her back bolsters her courage, as she downs the rest of the champagne and prepares to walk back into the fray, with Jamie’s parting words in her ears and heart:

Ye need not be scairt, so long as I’m wi’ ye.

They resonate in her mind, steadying her. Claire finds Geillis and they nurse another glass of champagne. Geillis senses her nerves and Claire steers her far away from the gaggle of chiefs and important hospital administrators fawning over the fundraiser sponsors.

“Hey, there you are, ladies!” Joe saunters up to them, clinking glasses together. “What do you think of all this? Pretty swanky, huh?”

“Only the best for Queen Elizabeth’s,” Claire smiles, smoothing a hand down her dress. Her heels are starting to pinch her feet, and she fidgets, wishing she could be in her pajamas cuddled up to her big red Scot. She folds her coat and lays it on the table along with her gold clutch; no chairs have been provided, apparently to force people to stand around and mingle.

“Gowan wanted to see you, Geillis. He wants the donors from Nexus—you know, the hospital beds—to meet you. Can I steal her away from you a bit, Beauchamp?” Joe smiles easily and guides G with a hand at the small of her back. She looks back helplessly at Claire as she’s swallowed up by the crowd.

Claire is trying to find a glimpse of Jamie again at the servers’ station when she feels a strong, callused hand grasp her arm at the elbow. She tenses, fear skittering up her spine—this hand is unfamiliar, rough, and definitely not Jamie’s. She whirls to find Dougal’s grizzled face leering at her, teeth bared into a grin that resembles a snarl.

“Miss Beauchamp—we meet at last.”

Claire tries to wrench free, but that only makes Dougal tighten his grip. She wants to scream, but her throat is dry and she finds they are surrounded by two burly men who block the rest of the attendees from seeing what is going on.

“Let me go.” Her voice aims for strength but there is a tremor of fear.

“I dinna think so, sassenach.” The word takes on its intended meaning, an insult, a slur of sorts. Dougal begins walking her away from the table. “Jamie will heed us, one way or another.”

“Jamie is a good man,” Claire hisses, “not that you know anything about that.” She tries to cast about for Jamie, but they’re heading in the opposite direction from the servers’ station; Dougal yanks her arm again to make her keep up, causing her to stumble. Too late, she realizes she left her clutch—and her mobile—on the table.

“He overplayed his hand. Do ye think we dinna ken about his relationship wi’ ye, what he’s been tryin’ to do these past few months? He broke faith wi’ us, and his wife. Our contract, we willna honor it either.”

“Honor? What do you know about the word?” Claire spits out with as much venom as she can muster

“Honor or no, I ken I always win, lass.” With that, Dougal releases her, but Claire feels another hand descend, this time on her shoulder, gripping, and a small but insistent push at her back. She’s never felt anything like it, but immediately realizes what it is: a gun. Quietly, she is steered away from the crowd, into the exhibits. After hours, there is only emergency lighting barely bright enough to see.

The last thing she hears from Dougal before being swallowed up by the dark is, “I’ll wait in the car.”

X-x-X

Jamie can’t find Claire. He’d spotted her bright gold purse laying on the table where he last saw Claire, and he rips it open; her mobile is in it, and his wame sinks. He has no way of contacting her now, and he fears the worst.

He spots Geillis flirting with an older man, tipping her head back and shaking out her long red hair.

He hurries to her and with a curt, “Excuse us,” takes Geillis’s arm and leads her off to a corner away from the noise.

“What is it, Jamie?”

“Have ye seen Claire? I left for a minute to go to the loo and now she’s gone.”

“I saw her the last time ye did. Do ye think she might have left?”

Jamie’s heart pounds double-time. “Not on her own. I specifically told her not to, not tonight.” He holds up the purse. “She wouldna have left this behind.”

Geillis pales. “I can head home, see if she’s there anyway, or wait for her.”

“Yes, please, do that.” Jamie pulls out his phone, and dials Murtagh. “Uncle?”

“Lad, ye ken ‘tis not safe for ye to—”

“Claire’s gone. They’ve taken Claire.” He knows this with a certainty that shocks him. A series of expletives on the other end before he continues. “Call Grey, tell him to move in now.  We canna afford to wait.” Jamie ends the call; he’s on the move now, headed towards the main entrance so he can call a car.

Briefly, he glimpses a broad muscular man in the distance. There is a large black sedan blocking one of the nearby side streets. There is a sense of déjà-vu when he hears a muffled yell, and then he’s racing towards the sound, racing towards his life.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm17 #stuff's going down #i'm back at work tomorrow and in total denial #may the odds be ever in my favor :/

[jaydicksummerexchange]

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

TODAY IS THE DAY! 

We have reached 118 Exchange works for 2020! Thank you, thank you to all our fabulous artists and writers who tapped that creative well and let JayDick rain down upon us. And thank you to everyone who has clicked on the link and left kudos and comments for our participants. They worked, so, so hard y’all! 

We’ll reveal all of our participants tomorrow, September 5, so get your score cards ready and see how many of your guesses were right!

Here are today’s releases!

A Kiss and a Kingdom by anonymous for TheWayneManner [Fic, Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Fae & Fairies, Fae!Dick, Shade!Jason, Alternate Universe - Magic, Prince!Dick, Assassination Attempt(s), Diplomacy

Summary: The Fae Kingdom must work together to help their human brethren when a border conflict arises. Fae Prince Dick Grayson chooses Knight Jason Todd to be a human representative for the negotiations because something about Jason draws him in. Little does he know, he and Jason are spinning a spiderweb around themselves filled with romance, intrigue, and enemies.

The Blud is no Haven by anonymous for Fancy_Dragonqueen [ART, Mature, No Warnings Apply, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Mafia Dick Grayson, Mob Boss Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Not Nightwing, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Hooker Jason Todd, Fanart

Summary:  Dick Grayson is a policeman. Dick Grayson is a community hero. Dick Grayson has never, in fact, been on the right side of the law.

or

That one Mafia AU where Dick is Bludhaven's biggest mob boss and Jason is his right-hand (in more ways than one).

Gotham City Pride by anonymous for epistemology [ART, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Digital Art, Fanart, Pride Parades, Asexual Character, Pansexual Character, Is this an AU? Who knows., JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: ♫ Just two boys, hugging during pride month 'cause they're both gay. ♫

My Thoughts on You by anonymous for Morimaitar [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Secret Crush, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, First Dates, First Kiss, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Alternate Universe - College/University

Summary: Left alone for the holidays, grumpy and a bit sad, all Dick Grayson wanted was to get a hot drink from his favourite coffee shop near campus. But little did he know that his life would take a much-needed turn when Jason Todd, his longtime crush, starts working as a barista there.

lit the fuse and missed the candle (i love you and despise you) by anonymous for Airdanteine [Fic, Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Warnings, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dick Grayson is Catlad | Stray, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Love/Hate, Love to hate to love, Hate SexAvoiding Sex Scenes with Violence and Intimacy Issues Is My Kink, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Past Dick Grayson/Rose Wilson, Past Dick Grayson/Harley Quinn, Jealous Jason Todd, Slut Shaming

Summary: “You are nothing,” Stray hisses, slashing Jason’s face with his unoccupied hand.

Jason lets him, smiling as the blood drips down his cheek.

“Oh baby,” he says, all low timbre and heat, “I’m everything to you.”

Spyral Teens by anonymous for ZeroMonster [ART, Gen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: young spies, Brothers, Big Brother Dick, Little Wing - Freeform, Little Brother Jason, Spyral (DCU), AU, Dick Grayson is Agent 37, Batfamily (DCU), Jason in the 1st Dick's outfit for Spyral, sidekick's sidekick

Summary:  They are spies. Little spies. Meet Grayson-Lad and Kid Todd!

We Might Fall by anonymous for empires [FIC, Mature, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Batman Beyond - Freeform, Angst, Difficult Decisions, Retirement, Confessions, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Break Up, Moving On, Developing Relationship, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, how to tag

Summary: Dick and Jason are together but they're not. They love each other but they won't ever admit it. There's too much history. Too much pain. Ideals that could never match. Choices that could only end with them hating one another. But as Jason makes a life-changing decision, Dick is forced to look back on his own life, the events that led him to become who he is today. He is forced to finally look at Jason in a whole new light.

Once Upon a Time.... by anonymous for naol [ART, Teen, No Warnings,  JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Digital Art, Little Red Riding Hood AU, Kemonomimi

Summary: "What pretty eyes you have.”, This was a fic prompt but a Red Riding Hood AU was too cute not to draw as a treat <3

will i change for good? by Anonymous for 3isme and TheWayneManner [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fae, Curses, Curse Breaking, Beastmen - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, mysterious magical stranger dick grayson, jason todd is not a changeling, Dick Grayson is a Talon

Summary: 

PROMPT 3 for 3isme - Jason runs from the villagers that have hated him his whole life. They think he's a changeling. A child of the fae swapped with a human baby during infancy. He's not. Despite all the odd things that make him different from the others, he knows he's not. But They don't, and they will kill him if

PROMPT 1 for TheWayneManner - A Dark!Au of some sort. Horror and/or gothic elements. Heavy angst. Eerie vibes. NO Rape NO Underage.

Ideas: DarkFae!Dick, Mobster AU, Demon/Angel AU, Siren!Dick AU, Gothic/Horror AU, Dystopian AU, Vampire AU, Prostitute AU, Prison AU, Asylum AU... Really anything that has a dark twist to it, the boys struggling with their inner demons. BONUS: It would be awesome if the fic contained an element of forbidden love with it. Boys against the world kind of vibe.

Ambiguous or sad ending is welcome.

Favored to Win by anonymous for Fancy_Dragonqueen [Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Knifeplay, Porn With Plot, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bottom Jason Todd, Top Dick Grayson, Begging

Summary: When Jason agreed to throw fights or the mob, he was not expecting this. Jason had definitely Not had 'ass in the air, face on the floor' on tonight's bingo card. But he's not exactly complaining either...

All Washed Out by anonymous for stribirdf (timidGoddes)[FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Battle for the Cowl, Batkids Age Reversal, Angst and Feels, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Difficult Decisions, Confessions, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Jason Todd, True Mates,

Summary: Batman is dead. He is dead and everything is about to change. Still grieving for his father, Jason Todd, his son and first sidekick, has no choice but to take up the mantle his alpha left behind, continuing the legacy so that the streets of Gotham are always safe. Estranged from the family, Dick Grayson, the son who died, the son who came back all wrong, has decisions to make, ones that could change everything forever. A fire has been struck, one that is bound to spread and no one can

False Alarm by anonymous for Nottak [Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Married LifeSome Humorno capes AU

Summary: One day in the life of Jason Todd, former crime boss, current house husband.

Hush Hush (Don’t Give It Away) by anonymous for solomonara [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Writer's Block, Author Jason Todd, Secret Identity, Secret Crush, Awkwardness, Walking In On Someone, Realization, Love Confessions

Summary: ‘He was a skater boi. He said 'I'll write a fic for your later boi.'

In which, Dick Grayson really loves reading romantic stories written by a best-selling author who just turns out to be Jason Todd. Awkwardness ensues.

There are a hundred reasons why I'll run (but for you I'll stay) by anonymous for Hedgebelle (Ahaanzel) [Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Light Angst, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Happy Ending

Summary: Jason, the god of the underworld, cannot stand the Olympians who constantly keep making bets about his love life. His only desire is to stay away from everyone and mind his own business. That is, until, one day, Dick walks into his life.

a keeper of secrets for me by Anonymous for anoncitomikolino [Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, intersex omega, Alpha Jason Todd, Omega Dick Grayson, in this universe….

Summary: You can have all your dreams if you really believe in something that's true

The Bees - Listening Man

#2020 jaydick exchange #jaydick exchange #jaydick #dickjay

[11-ish]

let loose

genre: room mate au! smuttttttt, flufff, use of sex toy

pairing: jungkook x reader

jungkook wants his goody two shoes roommate to let loose.

Jungkook's roommate can be described in three things. Innocent. Too good. Straight-laced student. You are the model student who got her shit together. 

While Jungkook would be out partying with his friends, or holed up playing games in his room. You were studying in the library or at coffee shops. While Jungkook would be dragging himself to his morning classes, you were already there at the front seat, talking with the professor before the lecture starts. 

Jungkook finds you too perfect that he tries his best not to bother you. When he's going out, he makes sure the room is clean or when you're still not home, he cooks food for you like what you always do when he goes out partying.

He remembered how you took care of him when he went home drunk, and the next morning he was so embarrassed in what he did because you also cooked for his breakfast.Jungkook sees you too kind hearted for her own good and too innocent…

When you caught him masturbating, you couldn’t look at his eyes for two weeks. Whenever your friends would come around, they would tease you about how clueless you are with a lot of sexual innuendos, and discussions. You scolded them about it, but you’re just too uptight for your own good. They told you need to let loose a little…

And that’s how Jungkook found you in the living room looking at different sex toys. 

Your face immediately went red and closed the box. You opened your mouth but words wouldn't come out. You don’t know how you could explain yourself. “I-I-just...uhm” You couldn’t look at his eyes anymore. “M-My friends...They just….”

Cute. It was Jungkook’s first thought. You were blushing furiously and stammering. It was the first time seeing you flustered, you would always look so composed and got her sht together. You scratched your cheek, it was a habit of yours when you’re nervous.

You sighed. “Can you pretend that you didn’t see that? It’s just my friends sent this out and they think it’s a good idea for me to use sex toys just because I can’t mastur — ” You stopped. It was too late for you to realize that you were over sharing with your roommate. You blushed again. Why the hell did you suddenly share that part of you? 

“What? You can’t — ” You covered his mouth. 

“I can! I just...need...some...help! So, please! Forget about it!” You said before immediately scurrying down to your room, forgetting to bring your box. Jungkook glances at the box, and then to your room. Now, that's a twist.

And a thought that never left Jungkook's mind since he found that you are harboring sex toys and you want to use it for yourself. Jungkook was sitting on the couch, the box still in front of him as you made no effort to get it back. He wanted to return it to you but he didn't want to make you more uncomfortable, so he didn't push through. As he gazed at the box, his mind started playing with him. Some past thoughts that started resurfacing again...

Thoughts of you holding different types of sex toys, unsure of how to use it made the blood rush up to his manhood. Slowly, his hand slid inside his pants, massaging it as it’s still covered with his underwear. This is a dangerous territory. 

Jungkook remembered how these thoughts played with him when he first moved in with you. He curses himself for acting like he used to be, a hormonal freshman who has a crush on his cute, innocent roommate.

His mind displayed an image of you playing with one of the sex toys, your eyes wide and mouth parted. Full of curiosity and excitement. The image of your face looking upward, and your mouth hangs open as you felt the pleasure. He imagined the juices leaking out of your two holes, as you put two toys inside them. He imagined tears coming out of your eyes, and saliva dripping from your mouth. “Ah, fuck.” He whispered to himself, he stares at his hand, wet with his essence. He glances at your door. He’s really fucked. 

The next day, the memory of you with sex toys were completely forgotten when Jungkook's professor announced that he was failing his Calculus. For fuck's sake, he was an art student and the last thing he wanted to be associated was numbers. Well, he didn't have a choice. For some reason, it was mandatory for his course to take it. Fuck his school and their shitty flow charts.

"You called me, sir?" He turned around, it was you. You stopped in your tracks, you were curious why were your presence called while Jungkook was there. Jungkook suddenly remembered what he did last night, and he tried his best not to look at you.

"Ah Ms.___!" The professor smiled, "I heard from your other block mates that you're tutoring other kids from our class." You nodded, you started fidgeting. The both of you and Jungkook knew where this is going. “I was wondering if you could tutor Jungkook here, he's been failing his Calculus."

Jungkook looked at you, you looked at him but immediately averted each other’s eyes. The both of you were embarrassed for completely different reasons. "Will that be okay? I heard that you’re both roommates,” your professor hears too much, you thought. 

You didn’t glance at Jungkook, “I’ll think about it sir, I’m just…” You were looking for reasons. What was the best way you could get out from this situation? However, you couldn’t comprehend an explanation and you just simply said, “I’ll think about it...”

Your professor nodded, “Alright. I’m not forcing you to but it would be better if you could actually help this lad.” He said as he patted Jungkook’s back. Jungkook glanced at you but you avoided him once again. You suddenly felt bad. Jungkook doesn’t deserve a cold shoulder. Once the both of you exited the room, Jungkook follows your pace.

“Hey ___.” 

You glanced at him, “I’m sorry Jungkook. You didn’t deserve this attitude. I hope you could give me time to adjust once again.” 

Jungkook understands. You weren’t like the other women he interacted with, you weren’t like your friends who are too comfortable to discuss sexual conversations. So, he just simply nodded. However, he was not sure how long you would be comfortable with him once again. The last time when you caught him masturbating, it was two weeks adjustment. Jungkook couldn’t wait for two weeks, he needs a decision over the weekend. 

Jungkook lightly jogs to you as he was left behind by your pace, “____” You glanced at him, blushing a little. “I was wondering if you want to go to Taehyung’s party. You know, let loose a little.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to pressure you but I really need you to tutor me as soon as possible. I was thinking that we could go to Taehyung’s party and have fun, and maybe...your awkwardness would go away?” It was a dumb idea but atleast it was better than leaving things as it should be. 

You bit your lower lip, “What kind of party does Taehyung held?” 

“Oh!” Jungkook grins, “Well, there’s booze, and snacks and there’s loud music and Taehyung has this olympic sized pool where we could — ” Jungkook stops when worry was etched on your face. “You don’t have to worry! I’ll be by your side.” 

You smiled, “I really appreciate you making your effort to ease my awkwardness,” You suddenly felt bad. Here was Jungkook trying his best to pass his Calculus, and you were hesitating just because he saw you fiddling with sex toys. Which you remembered, the box is still at the living room and you didn’t have the time to put it inside your room. Your friends are right, you’re such a prude. You sighed. “Alright, I’ll tutor you.” 

Jungkook’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’re okay with it?” You looked up at him. Now, this is the first time you were staring at Jungkook properly. You realized he has the prettiest set of eyes. His eyes were like stars, as if God captured all the stars at night and put it in his eyes. You internally sighed. Not only you were a prude, you’re corny as hell. Biting your lower lip, you nodded. 

Jungkook groaned. It’s friday night, instead of hanging out at parties and drinking himself to death. He’s holed up in the dormitory. The both of you were in the living room, discussing the lessons he has a hard time comprehending. He was waiting for you to finish writing some problems to test him. He laid on the floor, and turned at the side. He settled on staring at you. Your eyes were wandering, as you’re trying to remember the problem your professor used an example last time. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, and unconsciously looked at Jungkook. You froze as he was already looking at you. Your teeth played with your lower lip, and his eyes followed the movement of your lips. Jungkook slowly gets up, still watching your lips,getting redder as you continue to bite on it. Jungkook tilted his head, holding your chin. His thumb found his way on your lower lip. You were expecting for something to happen, however, Jungkook smiled at you. “Your lips might get bruised.”

Your head hung low, trying to avoid his eyes. You gently pushed him away, “I think this ends our lesson for today, Jungkook.” You gave him a tight lipped smile. You were waiting for him to stand up, but he didn’t move. Eyes still trained on your lips, as if hypnotized by its spell. 

“Jungkook, this ends our lesson.” You repeated. 

“Yes.” He hushed, his eyes still staring on your lips. 

You looked away, trying to ignore the feeling of his piercing gaze, “I think you should go. You still have a party to go, right?”

He nodded, “Yes.” He said. His words contradicting his actions as he was still not moving. “I still have a party to go.” Then he looked at your eyes. An emotion visible in his eyes that you’re not familiar but has your heart flipping, and sent warmth to your insides. 

Jungkook smiled, “Do you wanna come with me to the party?” Jungkook doesn’t know where the sudden confidence he had with you. He was always too shy to show his wild side in front of you. Well, might as well use it until it empties out. 

You looked at him, shocked. “W-what? Why?” This was the first time Jungkook was inviting you, let alone in a college party. “I don’t think I’m the type of person you should be asking that.”

He tilted his head, placing it on his palm. “Why not? You helped me with Calculus. I should help you let loose.” 

Let Loose. Oh, how you dreaded those two words. You shake your head, “Jungkook, just because I’m not like you who go to parties and drink, doesn’t mean I don’t let loose. I have my own ways of letting loose and that is…” 

“Buying sex toys?” He grinned when your cheeks instantly heat up. He loves the redness visible in your face, it makes him wonder how you would look like if the redness was also visible in another part of your body. 

You coughed, “For the record, my friends bought me that. I’m going to dispose of it.”

“Why?” Jungkook pouted, he stood up and brought the box in front of you, making you blush harder. He opened the box, and got out a familiar toy, a hot pink vibrator. “It’s such a shame to dispose of it. Might as well use it.” With a click of his thumb, the vibrator turned on, moving at a normal pace. Hearing the sound of the vibration made you instantly blush. Jungkook thought that you really look cute while blushing, and suddenly it becomes his mission to make you blush more. 

A cheshire grin appeared on his face, “Well, what do you know? It works.” 

“Jungkook!” You scold him, scandalized just by the sound of the vibrator. You tried grabbing the vibrator from him, but you don’t actually have the heart to actually hold it while it’s turned on. “Can you please turn off the vibrator and let it be?” You were a blushing mess, and the more you blush the more it gets to Jungkook. 

“How about this, baby? I’ll teach you how to let loose in return for teaching me Calculus. Win-win, right?”

You frowned, “I don’t need teaching, Jungkook.” 

He leaned in closer, as you tried your best to push him away, “I see.” He said before he stood up. He turned off the vibrator and gently placed it inside the box. He looked at his watch, and glanced back at you. “I better go, I’m late to the party. See-yah” He bid his farewells in a sing song manner. 

The next day, you decided that you have to look for a tutor who could help Jungkook. You’re afraid what happened last night might happen again and you wouldn’t have a heart to stop him. Honestly, you like the lad. 

Jungkook has always been a good roommate. You expected the worst from him, knowing he’s a frat boy who loves partying and being intimate with women. Your friends prepared you for the worst, however, you were shocked and ashamed when you found out that he’s not actually not that bad. He’s respectful of your privacy, he’s not loud, he doesn’t hinder your studies and he helps with cleaning the room. You come to like him because of his good natured-ness and you’re afraid what happened last night, might make you feel deeper feelings for him. You don’t want to ruin your harmony with him. 

So, you’re sat on one of the bleachers while you’re scanning through some columns from your University’s newspaper who are some other available Calculus tutors. You’re waiting for your friends as they finish their practice in cheerleading. A game is coming up, and your presence is already enough to support your friends. 

“____” You stilled, you know that voice. You looked up and was greeted by his dashing smile. For some reason, your heart skipped a beat. You have to scold yourself for being affected with just a simple smile. You tried your best to look away, but Jungkook held your chin and gently pulled you to look at him. “Why so shy?” He chuckled.

Jungkook’s having fun teasing you. His goody goody two shoes of a roommate is too cute. He glances at the newspaper you’re holding. He gently took it from you, and his eyebrow arched. “Giving up on me, pretty baby? I didn’t know you were such a quitter.” 

“I-Just — ” 

“Just what? Or are you afraid of what might happen with us?” He chuckled, a hint of evil between his chuckles. Then, his face shifted from teasing to fondness. “Don’t be afraid,” He said softly. “I might party, and fuck around but I don’t break girls’ hearts. Especially not yours.”

You sighed, “What do you want, Jungkook?” 

“I want you to let loose.” He said, as his lips pressed on your cheek for a second. He smiled, turned around and jogged to his friends.

Friday night. 

You were expecting Jungkook to be at the living room and watching T.V but you didn’t find him. You started removing your shoes when you heard the door opening, you turned around and you froze. Jungkook just got out from the shower, a towel wrapped around his bottom part as he used another towel to wipe his hair. Your eyes wandered from his thighs, to his v-line and his abdomen. The prominent muscles in his arms and the veins in his hands made you gulp. You looked at his face, and amusement played in his eyes. 

“Such wandering eyes, pretty baby” 

You looked away, and immediately ran to your room. Jungkook chuckled at your reaction. He didn’t want to force you in what he wants, so he just have to manipulate situations. I hope it works.

Staring at your reflection, you tried to calm yourself. You’re just going to tutor him. You won’t let anything happen. Hopefully. It's just Jungkook. Just your roommate. Your hot roommate. Crap!

Your mind wandered back to his body. Sinful but inviting. So, this is how the snake tricked Eve. By piquing her interest, and luring her to satiate her curiosity. You sighed and shook your head. Not gonna happen. Jungkook is your roommate for crying out loud!

So, you tried your best ignoring Jungkook’s sinful looks at the same time teaching him Calculus. You smiled when the lad was trying his best to understand the lesson, he was asking questions when he couldn’t understand something and would take down notes of your tips. You wanted to pat your back when the both of you finished your session. 

Jungkook offered you a glass, you arch your eyebrow. “I don’t drink, Jungkook.” 

He chuckled, “It’s water, baby.” 

You pouted, embarrassed. Taking the glass, you drank the water and Jungkook just watches you drink. “Can I help you?” You asked. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You froze, “W-What?” 

“Can I kiss you? I’ve been wanting to kiss your lips since day one.” He said, as he started to approach you like a careful carnivore to his prey. You gulped. He chuckled, “I won’t do anything that you wouldn’t like, baby. I’m a slave to your words. Once you say ‘yes’, I’ll do it.” 

You scanned Jungkook’s face. His lips that’s already painted red since he’s been biting it too much, wet because he’s also licking it, and his eyes that has been silently giving you promises. You nodded. “Yes.” You whispered. Jungkook tilted his head, smiling as if he didn’t hear what you whispered. “You can kiss me, J—” 

Jungkook didn’t have to be told twice. Like what he said, he is a slave to your words. Like a bullet being triggered, he immediately grabbed the chance to press his lips to yours. Ah, he wasn’t wrong. Your lips were indeed soft, lucios and red because he kissed you hard. He smiled as he watched your face, dazed by his kiss. He kissed you again, surprising you when his tongue entered inside your mouth and wage a war with yours. 

His innocent pretty baby, trying to catch up to his kisses and learning step by step. Jungkook grabbed you by your waist, placing you on top of his crotch. You let out a guttural moan, trying to suppress yourself when you felt his hardness. Your hands find itself encircling around Jungkook’s neck as he deepened both of your kiss, tongues fighting with each other and he would occasionally bite your lower lip. You find yourself biting his lip. 

When the both of you stopped, the both of you were panting and Jungkook chuckled. You were watching him with eyes full of desire, he wanted to go on but he wanted you to want more. He wanted you to come begging to him with a dildo inside your holes. Begging him to make love with you. So, he settled in giving you three pecks of kisses. “Thank you, baby.” 

You slowly nodded, “Ah...yeah.” 

He intertwined the both of your hands, “Now, let’s let loose baby.” 

The next thing you know you were dragged by Jungkook to his fraternity house. Full of college kids outside and inside, getting drunk and being intimate with one another. Jungkook is hugging you from the back, his chin on your shoulder as the both of you walk inside. You looked at him. “This is really your definition of letting loose, huh?” 

He chuckled, “Yes. Welcome to my world.” 

You smiled, and Jungkook led you to a couch. You sat down and he sat beside you, still hugging you. You didn’t know why he dragged you here, when the both of you weren’t mingling with everyone. It could’ve been better when the both of you were in the comfort of your dorms. “Now, pretty baby. Can I kiss you in front of a lot of people?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked at the people. Most of them were too drunk to even care that the both of you were intimate. Maybe… You nodded. Jungkook gripped your waist, so you could straddle on top of him. “Use your words, pretty baby. I told you, I’m a slave to it.” You blushed, you’ll never be used to this side of Jungkook. 

You encircled your arms around him, “Yes, Jungkook.” The both of you started kissing and you realized that this was your first time kissing someone. Also, the first time kissing in front of a lot of people. 

Jungkook promised you to let loose. Indeed, you started to let loose. After making out on the couch, Jungkook led you to the kitchen to get drunk. You did get tipsy but still conscious about what’s happening but brave enough to do wild things. 

You find yourself dancing intimately with Jungkook at the dance floor. Jungkook is back hugging you as he grinds his crotch to your butt. Leaving bites and kisses on your neck, your moans are drowned by the loud EDM music blasting.  When the both of you got tired grinding with each other and eating each other’s faces—Jungkook led you back to both of your dorm, carrying you from his back. 

And that’s how the both of you end up in your room, with Jungkook carefully placing the sex toys on the floor.

You gulped as you saw the 10 inch, thick dildo that Jungkook pulled out from the box. “W-We’re not gonna use that, right?”

He chuckled, and shook his head. Making you relieved. “Not yet, baby.” You stilled. “We’re just going to start small. Step by step.” He took out a pamphlet, containing instructions on how to use the different toys, and some professional tips. “Let’s see.” He scanned at the toys, then he looked at you and smiled. “Come here, pretty baby.” He ordered as he sat on your bed, he guided you until you’re straddling on his lap. 

“We’re just going to warm you up, wet your sweet little pussy. Would you like that, baby?”

You nodded, dazed. 

He softly slapped your ass cheek. “I need words.” 

Teeth pressed on your lower lip, you nodded. “Yes, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook watches the way your face contorted, eyes rolled, mouth parted and body arched when he cupped your womanhood. So sensitive. He hasn’t even started. Jungkook continued playing with your womanhood—He continuously rubs your clitoris, following a rhythm where he would go slow then fast then back to torturing you with slow movements. Your hands gripped his shoulder, silently begging him to do something more. However, he needs your words.

His other hand cupped your chin, “Pretty little girl, you have to say what you want or we’re not going anywhere.” He said as he started to rub your clitoris faster, you yelped when he suddenly pinched you. You looked at him with so much desire. Jungkook was true to his word, he wasn’t going to do anything if you won’t say it. Ah, to hell with it!

“Jungkook,” You gasped when he lightly slapped your clit. “Please, Jungkook—Jung—Baby, please..do something more.”

Jungkook tilted his head, “What something more? Do you want me to put my fingers inside you baby? Do you want me to lick your pretty little pussy? You want me to put toys inside you because you’re such a good little girl? You want me to fuck you so hard baby? What do you want my pretty baby?” 

You bite your lip, “All of it, b-baby...I want you to do all of it...and more...more...please..please” You’re practically chanting as if it’s a mantra to let Jungkook do whatever you want. Jungkook fondly smiled at your eagerness, he kissed your forehead then softly pushed you to lay on your bed. 

He removes your tops, and stared at your beauty. Your bottoms were already long gone and you look divinely beautiful laying on your bed. You crossed your arms to cover your breasts, and closed your legs tightly. He watches the redness increasing on your face as you look away, the liquid coming out from your thighs and Jungkook unconsciously licked his lips. He knew you were beautiful, but right now looking so innocent but seductive—You are the most beautiful woman his eyes ever laid on. 

“Open your legs, pretty baby” His voice dropped an octave. You were obedient by spreading your legs, your arms were still crossed but it was alright to Jungkook. It just fueled his fantasie more. He didn’t know he had so much hidden lust with his roommate, and now it’s all coming out, he just wants to eat you up. He inched closer to your womanhood, and softly started placing kisses on the sides. 

Your back arched, “Baby….” You softly called. Jungkook then started licking the sides, you let out a moan as he thrusted a finger inside you. “B-Baby—!” You moaned out when his finger started moving, just like his rhythm earlier, he thrusted in and out slowly then his pace started getting faster and faster. Just when you felt something building up, his pace became slow and thrusted another finger inside you. Your hands gripped your sheets when Jungkook started to thrust faster again. 

As if his fingers weren’t enough to drive you mad, he added in his tongue to send you to your death. While two fingers are thrusting inside you, his tongue played with your clitoris. Your eyes rolled up, and your mouth parted. You felt your saliva started to drip down from your mouth. You were going insane and Jungkook’s pace hasn’t stopped, you don’t want him to stop. Your thighs started shivering, and you felt something building up once again, “B-Baby, I think there’s something coming, baby...Baby!” 

“You’re just cumming, just cum, baby.” He said as he continued licking your clit and fingering you. You closed your eyes when you felt the build up that was coming has finally released, when you opened your eyes, you think you’ve seen stars. You were breathing heavily when Jungkook hover over you. “Is that your first orgasm, pretty baby?” He kissed your cheek, then started leaving traces of kisses. 

You nodded, “I—I—I never tried on my own, I just don’t know how.” You looked down, embarrassed by your confession. You were never interested about sexual desires, so you didn’t get a chance to masturbate by yourself. Jungkook cupped your chin then kissed you softly.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll teach you step by step.” 

You smiled and eagerly nodded, he chuckled at your eagerness and kissed you once again. Like an eager student, you tried your best to follow. You tried biting his lower lip, and fight with his tongue. As the both of you stopped kissing, he grinned at you and kissed your forehead. “Great job, sweet baby. Next week, new lesson?”

“So, what’s up with you and Jungkook?” Your friend, Jihyun asked. You stopped eating when the curious eyes of your other friends bore to you. 

You tried to keep it cool by shrugging, “I’m teaching him Calculus, remember?”

Ryujin’s eyebrow arched, “You sure about that? The vibe between you two...It’s different.” Now, how the hell do you break to your friends that Jungkook just gave you a mind blowing orgasm with just his fingers and tongue? And it’s not the last time. 

“We’re just—” You didn’t finish your sentence when you heard someone calling you. You turned around and it was Jungkook. Great, speak of the...is Jungkook a devil? You tried calming yourself down. “Jungkook” You forced an innocent smile, “Do you need something?”

Jungkook observes the emotions in your eyes then your friends who were looking between the two of you. He smiled innocently, “I was wondering if I could borrow the notes you copied last time in Calculus. I’ll copy it.” He alibied, it was a lie—he knew you weren’t comfortable telling your friends about your relationship with him. So, he tried his best to act normal with you although he wants to kiss you. His pretty baby. 

Thank god, they’re roommates. He’ll just kiss you when the both of you got home. When he went back to his friends, all of them were looking curiously at him. His head tilted in confusion, “Something wrong?”

“I just saw you talking to ____” Taehyung said.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed, “That’s normal. We’re roommates.” 

“No, it’s not. The both of you never look at each other like that. Like you want to each other’s face off” Jimin said as if he’s deducing something between the two of you.

He rolled his eyes with what his friends are saying, “She’s teaching me Calculus,” He shrugged, “We’ve gotten close.” Really really close. 

Jimin, the ever curious man he is inched closer to Jungkook. “How close?” Now, how will he say that he already gave you your first orgasm and he promised himself it won’t be the last time?

Jungkook didn’t want to disclose anyone what his relationship with his pretty, innocent roommate. Just like you—he’s also sorting out what he feels about you. So, he looked at his friend, concealing any emotions he has for you. “She’s just helping me with Calculus.” 

Thankfully, they didn’t ask furthermore. And Thank God, he was just with Jimin and Taehyung. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when his elder friends would accompany them. They’ll knew right away—especially Yoongi, he has a knack for seeing through people. 

When he came back to the dorm, he was expecting not seeing you but you’re in the living room and your books laid out on the table. You’re wearing a white button down long sleeves shirt—the shirt was big in your size so it looks like you weren’t wearing anything down there. Jungkook just stares at how you look effortlessly beautiful. 

The way you tried putting strands of your hair over your ear because it’s distracting, the way you adjust your round glasses, the way you play with the pen while thinking, the way you bite your lips because you’re frustrated, the way you closed your eyes because you want to concentrate. Jungkook finds himself holding his chest and catching his breath. 

He slowly approaches you, trying his best not to call your attention then hugged you from behind. “Pretty baby…” 

You stilled when strong set of arms wrapped around your neck, Jungkook’s chin placed on your shoulder as he whispered to you “What are you doing?”

You tried concentrating on your reviewers, you knew you’re blushing hard. “Oh, studying…” 

“Hmm...I see.” He kissed your cheeks repeatedly, “Do you want me to make you a sandwich? I’m good at it.” He smugly grinned, and he repeatedly kisses your cheek, then the top of your head. 

You smiled, “I’d love to.” 

You were writing down questions for Jungkook later. According to your professor, Jungkook has been doing well with classes and if there were some things he wouldn’t understand he would approach you after class. Jungkook placed down the sandwich beside you, you looked up and smiled. “Thank you.” 

He shrugged, “You’ve been such a great help. I’m somehow understanding Calculus. Me.” 

You chuckled, “Of course you would, baby.” You said unconsciously then went back to write the problems. 

Jungkook then wrapped his arms around you. “Did you just call me baby?” He doesn’t know why the fuck his heart was leaping with joy. He’ll thought you’ll just call him with that while you’re lust-driven. Fuck! You looked at him, blushing when you realized what you called him. His pretty baby is too cute, so he repeatedly placed kisses on your cheeks again. 

“I-I didn’t realize I called you that.” You said, as your redness increases. 

He smiled, “It’s okay. I don’t really mind.” He actually loves it. He snuggled to your neck as you continued to write. For several minutes, the both of you stayed the way you are but when Jungkook sensed you finally finished what you’re doing, he called your attention. 

“Yes, baby?” You asked, unconsciously placing your hand on his cheek and caressing it.

He suddenly started placing kisses on your neck that made you stilled, and tilt your head more to give him more access to your neck. “You’ve been so good teaching me Calculus, would you want me to teach you too pretty girl?” 

“Hmmm….” is the only thing you could muster as Jungkook’s lips are replaced by his tongue. Your mouth parted as his tongue made a trail from your neck then to your shoulders. You faced Jungkook and immediately captured his lips. 

Your arms encircled around his neck, while his hands explored your body, then encircling around your waist. You gasped when he suddenly carried you and bite your lower lip. Your legs hugged around his waist as the both of you continued kissing, tongues licking each other, he would occasionally bite your lips then you’d follow him. “Baby…” You moaned out when you felt him cupping your woman hood. 

He kissed your forehead, “Lay down pretty baby” 

You didn’t realize the both of you were inside your room. Following Jungkook’s order, you laid down on the bed and bite your lip. You’re anticipating what Jungkook will do when he motioned you to spread your legs then he took out something from his pocket, a handkerchief. 

He smirked when he saw your confused face. Hovering above you, Jungkook is trying to reassure you, “Pretty baby, you just have to trust me okay? I won’t hurt you. Ever. Trust me?” He tilted his head, and you nodded. That made him fondly smile, he kissed your forehead and expertly tied your hands using a handkerchief.

You looked at him with sudden worry, but he kisses your lips softly. “It’s okay, ____. Trust me, I won’t hurt you.” Somehow, his words comforted your heart and you find yourself agreeing to him. 

“Now, recap: Last week you learned about orgasm. This week, let’s teach you about sex toys! Would you like that, pretty little baby?” The moment Jungkook asked, his voice dropped an octave. He’s having fun teasing you. He could see the lust in your eyes, but the cluelessness what would happen next. 

You blushed at the words ‘sex toys’. Is it time to use it? When your friends sent you the toys, it was to help you masturbate because you were too clueless how to do it. You tried watching porn videos but you couldn’t get into the feel. You friends suggested to use toys so it could help you get in the mood but you weren’t able to use it because Jungkook found about it and you don’t know how to use it. 

Now, Jungkook is about to use it. He brought out the box, as he rummaged inside it and looks for the perfect toy. When he found it, he glanced at you and gave you a sweet smile. “Hm, I think this would be okay for you baby. No need to put it inside your pretty little pussy. This is a wand vibrator, it’s water resistant so you don’t have to worry.” He explained the tall device, he turns it on and the device let out a low, rumbling sound. 

Jungkook approaches you and kissed you softly, his kiss was slow and sensual, promising you that he’ll take care of you and won’t hurt you. You gasped when you felt the foreign sensation as Jungkook placed the wand on your womanhood. You were still wearing your shorts, what more if you’re full bare? “J-Jungkook…” You gasped when Jungkook pressed harder. 

Jungkook started leaving kisses as he removes every button of your dress shirt, making a wet trail around your chest as he kissed, sucked and bite your breasts and nipples. Your back arched as his mouth continues to play with your breasts, and his hands are busy removing and pressing the wand on your clit. When he finally removed all the buttons, Jungkook didn’t waste anytime pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. Your eyes immediately rolled when Jungkook placed the wand on your bare clit. 

“Fuck!” You unconsciously said, your hips also arched as you chased the sensation Jungkook is giving to you. “Baby..babybabybabybaby” You chanted as he continues to press the wand, he slowly increased the vibration and your eyes suddenly become blurry with your tears. You never felt this kind of situation ever in your life. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, Jungkook added his rhythm, he would lower the intensity and his hands rubbing your clit would go fast then when he would increase it, he would slow down his pace. 

Watching you already in a state of peak lust—Jungkook hovered above your torso, his legs just at the sides of your chest. With one hand, he removed his shirt and pants, revealing his already, hard boner. You bite your lip, as Jungkook cupped his manhood while pleasuring you with the wand vibrator. 

Jungkook smirked as he sees you watching intently at his crotch. “Want to taste, baby?”

You eagerly nodded making Jungkook chuckle. “Alright, pretty baby...Open up.” Your mouth immediately parted, as Jungkook inches closer to your mouth. He hissed when your lips touched his head. You haven’t done anything but Jungkook felt like dying and going to heaven. His head hang back as you would switch your lips and tongue when playing the tip of his head. 

“Such a good girl, eh? Just lick the slit, baby…..slowly….” You did what he said, “Fuck….yes, baby...Slow….Ah” He can’t help moaning when you’re eagerly licking his head. He stretches his arm to press harder the vibrator to your clit, and you moaned. The both of you were driving each other insane. Your constant moaning drives Jungkook mad while his hand playing with the vibrator on your clit is making you a mess. 

You felt something building up inside you, and your thighs are starting to shiver due to the intensity of Jungkook’s hand. Your head hang back, you tried to moan but you’re too lost in pleasure that your voice won’t come out. Jungkook watched as you’re about to cum, and he used that sinful image to fuel his release. 

Holding his cock, he squeezed it and jerked it up and down. “You like that wand, baby?” He hissed. “Like that vibrator sending you to your orgasm? Which do you like more, baby? My fingers, tongue or this vibrator?” 

You wanted to say something but you couldn’t when Jungkook increased the intensity. Jungkook not liking the silence, slapped his cock to your mouth. “Answer me, baby or I’ll press this vibrator the whole night and won’t let you cum. Would you like that pretty baby?”

You shake your head in panic making Jungkook smirk, “Now, which do you like, baby?” 

You bite your lip, you sure do like the sensation the vibrator is giving you—his fingers and tongue—his sinful tongue but one thing that made an impression on you today. “I like your cock, baby” You said, voice breaking because you felt like crying because you want to cum already but Jungkook was edging you so bad, increasing and lowering the intensity. You realized Jungkook loves to tease you too much to the point he wants you to cry and beg for your release and that’s what you’re doing right now.

Tears streaming down, you begged Jungkook “Please please please baby, I’m cumm..mmming” 

Jungkook didn’t listen to your begging as his mind is focused on a certain thing you said, “Pretty baby likes my cock, huh?” Just as he increased the intensity of the vibrator, he increased the pace on his cock. Your eyes focused back to his manhood and you eagerly nodded. He chuckled. “Like my cock so much you want it so badly to be inside you?” You nodded and you spread your legs, hoping he would do it. 

He fondly smile, “Pretty baby eager for my cock...but...that’s reserve for another lesson. For now, let’s make you cum.” He said as he discarded the vibrator. He flipped over and the position the both of you have were opposites. You were facing Jungkook’s cock while he’s facing your pussy. Jungkook didn’t waste any time and eagerly lapped your juices, and clitoris. 

You gasped, your hips arching to feel more. You stared at his cock—it tasted so sweet that you wanted to taste it again, so you did. Without much knowledge, but full of enthusiasm—you sucked the head of his cock. 

Jungkook stilled, he looked at you eagerly sucking the head. He wanted to stop you, he want to teach you slowly but ah, fuck it! He removed himself on top of you, making your mouth chase his cock then he leveled with you. 

“I want to fuck you, baby...Would you let me?” He asked as he rubbed his cock on your clit. So fucking wet, so fucking good. You’ll be the death of him! 

You knew Jungkook wouldn’t do anything without your words, “Yes. Please, please fuck me baby.” You embraced him and Jungkook kissed your forehead. He positioned his cock on your center, he looked at you—worry etched on your face and he brushed his lips to yours. 

“It’ll hurt, baby but I’ll be gentle…” Hopefully, he could. He kissed your lips, as he thrusted in. You felt the rapid pain when your hymen ripped. Jungkook quickly placed kisses around your face and whispered sweet nothings, just like he promised he was moving slowly. Eventually, you want more. 

You embraced him tighter, “More...Jungkook...Fuck me hard, baby. I-I don’t mmminndd” 

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, spreading your legs wider and pushing it until your knees touched your chest—Jungkook thrusts harder. His head hang back as he continues to thrust more, trying to meet his release. You also feel you’re about to cum as you encircled your arms around his neck and kissed him. The both of you are sloppily fighting each other’s tongue while the both of you are trying to meet your orgasm. Silently telling each other to cum. 

Your vision briefly blacked out as you reached your release, “Fuck baby….Such a messy pretty baby. Squirting on me.” You looked at him with confusion. W-What did you just do? His cock was not only wet with his cum, his chest up to his abdomen was wet with some liquid. He grinned, “I didn’t know you could squirt. Maybe we should put that in a good use next lesson.” Then, he kissed your forehead. 

Still dazed with lust, you just nodded. You’ll just ask him about that later, and slowly close your eyes. Meanwhile, Jungkook is busy wiping his spilled cum on your stomach. After that, he used a warm cloth to wipe the liquid on your womanhood then proceeds to clean himself. He didn’t bother putting on some clothes as he lay beside you, hugging you and kissing your forehead. 

He stared at your face for a while, sleeping soundly and comfortable with his presence.

He smiled. A sudden realization dawned on him, that maybe, just maybe—He found himself falling in love with his roommate. 

A/N: here you go lads! hope you’ll like it! feed backs are much appreciated <3 i don’t know if i’ll add another part but who knows...  ;--) 

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