#yes he is actually on a leash but once again I edited it out because I can’t be stopped | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miekasa · 3 years

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the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually.

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side.

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.”

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.”

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her.

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting.

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter.

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it.

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader #aot fluff

2K notes · View notes

crown-anon · 3 years

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@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

#limeade-zest #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #george davidson x reader

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outofangband · 3 years

Text

So wanted to write some angry, brooding Maedhros in Himring

CW: self blame and self hatred after captivity and torture, implied victim blaming from others. Trauma survivors being pitted against each other (this pitting is both leftover from Angband’s hierarchies and unfortunately re-enforced by their own peoples.) Implied wishes of self harm. Maedhros is in a dark place in this piece.

(references a few other pieces of mine, specifically this one.)

This is yet another piece I want to link so many relevant headcanons to but I know that would be annoying so here is the masterlist. Where you can find my headcanons, writing, and Angband/Post Angband tags

Against all odds Maedhros has escaped the clutches of the dark foe alive. Yet his ordeal is far from over and as the weight of everything he has suffered begins to sink in and he experiences first hand how his own kin treat survivors of the Iron Prisons, Maedhros cannot help wondering if his survival is a final punishment.

The elf had run back into the night before Maedhros could react. Their condemnation burned despite the cold. For a brief moment, Maedhros considered following. Confronting the coward, challenging him, hurting him. His fingers gripped the blade sheathed at his hip, twitched as they felt the cool stone of the handle. And then fell to his side again.

It was not dignity nor his station that prevented him from pursuing. Maitimo was afraid of what the other could say to him, could remind him of. Yes, the greatest stretches of his captivity were unknown to other Eldar but rumors spread quickly in such a place and more than one incident was shared among memories.

He had been confronted with other survivors of the Iron Prisons, usually those who had escaped through the mines, who had experienced both the horror and perhaps the privilege of being a nameless entity, just one of a number of thralls down in that darkness.

He was not sure which type of encounter was worse.

Some actually held him in admiration, had perhaps heard of his defiance towards Moringotto, whether fabricated or genuine. They would not meet his eyes, spoke in a hush as they thanked him for some rumored triumph.

Thanked him, he did not doubt, for being the subject of the Enemy’s obsession, His ire and lust so it would not fall upon others in the fortress.

Some met him with sneering, exaggerated gestures of respect that made bile rise in his throat. They had not yet spoken explicitly of what he knew the rumors in the mines to be, of what he knew they wished to spit at him. Perhaps their bravado was merely false, perhaps they still understood him to be protected by his status. But their hints were bad enough. Especially when he knew that it was still possible that the few who had seen him in the darkness, who had witnessed his defilement, witnessed how far he had fallen (yet never far enough to forget) lived to speak of it.

It was, among other things, encounters like this one that kept him locked in his towers, afforded him his reputation of being cold and distant and watchful. His cousin had once protested this reputation, declared it unkind. He had earned from Maedhros something like a laugh. Out of all the rumors surrounding him, aloof and paranoid was perhaps the most generous.

There were so many more fitting names, titles he had earned by now. (Earned them as he lost other names that he had once held, often with pride.) And many had followed him from the Dark Lord’s stronghold, now taking the shape of whispers and speculation, tension rising when he found himself among his people. Even among kinslayers and former thralls he was tainted by what he was said to have endured at the hands of the Moringotto, let alone what he had endured.

He felt their whispers etched into his skin. And he had an intimate familiarity with what it felt like to have words carved into one’s skin. Some of these names were carved into his skin.

Maedhros did not know the elf who had accosted him but their choice words and slightly tilted posture brought a scene to the forefront of his mind. The flurry of sensations assaulted him. Cold stone against his bare knees he had been balancing on for unknown hours, head forced up by the chain leash in the Vala’s hand. The roughness of the burnt hand that reached out for him when he did not comply. Brilliant pain and convulsions and far worse.

The memories were out of order so his snarling anger burned again in him seconds before the pale, weak limpness of his more detached states threatened to take hold. Maedhros found himself in his own chambers again, the walk from the path to the tower evading him. He saw blood under his nails, presumably his own. The memories had still not stopped, chains and iron, cold stone and fire, claws and hands and teeth and that voice laced over the touch...

Maedhros wanted to crawl out of his skin, to scrub it all away but he knew he would need something far more powerful than merely water.

(author’s note: I wasn’t sure if this was clear but when I say they emphasized that Maedhros is still protected by his status, the implication is that in Angband he was ‘protected’ from working in the mines because of Morgoth’s obsession with him and now he’s protected by being the king’s nephew and a lord of the Noldor. I wasn’t kidding when I said that Angband seriously pits various prisoners against each other.)

(This is another one I’ll probably go back to you and revise and edit because I’m not satisfied with it yet and probably won’t ever be but yeah I hope it’s ok. It explores a side of him I haven’t written in awhile)

#post Angband #Maedhros #The Silmarillion #short writings #himring #I’m really really anxious about this #because it encompasses so many of my ideas and thoughts but not well and I can’t get them all out and ahh #wrote after listening to volition by julia henning

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newswcanonprompts · 3 years

Text

Urban magic SW AU

(again, direct quotes)

(also, poster’s note: how would the clones tie into this AU? very interesting. also, i want art for this, that’d be so badass i feel like. unfortunately I can’t draw for shit so... idk i’ll just dream about it. sorry, anyways, BACK TO THIS)

I just read ‘domestic’ as ‘demonic’ and thought this was a very different conversation.

Anakin is a demon obi-wan summoned after fostering a kid because he can't cook.

Imagine being so bad at cooking your first instinct is to summon a demon to do it for you rather than like, buy a cookbook.

“Okay you summoned me what do you want me to do”

“Oh my god please cook, I am taking care of a child who needs protein and is allergic to soy and I haven’t cooked or eaten meat in two decades please help me”

“You know I'm a flexitarian who gets my protein from soy and bugs, right?”

“Oh my god i'm doomed!”

Vader, dark, looming shadow, eyes like molten gold: “wHy dId yOU SUmmON mE?”

Obi-Wan, cursing: “Oh fuck, I, uh, was trying for minor deity of ah, home keeping. uhm. Is your name Anakin? I just need somebody who can cook for my kid.”

Insert Vader's form shifting.

Anakin: “Oh gosh finally somebody who doesn't want blood!”

Obi-Wan: “Do you just have split personalities or something?”

Anakin: “Do you want my life story or do you want me to cook for you?”

Obi-Wan: "Can you multitask?"

A family can be a local demonology professor and alchemist, a witch in the making and technically a prince of hell with a backstory that needs unlocking.

Can this also be a “pretending to be married” au cause I need someone to show up and be like “Obi-Wan who is this nice man?

"This is definitely not a demon uhhhhh. This is, thIS IS MY HUSBAND!!!!!”

anakin: o.O

And Vader would always tease him about it, but sticks around anyway because he doesn’t want to go back to his demon master.

If this is an AU where summoning demons is normal, Obi-Wan would be more embarrassed about his reason for summoning, so he pretends the demon is his husband to hide the fact that he summoned for cooking help.

Maybe his dad Qui-Gon is a professional chef and puts a lot of pressure on him to be a good cook?

I don’t know, maybe not Qui-Gon but having that pressure. RATATOUILLE! VADER IS REMY! BUT VADER IS NOT A RAT BECAUSE WE ARE NOT MAKING A BEE MOVIE EDIT OF THIS!

Obi-Wan: “ Look, my mentor and I already argue over the fact that I chose to abandon divination for alchemy, I do not need him learning of my abysmal cooking!”

Anakin being a wonderful "wife" and just a great person. Then Obi-Wan gets threatened. Tells Obi-Wan to go somewhere and Vader just slaughters the threat.

I'm absolutely imagining the kid Obi-Wan’s taking care of is baby Luke, maybe he was taken from Vader as a baby and Obi-Wan found him? THAT'S gonna introduce some tension between him and Vader!

Anakin, staring at Luke: “Where did you find him?”

Obi-Wan: “On the street somewhere? Why?”

Anakin, preparing to go fight Sidious: “I need to kill a demon.”

WAIT, DOES THIS MAKE BABY LUKE HALF DEMON? How about half-angel instead?

No wonder he needs so much protein! Luke's diet has been all over the place in the past 4 months.

I think it's hilarious if Luke is half demon but stays the ray of sunshine we all know and love. Like yeah you go Luke, break those stereotypes!

Wait, where Padme is this?

Padmé hmm.... how about Vaderkin's previous summoner? And then Sidious Happened™️.

She is the person who summoned Vaderkin for similar reasons to Obi-Wan, then they fell in love, and had Luke (and Leia)

and Sidious happened, but Vaderkin didn't now, and.......

Sidious happened first and turned Anakin who was some,,, idk weird local deity/spirit into Vader and when he escaped:

he met Padmé, a talented magician who tried to fix it and make him Anakin again, which,,,, didn't really work.

It only cut his tie to Sidious so he's not holding the leash anymore.

Other side effects are the creation of Luke & Leia.

Which are basically the residue magic given form, hence them both being half and half.

And Vaderkin sort of disappeared in the whole mess so Padmé, injured but alive, grabbed the kids and ran, later hid Luke with Obi-Wan, Leia with Bail & Breha while now attempting to take down Sidious.

And Padmé thinks anakin actually died in the process.So we can have the whole family AND badass Padmé!

And then Obi-Wan just finds baby!Luke and takes care of him and summons Anakin without knowing that Anakin is Luke's father...

Which would make Padmé checking in on Obi-Wan and Luke a lot more hilarious if Anakin just opens the door.

(Oh boy when Padmé finds out about Obi-Wan's fake marriage to Anakin that's gonna be some CONFUSION!)

Okay okay okay, so Palpatine is the dean of the college Obi-Wan teaches at and has been refusing to give him tenure or a promotion or any good class for like five years.

I really want Anakin to be like a deity until Sidious dragged him down to hell. So Obi-Wan summons Anakin under his original deity name because he wants to cook and is surprised to get a demon.

Obi-Wan: “So you're anakin... and vader?”

Vaderkin: “Yeah”

Obi-Wan, holding a crying toddler and not giving any fucks anymore: “You know what this checks out.”

Anakin was probably some form of God, because Chosen One you know?

I mean this ties in nicely with the origin of his name so like. Make him a God of fate, make him a creation of the universe itself.

Stardust runs in his veins, galaxies are born in his eyes, and all of that.

He was corrupted once Palpatine dug his claws and spilled golden ichor, tainting it the red of mortality, darkening to the unholy black blood of the underworld.

Oh yes!!!! So, the backstory:

He was stolen from his mother by Sidious, made a half-demon, then left and married Padmé, they had Luke and Leia.

Sidious trapped Anakin again and made him a full demon this time through the burning and lots of pain, he thinks he killed Padmé, but she is looking for him and trying to get him back but can't raise the twins

because she's trying to find their father and make him human again,

and he tried to kill Padmé against his will, but she still believes in him.

Jedi are people who use the magic that create the demons and the gods to do good or something.

I mean Obi-Wan's still running around as a mortal.

Someone needs to wrangle these supernatural idiots and he's unfortunately the best person for the job.

If this is urban fantasy then Jedi could be the term for people that use magic

How about we tie this to the Fallen Angel Anakin, and have Anakin who was once a god, but was dragged down by Sidious

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 16

A/N: Y’all this chapter is TEN THOUSAND WORDS DON’T EVEN @ ME YOU’RE WELCOME AND *STANLEY TUCCI VOICE* GIRD YOUR LOINS

January 9th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was going to go insane.

This was, perhaps, going to be the busiest day of her life thus far. This morning was the outdoor practice in Nathan Phillips Square. She and Peter were responsible for co-ordinating the photographers, videographers, and the team to get down to Nathan Phillips Square. Once there, Aberdeen was responsible for helping to manage every single every single member of the media who were attending and covering the event, as well as Mayor John Tory and all the wives and girlfriends in attendance. And though she had the afternoon off to get ready, tonight was the Night With the Blue and White, the organization’s biggest and most important event of the season. She’d been studying the guest list for weeks, making sure Brendan would know – or at least pretend to know, thanks to her – every guest in attendance, and Peter was doing the same thing for Kyle. She’d even bought a new dress and shoes for the occasion – fancier than anything she’d ever bought. She knew that a lot of important and influential people would be there donating their money to the MLSE Launchpad initiatives around the city. They were even hosting a grade three class of one of the schools who benefitted from the programs. It was going to be busy, but hopefully fun.

There were cameras everywhere. Aberdeen knew she’d probably get caught on a few of them, news ones or otherwise, but today, she didn’t care. There were more important things on her mind. Brendan was expecting a lot from her, and she knew she had to deliver. She knew she could deliver.

When she had everything she needed from the office, she made her way down to the locker room. She entered quietly as she saw all the guys in their long johns and extra base layers, listening to Keefe and Hakstol as they explained how the outdoor practice was going to be organized into teams and tournaments and points. The energy from the guys was palpable and she could feel it within herself, too. Cameras were already filming. She saw William, already with his balaclava on, flash a peace sign to the camera pointed at him.

When the guys began to put on their gear, she watched Brendan make his way across the room. He was already wearing his peacoat and scarf. “You ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I can be,” she smiled.

“Here, wear this,” he said, handing her a knit Leafs toque, the same one all the guys were wearing as well. “You’re gonna need it. It’s freezing out there.”

Aberdeen put the hat on as Brendan held her clipboard for her. After adjusting it, she looked up at him. “How do I look?”

If this was William asking the question to her, she would have come up with some smart aleck remark – a Costco hot dog or a bottle of Tums in assorted berries flavour. But because it was Brendan, he said something much nicer. “Like you’re a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he smiled. It almost made her swoon. “Now let’s get this party started, shall we?”

***

“Devon! Devon! Your slot is up to interview John as he’s walking. You cameraman is ready to go live in ten.”

“Carrie, stick with Travis for now. Goat? Where’s Goat? We need him for the French interview.”

“Gerry, you can interview Kyle now, but you only have two minutes.”

Aberdeen was practically skipping to keep up with all the players and media walking through the Toronto streets as they made their way to a full Nathan Phillips Square. She didn’t have long strides like these hockey boys did with her short little legs. She noticed all the interviewers being where they needed to be to go live and let out a sigh of relief. Walking through the streets of Toronto, going on the subway, and having fans, constructions workers, commuters, and more stop the guys left, right and centre for autographs and pictures and selfies was one thing, but once they got to the actual square, with all the media, it was going to be mayhem.

And she needed to make sure they had Tim Horton’s cups around.

All the guys filed into the square, high fiving the waiting fans who were now screaming at their arrival before they went to the bench and started to put on their skates. Once they were all there and accounted for (Aberdeen honestly felt like she was on a school trip; she didn’t know how her mother did this with six year olds when she could barely corral a bunch of grown men), she made her way towards where the media was waiting. Peter was already there.

“Okay everyone!” he screamed out. Nobody heard him. “Everyone!” he screamed out again, louder this time, but still nobody heard him. “Journalists!” he tried one more time.

“HEY!!!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs. Every journalist and cameraperson there turned silent and looked her way. Peter looked at her in shock, not knowing she was capable of such a volume. “Alright! Listen up! You each have a designated station to place your cameras. You are to stay in your station throughout the practice and not encroach on the space of the others! Journalists and videographers, you’re following Peter who will lead you to your stations, where you are to remain until practice is finished, where you will then go into the media scrum! Photographers, you are going to follow me and I will lead you to your stations. Is everybody clear?!”

Everyone nodded their heads and divided themselves easily, with Aberdeen leading the photographers one way and Peter leading the journalists and videographers another. When she got back to her original spot, that’s when she saw John Tory. “Mr. Mayor! Hello! I’m Aberdeen Bloom, Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant,” she smiled and shook his hand. She noticed he was wearing a Leafs varsity jacket. “Follow me, sir. You get the sweet spot behind the bench.”

“You know, I look forward to this event every year,” he made small talk with her as they began walking. “Did you say you were Brendan’s personal assistant?”

“Yes sir. Although after getting the team on the subway and over here, I feel like I’m herding cats,” she joked.

John Tory laughed. He’d laughed at a dumb joke she made. Her dad would be so proud of her. He’d probably brag at the next dinner party he and Orla had. “You’re very lucky, Aberdeen. I bet a million people would kill for your job.”

“I agree, sir.” Aberdeen tapped Brendan’s shoulder to get him to turn around. “Mr. Mayor, Mr. Shanahan, I’m sure you’re well acquainted.”

The two men shook hands. Brendan focused his attention quickly on Aberdeen. “Would you mind meeting Jennifer Spezza and waiting for the others?”

Aberdeen nodded, leaving the mayor with him as she went back to the entrance, near the stairs to the subway. Once there, she saw Jennifer waiting patiently. Jennifer smiled once she saw Aberdeen, and extended her arms to hug her. “It’s always nice to see you, Aberdeen,” she smiled.

“You too, Jen.”

“A bunch of the girls are coming together – Emma, Kat, Steph, Audrey, Saylor, and Alexis are coming together and should be here any second. Aryne, Bee, and Alannah are running a bit late because of Jace, but only by like five minutes,” Jennifer informed her.

“Okay, great. We’ll wait till everyone gets here and then I’ll bring everyone over,” Aberdeen nodded her head.

“How’s the day been so far?”

Aberdeen shrugged. “Hectic, but fine.”

“Have you breathed?” Jen joked.

Aberdeen giggled. “Barely.”

Only moments later, Kat was running up the stairs with Niylah on a harness and leash, and Emma carried Ralph in her arms. Aberdeen pet the dogs until Aryne, Bee, and Alannah showed up. Aberdeen led them all to their designated area, and stayed with them as the practice happened. She liked them – they were a nice group of women, and although Aberdeen was never inserted into any supposed drama she may have heard rumblings about, she was sure they were all good people. Once they were all there, Aberdeen knew her jobs for the day were done, and that she could breathe again. Unless Brendan called her to do anything else, she was free.

“Aberdeen, are we going to see you tonight?” Bee asked as the girls sipped on the complimentary hot chocolate provided for them.

“You bet,” she smiled.

“Oooooooh!” Jen smiled from beside Bee, hopping excitedly. “What are you wearing?!”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Aberdeen winked.

“What colour is it?” Bee asked.

“Green.”

“Oooooooooooooh,” both women cooed as they made eyes with each other and then Aberdeen. “You’re gonna knock all of us dead, Aberdeen. You always look so stylish around the SBA.”

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head nervously. “You guys are all way too glam for me.”

“Can I get a hot dog pleeeeease?” William’s loud, playful voice interrupted as he skated towards the entrance of the bench where all the girls were. He shot the girls one of his signature smiles before one of the equipment guys laughed and shook his head as he called behind him for another hot dog. He was handed one promptly, handing it to William who proceeded to stuff half of it into his mouth in one go.

Aberdeen shook her head. Now he was just being obnoxious.

***

“William’s jaw is going to hit the floor, Aberdeen,” Kasha mused as she took some last minute pictures of Aberdeen in her full look. She’d been hyping Aberdeen up for the last ten minutes as she snapped pictures of her in their apartment – pictures that would no doubt be on Instagram later that evening, pending some light editing and filter choice – even though she should have left for Evan’s place five minutes ago, choosing to spend the night with him so she didn’t have to spend it alone.

“Shut up.”

“The floooooooor!”

Okay, maybe Kasha was right. Aberdeen looked good, and she knew she looked good. She had on her new green chiffon dress, perfect for the occasion: ruched top, draped across her shoulders; triangle mesh cut-out on the bodice; pleated chiffon skirt dropping down to the floor. Nude strappy hells. Matching nude clutch. The evil eye ring Willy got her was the only piece of jewelry she wore. She gotten her hair professionally done at a salon: smooth and silky old Hollywood style waves with a centre part, held back by a fashionable and trendy velvet headband pinned in place so absolutely nothing would budge. Even her makeup was flawless: dewy skin, a neutral eye with lashes and liner, and Charlotte Tilbury’s ‘Walk of Shame’ on her lips. She was a vision. She was owning every inch of her look.

Too bad she had to work tonight.

“Okay, I think my Uber is here,” Aberdeen said as she saw the notification on her phone screen.

“One more! One more!” Kasha yelled before Aberdeen posed one last time and Kasha took a burst of photos. “Okay, have a great night. Knock Willy dead—”

“—This isn’t about Will—”

“—Knock Willy dead, be fun, and stay safe,” Kasha ended. “You’re going to rock it, Aberdeen. And don’t forget to network!”

The Uber dropped her off about six cars down from the entrance to the Royal York Hotel – it was already busy with a bunch of arrivals, but she knew Brendan wouldn’t be there for at least another ten or fifteen minutes. Once she checked her coat in, she looked around, and Peter’s face was the first one she saw.

“Oh…oh my God, Aberdeen. You look so chic,” Peter smiled, looking over her outfit.

“Oh, thanks Peter,” she smiled back. “You look quite dapper yourself. We clean up pretty nice, don’t you think?”

“I’d say,” he quipped. “Gotta make sure all these new suits fit before I go to the All-Star Game.”

Peter had been talking about the All-Star Game since at least Christmas. It was the event he looked forward to the most all season, even more than this, because of all the people he was able to meet and network with. This year, it was being hosted in St. Louis, and he, Brendan, and Kyle were going down together. She’d have at least eight days off during that time period. She was basically counting down the days. “Well, wear this one. You look good.”

“You want some champagne before our bosses get here?” he asked, already flagging down one of the waitresses. He took two flutes off the tray and handed one to Aberdeen. “To the dream job,” he said, raising the glass slightly.

Aberdeen smirked. “To the dream job.”

They both drank the champagne all in one go. Aberdeen loved champagne, and of course this was the good champagne – so she almost immediately wanted another. When another waiter came by, they placed their empty glasses on his tray. Peter left to go to the washroom quickly before Kyle got there. Aberdeen was left alone.

That’s when she saw William.

He was in a suit, of course – a black, three-piece corduroy suit with a white shirt and black skinny tie – and his hair was tied back in a half ponytail like a European soccer player. He’d trimmed his beard since that morning at the outdoor practice for a much more polished look – still stubbly and a bit scruffy (just how she liked him…fuck) but presentable and respectable. Appropriate for a gala full of rich people. He looked great. The suit fit him perfectly. His hair was shiny as hell – probably shinier than hers. He stood confidently.

And then he saw her.

His jaw dropped. Literally dropped. And when he finally realized it had dropped he brought his hand up to cover it, barely, his smile from ear to ear peeking through the weak attempt. She hated to admit it, but she loved having that effect on him – she loved having that visible effect on him, one that made his jaw drop uncontrollably. She mentally prepared herself as he began to walk over to her. She knew she had to keep it cool. If he made her weak at the knees barely five minutes into her attendance at the event, she’d be a goner.

“Hey Will,” she smiled, a twinkle in her eye that dared him to give her another up-down.

“Aberdeen…I…” he paused, unable to find the words. He even shook his head. “You…I…wow!” he giggled out. She really left him unable to form a cohesive sentence. But she waited it out, not saying anything until he said something. She wanted to make him suffer, if only a little bit. “You look beautiful, minskatt,” he finally said, four cohesive words in a row that made sense.

“Thanks, Will.”

“I mean…you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen on any day, but this…” he said, licking his lips. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to control myself all night.”

Aberdeen tried finding any hint of lie in what he was saying, but she couldn’t. He was too bashful and it was all coming out so sincerely – he really didn’t have the words. “I think it helps we’re seated at different tables.”

“Just means the desire will grow until the end of the night,” he said. “So long as I get to look at you all night, I’ll consider myself a lucky guy.”

She was blushing at this point, and it wasn’t because of him blatant flirting – he was used to that. She was blushing more about the fact that he meant every word, that every word was so sincere in his tone, that she could see how much she was really affecting him. “You flatter me too much, Will.”

“You deserve it, minskatt. You’re stunning. The most beautiful girl in the room. But how do I look?”

With nobody around, nobody to hear and nobody to record a witty remark, she smiled slightly. “You’re the most handsome man in the room.”

Before she could say anything else, Peter came back. And when Peter came back, William played it cool, and made some small talk before walking off, but as he walked off, he shot Aberdeen a look that followed her around the room. Wherever he was standing, whoever he was talking to – William was always staring at her, giving her that look, and it sent shivers down her spine as she tried to keep up a conversation with Peter.

Brendan and Catherine finally arrived, along with Kyle and Shannon, and Peter and Aberdeen got to work. Standing discreetly behind them at all times, they whispered the names of all the attendees who approached them throughout the party, starting in the foyer and moving into the Canadian room – the massive ballroom where everything would be taking place. And there were a lot of guests. With over 1000 people in attendance, Aberdeen and Peter needed to know…well, probably around three hundred of them. She’d been studying for weeks.

“That’s Brian J. Porter, the President and CEO of Scotiabank.”

“Wendy Freeman, the president of CTV News.”

“That’s Gary Doncaster, of the law firm Doncaster, Perlman, and Dobbes.”

Brendan played it cool the entire time. After Kyle and Peter had separated from them for a bit, they rejoined each other. From practically across the room, she saw William sipping on a glass of water, watching her intently. He set it down at what she presumed to be his table. She tried to focus on the job at hand.

“Peter?” she heard Kyle say suddenly, in a nervous voice. Someone and his wife were waving at him and Brendan, slowly making their way towards them, and Kyle clearly needed to know who they were.

“Oh! Um…oh my God,” Peter began, panicking. “I just – I can’t remember what his name is. I—I just saw his name this morning on the list.”

Aberdeen began panicking too now. She tried to urge Peter to figure it out, but he couldn’t get it. “It’s…oh, I know this! It’s something to do with…wait, he was…he was part of the…oh God! I know this. Um…”

The man and his wife were dangerously close. Aberdeen swooped in behind Kyle. “That’s Malcolm Mercer, the Chair of the Government and Public Affairs Committee of the Law Society of Ontario, and that’s the woman he left his wife for, Rebecca.”

Aberdeen even surprised herself with that. She watched as Kyle politely greeted Rebecca first before shaking hands with Malcolm, starting some small talk with them. She looked over at Peter, who was already looking at her. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“I got you,” she nodded.

***

Brendan, Catherine, and Aberdeen were seated with Ron MacLean from Hockey Night in Canada, and an array of other guests who had paid top dollar to sit with the President of the Toronto Maple Leafs, one of whom was just a solidly rude aging man on his own personal power trip. Thankfully, he wasn’t seated next to her, or Brendan for that matter, but she could still hear him: the stiff comments, the complaints. Clearly, he only cared about sitting at this specific table. Aberdeen would have to make sure that if he attended next year, he was nowhere near Brendan.

There was a traditional Indigenous land acknowledgement at the beginning – the rude man rolled his eyes, which made Aberdeen want to kill him right then and there – followed by a speech made by Brendan – the rude man was on his phone for half of it, not bothering to listen to Brendan’s words of inspiration and gratitude to everyone who donated for the cause. When Brendan got back to the table, Christine Simpson came out, ushering in the grade three class onto the stage, the students all dressed up and walking in a straight line. They waved at their parents who were at their own tables, jumping and jiggling excitedly as little kids did. Aberdeen thought it was the cutest thing. Christine interviewed some of the students, asking them about school, hockey, meeting the Leafs, and about the integrated classroom and nutrition program at their school – key parts of the MLSE Launchpad initiative. The crowd was as enamoured with them as Aberdeen was. A part of her wished it could just be the kids talking all night.

When their interview was over, the kids waved goodbye to the crowd before the DJ began to play them off stage. The opening notes of ‘Uptown Funk’ by Bruno Mars began playing, and the kids went crazy. They stopped walking off stage. They looked around to try to find where the music was coming from, but soon enough, a lot of the kids began to dance – shimmying from side to side, pumping their hands in the air, and twirling on one foot attempting pirouettes. Christine was trying her best, but they weren’t moving.

“Can someone get the kids off the stage so we can get a move on?” the rude man commented loudly, so loud Aberdeen could hear him above the music. She was incensed by his comment, her blood boiling. How dare he. How dare he say something when this entire event was for charity – was for these kids on stage!

So she took matters into her own hands.

She made a point to push her chair back as dramatically as possible, shaking the place settings on the table with the force of her hands. Everybody at the table looked at her as she rose from her seat and began making her way towards the stage. As she pulled the skirt of her dress up so she wouldn’t trip up the stairs, she made eye contact with one of the kids. And instead of shuffling him towards the back, instead of helping Christine, who had hall but given up, she extended her arms and grabbed the little boy’s hands in hers and began dancing with him. She was dancing on stage in front of over a thousand people with an eight year old. And she wasn’t embarrassed one bit.

As she danced, she watched as William began to make his way up to the stage from the opposite end, rushing up exactly like she had and extending his arms to begin dancing with another student, a girl, twirling her around. Then she saw Bee McTavish, Morgan Rielly, and Jennifer and Jason Spezza, all at once, rush towards the stage too, laughing and dancing with the kids. Before she knew it, the entire team was up there, as were their significant others, dancing with the kids and each other to Uptown Funk for the entire duration of the song. Aryne and John, Saylor and Kasperi – they were all there. As she danced, she made eye contact with William, who was already looking at her, a smile spread out on his face from ear to ear. Jennifer gave her a double thumbs up. Bee was laughing at Morgan’s horrible dancing, but the kid he was dancing with was absolutely loving it and mimicking every move.

She barely noticed the crowd cheering and clapping along to the beat until the end of the song when there was a round of applause. The kids finally got their cue and began heading offstage. A few of them had to finish bowing before the audience, but once they were all gone, the team left the stage too, giant smiles on all their faces. When Aberdeen returned to the table, she saw the rude man staring at her indignantly. Meanwhile, Brendan was beaming.

“Thank you for that,” he said as she took her seat beside him. Even Catherine was smiling.

“You’re not mad I did that?”

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “That’s been the highlight of the night so far. It’ll probably stay the highlight of the night.”

Aberdeen smiled. “I had to do something to get that guy at the other end to shut up,” she whispered.

“Oh, I know, believe me.”

The night went on with its regularly scheduled events. There was an interview portion with the big four European players – Andreas, Freddie, Will, and Kappy – in between the dinner courses. There was a Q&A with Jason and Zach as well, and the highlight of the night, which was a game of Family Feud with the Leafs Legends – Darcy Tucker, Curtis Joseph, Daryl Sittler, Wendel Clark, and Doug Gilmour – and some of the current Leafs – John, Morgan, Auston, Mitch, and Tyson. It was hilarious. Aberdeen teared up at one point because she was laughing so hard.

After dinner there was a lot of mingling – a lot of meeting new people and speaking about her position because everybody was just so interested about what Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant did all day – and a lot of…well, staring. William caught her eye around the room. Wherever he was, wherever she was, whoever he was speaking to, whoever she was speaking to, whenever she even so much as just glanced his way, he was already looking, and whenever he so much as glanced her way, she was already looking. He was true to his word in that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, that as long as he got to stare at her all night he’d consider himself a lucky man, because all he seemed to be doing was staring at her. And as the night progressed, he got closer and closer, eventually ending up in her circle, and although the guests were delighted to see William Nylander, she was nervous but excited to see Will, Willy, the guy that so obviously couldn’t keep himself away from her.

When the guests left, they were left alone. Aberdeen gulped. William looked pained. “I can’t take it anymore,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear, despite there being no-one around them. Brendan was on the other side of the room.

“Can’t take what?”

“You. In that dress,” he clarified. “You have no idea how good you look. Every time I look at you, I just…you—you know how I feel about you, minskatt.”

When that nickname escaped her lips, tied together with the look on his face and the sparkle in his eye, Aberdeen almost melted right then and there. “Will—”

“Can we get out of here?”

“No, Will,” she giggled. Any other moment in time she would have scolded him for making the suggestion, but at this point she didn’t care. “I’m technically still working.”

“Then let me get you a drink,” he offered. “And let me take you home. Please let me take you home after everything is done. I’m desperate here.”

“Desperate?” she decided to play with him. “Why?”

“Because of you. Because you walk in here looking like that and you expect me to control myself? All I’ve wanted to do all night is be next to you. All I’ve wanted to do is be with you, be anywhere near you. And it’s torture. Torture that I can’t talk to you the way I want to talk to you. Torture that I can’t touch you like I want to touch you.”

A shiver ran up her spine. “You’re getting into inappropriate territory again, Will.”

“And I’ll say it again: can’t you tell by now that I don’t care that it’s inappropriate?”

The last time he’d said that to her, she replied with “And can’t you see that I do care?” But she didn’t care anymore. She honestly didn’t. After what happened on Christmas (besides the fact that she was still wearing the ring – she hadn’t taken it off since) and on New Year’s, she knew that they had both ventured on to the inappropriate territory equally. It was no longer just his fault, or the fault of his persistence. They were equally to blame here. She downed the last of her drink. “I like it.”

He had a confused look on his face. “You like what?”

“I like that you’re being inappropriate.”

Aberdeen couldn’t describe the smile that took over his face upon him hearing those words. They were six words that told him everything he needed to know. “Aberdeen, you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to react normally,” he said, throwing her own words that she’d said to him so many times back at her.

“Maybe I don’t want you to react normally.”

“Aberdeen! William!”

They looked to their side to see Bee McTavish approaching them. Aberdeen could tell William hated the interruption, but because it was Bee, he softened. “We’re gonna do some shots. Want some shots?”

The first shot was tequila. The second was a B-52, and Brendan even joined in. Aberdeen could feel herself getting more giggly with each millilitre of alcohol that went into her system. Giggly about the event. Giggly that she was taking shots with the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Giggly about William.

***

“Just one stop at Nelson Street, please,” William said to the Uber driver as he slipped into the car after Aberdeen. Brendan, Catherine, Kyle, and Shannon had left the party early, so they weren’t able to see William confirming with Aberdeen that he could take her home, and they weren’t able to see him calling an Uber, and him grabbing their coats, and him leading Aberdeen to the much quieter side of the Fairmont Royal York for the Uber to pick them up so he could touch her waist and hold her hand and get close to her – closer than what was necessary – on a cold winter’s night while the rest of the guest list waited at the front of the hotel for cabs and Ubers. “I know it’s a short ride, but I’ll give you a big tip.”

He was holding Aberdeen’s hand.

“Do you still have all those songs I downloaded for you?” Aberdeen asked as the driver started moving.

William thought it to be a random question. “Of course I do. Why would I delete them?”

“I have a new song you need to add,” she said.

He smiled. “I added a song I heard on the radio that made me think of you,” he began to pull out his phone.

“Which one?”

He searched for the playlist in his Spotify, the former ‘Driving in Toronto at Night’ playlist he’d renamed to ‘Minskatt’. He scrolled down to the bottom of the list before he found it. He turned the volume on his phone all the way up before the opening notes of ‘Adore You’ by Harry Styles began playing. He’d heard it all over the radio since December, and not only did the beat and rhythm reminds him of the type of music Aberdeen liked and put on the playlist, but when he actually listened to the lyrics, he knew he had to add it.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped and a smile overtook her face. “This is it.”

“What’s it?”

“This was the song I was just going to add.”

William smiled. “Does that mean I have superior music taste now?” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled. “You’re working on it.”

She began to sing, and William had never heard anything sweeter. She was louder than when she half-mumbled, half-sang ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift in the passenger’s seat of his car when they were driving on the Gardiner into the downtown core. Perhaps the shots had gotten to her, but they were so long ago and he was unconvinced. More than anything, he just hoped her walls had finally crumbled, that she felt like she could be uninhibited in front of him like he always wanted her to be. No degree of formality of being a hockey player and a personal assistant for that hockey player’s boss – instead, being just two kids in their early 20s falling for each other like they had six months ago when she wouldn’t shut up about her graduation or her writing or her favourite books and he couldn’t stop listening to her.

William didn’t know the lyrics off by heart like she did, but he was able to contribute certain lines he remembered. Certain lines that would hammer a message home.

I get so lost inside your eyes Would you believe it?

He looked at her when he sang them out loud, and she looked at him when she sang them out too, albeit more emphatically and with more swaying and dramatic hand motions. It was like they were admitting to each other what they were really thinking; what they couldn’t say to each other in the presence of other people, but what they could say to each other alone in hotel rooms in the middle of the night or in the backs of Ubers after parties.

Honey I’d walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do

Aberdeen bit her lip after they sang the chorus to each other. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She couldn’t believe how quickly her walls had fallen. She’d spent two months trying to forget him and four months trying to keep him at bay, only for the last three weeks to make all of that obsolete. “Willy?” she asked, her voice sweet as the second verse began to play.

“Minskatt?” he prepared himself.

“I can’t believe you added Harry Styles on your own free will.”

William snorted. This was why he was so enamoured with her. “I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t.”

They arrived at her building, getting out of the car and slipping through the front doors, nodding politely at the concierge before walking to the elevator. As they waited for it to come down, Aberdeen lay her head on William’s shoulder. “My feet are fucking killing me,” she whispered.

“Are they?”

“They’re, like, pounding,” she said. “They’re pretty to look at but fuck they hurt.”

Before she could realize what was happening, William had scooped her up in his arms, shifting to carry her bridal style as the elevator pinged to signal its arrival. “What are you doing?” she laughed out.

“Being a knight in shining armour, clearly,” he smiled. He felt Aberdeen wrap her arm around the back of his shoulders as he stepped into the elevator. Aberdeen pressed her phone number. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Why do you girls even wear shoes like that if they hurt so much?”

She snorted. “You tell me. Men wore heels first,” she informed him.

“We did?!”

She nodded. “Apparently you guys wanted to show off your wealth and calves more than we did at first.”

William laughed in his signature way. “I do have some nice calves.”

When the elevator brought them up to Aberdeen’s floor, she rummaged through her clutch to find her keys, sticking them in the door to open in. Luckily, they could be as loud as they wanted since Kasha was spending the night at Evan’s; it prompted Aberdeen to hook her finger into the strap at the heel and throw off her shoes. William kicked off his shoes and walked through her apartment, carrying her to her bedroom. It was maybe a bold move, to go straight there, but he didn’t care.

“Wanna see me rip my eyelashes off?” she giggled as he finally set her down on the floor of her bedroom.

“Your eyelashes?!”

“The fake ones,” she mumbled, just going for it. She saw a horrified look on William’s face, causing her to burst out into a fit of giggles. She threw the first one in the garbage before taking off the second, William still watching with a horrified look on his face. “What?” she smiled.

“That doesn’t hurt?” he asked.

“You get used to it,” she shrugged. “You know what they say Will. Beauty is pain.”

“My beauty doesn’t require pain.”

Aberdeen burst out laughing, William following with his signature giggle. She couldn’t control her laughing as she leaned her head against his chest, shaking it slightly before bringing it back up to look at him. “You’re literally the worst, Will. No other guy on the team would say something like that.”

“No other guy on the team is as beautiful as I am.”

His tone made it come out like a joke, but Aberdeen couldn’t help but thinking he was right. There wasn’t another guy on the team as good-looking as he was. She huffed out a laugh, turning around so her back was towards him. “Can you unzip me?”

It was a suggestive request, and she knew it. He unzipped her dress slowly as she pulled her hair out of the way for him. They were both still giggling as she felt the material of the dress become looser, and she was careful when he was finished to step out of it gently so she didn’t mess up the fabric or dirty it on the floor of her bedroom. She immediately brought it towards the hanger she’d left on her dresser, making sure to hang it in her closet neatly before turning back towards Will. It was only then that she realized she was in her underwear in front of him, the most exposed she’d ever been since…well…

She watched as he practically ripped off his tie; watched as he unbuttoned his shirt without a care in the world. His suit was probably custom made and tailored and cost over a thousand dollars but he didn’t even care. What was more alarming was that he was stripping and making himself comfortable in her bedroom. “Will—”

“You can change. I’ll look away,” he said, turning her back towards her automatically.

That wasn’t even what she wanted, but damnit, he was good. She unclasped her bra and threw on her top quickly before stepping into her pajama shorts. “Um, I have to go wash my makeup off,” she whispered.

She didn’t wait for a reply as she stepped across the hallway into her bathroom. As she washed all of her makeup off, the seriousness of the situation crept up on her. William was in her apartment. He was in her bedroom. He was undressing. She knew he’d been in there before, that if he stayed over it wouldn’t even be the first time he’d slept in her bed, but it was still a big deal. It was still something that, really, truly, shouldn’t be happening in every sense of the word. But it was. And neither of them was going to put a stop to it.

When she stepped back into her room, closing her door behind her, she saw William waiting for her to get into bed. He had nothing on besides his boxer-briefs. She knew that if they both got in there, there’d be no room. They’d be squished against each other. She knew this because it had happened before – the night they hooked up, and then the night after what Ethan did to her – it was the same situation. Standing now, in her room, looking between the bed and William, things felt…different.

She climbed into bed, liking to be on the side closest to the wall, anyway. William followed her, even going so far as to start to pull the covers over their bodies as he snuggled in next to her. “Will—”

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed. “Aberdeen, stop freaking out.”

“But Willy—”

“I just want to lie down. We’re just lying down,” he said, his voice sleepy. He pulled her against him. She let him. He nestled his head onto her chest, under her chin and above her breasts. She let him. She could feel the contented sigh he let out as he settled into her, as her body relaxed into his, as she began running her fingers through his beautiful blonde hair. He let her.

“Will?” her voice was soft.

“Mhm?”

“You – I – you—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“You could have any girl in the city, Willy,” she blurted out. She immediately regretted it. “Any girl in the city. W…Why do you keep – I mean, why are you here with m—”

“Because I only like you, Aberdeen,” his voice was so soft, sleepy, tender. The most tender she’d ever heard it. “You still don’t understand?”

Aberdeen hesitated. “I guess not.”

“Well…I like you,” he stressed his sentiment again.

“But why?”

“Because you make me nervous. And nobody makes me nervous,” he said softly. “And because I like talking to you. And I don’t like talking to anyone.”

There was nothing more she could say; nothing more she could do. He always answered her question and always answered her honestly; he had never lied to her. He had laid it all out for her and she could either take it or leave it.

Of course she was going to take it.

***

Aberdeen woke up slowly the next morning early. Stupidly early, because of her natural alarm clock. In typical fashion, because William was in bed with her and there wasn’t enough room for the both of them, Aberdeen found herself semi-on top of him, her head on his chest and hair spread out everywhere; an arm draped across his torso. As she began to come to her senses, she took a deep breath and could smell him. He still smelled so good. So manly. And then, she realized his one arm was hugging her body against his, and his other lay directly on top of hers that was draped across his body, keeping it there.

She sighed contently.

He was so big, so snuggly, so warm. Of all the people she’d snuggled up against in her short lifetime, William was easily the best. His body was like her own personal heater, and in the dead of winter, it was much appreciated. She’d always known he was big – big and thick and strong – but feeling him under her now was so much different. She’d almost forgotten what he felt like, but she could never truly forget something like that.

When she moved slightly, mostly to stretch, she realized one of his thighs was between her legs. God, they were so fucking thick. Thick and strong, just like the rest of him. She moaned slightly, the feeling of their bare legs together really waking her up now. Before she knew what she was doing, before her brain could tell her body not to physically react to such a specimen of a body being in such close proximity to her, she moved again, rubbing her core against his thigh. It felt good. Of course it felt good. She had been denying herself the pleasure she knew William Nylander could give her for six months now (besides their kisses), and if she wasn’t dangerously close to breaking every known rule, parameter, and boundary she gave herself when she got the job, then she was now. So close. Dangerously close.

She rubbed her core against his thigh again.

And again.

He began to wake up, shifting slightly at the feeling of the friction of her against him. He moaned at the feeling and rubbed his eyes before opening them, and when he did their eyes met, drowsy and barely open but still looking at one another. “Minskatt?”

Aberdeen looked into his blue eyes. She couldn’t hold back anymore; couldn’t deny it anymore.

She was going to do it.

She pushed herself up slightly, coming face to face with him, and began kissing him. No hesitation. No uncertainty. She knew she wanted to do it. That she had to do it. That kissing William was as important to her right now as breathing. That kissing William continuously – not just one little peck, not just a standard kiss – was what she needed. That feeling the scruff on his face along her fingers was integral to her well-being. That grinding against his thigh again, causing him to moan in her mouth before she got on top of him and straddled him, was what she needed to survive.

She felt his hands squeezing her thighs, trying to feel every inch of exposed skin on her body as they wandered underneath her pajama shorts, then underneath her shirt, where he took sweet time inching higher and higher towards her breasts. He squeezed them in his hands gently, massaging them and pinching her nipples, causing her to squirm. She knew she didn’t have an ample set to worth with, but William didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem to mind because when Aberdeen grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, he looked at her exposed chest like it was the first pair of boobs he’d seen in his life.

Aberdeen hesitated only slightly after she saw the look on his face. “Willy?” she breathed out.

“Fuck, Aberdeen,” he whispered in some sort of apparently disbelief – a disbelief that this was actually happening. That she was the one to kiss him. That she was the one to take off her top. It wasn’t even the first time he’d seen her exposed chest, but it still felt like the first time to him.

Before she knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her with his big, thick body as he kissed and licked his way down her neck and towards her breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue and making her arch her back. She tried to catch her breath as she got used to feeling his mouth and tongue on her breasts. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew exactly what to do to set her off, leaving her a writhing, moaning mess in her own bed.

Then she felt where his hand was.

She flinched at his touch on her hot core, but so desperately wanted more. After that initial flinch, she practically grinded herself onto his hand. “It’s so hot,” William mumbled before he kissed a trail to her other breast. “So wet already.”

“Will—” Aberdeen could barely get out once she felt William’s tongue on her other breast. “Will, please—”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head as he teased her some more. “Ta—Take them off.”

He did as he was told, his mouth leaving her breast so he could sit back slightly on his knees, hook his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and pull them off slooooowly, revealing every inch of exposed skin on her body. He could see her chest rising and falling dramatically as he let the shorts drop on the floor. “You okay, minskatt?”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She leaned forward so she could kiss him again, their hands exploring each other’s bodies – William’s hands gripping her thighs or breasts or teasing her hot core some more; Aberdeen’s hands gliding along the muscles on his abs and chest and shoulders before scratching down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

She tugged on them.

“Aberdeen—”

“Condoms are in the same place,” she whispered quickly.

“Aberdeen, are you sure—”

“Yes. Yes yes yes,” she repeated, nodding fervently.

William opened the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing at a packet. He ripped off the packaging and helped her push his boxers down before sitting back. Aberdeen helped him slide it on, much like the first time. When she lay back down, William moved to loom over her.

William and Aberdeen looked each other in the eye as he guided himself near her entrance. When Aberdeen could feel him, she let out a shaky, excited breath. “Willy…”

“Yes, minskatt?”

“Go slow.”

William nodded. He began to push himself into her, and as he did, he saw her eyes close to bask in the feeling of him filling her up. He did the same, as it brought back all the memories from that fateful night six months ago, when they were in the exact same position as they were now. He remembered everything so vividly, but somehow, this all felt brand new. He remembered how good it felt, but simultaneously had never felt anything as amazing before.

He went slow.

He could feel her nails dig into his shoulder blades and a small gasp of breath escape her as he bottomed out. He kissed her lips and the tip of her nose and back to her lips. “You okay?” he asked, his hair falling in between their faces.

Aberdeen nodded her head. She bought one hand between them and pushed his hair back tenderly so she could see his face. “Yeah,” she nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she repeated, letting out another breath as she felt him pull out slightly before pushing back in. “I’d almost forgotten how good you feel inside me.”

“You’re perfect, Aberdeen,” he responded immediately after. He meant it in every sense of the word, because to him, she was. Plus, if she thought he felt good, he has some news for her about what she felt like. “God, you’re fucking perfect.”

He dipped down to kiss her again as he began moving in and out of her slowly. Aberdeen moved her hips in tune with his, and soon, all she felt was pleasure. Despite what was happening, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, looks mixed with lust, love, desire, adoration, longing, and of course, the pining they’d been doing since that day they reunited in the elevator being exchanged between them. It had all led to this moment, this moment of pure, built up passion.

“Willy…f…fuck,” she whispered. “You feel so good, Willy.”

She watched as some of his hair feel in between them again, blocking his eyes. She brought a hand to push it back tenderly. They looked at each other for a moment before William said the words. “I love you, Aberdeen.”

She looked for a lie in his eyes. Any hint of a lie. A lie she found in Zane’s eyes. A lie she found in Corey’s eyes. A lie she found in any other boy’s eyes that she’d known. But she couldn’t find it. Not even the smallest hint. Nothing. And because of that, and because of the moment, she said the words too. “I love you, William.”

He kissed her, big and wet and sloppy and full of desire and want, and she kissed him back with equal amounts of desire and want, and when he began to move in and out of her quicker, and when she arched her back into his body, she knew was close, that they were both close, and that they wouldn’t last much longer.

“Willy—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen I—”

“Cum with me Willy. Cum with me.”

And they did. It hit them all at once, the wave of pleasure as Aberdeen’s walls tightened around William’s pulsating cock, and they rode it out for as long as they could before William collapsed on top of her, the both of them catching their breath and coming back down to reality. As they lay in her bed together, with William still inside her, the gravity of the situation didn’t need to hit them – they knew what they’d just done. They knew it broke every boundary and was against every rule in the book. But they didn’t care. William didn’t care. Aberdeen didn’t care. All that mattered was that they shared that moment of pure bliss together.

William rolled onto his back and took off the condom, tying it before throwing it in the garbage near her bed. When he finished, he turned towards Aberdeen and they intertwined their limbs and bodies, drifting off to sleep again in each other’s arms.

***

The next time Aberdeen woke up, it was because she’d heard the front door slam shut and the sound of footsteps throughout the apartment. It meant Kasha was home, which also meant it was later in the morning than when she and William had first woken up and…well…

She shuddered.

As she did, she felt William’s body beside hers in her bed, spooning her from behind. Still naked from their rendezvous earlier, she could feel his cock against her as the hand of the arm that draped over her body cupped one of her breasts. His face was nestled into the crook of her neck. She didn’t want to move – she would have been perfectly content to stay in bed with him all day – but she knew they’d have to get up eventually. And more than that, they’d have to put on clothes before they went out there.

“Willy?” she whispered softly, hoping he’d hear.

“Hmmm minskatt?” he mumbled against her skin. “Was that Kasha?” he asked.

“Yeah. And probably Evan,” she said. “We should get up.”

He peeled himself away from her body slowly, and she rolled from her side to her back so she could look up at him. He looked down at her, still naked for him. She smiled up at him and caressed his cheek, his stubble scratching her skin. A piece of hair fell in front of his face, and she pushed it back, making it a habit now. “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Do you regret what happened?” she asked.

“Absolutely not. No,” he replied automatically, shaking his head. “Do you?”

“No,” she responded automatically as well. “I don’t regret any of it at all,” she ran her thumb along his lips. “But nobody can know. We can’t tell a soul.”

William nodded his head. In any other circumstance, if he had landed a girl as amazing as Aberdeen, he would be practically bragging to everybody about how lucky he was. But things didn’t work out that way, and everything was complicated. “Nobody will know,” he said in agreement.

“No Brendan,” she began.

“That’s a given.”

“No Kappy,” she continued.

“No Kappy,” he agreed. Kasperi didn’t even know about the first time they’d slept together, so it would be no problem. None of the guys did. They all thought he just had a harmless crush. “No Kasha.”

Aberdeen bit her lip. “No Kasha,” she nodded her head. She knew she’d be able to make up a good story when they met each other outside her door. She knew what she had to do next. It would have to hurt them both. “No Alex.”

William nodded slightly. It would be hard not to tell his brother, but he knew he couldn’t. It was probably one of the few secrets he would keep from Alex. He knew he had to say the same. “No Siena.”

Aberdeen nodded. It would be the hardest thing she’d have to do. “Our secret only,” she whispered.

“Our secret only,” he repeated, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. “We can do it, minskatt.”

“I know we can,” she said, kissing him again. It went against everything she believed in, but she didn’t care anymore. She only had so much willpower to reject him. Now that they’d done what they’d done, and agreed to what they agreed to, there was no going back. She’d have to lie to the people she loved and respected most in her life. She’d have to lie to everyone she knew – her parents, her sister, her friends, her co-workers.

She’d have to lie to Brendan.

They got out of bed slowly, with William putting his boxers back on and Aberdeen throwing on her pajama shorts again and a crew neck sweater. She looked over at William and saw him searching for his dress shirt, crinkled on the floor. She threw one of her oversized University of Toronto hoodies at him. He laughed when he realized what it was, pulling it over his head. It fit a bit snug, but it worked.

The second Aberdeen opened her bedroom door, she heard the shower from Kasha’s ensuite turn on. She was happy – it gave her time to get breakfast started, to spend a little bit more of alone time with William, and to think of an excuse as to why William slept over last night. Not like this was the first time he slept over in the past four weeks.

She still couldn’t believe what this had become.

After washing her face quickly, she and William made their way into the kitchen, Aberdeen grabbing some pancake mix out of the cupboard. She grabbed some blueberries from the fridge too, putting them near the sink to wash them. As she began to pour the pancake mix into a bowl, she felt William come up behind her, pressing himself against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Aberdeen?” his voice was soft, and suddenly sounded very nervous.

“Willy?”

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said.

She was confused. “About not telling anybody?”

“No. Earlier,” he gave her another hint. When she didn’t respond, he knew he’d have to say it again. “That I love you, minskatt.”

Oh. That. It was said so passionately during them having sex that it felt like it was part of the experience. That it was completely natural and easy for them to say to each other, despite not officially being together, despite not even dating, despite Aberdeen trying to convince herself for months that she didn’t like him, despite William trying everything to make her realize otherwise.

“I know it was in the heat of the moment,” his words interrupted her thoughts. They sounded so nervous and apprehensive. “But I meant it. I mean…I know. And I know that you said it back, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Or if you’re not sure or whatever. I just want you to know that. I won’t care. You can say it whenever you want. I just know that I do.”

Aberdeen turned around. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, now wearing one of her hoodies, and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him. She said the only words she could say to him. The only words that, despite every boundary, despite every rule, despite every thought, despite everything she knew about herself, despite everything she thought she knew about herself, she knew were true.

“I love you too, William.”

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Puppy Love

I didn’t actually spend much time editing this one because I barely squeezed my sprints in, but I’m pretty happy with it for what it is! And what it is, is pure domestic fluff, featuring the return of Bach the deaf dog from my very first sprint fic, Puppy Eyes.

Written for the LBSC sprint fic challenge. If you’d like to join in follow @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers for more information!

Challenge rules:

Pick a prompt and write for that prompt in up to three 15 minute sprints. No writing outside the sprints until you have completed all three! After the 3 sprints are complete, you have 24 hours to edit (which can include some new writing to smooth transitions, etc). After those 24 hours, post what you’ve got! More information on the challenge here!

Prompt:

“Stop being cute, I’m annoyed at you for making me work.”

Marinette glared at the clear blue eyes that blinked innocently at her. “Stop being cute, I’m mad at you for making me work.”

Bach tilted his head slightly, but made no other reaction.

“I guess the one nice thing about having a deaf dog,” Marinette sighed, “is that I don’t have to feel guilty for complaining, because you can’t tell.” She tossed another empty bag of stuffing over her little couch to join the rest behind it, where Bach wouldn’t get tangled up in the trash. She’d get Luka to retrieve the empty bags later. Then she looked back to the fleece in her hands, picked up the needle, and began stitching the last opening closed with the same careful stitches she would have used if she were working on a couture dress and not a dog bed.

She paused, and then sighed, and then reached a hand out to rub between Bach’s ears. His eyes went all squinty and his tongue lolled out as his tail wagged and he did a little full-body wiggle without actually breaking his sit. “Good manners,” Marinette smiled, though she knew Bach couldn’t hear the compliment either. It had been some work, training him not to jump on her while she worked. They’d had one or two close calls with scissors and needles and other sharp things, and he couldn’t hear her shrieking, “No, Bach, sharp! Sharp!” Fortunately, they’d managed to teach him some manners before he got big enough to make injury unavoidable.

Marinette bit down on her smile as Bach shuffled closer, technically not breaking the rules, as his behind never left the floor, but soon his chest was pressed against her legs and his head was resting on her knee.

“Oh, not the chin,” Marinette whined, carefully placing the last few stitches. “You know I can’t resist the chin.” She tied off her thread, cut it, and carefully set needle and scissors both out of the way. “Okay, okay,” she grumbled, bundling the large, poofy bed off to the side on the couch so she could bend over and press her lips to the top of Bach’s head, ruffling his ears with both hands. Bach began to wiggle all over, tail wagging wildly, and pant, pressing harder into her now that she was giving him attention.

“You’re so spoiled!” Marinette scolded him in a high-pitched voice. “Yes you are! Spoiled spoiled spoiled! I spent all this time making this for you and we both know you’re just going to lay on the floor, aren’t you? You big goof! You’re going to be glad you have this nice comfy bed when it gets cold outside and that floor is freezing!”

She pulled back as Bach began to get a little overenthusiastic, making his funny little vocalizations and starting to make little hops to lick at her face. “Ew,” Marinette groaned, but she was laughing. Still, she pushed him away, made sure she had his attention, and signed for him to sit. He did, but Marinette could have sworn he was pouting about it. “Good boy,” she said and signed, and then scratched his ears. His eyes followed her as she picked up the bed, fluffed it out, and then laid it on the floor. “All right, let’s give it a try.” Marinette said and signed, “Come,” and Bach nearly lunged to her, dancing all over his new bed until Marinette gave him the sign for “down.” He laid down, looking up at her expectantly, paying no attention to his extremely comfy new bed, color-coordinated to match the studio.

Marinette couldn’t help smiling. “Well, at least you fit in it. For now. You better not get much bigger, furball.”

“You could have just bought him one, you know.”

Marinette looked up at the familiar, warm voice, to see Luka leaning on the doorframe and smirking at her.

“I could not,” she muttered. “And you know it. Besides, I couldn’t have found anything to match the room half as well.”

Luka chucked, and reached over the flick the lights off and on. Bach looked around, spotted his daddy, and flew from Marinette’s arms with an exuberant, if slightly odd-sounding, woof. He stopped himself just before he jumped up, but sat at Luka’s feet instead as he had at Marinette’s, his whole body once again wiggling. “Good boy,” Luka said and signed, and got down on his knees to take his turn ruffling Bach’s ears as Bach licked his face enthusiastically. “Ew,” Luka grunted, keeping his lips closed as he tried to turn his face away. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“How was work?” Marinette asked, pointlessly smoothing out the newly-finished dog bed.

“Work was work,” Luka sighed, with a little shrug. “It was okay. Nothing monumentally stupid today.” He grinned. “The only diva in the studio was me, for once.”

“Ooh, that sounds like a story.” Marinette lifted her eyebrows, and Luka winked at her.

Bach, deciding Luka had been sufficiently greeted, bounced between Luka and Marinette. They both laughed at the wiggly white furball, who despite being rather large for the room, managed to avoid knocking over anything important.

“Well, wife,” Luka began, and Marinette still felt a little frisson of pleasure at the title, “what do you say we take this goober for a walk? Looks like he could stand to burn off the energy, and I could definitely stand to stretch my legs after spending all day in the studio.”

“Sounds good to me, husband,” Marinette giggled back, feeling a bit of satisfaction at Luka’s grin when she said it. “But go change before you say anything to him about it.”

“Right,” Luka got up, and wiped a sleeve across his face with a slight grimace. “I’ll change and wash my face and then we can go.”

Marinette nodded, and tried not to be too put out when Bach pranced out of the room after Luka, shoving his head under Luka’s hand shamelessly and nearly knocking Luka into the hallway wall.

Half an hour later they were strolling along, Marinette’s arm linked through Luka’s, and Bach’s leash in his other hand, while the big white dog zigzagged down the sidewalk, sniffing everything in reach.

“I think maybe we better make a stop at the park,” Luka chuckled, watching him. “He’s pretty fired up.”

“I didn’t take him out as much today as I should have,” Marinette admitted. “I had so much to do. I really only took short breaks to work on his bed for a few minutes here and there when I couldn’t take it.”

“He’ll be fine after a few laps around the park,” Luka reassured her, squeezing her arm against his body lightly. “Some days are just like that. We knew it would be a challenge when he got bigger.”

“We did,” Marinette agreed, pressing closer to Luka, so that he slipped his arm free of hers and put it around her waist instead. “But you just couldn’t resist.”

“Neither could you,” Luka grinned. “It’s not so bad, though? Even if it was kind of...spontaneous.”

“Stupid?” Marinette said wryly. “Impulsive? Completely impractical?”

“Unexpected,” Luka countered. “Even though it wasn’t the plan. It still worked out, didn’t it?” He looked down at her, and Marinette had to take a moment before she could look up and smile at him.

“It really did,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “I should know by now that some plans just aren’t meant to be.”

Luka leaned down and kissed her—quickly, because Bach hadn’t noticed their stop and jerked them forward again.

Luka chuckled as they started walking again. “What’s life without an unexpected turn or two?”

Marinette snorted. “I certainly wouldn’t know, thanks to you.”

“It’s not all my fault,” Luka reminded her, letting go of her long enough to tweak one of her earlobes. “You came with your share of surprises yourself, you know.”

“You love it.” Marinette elbowed him.

“I love you,” he replied easily, settling his arm around her shoulders. “That’s more than enough to make up for the extra helping of chaos.”

“I thought a streak of chaos was a requirement for becoming a Couffaine.”

“It kind of is,” Luka laughed, thinking of his unconventional family. “But it didn’t have to be that wide.” He grinned at her. “Overachiever, as always.”

Marinette sniffed, putting her nose in the air. “I hate to do things halfway.”

“Oh, I do know that,” Luka drawled, giving her a sidelong wink. “A little bit of planning, a little bit of chaos, and more enthusiasm than this little body ought to be able to hold.” He squeezed her shoulders. “That’s my wife.”

Marinette tried to hold back the ear-splitting grin that wanted to break out, the one that was too large for her face and showed too many teeth, but she couldn’t do it. She leaned into Luka and pressed her face into his shoulder, trusting his arm to guide her.

#quickspins #lbsc sprint fic challenge #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #promptfic #ml #quicksprints #bach the deaf dog

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angelic-holland · 4 years

Text

Let’s Play

Summary: Tom loves to show off his girl.

Pairing: Tom, reader, Jake Gyllenhaal, Zendaya, Harrison Osterfield

Warnings: group sex! Anal, double penetration, humiliation and degradation, unprotected sex (plz use a condom), f x f interactions, oral, come play, spanking, mild pet play (a leash is used)

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: well.. this is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written... hope you enjoy.... anyway it is sort of edited but mostly just like porn without plot so there’s that

“Hey Tom?” You ask as you get ready for bed.

“Yes, love?” Tom hums, watching you slip into one of his t-shirts before climbing into bed with him.

“I was wondering…” You start, resting your head against his bare chest, “you know how Z and Jake are going to be filming in London soon for the rest of Far From Home?”

Tom nods, combing his fingers through your hair, having no idea where this is going, but he waits for you to continue.

“Have you ever thought about, maybe, you know, doing something like what we did with Haz, again?”

Tom’s grip on your hip tightens at the memory of the time the pair of you brought Harrison into the bedroom.

“With Jake and Z?”

You nod, shying away from his eyes, “and Haz again.”

“You want to be used by four people at once, baby?” Tom coos, finger brushing along the skin of your hip, gliding into your panties.

You whine, nodding your head as he flips you over, straddling your hips.

“You’re such a slut, want more and more, what do you want them to do to you?”

You whimper as Tom gently rubs your clit over your panties, biting your lip as the pleasure builds in your stomach at the thought of the interaction.

“I just, I was thinking about what it would be like if you all, dunno, hung out, and did stuff while I just had to behave?”

Tom smirks as he stops rubbing your clit, “you like being a good girl for me don’t you? Love to make sure you’re well behaved, huh?”

“Yes, would be so well behaved for you.”

“You want me to show you off to all of my friends? Show them how much of a good girl you are?”

You nod, whining low in your throat as Tom gets off of you, grabbing his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, sitting up as he pulls you into his lap.

“We should come up with a list of things you want to happen, what you’re okay with, what you’re not okay with, then we should call them, we won’t have much free time when shooting starts but we have some free time tomorrow when they’ve all landed.”

“You really want to do this?” you ask excitedly as Tom pulls out his notes app.

“Of course, you know I love showing you off to my friends, I can’t wait to show all of you off now,” Tom grins, kissing your neck as you begin to flesh out absolutely everything you want from tomorrow.

The phone call to Jake went smoothly, you just knew he had the biggest grin on his face when Tom told him a little about what you wanted for the evening. You had a feeling that Jake was into some pretty freaky stuff, and his enthusiasm about the idea confirmed your belief.

Zendaya was absolutely thrilled and when she revealed she’s always thought about you in that way and that she was going to pack her strap-on, you audibly moaned.

Tom lightly pats your hip once you hung up with Zendaya, “should we go ask Harrison?”

When you bring it up, Harrison’s jaw practically drops before he nods eagerly, “you sure?”

“Absolutely, she always wants to be a good girl, might as well show you lot how well she behaves.”

You smirk, flushing a little at the way Harrison looks at you, running his eyes up and down your bare thigh.

“Alright love, let’s go rest up, you’ve got a long night tomorrow,” Tom says, his hand around your waist tightening when he noticed the way Harrison looked at you.

Before you went to bed, you talked one more time about it, “you sure you won’t be too jealous?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“I mean, you just shot Haz some serious evil eyes. You do realize he’s fucked me before and he’s going to fuck me again tomorrow?”

“I know, I know, but I also know that once tomorrow is over, we’re just us again and I have nothing to be jealous about because I get to have you after.”

***

Tom helps you prepare for the night by a nice bath during the day, helping you exfoliate your skin, wash your hair, eat a good meal. He sent the rest of the occupants of the house to a hotel for the night, insisting that he deserves time alone with you, little did they know that you and Tom were going to be the polar opposite of alone.

Harrison is chomping at the bit to start, so fucking eager to touch you again. Tom snaps at him to stay in his room while he gets you ready.

How does he get you ready?

He once bought a deep red collar, one with a detachable leash, a while ago, never getting the chance to really use it until now. You kneel naked in front of him in the living room, where you decided tonight’s events would take place.

“Look so pretty like that, I’m going to put the collar on, and that means the scene will have started. What’s your safeword?”

“Yellow for slow down, red for stop,” you say confidently, keeping your hands clasped behind your back.

“Good girl, now, I want you to stay very still while I get you ready. Even more still when I invite them all inside. Do you think you can do that?” Tom’s hand goes to cup your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his.

“Yes sir,” you reply, wanting nothing more than to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the tension you feel between them. But you don’t, keeping them wide as Tom fits the collar around your neck.

He attaches the leash before grabbing the nipples clamps that you both loved. Without fail, every single time you used them, you managed to come so much quicker than without them. Tonight it would be a real challenge to control yourself until Tom gives you permission, especially in front of all of his friends.

Tom kneels down in front of you, his bulge already evident from his grey sweatpants. He’s just as excited as you are. He kisses each of your nipples, lightly sucking on them before adding the clamps. You hiss but bite your lip before you make any actual noise, knowing Tom typically likes to give you permission to talk in a situation like this.

“Feel okay?” He asks, gently tugging on the chain that connects them.

You nod as he tugs them harder, making you fall forward slightly.

“Good, now, stop biting your lip, I just want to fuck your mouth whenver you do,” Tom demands, grabbing onto the leash and pulling you toward the coffee table. You whimper as he lifts up one end, settling the leash around it so you could only move about a foot or so from that spot, and only on your knees.

“Now, stay like that, on your knees, hands behind your back, legs spread, I’m going to get Harrison and the rest of them, they’re waiting outside. Are you ready baby girl?” Tom asks as he stands up.

“Yes sir,” you reply, readjusting your arms so you have a better grip of both hands as he walks towards Harrison’s door.

The second Harrison sees you he groans, sitting down on the couch and gazing over your form. You are so still, trying your hardest to be a good girl for Tom.

“Hands off until I invite the rest of them inside, mate,” Tom warns Harrison who gulps and nods, unable to take his eyes off of you.

Your breasts sway slightly, the tug on your nipples making your whimper. Tom shoots you a warning glance before walking off toward the front door.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” Harrison comments, palming himself over his sweatpants. You whimper, struggling to stay still and not respond until Tom comes back. You hear multiple footsteps and you keep your head down as Tom walks in with Jake and Zendaya.

“Wow, what a pretty little accessory you have here,” Jake’s deep voice makes you want to look up and get a look at him but you wait for Tom’s instructions.

Jake runs a hand through your hair, grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your head up. You finally get a look at everyone here, Tom has pride in his eyes as you keep your mouth shut. Zendaya has her natural dark brown curls brushed into a bun, she’s especially fixated on your nipples under the clamps. Jake is watching the way you struggle to keep your legs open, watching how wet you are and how your pussy is practically throbbing already.

“Let’s let her sit for a while, catch up?” Tom says, sitting down on the couch next to Harrison who hasn’t really said much of anything, but is watching as Jake brushes some of your hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as he kneels on the ground in front of you.

“Are you a good girl for Tom? Do everything he says?” Jake asks as Zendaya situates herself on the couch on the other side of Harrison.

You nod as best as you can, eyes glancing over at Tom who gives you permission to speak with a simple nod.

“Yes,” you breath out.

“Yes what? You really should learn how to talk to people who are going to be fucking you, baby girl,” Jake coos, lightly tapping his hand across your cheek. It isn’t exactly a slap, but it’s close enough to have you cry out and want to beg for more. You’re patient though, answering how you know Jake wants.

“Yes, daddy, I’m a good girl for Tom,” you answer as Jake slips his hand away from your cheek, tugging at the leash lightly.

“Good, now lay down on your back, want to see all of you,” Jake demands, dropping the leash and standing up.

All eyes are on you as you lay down, your breasts swaying as you do, the leash and collar choking you slightly until you can rearrange yourself into a better spot.

When you finally do, you set your hands at your sides and spread your legs, waiting for another instruction.

Instead, Tom ignores you, asking Jake and Zendaya how their flights were. They make absentminded small talk for a little bit. You feel your pussy become even more damp every single time one of the guests would look at you. Tom never did however, keeping his eyes trained on whichever of his friends was talking.

“Want to play a game?” Tom asks and you whimper, nodding eagerly. He laughs cruelly, getting up to kneel at your side, “not you,” he lightly slaps the inside of your thigh, “you stay like the good slut I know you are.”

“Yes sir.”

“Here, while we play, Jake is going to edge you, how does that sound?” Tom asks, holding up the slim vibrator that you normally use when he wants to tease you and not give you full and complete pleasure.

“Good, sir,” you answer as Tom hands the vibrator to Jake.

Tom steps back and Jake takes his place, shedding his shirt and kneeling between your legs. You try your hardest not to moan as he leans down, the gold chain around his neck trailing up your thigh as he kisses your skin.

“Be a good girl for daddy and take what I give you,” Jake murmurs, turning the vibrator on as you glance at Tom, begging him through pleading eyes to let you make some sort of noise.

“Don’t make me get that ball gag of yours,” Tom warns, picking up the controllers from the coffee table and handing them to Zendaya and Harrison. Maybe it’s because Tom is used to this sort of play with you that he’s the best at not being distracted by your shaking and naked form, but Zendaya and Harrison have a hard time tearing their eyes away from you for long enough to select which characters they want to play.

You hear Harrison try to show Zendaya how to use the controller properly but your attention is torn from them as Jake presses the vibrator right against your clit.

“Fuck!” You cry out, immediately biting your lip to stifle the rest of your moans when Tom gives you another look.

Jake slaps your thigh harshly, the sting making you buck your hips up against the vibrations.

“Did we say you could talk?” Jake asks, running a finger through your slick folds. You shake your head, whimpering as your breasts and the clamps move with it.

“Right, so originally you were going to be allowed to come every single time they got past a level, but I think you’ll get a ruined orgasm now, how does that sound?” Jake asks, thrusting his finger inside of you as he presses the vibrator harder against your clit.

You whimper, “yes daddy.”

“You’ll take whatever we give you, won’t you? Such a whore,” Jake chuckles, watching the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he added a second finger to your tight heat. His fingers are considerably thicker than Tom’s, creating a whole new sensation as they press against your sweet spot.

You’re not sure if they’ve even started the game yet, you can only focus on the way Jake’s beard scrapes against your skin and his fingers pound into your pussy with ease.

You hear triumphant cheers before Jake rubs your g-spot with his fingers, letting go of the vibrator to replace it with his tongue.

“Come, slut,” Tom says, it’s so casual and nonchalant and your eyes squeeze shut as Jake sucks on your clit, urging you closer to the edge. Your fingers grasp at the soft material of the carpet and you want nothing more than to grab onto Jake and hold his face against your pussy but you want to be good for all of them.

Just as you feel yourself start to come, Jake pulls his fingers and mouth away from you, slapping your thigh with his hand already soaked in your arousal.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” he praises as you try to come back from the ruined orgasm.

You whimper, blinking your eyes open to watch Jake lick through your folds, hands pushing your thighs apart so he can taste you.

He licks into your entrance, nose bumping against your clit as you struggle to not fight back against his hands. With every jerky movement you heard a warning from Tom and the collar and leash around your neck would tug slightly, choking you.

Jake was teasing you relentlessly, one hand constantly slapping your thighs, the other would either fuck your pussy or rub your clit, switching with his mouth.

You hear another triumphant shout and then Tom, “come.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as Jake’s teeth graze your clit, pulling away from your right as the knot in your stomach almost snaps.

“Fuck!” You groan, biting your lip when you realize you spoke out of turn.

“Z, sit on her face to shut her up,” Tom says, shaking his head at you as Jake turns the vibrator back on, sliding it through your folds, pussy practically begging for more stimulation as Zendaya sets her controller down and stands up.

“So needy, be a good girl, be quiet for us, Harrison and Tom need to concentrate,” Jake teases as Zendaya moves to pull off her leggings, revealing her bare pussy.

You groan and Jake smacks your thigh again as she leans over you, long and slender finger running along your bottom lip. You peek your tongue out to gently lick at it, and she gently slaps your breast with her other hand, causing you to moan.

“You have such beautiful breasts, baby,” Zendaya coos, situating her thighs on either side of your face, muffling another of your moans with her pussy.

You slip your eyes shut as you start to fuck your tongue into Zendaya’s entrance, her hands cupping your breasts.

Before long Zendaya is bouncing on your face, your lips wrapped around her clit as you try to make her come, slightly distracted by her nails scraping against the skin of your breasts, tugging on the clamps from time to time.

Jake’s making the most depraved noises as he sucks on your clit, slowly pushing the vibrator inside of you. It’s slim, slimmer than his fingers, but the added vibration against your g-spot has your hands trying to grab at something or anything, resulting in an order from Tom to put them back down on the floor before he ties them above your head.

You moan at that, the vibrations from your mouth sending a shiver up Zendaya’s spine. You could tell she was close, because she bent down and started kissing and biting along your breasts, marking you over and over again as her hands tighten around your sides.

“Fuck, go ahead baby, I’m gonna come all over your face, that’s right, make me feel good,” Zendaya gasps out, your nose bumping against her clit as you fuck your tongue into her entrance, tasting her as much as possible.

She’s sweet and as she comes, she lets out the most beautiful high pitched cry that makes everyone turn to you and watch, even Tom who was dead set on completely ignoring you for as long as possible.

She all but collapsed against the coffee table as she slipped off of you, her fingers running along your wet and plump lips, smearing her orgasm over your face.

“God, you look fucking beautiful like this,” she murmurs, leaning back down to capture your lips in hers.

She moans when she tastes herself and you allow yourself to get lost in the kiss as Jake fucks the vibrator into you.

Your hips keep bucking up to his movement, the knot in your stomach tightening.

You didn’t hear Tom’s gentle warning not to come, and before you could stop yourself or Jake could pull away, you’re coming, a strangled cry against Zendaya’s lips as she tugs on your nipple clamps.

They both pull back as you pant and try to come down from the orgasm, embarrassment flooding your body because you disobeyed Tom.

He kneels down beside you, smirking as you whimper, thighs quivering as he rests a hand against your collar.

“You’re so needy, can’t even follow simple instructions, can you baby?”

You whimper as he unclips the leash and takes off the nipple clamps, kissing each of your sore nipples.

“You want us to pay attention to you?” He asks, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“Please,” you whimper, voice hoarse as you watch Harrison stroke his cock, blue eyes dark with lust.

“I guess we can take care of you, but first I think a punishment is in order, you came without permission-,”

“But Jake-,” You start, forgetting the rules for a moment.

Tom slaps your thigh, making you groan before he rests his hand against your throat, “you came without permission and distracted Harrison, made him lose the round. I think it’s only fair he gets to punish you, what do you think?”

“Please, please Haz, daddy,” you whisper, watching the way Harrison groans, letting go of his cock to kneel down next to you.

“You need a little punishment before we can use you, huh?” Harrison asks, stroking your cheek.

You nod, pouting slightly as Tom let’s go of your neck and stands up.

“Let’s go get something to drink, leave Harrison to take care of the slut and put her in her place.”

There’s a hint of jealousy in Tom’s voice but Harrison and you can’t notice it, too caught up in each other as the rest of the group heads into the kitchen, right next to the living room with a very clear view of the both of you.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to see how you react to a little punishment,” Harrison says, his thumb gliding over your bottom lip.

“Please,” you whimper as he traces your collar.

“On all fours, baby girl,” he says, helping your trembling form get up.

He drapes his body over your own, kissing your shoulder as he holds tightly onto you hips, keeping you still.

“Now, I’m going to spank you, are you going to be a good girl and count for me?”

“Yes, yes daddy, promise, I’ll count,” you whimper as he leans back, his hand smoothing over the skin of your ass.

You hear Tom laugh, and you flush, trying to focus completely on Harrison.

“Don’t know how much of a punishment this is, she fucking loves getting spanked,” Tom muses.

“Shhh, don’t listen to him baby, focus on me,” Harrison says, he’s wearing his rings, you can feel the cool metal against your skin before it disappears.

The force of the slap lurches you forward, making you cry out as you try to steady yourself.

“Aren’t you going to count for me? Thought you were a good girl,” Harrison teases, spanking you again.

“I am! I’m your good girl,” you whimper, feeling his hand run down to play with your pussy.

“Do good girls stay this wet when they get spanked? I think you’re a naughty girl, but that’s okay, let’s try this again, hmmm? And what will you do when I spank you?”

“Count,” you stutter out, waiting for him to start over.

“Good, let’s try, shall we?” Harrison says, spanking you again. You stay still this time, with the help of his grip on your hip.

“One,” you whimper, biting your lip as you brace yourself for another slap.

“See? That’s not so hard, is it?”

You shake your head, turning it slightly to watch Harrison, as well as Tom, Jake and Zendaya speak in hushed voices in the kitchen.

By the tenth spank your entire body is shaking and you’re struggling to stay up as Harrison smooths his hand over your skin, kissing down your spine.

“Look so pretty, with all my marks, took your punishment so well,” Harrison praises you and you whimper.

“Open up her ass Haz, I know how much you love fucking it,” Tom says.

All of them are back in the room and you can’t remember when they got there, but you don’t mind, watching Tom hand Harrison a bottle of lube.

“How do you want us?” Tom asks, cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“Can, fuck, I want to ride Jake, want Haz, in my ass,” you whine as you feel one of Harrison’s fingers trace your second hole, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Of course, I know how much a greedy slut needs her holes filled,” Tom smirks, kissing your lips softly before pulling back, “but what will I do? What about Zendaya? I thought you wanted to take care of all of us.”

“I do, sir, I want you all, just, ah,” you gasp as Harrison slides one of his fingers into your ass and your hips instinctively push back, trying to let him fill you up.

“Good, now, be a good girl and take what we give you,” Tom smirks, kneeling back so Zendaya and Jake can get a better look at the way you’re falling apart around Harrison’s fingers.

“Can I- fuck,” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut as Harrison pulls his finger out of you, adding more lube before pushing two fingers into you.

“Can you what?” Tom teases, “you know the rules, you have to use your words.”

“Can I come?”

“I don’t know, can you? I’m not the one fucking you, ask Harrison,” Tom says, glancing at his blond haired friend.

Harrison’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he watches you move your hips back against his fingers, your clit throbbing against his thumb.

“I don’t know, baby girl, how do you ask me?” Harrison teases, adding a third finger and more lube.

“Please Haz, daddy, need you,” you whimper, feeling your stomach tighten when he pinches your clit.

“Go ahead, then, come for me, want you nice and wet for when we fuck you,” his lips trail back up your spine, making you cry out, coming around nothing as he continues to finger your ass.

“That’s it, good girl,” Harrison praises you.

“More,” you whine, wanting to feel full.

“So needy, Jake, why don’t you fuck her pussy so she stops complaining?” Tom suggests and Harrison’s fingers slip out of you, pulling your back against his chest, one hand around your waist, lips whispering in your ear as Jake undresses.

“Excited to take as many cocks as you can tonight? Want to be stretched as much as possible huh?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whine, watching Jake lay down in front of you, stroking his cock as Harrison rubs your clit.

“Go ahead and sit on Jake’s cock, I’ll fill you up in a second baby girl,” Harrison says, kissing your cheek gently as he guides you to straddle Jake’s hips.

Both Jake and Harrison have their hands all over you, your hips, your ass, and when you finally lower yourself down onto Jake’s cock, you let out a loud whine because you’re in pure fucking bliss.

“Maybe we need to have that mouth stuffed full, too hmm? A little too loud for my liking,” Tom says, watching you bite your lip and Harrison push gently at your back, pressing your chest against Jake’s.

“Come on, gonna open you up again, you want me to fuck you too?” Harrison asks, his hand gliding down to grab a handful of your ass.

“Please!” you cry out, pressing your face into Jake’s chest, your lips trembling around his gold chain as he keeps your hips still.

“So tight already baby girl, you’re going to be so tight when Harrison fucks your ass, going to feel so good for daddy huh?” Jake asks, petting your hair as you whine and nod, tears prickling in your eyes as you feel Harrison’s fingers circle your ass again.

“You like my gold chain, don’t you?” Jake chuckles, watching you sit up slightly and tug the chain between your teeth.

“Yes, daddy,” you mumble, gasping when Harrison begins to fuck his finger into you, making you clench around Jake.

Eventually, with lots of soothing touches and Zendaya playing with your breasts, Harrison is fucking three of his fingers into you, and you’re begging for more.

“Please, daddy, fuck me, need you in me,” you whine, clutching onto Jake’s biceps as you turn your head toward Harrison.

He looks like he’s going to burst with excitement, gently pulling his fingers out of you before adding lube to his cock, stroking it a few times as you whine.

“Be patient, daddy will fill you up,” Harrison teases, his cock nudging at your entrance.

You whimper, the stretch burning slightly as you press your face into Jake’s neck, distracting yourself but sucking and biting at his skin.

“How’re you doing, baby girl?” Jake asks, running a hand up your back to calm you down.

“Good, ah, more, please,” you whine, clenching around Jake as Harrison bottoms out.

“So greedy huh? Already getting fucked by two cocks, you want more?” Tom chuckles, watching Zendaya pull out her strap on, it was thick and purple and a little bit longer than Tom, which only sparked jealousy within him.

“Please, daddy, need you to move.”

Harrison’s hands tighten around your hips, shallowing fucking into you as Jake sort of lifts you up, making you bounce on his lap.

They find a rhythm quickly, tugging you between their two bodies.

You aren’t sure how many orgasms Jake gives you when he sneaks his thumb between your bodies, but with each one, Tom teases you even more, remarking about how he’ll have to get the carpet cleaned with how much of a mess you’re making.

Jake is the first to come, because every orgasm you have completely rocks him, and right before he does he pulls you down for a filthy kiss, his teeth tugging at your lip, “want daddy to come inside of you?”

You whine, high in your throat, trying to fuck yourself harder down on Jake’s cock as he comes, hot and deep inside of you with a growl. Harrison isn’t far behind, his grunts filling the air as Jake’s thumb rubs your clit.

“Come on baby girl, come for daddy,” Harrison grunts, coming inside of you as his hips still.

“Daddy!” you cry out as Harrison wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you up against him, another orgasm washing over you as Harrison kisses down your neck, hands steadying your hips.

“I bet you’re going to look pretty with our come dripping out of you,” Jake smirks, drawing circles on the skin of your thigh as you come down from your high.

“Please, Tommy,” you cry out, vision blurred as you writhe on Jake’s lap.

“Need more?”

“Zendaya, please, more,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks as Harrison pulls out of you, leaning back to watch you struggle to keep his come inside of you.

“You want me to fuck you baby?” Zendaya asks as Jake sits up, practically pulling you off of his cock.

“God, yes, need your cock Z, please,” You whimper, kneeling on the floor in front of her, her strap inches from your face as you spread your legs, showing her your fucked out pussy.

“God, I’m going to fuck you so well, fuck you better than any of these boys,” Z murmurs, her thumb tracing your bottom lip before forcing your jaw wide open.

“Please,” you beg, leaning toward her strap, wanting to suck her off.

“Go ahead, get my cock nice and wet for me,” Zendaya smirks, stepping forward to slap her strapon onto your tongue.

You groan as she fucks into your mouth, making you gag as her hands grab at the back of your head.

“Fuck, yes, take my cock so well, want to make sure it’s nice and ready for your pussy,” Zendaya smirks, pulling you back after you’re drooling down your chin.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Zendaya asks,

Tom sits back against the couch, patting his lap.

You turn on your hands and knees, crawling to Tom.

“That’s a good girl,” He smirks, slowly stroking his cock.

“How do you want me sir?” You ask, kneeling in front of him as you wait for more instructions.

“Come and sit on my lap, face Z, I know she loves your tits,” Tom smirks, watching Z stare at the way they bounce as you turn around, straddling Tom’s thighs.

“You want her to fuck your pussy?” Tom whispers, brushing hair from your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as he lifts you up.

“Please, please Z, need you inside me, need you to fuck me, please,” you beg as Tom’s cock begins to easily push into your ass.

“Anything for you, baby,” Zendaya smiles as Tom seats you fully on his cock, making you whimper and reach out for Zendaya.

She pushes your thighs open, running a slender finger through your folds, collecting your own orgasm as well Jake’s come, dragging it up your chest, circling your nipples before shoving her finger in your mouth.

They all watch as you suck on her finger, eagerly cleaning it off as she taps her strapon against your clit, making you buck forward and gag on her finger.

“You’re going to look so fucking pretty full of my cock, baby,” Z smirks, pushing her cock inside of you, slowing when you wince.

“How do you feel?” Tom asks, hands tight on your hips and holding you still when you start to try to fuck yourself down on both of their cocks.

“I’m, ah, it’s a different position, just stretching me more,” you grunt when Z’s lips brush against your chest, eventually wrapping around one of your nipples.

“Tell us when we can move, I know you like being nice and full, don’t you?” Tom asks, smirking at the moan that falls from your lips.

“Fuck, Tommy, love it, move, please, you can move,” you beg before Zendaya kisses you, her tongue easily slipping inside of your mouth as her soft brown curls brush against your face. They easily find a rhythm to fuck you with, Zendaya’s lips were all over your front but she focused on your breasts, kissing and sucking every bit of skin she could get to.

Tom can’t help but groan watching how Zendaya marks you, her finger rubbing your clit as you try to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch everything you possibly could.

“Taking our cocks so well, want me to come in your ass? Fill you up?” Tom asks, holding onto the back of your neck, fingers tugging inside the collar to keep you pressed against him, his cock deep inside of you as it starts to twitch.

Harrison and Jake are watching you get fucked, they’ve pulled their boxers back on but they’re both palming themselves, eyes dark as they watch you stare at them, lips dropping open.

“You want Tom to come inside you? Fuck you even fuller?” Harrison asks, smirking when you can’t make a coherent response.

“Please, Tomy, come in me, need you, Tom,” you whine, feeling Tom twitch inside of you again as he helps you grind against him.

“I’ve got you, don’t be greedy, you’ll get my come, “ Tom murmurs.

It doesn’t take long for him to come, just watching Zendaya tug one of your nipples between her teeth and the way you absolutely sob, babbling and begging for his come. He fills you so well, his come, Harrison’s come, lube, everything starts to drip down your thighs, making you tremble as Zendaya teases you, making fun of the mess you’re making.

“Can’t keep their come inside of you huh?”

“So fucking full, baby, love being stuffed full of come? Show everyone how well we fuck you?”

You’re only able to respond with half mumbled yes, fuck, more and please Z, let me come. You’re completely delirious with want and when Harrison and Jake wink at you almost at the same time, you’re absolutely begging for her to give you another orgasm.

“Come on my cock,” Z whispers, staring up at you through her eyelashes, her eyes dark when you clench around her, screaming her name as you come, your thighs shaking as she holds them open.

“That’s it, good girl, going to pull out of you, try not to drip all over the carpet,” Z winks, slowly pulling back as Tom kisses along your shoulder blades, beginning to lift you up.

Jake and Tom work on cleaning you up, Zendaya helping you stay sitting up and taking off your collar, kissing along the small marks it left along your neck.

“Have a good night okay baby?” Zendaya says, kissing you softly. Her lips are definitely your favorite, they’re so soft and plump and she knows exactly how to use them.

“Mhm, Z, you’re my favorite,” you giggle as Tom’s hands tighten on your hips and Jake grazes his teeth along your shoulder, moving to whisper in your ear.

“You were such a good girl for daddy, hopefully, we can play again some other time.”

Harrison gets to starting the bath in the master bathroom while Tom takes you to the other bathroom, letting you pee before helping you to the other bathroom.

“So, how was that?” Tom asks, brushing your hair from your face as he carries you to the tub that Harrison is sitting in.

“I think you should clean the carpet,” you slur, half in that hazy headspace that you get into when Tom and you have a rough scene.

Tom chuckles as he helps you into the tub, Harrison pulling you back against his chest.

“And you know to use her-,”

“Yes, Tom, the lavender body wash and her special shampoo, I know,” Harrison smiles, kissing your shoulder as you lean back against him, lightly splashing the water around you.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, princess, just want to get your pajamas and some food ready for you,” Tom says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You nod sleepily, yawning as Harrison begins to pour water over your hair and body, cleaning your body, gently pressing against all of the marks they made along the way.

“You’re a little tired, huh?” Harrison asks as he cleans you up, helping you stand up and dry off.

“Mhm, you all wore me out,” you giggle as he picks you up in the towel, bringing you to Tom and your bedroom.

Tom is standing by the bed, holding up your favorite pajamas, an old sweatshirt and satin sleep shorts. When Harrison sets you down on the bed, Tom helps get you changed while Harrison brushes your hair into your favorite blue scrunchie, kissing as much skin as he can as he does.

You’re tired but Tom insists on making sure you drink a glass of water and eat a granola bar as he rubs some lotion into your thighs and tummy, kissing your skin along the way.

“Mhm, can you cuddle with us Haz?” You ask, pouting as you watch Harrison start to walk out.

“Of course, I’m gonna go get changed, I’ll be right back,” he nods, winking at you.

You fall asleep between Harrison and Tom, after plenty of soft kisses and cuddling, you simply couldn’t keep your eyes open for any longer. You just recall both of their laughs when you say, “we are so doing that again,” right before falling asleep.

Taglist + people who might enjoy: @nsfwmcu @spiideymjj @mskatharinawho @stealthspideys @robbinholland

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #jake gyllenhaal #zendaya #tom holland smut #jake gyllenhaal smut #zendaya smut #harrison osterfield smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #zendaya x reader

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whats-the-wish-of-your-life · 3 years

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Every First, Every Last (Part 2)

Even in his old immortal form, he had always detested this young man. Maybe because he could hear his thoughts and how they refuted his actions towards Dong Kyung. How he acted indifferently, while in his heart he was completely smitten by her.

What a hypocrite, Saram thought to himself as he took a deep sigh to alleviate his annoyance.

To his amusement, the young author then approached their table.

"Noona!" Park Young greeted Dong Kyung with a big smile. And a bear hug.

Dong Kyung could only lightly rub his back in response while avoiding Saram's glare from across the table.

"Jagganim. Glad you could make it," she greeted him when he finally pulled away.

Saram could barely keep his temperament in check. Especially when the young author had the audacity to sit next to his wife.

"I asked my manager to fix my schedule for this," Park Young said proudly. "And I don't have to wear a mask since I am here as a donor."

"You should still wear a mask because your face is hideous," Saram interjected with a smirk.

Park Young just snorted at his disdainful remark. "You should wear glasses. You obviously have poor eyesight. Probably because you're old," he retorted.

"Do you want to wear a cast? Because I can crush your bones. But I'm a doctor, so I can also treat you after. "

"Do you want to wear handcuffs?"

Dong Kyung could not bear to just watch the ridiculousness in front of her. So she belligerently stood up from her seat causing the two gentlemen to fix their eyes on her.

"Ya! Do you want to wear a leash, both of you?" She erupted.

"Ani."

"Aniyo."

Both men responded almost simultaneously.

"Now the two of you, make nice with each other," she glared.

"Mhianada," Park Young was the first to apologize.

Dong Kyung then turned to Saram who then gave her a questioning look. But he quickly understood when her eyes narrowed.

"Mhiane," he muttered without actually meaning it then took a slug of beer.

"I'll go back to my table now, noona. I just really wanted to greet you," the young author said, then stood up and slightly bowed his head before walking back to his table.

Dong Kyung then moved to the chair beside Saram, who was obviously still fuming while chugging his second bottle.

"Ya, you can't drive anymore with that amount," Dong Kyung pointed out. "Give me the keys."

So he fished out the car key from his pocket and handed it to her. "Yeogi."

The fundraiser took more than half of their day but both of them had so much fun during the auction of first editions from popular authors who attended the event. Saram's inner bookworm was so excited to get his hands on some new books. While Dong Kyung received a copy of Park Young's first novel to be published in print. She was delighted to say the least, but her husband didn't exactly share the same sentiment.

When they got home from the event around five in the afternoon, Saram went straight to the shower to sober up. Dong Kyung just washed up in the small bathroom and changed into her house clothes, then went to the kitchen to fix a quick dinner.

She decided to cook instant ramyeon for her tipsy husband, some egg rolls and spam gimbap, since they were the quickest to make. Saram stepped out of the shower 15 minutes later and joined her in the kitchen.

"Are you sober now?" Do Kyung asked as she stood in front of the stove while watching the ramyeon simmer.

"I wasn't drunk at all," he responded while taking out a bottle of water from the fridge. He then walked towards Dong Kyung then leaned his back against the kitchen island behind her.

Dong Kyung turned to him and only then did she realize that he had nothing on except a towel around his waist.

"Are you going to eat dinner without a shirt on?" She quipped, after giving him a once-over.

"Are you hungry?" Saram asked, ignoring her question, then took another gulp of water as he tipped his head back, while looking at her down his nose.

For some reason, his question got her all flustered. Not to mention the way he was gazing at her without blinking.

"Food is ready."

"You didn't answer my question," Saram muttered, then put the water bottle on the kitchen island. He then took a step closer and gently pulled and pressed his wife against him, as he reached for the stove knob behind her and turned it off. He then put his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer as he leaned back on the kitchen island again. "Are you hungry, Dong Kyungie?"

Dong Kyung looked up at him, a little distracted by his still damp and messy hair. Her eyes followed the driblet of water that trickled down his temple, down to his jaw and how it briefly hung there before it trailed down his neck.

"Yes, I'm hungry," she answered, when finally, she managed to hold his gaze.

Saram's lips broke into an indelicate dimpled grin. Here he was, thinking he was sober, when he was clearly intoxicated by his love for his wife.

He had been aching to hold her all day while they spent hours outside with other people. And now that they were alone together at last, that ache had only grown into a burning greed.

So he lifted her from the floor and raised her to the kitchen island. Dong Kyung was quite delighted with how she could look at him squarely now without having to crane her neck.

"Happy?"

"Eoh," Dong Kyung nodded with a cheerful smile. "Do you...want some ramyeon?"

"I'm starving, Dong Kyung," he said with a rasp, while eyeing her lips with a hungry gaze.

Still at a loss, whether she should fix him up a bowl or kiss him, Dong Kyung decided to go for the latter.

She cupped his face with her hands and her husband closed his eyes in anticipation. She then planted a kiss on his forehead, then slowly moved down his nose, then both of his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

But Saram could not hold out any longer. Using his index finger, he gently angled her face so the next kiss landed on his mouth and he welcomed her lips with ardent greed. His thumb swiftly tugged at her bottom lip, making room for his tongue to slide into.

Dong Kyung held onto his bare shoulders, while he held onto her waist. It didn't take long before he had to pull away to draw a quick breath. He took that brief opportunity to lift her sweatshirt off of her then pulled down her pyjamas, before plunging back in, with a new resolve to make her just as breathless and needy as he was.

His mouth started wandering down her chin, as his hands traveled around her back to unhook her bra. Dong Kyung tipped her head back when his mouth began to trace her neck, his warm breath making her skin blush a delicious shade of pink.

He then buried his face between the delicate mounds of her breast and licked the dip all the way back up to the base of her neck where he lingered for a bit more. He quite enjoyed the feel of his wife's chaotic pulse whenever he pecked at that area.

He decided to explore how far he could stretch his restraint by deliberately keeping his hands off of DongKyung's breast. He then hinged her thighs around his waist and swooped her from the kitchen island. He was determined to leave a trace of their lovemaking everywhere in this house. Surely, he couldn't leave the couch off the list.

Reenacting their position from their interrupted shenanigan this morning, he made DongKyung straddle him again. Only this time, it was just that towel restraining him aside from his wife's underwear. Even the slightest move she made was creating a delightful friction.

To his surprise, Dong Kyung suddenly pulled away from kissing him. She then looked him in the eyes as if making an important decision, before she finally dismounted from his lap.

His brain went into an overdrive when like a shot, she kneeled between his thighs and divested him of his precious towel. Her eyes widened in surprise when he sprung stiff and proud upon exposure.

"It's not like it's your first time seeing me," Saram nearly laughed at Dong Kyung's reaction.

"Not this close," she retorted while looking up at him.

Her gaze from that position created some interesting sensations all over him, making him breathless.

Dong Kyung then lightly gripped him by the shaft and gave it a gentle stroke which made him tip his head back against the headrest of the couch and groan a little louder than he intended. It was all the push she needed to keep going a few more times. Every move her hand made was rewarded with Saram's resounding moans that filled the spacious living room. And when her hand reached the swollen head, Saram grabbed her by the wrist.

Was this the extent of his restraint?

"I can't take it anymore," he panted then pulled her up. He then maneuvered her so she was sitting on his lap again, then planted a swift wet kiss on her mouth. "Ride me, honey."

Dong Kyung stared at him for a few moments. She had that same look in her eyes as if she was pondering a very important decision.

This was the first time he asked her to take control and it was wracking her nerves for that reason. Not to mention that he wasn't exactly average in size.

Ottoke? I can do this, right? She thought, giving herself some much needed peptalk.

Although he couldn't read minds anymore, Saram could tell that Dong Kyung was nervous about his request, just by how dilated her pupils were. He was getting ready to draw back and take her to the bedroom instead, when she suddenly moved and properly positioned her knees on either side of his thighs.

"Are you sure?" He inquired, unable to hide the need in his voice.

"Eoh," she nodded. "I know you'll be careful."

Saram smirked smugly at his wife's confidence in him. "I really can't promise you that right now."

And with that statement, he pushed the crotch of her underwear to the side and rubbed the head of his penis against her slit. Both of them groaned at the sudden contact.

He then guided her on how to sit on him properly, as she held onto his shoulders. They were both gazing at each other intently, eyes wide and breaths hitching in anticipation. And when finally, he could feel her wet opening slowly swallowing him, he pulled her by the waist and pushed himself deeper with a sudden jerk.

Dong Kyung whimpered weakly as she propped herself against him for support. Saram helped her keep a steady pace by meeting her halfway as she moved up and down on him, every inch of him gliding delectably in and out of her.

Her whimpers quickly turned into a series of moans when Saram started to fondle her breast while he suckled on the other. He needed a distraction from all the sensations quickly building up in his groin.

#doom at your service #tvn doom at your service #myul mang #kdrama doom at your service #seo in guk #tak dong kyung #fiction #park bo young #bboing couple #myulkyung

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ghost-writing · 4 years

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Fee+Bear 1/?? - So Far (Henry Cavill fanfic)

This is a re-post from my other blog... I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that.

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: awfully sappy (made myself cry, but I cry very easily…)

Just imagine Henry dating a divorced woman, who has 3 kids already…

Sweaty and still panting, Henry opened the door and let Kal off his leash.

“Good run, right? Good boy!”

But instead of going to the kitchen as usual, Kal tried to go upstairs and whimpered.

“Kal, no!” He caught the dog by his collar just before he could escape. “You know it’s the cat’s territory!”.

“Henry! Finally!” Elena was whispering, a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked. “Are Gigi and Noah ok?”

“Yes, yes, they’re fine, they’re having their breakfast with Tia. It’s Sofia…”

The blood froze slightly in his veins at the way she pronounced her name.

“She locked herself in your bathroom, she won’t open…” After an awkward pause, she added: “She’s crying. Probably a panic attack, I don’t know why… She did not have any since you moved in.”

Henry sighed: he knew about the panic attacks, she had told him everything, especially that she didn’t want her children to see her like that.

“Ok, I’ll take care of her. Tia Carmen and you, just keep the little ones busy.”

Henry did not wait for her answer, and ran upstairs with Kal.

While they made their way to the bedroom, Henry warned his four-legged friend: “Just leave Sirius alone! Now is not the time to try and kill her beloved cat…”

But the dog did not care about his mortal enemy right now, he was tracing to the master bedroom.

Once there, Henry heard the crying coming from the en-suite and knocked gently at the door: “Fee, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

The cries got louder, which made Kal scratch at the door.

“Did you get bad news? Is it work? Your mum?” He paused, seeing red for a second. “Did you fight with Mike again?”

“N-no… I’m s-so…” Deep, long sobs.

“My love, can I come in?” He used his softest voice, trying hard to not sound as worried as he actually was. The lock opened.

He pushed the door gently, in case she was still standing behind it, holding Kal who was desperately trying to get in. She was sitting on the floor, in front of the vanity cabinet. Still in her nightdress, her hair undone, a teary mess. His heart broke a little to see her like that. He hated seeing her cry.

“Where’s Sirius?”

She sniffled: “P-patio…”

He let the big Akita get in. The dog immediately went to her, delicately licking her hands and laid next to her, his huge head in her lap. She scratched his head, mechanically, still whimpering.

Henry closed the door behind him and joined them on the floor. He took her free hand in his and kissed it sweetly.

After a couple of minutes, he asked: “What’s wrong, Fee? Tell me.”

“I’m so s-sorry, Bear! I’m…” She bawled and tried to grab his t-shirt to get closer to him.

He lovingly took her in his arms, kissed her head, stroking her back tenderly. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m ready when you are, Fee”, he whispered.

He was prepared to wait as long as necessary for her to finally tell him what was upsetting her so much. He did not know if he had to be worried, or angry at someone. He did not know what to do other than to wait.

After a while, she calmed down slightly. Her face still nuzzled in his chest, she just said “Sink”, and gestured at it. He turned and craned his neck, noticing a thin, white plastic object placed next to the basin. He took it, and looked at it, not fully understanding what he was looking at.

“What… What does…”

“I’m sorry I’m ruining this for you, Bear! I just…” She threw her arms around his neck.

“Ruining? This… is a… negative? Right?”

“No, I’m p…”

He felt the blood drained away from his face, his breathing got difficult, he felt dizzy in a nanosecond.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. And I’m so scared.”

He held her tight. “You’re sure?”

“That’s what the test says…”

“Why are you scared? You’ve been pregnant three times before!” His stomach churned at the next thought. “Is it… because of me?”

“Nooo, not you! You’re the best, Henry!” She got out of his hold and looked at him, taking his face in her hands. “But I’m 43, sweetie. And I lost a baby already. If I can’t keep this one warm for 9 months, I…” She could not finish her sentence.

“Shhh… That’s not going to happen, ok?” He took her hands in his, again. “We’ll go see the best doctors in London, or in L.A., whatever you want. We’ll do everything that needs to be done, we’ll be careful, and that baby will be perfect, just like Noah, and Gigi, and Em’! I’m sure of it! You’re such a wonderful mama.” He moved his head towards her, their foreheads touching. “We’re going to be a wonderful family, all of us…”

And he started crying too. The happiest tears of his life.

The happiest tears of his life, so far.

#fanfic #Henry Cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fluff #Fee+Bear #fluffy fluff of the fluffiest kind

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neuxue · 4 years

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 4

Perrin goes hunting and we consider the problems with zero-sum solitaire, and Galad... is Galad.

Chapter 4: The Pattern Groans

We’re with Perrin, but it smells like corpses and the grass looks infected and it’s not the first time this has been brought up, so… how sure are we the Blight is staying put?

Oh, the Aes Sedai agree. Is this part of the Pattern fraying and the Dark One reaching out into the world, then? That the Blight sort of crops up in those stretched spaces?

Especially because at this point in the timeline, Rand’s not exactly counteracting it.

Light, Perrin thought, taking the leaf as Nevarin handed it to him. It smelled of decay. What kind of world is it where the Blight is the good alternative?

I don’t know, ask Lan.

“It’s probably not dangerous,” Perrin said.

Presented without further context. Famous last words, Perrin. Right up there with ‘a trap’s not a trap if you know it’s there’ –Rand al’Thor.

Meanwhile Perrin’s still dealing with Office Politics: Epic Fantasy Edition on a constant basis. Well, you and Egwene will have plenty to talk about when you finally meet in Tel’aran’rhiod or maybe for that dance you owe her on Sunday.

(I have absolutely no expectation of the latter happening; I just like to remember it sometimes because it’s the right kind of sad. The former though… please).

If only those clouds would pass so they could get some good sunlight to dry the soil

Given where you seem to be relative to Rand’s timeline, Perrin, you… might be waiting a little while. Might I recommend an umbrella? Or perhaps some fire insurance?

A strange village with an architectural style that seems out of place? Shiota again, perhaps? Either way, You probably do not want to go into that village. You may not ever come out. Well, okay, you’re a protagonist so you’ll probably be fine, but all the same.

Light! How bad were things becoming?

The thing with the timeline misalignment is that it takes away from the effect of this a little bit, for me. Because while I get that the Pattern itself is being strained and the Dark One is drawing closer to the world and all that, and Rand’s revelation on Dragonmount isn’t going to immediately fix everything, some of the tension there is gone. When such a major arc has finally passed its darkest point and reached a kind of catharsis, it’s a little weird to then go back to ‘okay but pretend that hasn’t happened yet’.

So, yes, I think this is probably not specifically related to Rand (inasmuch as anything at this point can be said to be not related to Rand, given his power and his role and his Fisher King-like link to the entire world), and therefore isn’t just a ‘oh don’t worry this will fix once the timelines are caught up’ but I can’t help feeling some of that anyway.

“Burn the village,” he said, turning. “Use the One Power.”

Should’ve invited Rand.

WOLF DREAM WOLF DREAM WOLF DREAM!

Even in Tel’aran’rhiod there’s a storm. But again, I can’t help but feel that some of the impact that should have (‘I am the storm’) is lacking a little, now. It’s not a major criticism and a lot of it is probably just me, but… I don’t know. It just feels ever so slightly off.

The wolves are calling to Perrin and so of course we come back to his central conflict with himself but surely this, too, must be approaching its point of crisis soon. There’s just not that much time left, and he’s been circling this one for so long, and especially after Malden he’s constantly being forced to look at it, just as Rand came closer and closer to that necessary confrontation with himself and the part of him that was Lews Therin and what he’s doing.

The invitations awakened something deep within him, the wolf he tried to keep locked away. But a wolf could not be locked up for long. It either escaped or it died

This touches on a particularly ironic aspect of this conflict: Perrin tries to lock the wolf aspect of himself away, to shut it out and refuse it, because he is afraid of losing himself to it. But it is a part of himself, and so by shutting it away in order to keep from losing who he is, he is in fact trying to kill or lose… a part of who he is.

Again, there’s the obvious parallel to Rand here, and the whole question of how to accept a part of yourself you’re terrified of, a part of yourself you hate or fear or cannot reconcile with the rest of your self-perception. The whole struggle of identity, of acceptance and denial, of answering that age-old question of who are you?

And I like how we get to watch so many different characters take on that struggle, from slightly different directions or with slightly different variations, but at the centre of it all that same question of identity, and what it means to be who you are versus who you must be versus who you choose to be, and how to find that balance. So many characters at war with themselves one way or another, and ultimately they all have to find some way to make peace, and so we just get Identity: Theme and Variation across the series.

(Of course, there are also the characters who aren’t at war with themselves, and whose stories of identity take on a slightly different flavour – Egwene being an obvious example – but I’ll just… save that one for another time or else we’ll be here all day).

“No!” Perrin said, sitting up, holding his head. “I will not lose myself in you.”

(Said Rand to Lews Therin).

Except by denying them, Perrin, you only lose a different part of yourself. And if so much of your energy and self is dedicated to fighting yourself, are you not also then lost? You can’t win a war when you are your own opponent.

He’s looking at this as a zero-sum game: himself against the wolf, and only one can win, and the other must be lost. And so he chooses himself, and tries to suppress or defeat the wolf, but it’s not a zero-sum game, for the very simple reason that there is no other player. He just thinks there is. Much as Rand viewed Lews Therin as an opponent, rather than as a part of himself.

In summary: don’t play prisoner’s dilemma with yourself, because that way lies madness.

You are invited, Young Bull, Hopper sent.

An invitation, not a demand. A gift, an offering, and of course a choice. It’s not something trying to consume him or fight him.

“Hopper, we spoke of this. I’m losing myself. When I go into battle, I become enraged. Like a wolf.”

Like a wolf? Hopper sent. Young Bull, you are a wolf. And a man. Come hunt.

I like the way they talk almost across each other here; Perrin is so set on viewing this as a fight, as a zero-sum game, as an either-or. And Hopper doesn’t understand what he’s on about, because as far as Hopper is concerned, Perrin is a man and a wolf and the two are not mutually exclusive. (Rand and Lews Therin are one and the same).

“I will not let this consume me.” He thought of a young man with golden eyes, locked in a cage, all humanity gone from him.

Except that as he is now, the wolf-aspect of him is effectively encaged, and that’s probably not healthy either. Still, though, so long as he insists on seeing it as something separate to himself, something invasive or antagonistic or other, some part of him will always be trapped.

Which… we’re given Noam as an example, and I do think there’s a path down which Perrin could theoretically end up being ‘consumed’ by the wolf, just as there was a path down which Rand could have ended up, as Moiraine put it, calling himself Lews Therin and Lanfear’s devoted lover. Or, you know, killing his father and the world and himself, and succumbing to the exact fate he pushed Lews Therin away in fear of in the first place.

Because when you’re that committed to framing it as a fight, and suppressing one side or the other, it’s hard to keep it from becoming that, even if that’s not what it ‘should’ be. Not all battles against oneself end in reconciliation. But there’s a bitter kind of irony to it, in that I think the only way Perrin would end up truly ‘losing himself’ to the wolf would be because he framed it as something he could lose to in the first place. (Or, I suppose, if he specifically chose that path and chose to suppress the human side of himself instead).

“I must learn to control this, or I must banish the wolf from me,” Perrin said.

Except that perception, right there, is the entire reason it’s such a struggle in the first place right now. It’s not an either-or. They’re not two separate things, and it’s not something that needs to be leashed.

It's that whole… the more you fight against some part of yourself, the harder it becomes to actually keep it in check, and so we arrive back at something very like ‘surrender to control’. Or, perhaps more accurately, ‘accept in order to control’. Control being also not quite the right word here, because that’s also part of the point.

Basically, throwing up a wall against parts of yourself you’re afraid of rather than understanding them and figuring out how to integrate or improve or work with or channel or grow past or whatever-else them is not a sustainable solution, Perrin. Because those parts of you aren’t just going to go away if you deny them strongly enough; you have to at least understand them, and acknowledge them for what they are, and then you can figure out where you want to go from there. Which, likely, will mean recognising that they’re neither as simple-black-and-white nor as terrifying as you think. It just also means having to do some introspection and maybe realise some things about yourself that challenge your existing self-image. It’s good for you. As Rand could perhaps tell you, once he’s done picking apples.

I do sort of wish this could have been done in the previous book, aligned with Rand’s own last stages of his fight with himself and eventual realisation – sort of the way the cascading ending of characters coming into their power was done in TSR – but also I get that sometimes it’s just not possible to fit everything in exactly the way you want. I promise I’ll stop complaining about having to play timeline catch-up soon.

Anyway, Hopper’s bored of this and wants to go hunting already. Especially because he’s looking at the calendar and realising they have maybe half a term to cram at least a few years’ worth of learning into, so can we get on with it already.

In a previous visit to the wolf dream, Perrin had demanded that Hopper train him to master the place. Very inappropriate for a young wolf – a kind of challenge to the elder’s seniority – but this was a response. Hopper had come to teach, but he would do it as a wolf taught.

Yes. And I think the point there, beyond anything to do with a challenge to seniority, is that if Perrin is going to learn how to walk the wolf dream, he’s going to have to come to terms with the part of him that brings him there in the first place. He can’t learn if he’s holding half of himself back at the same time.

“I will hunt with you – but I must not lose myself.”

But this is you, Perrin. And okay on the whole issue of hunting, I think Perrin sees it as a kind of… succumbing to base instincts, which is part of why he fights it. But I really don’t think that’s what we’re talking about here. I don’t think it’s ‘sure, go for murder breaks whenever you get bored’; I think it’s about… finding a balance in the side of himself that is capable of violence and that thrills in a fight, not by just letting it run wild but just by… understanding that it’s there, because once he does that, he can decide how to direct it.

I mean, we all have parts of ourselves that maybe aren’t always fit for polite company, but pretending they don’t exist isn’t going to make them go away, but understanding them and accepting them sometimes makes it easier to find another way to channel them that’s more… well, I suppose the word Perrin would want here is ‘controlled’. But really, I think it’s more ‘conscious’.

To use his own analogy, it’s the whole ‘the iron in front of him, not dreams of silver’ idea. Work with what you have; understand the components for what they are. That doesn’t mean you can’t work them at all, or reshape them, or hone them, or turn them into something better; it just means seeing those pieces, those starting points, honestly. And understanding what will and won’t work in terms of shaping them. He’s been given these pieces of metal but he insists on not using some of them, or on not even looking at them closely enough to see what metal they are, and I don’t know anything about metalworking so should probably stop this analogy here before I break it.

Anyway Hopper is just enjoying the opportunity to drag Perrin repeatedly, for his own amusement and that of the other wolves.

Meanwhile Perrin’s getting stuck in the long grass, which is absolutely not a metaphor for anything.

I can’t ignore my problems! Perrin thought back.

Yet you often do, Hopper sent.

Well and if that’s not a perfect summary of Perrin’s arc pretty much since the Two Rivers, I don’t know what is. ‘I can’t ignore my problems,’ says Perrin, ignoring at least five problems he doesn’t want to acknowledge in favour of the one or two he can do something about.

Or, as may be more accurately the case, ignoring his own problems in favour of the external ones he can hammer out a solution for.

Credit where it’s due: Perrin knows Hopper’s right.

There, lying on the ground, were the three chunks of metal he’d forged in his earlier dream. The large lump the size of two fists, the flattened rod, the thin rectangle.

Those are oddly specific. Shame there’s not twenty-three of them.

I’d say it sounds like the makings of a hammer except I don’t know what the thin rectangle would be in that case, and he already has a hammer.

Oh hey his prophetic dream-visions are back! It’s been a minute.

Mat stood there. He was fighting against himself, a dozen different men wearing his face, all dressed in different types of fine clothing. Mat spun his spear, and never saw the shadowy figure creeping behind him, bearing a bloody knife.

So the immediate association I have between Mat and a knife is, of course, the ruby dagger currently in the hands of our good friend Padan Fain. Though I suppose we’ve also now introduced the Seanchan Bloodknives to the scene, which would fit with the whole ‘shadowy figure’ as well.

But it’s the rest of this vision that has me intrigued, here. Because my immediate thought – that he’s fighting himself in the sense of all the men whose memories he now holds – doesn’t really make sense at all, because Mat accepted those memories a long time ago; they’ve not felt like a challenge to his identity in nearly the same way as the wolves have been for Perrin or Lews Therin was for Rand.

So then… more figurative? Is it still an identity thing but more about reconciling all the different roles he holds, that pull him in different directions (and some, like his status as Prince of the Ravens, that he has perhaps not quite so fully accepted)?

Or is this some Eelfinn/Aelfinn shit? We know he’s headed there, and it’s another dimension so all bets are off, really.

Or are we going to get into some kind of… decoys strategy? He’s being set up as a general for the Last Battle, so maybe someone or something turning his own strategies or forces against him?

Perrin’s not sure either, and next up we get wolves chasing sheep into the woods full of monsters. That… could honestly be anything. The wolves look wrong, so Darkhounds, maybe? Though in that case I’d expect him to recognise them. As for who he’s chasing… I mean, you can hardly swing a cat in here without hitting a malevolent force these days, so your guess is as good as mine, Perrin.

Hopper doesn’t have time for prophetic movie screenings and would very much like to get on with this hunt now, please, seriously Young Bull it’s been two years, I’m not getting any younger here.

(Hopper, you’re dead; you don’t even age. ‘NO BUT MY PATIENCE DOES’).

Perrin remembered the time; it had been during the early days of Faile’s captivity.

Had he really looked that bad? Light, but he seemed ragged. Almost like a beggar. Or… like Noam.

Oh okay this is a really interesting realisation from Perrin, and a perspective I hadn’t actually considered from this angle. There’s more than one way to lose yourself, and in giving entirely in to the very human side of him (and, perhaps, what Hopper might call a human need for control), and fixating on a single task in that sense, he came close to the same kind of loss of self that he associates with becoming entirely wolf.

And that this version of himself came not as a result of ‘giving in’ to the wolves at all. That maybe, Perrin, the wolves aren’t the source of the problem you’re having with finding a balance within yourself; they’re just a convenient scapegoat, something to project the division within yourself onto.

“Stop trying to confuse me!” Perrin said. “I became that way because I was dedicated to finding Faile, not because I was giving into the wolves!”

Which is… kind of the point, Perrin. There is more than one way to lose yourself. And your dedication to finding Faile was just… another form of focusing only on aspects, and neglecting all the other parts of yourself. But how is neglecting the wolf part of yourself going to solve that? Is that not just another way of fixating on what you think you should be, or on a single task, to the exclusion of what is there?

Hopper’s decided to move on to an object lesson: if you want to keep up, you’ll have to figure out how to run. No more holding back.

I want Hopper and the Wise Ones to meet, sometime. I just think that would be entertaining on all sides.

And so Perrin runs. Finally.

The forest was his. It belonged to him, and he understood it.

His worries began to melt away. He allowed himself to accept things as they were, not as he feared they might become.

Now, the next step: do the same for yourself. Accept yourself as you are, not as you fear you might become. You’re so close, Perrin.

It was exhilarating. Had he ever felt so alive? So much a part of the world around him, yet master of it at the same time?

There’s a surrender/control kind of feeling to this, as well. So much of this is so very, very close to what Perrin needs to learn – or rather, learn to apply to himself. This idea of being part of yet master of at the same time. Master of my fate, captain of my soul, that whole deal. That he can accept and be the wolf, but not be lost in it, just as he is not lost in this world around him that he allows himself to be part of, yet still retains himself and his control.

Whoops caught a whiff of a stag so no more time for existential crisis because that means DINNER.

The stag, I mean. Not the existential crisis. I don’t think they make edible versions of those.

He was the herald, the point, the tip of the attack. The hunt roared behind him. It was as if he led the crashing waves of the ocean itself. But he was also holding them back.

I cannot make them slow for me, Perrin thought.

And then he was on all fours, his bow tossed aside and forgotten, his hands and legs becoming paws. Those behind him howled anew at the glory of it. Young Bull had truly joined them.

ROUND. OF. APPLAUSE.

But actually the main reason I quoted this is because it strikes me that Perrin is, perhaps more so than any of the other major characters, a very Sanderson-esque character in some ways. I’ve compared him to Kaladin before, but even without trying to draw a like-for-like relationship to one of Sanderson’s characters, his character concept feels very much along the lines of what Sanderson would write.

Anyway, I thought of that here because this reads a little like – again not like-for-like but just in the same vein of – some of the other discovery-of-magic or acceptance-of-power or learning-the-scope-of-one’s-abilities scenes Sanderson has written.

I don’t mean it as either criticism or praise; it’s just something that struck me here.

The stag has twenty-six points on its antlers, so that’s not the missing twenty-three from last chapter either.

And we’ve shifted to Young Bull in the narrative now, so Perrin’s actually going along with this wolves-do-guided-meditation class for once.

He needed to be ahead, not follow.

Definitely not a thought applicable outside of this hunt, nope, not at all, nothing to see here, nothing more abstract about needing to act rather than react, or claim the wolf thing and all the aspects of himself he hides from rather than let them drag him along or anything like that.

The stag bolted to the right, and Young Bull leaped, hitting an upright tree trunk with all four paws and pushing himself sideways to change directions.

I am quoting this solely because WOLF PARKOUR.

Sorry.

He howled, and his brothers and sisters replied from just behind. This hunt was all of them. As one.

But Young Bull led.

Leader of men, leader of wolves, LET’S DO THIS.

It’s interesting as well because for all that it’s a hunt, there’s a rather meditative quality to this scene – the simplicity of it once he fins his place, allows himself to be a part of this world around him, acting almost on instinct and leading a perfect chase, not thinking or faltering or hesitating, every movement fluid and precise and beautiful – that actually reminds me of that scene way back in TDR when he worked at the forge in Tear.

Just these few simple moments of Perrin being… himself. A kind of beautiful economy of motion and a meditative sort of rhythm and the absence of doubt or uncertainty.

Which is perfect, of course, because that first scene is for Perrin as he was, for the part of himself he knew and knows and now fears to lose, the part of him that he linked so closely to his identity. It was a reminder of who he was, at a time when he needed it – this whole story just beginning and Perrin away from his home and out of his depth and not sure who he was or what he was becoming. It was a grounding in his foundations.

And now, nearly at the end, we get something with a kind of similar feel to it, but this time it’s the wolf, the part of himself he has yet to accept. There’s almost a bookending here of past and future. One scene to ground him, and one to carry him forward. Once for acknowledgement and once for realisation. Name him true and set his path, I suppose, if I really want to shoehorn another character’s quotes in here.

Anyway.

Perrin – or rather Young Bull – brings down the stag and is looking forward to that sweet sweet venison.

There was nothing else. The forest was gone. The howls faded. There was only the kill. The sweet kill.

A form crashed into him, throwing him back into the brush. Young Bull shook his head, dazed, snarling. Another wolf had stopped him. Hopper! Why?

The stag bounded to its feet, and then bounded off through the forest again. Young Bull howled in fury and rage, preparing to run after it. Again Hopper leaped, throwing his weight at Young bull.

If it dies here, it dies the last death, Hopper sent. This hunt is done, Young Bull. We will hunt another time.

Oh.

Why, Perrin wonders here. And I think the answer here is, because this is how we do not lose ourselves. The hunt is about the joy of it, but it’s not just mindless violence. That’s Perrin’s fear, and Hopper here is teaching him… nuance, I suppose. Control. Restraint.

Because there is a difference between the hunt, between being a wolf, and just succumbing to bloodlust and violence. And I think part of Perrin’s fear comes from conflating the two in his mind, but they’re not the same thing. But without letting himself ever know or be the wolf, without understanding that side of himself, it’s hard to distinguish. And so we come to this, where he sees the wolves acting with this restraint that still does not tarnish their joy, and can perhaps understand it himself and see that ‘joining the wolves in the hunt’ does not mean ‘losing all humanity and becoming a mindless killer’.

“That,” Perrin finally said, “is what I fear.”

No, you do not fear it, Hopper sent.

Thank you, Hopper, for being absurdly wise and also for your patience.

But this is the crux of it all, isn’t it? That Perrin fears – or does not quite fear – what lies at the end of this hunt for him. And hasn’t yet learned to… I suppose trust himself? Or understand that it’s not an all-or-nothing black-or-white kind of thing. To hold on or to let go. But it’s about, as so much of this story is, a more nuanced kind of balance, and an acceptance.

And self-awareness. That too.

Worry, worry, worry. It is all that you do.

“No. I also kill. If you’re going to teach me to master the wolf dream, it’s going to happen like this?”

Yes.

You do kill, Perrin, but it’s not all you do. And I think part of this hunt was also about learning that there’s nuance even in that, maybe. That he can kill and not be monstrous.

But he had been avoiding this issue for too long, making horseshoes in the forge while leaving the most difficult and demanding pieces alone, untouched.

YES! THANK YOU PERRIN AYBARA! YOU’RE GETTING IT.

Man I love when characters finally stop fighting themselves. (I’m me, so I have a slight preference for when that surrender actually takes a much darker ‘so be it’ kind of form but listen, the heroic side is also lovely and this has been such a long time coming).

I also do really like that Perrin comes to these realisations himself. Yes, it’s taken him a long time and yes, Hopper has been pushing him and pushing him to try to get him here (along with Tam, and various others), but ultimately it has to come from him. From an understanding of himself, and an acceptance of that.

Much like Rand’s own realisation, though so many others played into it and guided him along the way or pushed him towards the edge, anchored him or tried to cut him loose, ultimately came down to him, on a mountain, thinking.

Or how Nynaeve breaking her block happened alone at the bottom of a river, in a moment where at last she understood surrender.

These books do self-realisation well, is what I’m getting at. Giving characters those chances to see themselves, and to reach these understandings, and then letting those moments – those quiet, unwitnessed, outwardly unremarkable moments – carry such weight.

He relied on the powers of scent he’d been given, reaching out to wolves when he needed them—but otherwise he’d ignored them.

YES! THIS IS! SO GOOD!

(Like Rand with Lews Therin’s memories, and knowledge of the Power).

But he gets it now. You can’t use this if you’re also trying to fight it. You have to accept it, even when that’s terrifying, even when that means confronting parts of yourself you’d rather pretend weren’t there. Because the reward, ultimately, is that you’ll actually be able to wield them, rather than being at their mercy by virtue of being constantly at war with yourself.

You couldn’t make a thing until you understood its parts. He wouldn’t know how to deal with—or reject—the wolf inside him until he understood the wolf dream.

YES THAT’S EXACTLY IT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS.

“Very well,” Perrin said. “So be it.”

HERE. WE. GO.

And now over to Galad. Fine. If we must.

Those Light-cursed swamps were behind them; now they travelled over open grasslands.

Because they’ve figured out their leadership situation and murdered the corruption from their ranks, get it?! So they’re not mired in the swamp of their own indecision and division now! They’re united and can move forwards in a cleaner direction!

If there was no danger of death, there could be no bravery, but Galad would rather have the Light shine on him while he continued to draw breath.

I mean, fair enough, and same, but that’s almost a surprising thing for Galad to think. Not that I think he’s the type to want martyrdom, but…hm. I don’t know. Maybe it’s the whole bravery thing here, but it just feels a little odd for Galad. Then again I will be the first to admit that there’s a lot about Galad that just Does Not Compute for me, so…sure. Lawful Good Paladin and all that.

He wanted to know what kind of traffic the highway was drawing

Refugees with a chance of wolves, most likely.

He remembered well the words that Gareth Bryne had once said: Most of the time, a general’s most important function was not to make decisions, but to remind men that someone would make decisions.

I just find it weirdly endearing that all three of Galad, Gawyn, and Elayne end up relying on Bryne’s wisdom from time to time, quoting him in their thoughts. Of course, it just as likely leads them in entirely opposite directions because this family is a bit of a mess, but still.

“The letter must be sent,” Galad said.

Okay but if we’re on the topic of shared family traits, evidence suggests letter-writing is not exactly a strong suit. You sure about this, Galad?

Ah, it’s a letter to the Children with the Seanchan giving them the bullet-points version of everything that’s happened. Well, far be it from me to criticise open and honest communication in this series, I suppose.

And he still plans to ally with Aes Sedai, which understandably is going over as well as a pile of Blight-mud with some of his men.

“But the witches are evil!”

Says a member of an organisation perfectly willing to overlook the torture of innocent people in order to wring confessions from ‘Darkfriends’, but…sure. Just, you know, glass houses and all that.

Once, he might have denied that. But listening to the other Children, and considering what those at Tar Valon had done to his sister, was making him think he might be too soft on the Aes Sedai.

Listening to other Children and thinking about his sister but consider this, Galad, have you ever thought of listening to her, maybe? Or, like, actually trusting her judgement when you do? Just a passing thought.

Seriously, what is it with Elayne’s brothers and continually underestimating her, her ability to look after herself, and also her reading of her own damn situation?

“However, Lord Harnesh, if they are evil, they are insignificant when compared to the Dark One.”

Well… alright, sure, at this stage I guess if that’s how you have to look at it to make this work, then fine. We don’t have time to solve everyone’s problems with everyone else before they all need to at least act as allies, so if uneasy ‘enemy of my enemy’ trust is what it takes…

Then, as Bashere said, there’s always another battle. Or as Rand said, they can all go back to killing one another once it’s done. A sad way to look at it, but for all that Rand has come a long way and is no longer looking at this in quite the same way, I think some of those things are still true. The great battle done, but the world not done with battle.

Tarmon Gai’don’s alliances won’t solve all of that, even led by a Dragon Reborn who truly has a purpose now. It may be enough to see them through, but after…?

The Wheel of Time turns.

“We need allies. Look around you, Lord Harnesh. How many Children do we have? Even with recent recruits, we are under twenty thousand. Our fortress has been taken. We are without succour or allegiance, and the great nations of the world revile us.”

Wow, I WONDER WHY.

I mean, good on Galad for taking on the task of redeeming the Whitecloaks but… it sure is going to be a Task.

“The Questioners are at fault,” Harnesh muttered.

“Part of the blame is theirs,” Galad agreed. “But it is also because those who would do evil look with disgust and resentment upon those who stand for what is right.”

Uh.

Sorry, Galad, but you’re leaving out a very large slice of the blame pie, which is: maybe the Questioners were the worst of the lot (or at the very least they make a convenient set of scapegoats), but the rest of you didn’t exactly object, or do anything about it. And plenty of you went right along (Two Rivers, anyone?) – or, sorry, were you Just Following Orders?

I mean morality is a grey area and all that but trying to pass off widespread hatred of your borderline-fanatic organisation with an unfortunate habit of killing innocent people as ‘evil people hate the righteous’ is maybe a bit of a stretch.

“In the past, the boldness – and perhaps overeagerness – of the Children has alienated those who should have been our allies.”

Euphemistic but…not wrong, I suppose. And to be fair to him (if I must), he does have a rather difficult line to walk, as the leader of this organisation. He maybe can’t just denounce them completely, but he also has to get through to them that some thing are going to have to change. And that this isn’t going to be an easy path ahead.

He's trying to enforce what they should be fighting for, underlining their stated principles and trying to get them to shift direction and also preparing them for what they’re going to face, without… undermining their foundations, or challenging them in a way that might break them.

And I suppose he actually believes some of this as well. Which is still just… sure, Galad. Okay.

I do love that he’s quoting Morgase to them. So much of her legacy has been tarnished that it’s nice to see these moments of… recognition, I guess.

“We follow no queen or king.”

“Yes,” Galad said, “and that frightens monarchs. I grew up in the court of Andor. I know how my mother regarded the Children.”

And yet! Look where you ended up! Quoting Morgase’s own thoughts on leadership to the Children, whom she hated.

See, the problem with Galad in this chapter is that he’s neither being a deadly-graceful swordsman nor defiantly enduring torture, which means we’re back to plain old annoyance with him on my part.

“Darkfriends,” Harnesh muttered.

“My mother was no Darkfriend,” Galad said quietly.

Yeah, Harnesh? If you value your life, do not insult Morgase Trakand in front of Galad. He can and will end you.

“You speak like a Questioner,” Galad said. “Suspecting everyone who opposes us of being a Darkfriend. Many of them are influenced by the Shadow, but I doubt that it is conscious.”

Oh, not just them, Galad. As Egwene said, “I think we all are serving the interests of the Shadow, so long as we allow ourselves to remain divided.” Or, for another and more recent example: “I think he almost had me, Egwene.”

But Galad does know his audience here. The Questioners do provide a convenient scapegoat, and a way to sort of… point out all the problems with the Whitecloaks, but slantwise. Deflected just slightly so that they do not sound like accusations, but rather like a very pointed ‘we are better than them, right?’ A kind of oblique warning, and a reminder of all that they must no longer allow themselves to be. A way of criticising indirectly, and allowing them to maintain their pride and convictions and certainty.

Which is also interesting in contrast to Egwene’s approach with the Aes Sedai, of being incredibly direct in her criticism of both the rebels and the Tower Aes Sedai. It’s interesting, because both approaches work. Because these are two very different organisations and situations, despite their occasional parallels.

“We cannot become lapdogs to kings and queens. And yet, think of what we could achieve inside of a nation’s boundaries if we could act without needing an entire legion to intimidate that nation’s ruler.”

Whitecloaks: ‘we’re a paramilitary organisation answerable to no monarch or nation!’

Galad, son of a literal royal house: ‘sounds good’

Then again, I suppose you could say much the same of the Dragonsworn and the Band of the Red Hand (leaving aside the fact that Rand rules or has ruled at least four nations in fact if not always in name), and in terms of facing Tarmon Gai’don as unified forces of the Light, that’s fair enough. But that’s the sort of thing that tends to cause, er, problems domestically.

A group of travellers on the road! I wonder who this could possibly be!

Galad sighed. Nobody could deny Byar’s dedication – he’d ridden with Galad to face Valda when it could have meant the end of his career. And yet there was such a thing as being too zealous.

Let it not be said that Galad doesn’t have his work cut out for him. That much is for sure.

Though Galad calling anyone else too zealous is, of course, mildly entertaining.

“Peace,” Galad said, “you did no wrong, Child Byar.”

Depends on the timeframe…

There was talk of a gigantic stone from the sky having struck the earth far to the north in Andor, destroying an entire city and leaving a crater.

…Shadar Logoth? Not quite a meteorite, no, but I can see how someone might arrive at that explanation. Especially if all the forces at play there were enough to leave traces of stishovite or coesite.

The talk among the men revealed their worries. They should have understood that worry served no useful function. None could know the weaving of the Wheel.

In which Galad Damodred discovers the cure for anxiety. Seriously, Galad, that’s all well and good for you, and I personally see where you’re coming from, but not everyone is going to just logic away their fear; it doesn’t always work like that.

Yeah this sounds like Perrin’s group. Well this should be fun.

Wait a second.

Morgase is with Perrin.

Oh man.

The man in the cart gave a start upon seeing Galad. Ah, Galad thought, so he knows enough to recognise Morgase’s stepson.

The man in the cart is Basel Gill and definitely knows enough to recognise Morgase’s stepson given that he’s currently travelling with Morgase, yes.

Basel Gill also really, really needs to work on his poker face. Though I don’t think even Mat’s ability to tell a lie would get Perrin’s entire caravan past Galad without arousing some kind of suspicion.

So Galad’s giving him the airport security treatment, Gill is trying his best to lie like a rug, and there’s only one way this is going to end.

“Anything else I will sell, but the food I have promised by messenger to someone in Lugard.”

“I will pay more.”

“I made a promise, my good Lord,” the man said. “ could not break it, regardless of the price.”

“I see.”

I have to laugh here because yes, Gill is lying through is teeth and Galad knows it, but he’s also chosen the one lie that Galadedrid ‘do the right thing no matter the cost’ Damodred can’t actually directly challenge.

So instead he’s just going to separate the group and see if they all tell the same story.

“After all, what it seems like to me is that you are the camp followers of a large army. If that is the case, then I would very much like to know whose army it is, not to mention where it is.”

WOULDN’T YOU JUST.

It occurs to me that Perrin is the only one of the ta’veren boys – and, actually, the only one of the original Emond’s Field crew – who Galad hasn’t met.

And while it might be kind of funny if it were Mat’s army and he and Galad had a ‘….you?’ moment, given their last meeting, it’s all kinds of appropriate in terms of actual story and characters that Galad, new leader of the possibly-soon-to-be-reformed Whitecloaks, is the one meeting up with Perrin ‘Whitecloaks were my first kill’ Aybara.

Because Perrin is the one with the most… messy history with the Whitecloaks, and so it is fitting that if there really is to be a shift, and if they really are to move forwards, it would be by turning that, somehow, into alliance.

“We may have a situation here,” Bornhald said. His face was flushed with anger.

Uh oh.

Speaking of Perrin’s history with the Whitecloaks. Bornhald (mistakenly) thinks Perrin killed his father, Perrin (somewhat less mistakenly) thinks Bornhald let his home be ravaged by Trollocs and betrayed him when he had promised to help… you know, just a few disagreements between friends.

“Have you ever heard of a man called Perrin Goldeneyes?”

“No. Should I have?”

“Yes,” Bornhald said. “He killed my father.”

Prepare to die.

Well THIS should be fun!

Next (ToM ch 5) Previous (ToM ch 3)

#FINALLY #wheel of time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 3 years

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From the drafts...

Rewatching Trilogy of Terror I was struck by how little I’ve changed.

Preschool me: Awww, I love that little fetish doll. It’s so cute! I want one!

Middle Aged me: Awww, that little fetish doll is so cute I can’t stop giggling when it’s on screen. Now where so I pack I away my replica...

Once upon a time my mother thought I was way too young to watch anything with horror in the title, even if I had fallen for the knife wielding doll from a magazine artical my parents had. Pop wasn’t so worried, but let Mom try to keep me in the bedroom while he watched. Every time she looked away I went running down the hall to watch with Pop. She’d come to fetch me, so I’d miss chunks. I was incredibly annoyed by this.

Mom was always convinced movies and tv shows would scare me. Planet of the Apes on tv? She’s say no, Pop would say sure, she’d reluctantly give in, and I’d become a life long PotA fan. Pop would, to Mom’s amazement, read to me at bedtime from a book called Haunted New England, full of moody photos and “true” stories. None of it bothered me at all.

Yes, I was prone to nightmares, but they were real world things about school, doctors, possiblefamily deaths, and the sense I would never find my “home”.**

The only time I ever remember being upset by a scary work of fiction was when I was about 6 or 7 and some tv show about Alfred Hitchcock showed clips from Psycho edited together, including most the shower scene. Now that freaked me out. Worse, because the editing showed Norman using a peephole before the murder I got confused and thought the killer cut through the wall. For a couple years I wouldn’t take a bath without the bathroom door open so I could run away if a knife stuck through the wall. Considering the neighbors let their dogs run free (everybody around here did...I never saw a dog on a leash as a kid) there were plenty of mysterious thunks outside the wall to freak me out.

I never had a nightmare about psycho either.

The morning after Trilogy of Terror Pop told me the whole story of the doll, acting it out with real energy. His acting of the final shot was so chilling I used to ask him to do it again for me. When I finally saw the show as a teen I admit I was surprised how much scarier Pop made it seem.

Honestly, the little doll is adorable in the way the Gremlins are or the Martians in Mars Attacks are. Just looking at him and his gosh darn homicidal enthusiasm, while absurdly smaller than his prey, seems.....cute.

And now all those faces with scarp teeth or fangs that I sculpt makes sense!

Or does it? I mean, tiny me was drawn little Mr. Toothy from a simple photo, with no clue of the story. So maybe I was always weird!

**I dunno. I have a life long “I want to go home!” thing. I’d wake up inconsolable because this place wasn’t really home. I may have inherited that from my father. In moments of great distress he’d say “I want to go home”, but considering he moved to this hick town where he was bullied when he was 13 or so it made actual sense.

#television #trilogy of terror #movies #childhood

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

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Zimbits bingo post #2

A/N: This takes place immediately after the first part of the first installment (before the time jump). Read the first installment here.

Mutual pining

“Nice guy, huh?”

Jack was watching Bitty walk down the sidewalk, carrying his empty plastic container.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah, he was.”

“You could invite him over again,” Shitty said. “He’d probably bring more eggs if you asked.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said, closing the door softly. “Seems like he bakes a lot.”

“That is his job,” Shitty said.

“And he doesn’t like dogs,” Jack said.

“He never said that,” Shitty said.

“He was afraid of Puck,” Jack said.

“Not really,” Shitty said. “Not by the time he left.”

It was true, sort of. Eric didn’t look like he’d be offering to play a rousing game of tug with her anytime soon, but he had scratched behind her ears and said goodbye to her as well as to Jack and Shitty.

“You’re welcome to visit with Jack,” he told the 55-pound bundle of affection and energy. “But please don’t scare my chickens anymore.”

“Here’s what you do,” Shitty said. “You walk Puck around to the other side of the block. You happen to see Eric out in the yard. You say hello and show off your girl’s impeccable leash manners. And you say, why don’t you stop over for coffee? Or dinner? To make up for the trouble Puck caused.”

“First, Puck doesn’t have impeccable leash manners,” Jack said.

“Don’t say that,” Shitty said, attempting to cover Puck’s ears. “Don’t be so negative.”

“And he only came over here to complain about Puck getting into his yard,” Jack continued. “It’s not like he has any reason to like me.”

“But, brah, that pie,” Shitty said. “You’ve got to get to know him better.”

“Shits, if I get to know him better, it won’t be for his pie,” Jack said. “Wait, that doesn’t mean something dirty, does it?”

“I know you mean his actual pie,” Shitty said. “And it is great pie. But if not that, what about his big brown eyes? The ones that were looking at you the whole time he was here?”

Jack shook his head.

“He’s a nice guy,” he said. “He doesn’t want my dog in his yard. That’s all there is to it.”

“He’s cute as a button,” Shitty said. “And he likes you. He didn’t have to come in and make omelets and stay for an hour. He likes you. Don’t sell yourself short. The question is, do you like him?”

Jack didn’t answer.

The fact was, Shitty was right. Eric was attractive, no doubt. “Cute” wasn’t really adequate to describe him. And he was kind and polite, and Jack liked the way his voice sounded. Jack liked what little he knew about him. He could like Eric. He could like Eric very much.

++++++++++++

“Hi, Mama,” Bitty said. “How are the church ladies?”

Suzanne Bittle hadn’t been thrilled when Bitty told her he was going to stay in New England after college, but she understood that job prospects in the media world were better for him there, and, once he came out to her, that it was easier for him to live an authentic life well away from Madison. It helped that he came to visit at least twice a year, and kept up with all the family and neighborhood gossip by calling a couple of times a week. Including after the Wednesday night ladies’ Bible study, where there was usually more gossip than Gospel going on.

“Oh, you know,” Suzanne said. “Donna’s daughter is pregnant again, and she’s hoping for a granddaughter. Oh, and you remember Lisa Smith? She’s pregnant, too, even though the wedding’s not for another two months.”

“The wedding?” Bitty said. “Is she sure the baby is Micah’s?”

“Hush you,” Suzanne said. “How was your day?”

“All right, I guess,” Bitty said. “I met one of my neighbors.”

“Yes? Someone who’s home during the day like you?”

“Sometimes,” Bitty said. “Would you believe he’s a professional hockey player?”

“Really? Did you meet him at the rink?”

“Mama, I don’t think he has any reason to be at a rinky-dink community rink like where I skate,” Bitty said. “He gets all the ice time he needs at the team facility. He’s actually still in playoffs. They just won a series against Carolina last night, so he has a few days off.”

“So how did you come to meet him?”

“Well, I rang his front doorbell with a pie and some eggs,” Bitty said.

“What? Just out of the blue?”

“I didn’t know who it was,” Bitty said. “I went over because his dog keeps getting in my yard and pacing back and forth outside the chicken coop. She’s a big pit bull — I don’t want her to push her way in. It would be a massacre.”

“Oh, my,” Suzanne said. “Weren’t you a little nervous about confronting someone with a dog like that?”

“Actually, yes,” Bitty said. “That’s why I brought the pie and the eggs. And he did seem a little annoyed at having a stranger on his porch at first, but once I explained the situation, he apologized. Said he’d fix the fence, and that he had a friend — would you believe Jack has a friend whose nickname I can’t repeat to you?— who was supposed to be watching the dog.”

“Jack is his name?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bitty said. “Jack Zimmermann.”

“There used to be a hockey player, years ago, Bob — Bad Bob Zimmermann, they called him,” Suzanne said. “He was … very handsome. Your Aunt Judy had a poster. I wonder if he’s any relation? Let me look him up —”

“Mama, please don’t,” Bitty said.

“Why ever not? He’s a professional athlete, I’m sure I can find out who his father is.”

“I’m sure you can,” Bitty said. “But — I don’t know, it feels like an invasion of privacy? Like, we hardly talked about hockey at all when I went inside. I wouldn’t have known what he did for a living at all if Sh— his friend didn’t say something about all the protein he needs to eat when I was making the omelets.”

“Omelets?”

“He said he didn’t really eat pie, and it seemed rude to just leave the eggs,” Bitty said. “So I made us a little supper. The three of us, Mama, so don’t go getting ideas.”

“But is he good looking?”

Bitty sighed. Mama would probably at least look up a picture as soon as they hung up.

“Yes, Mama, he is,” Bitty said. “He’s also a professional hockey player and is almost certainly very, very straight. Or so deep in the closet it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“It’s just you haven’t talked so much about anyone since —”

Since Andrew, who had been wonderful until he wasn’t.

“Mama, just because I haven’t dated for a while —”

“I was going to say since you moved to that new house and started working mostly from home,” his mother said. “I know you can do your editing at home just as easily, and you like to test the recipes in your home kitchen, and it gives you more time for your videos, but don’t you miss seeing people every day?”

“Not enough to spend two hours in traffic five days a week,” Bitty said. “I’ll make friends here. Until then, I’ve got my chickens and the kids I teach at the rink.”

“And now a nice neighbor,” Suzanne said. “Who happens to also be nice-looking.”

“I guess so,” Bitty said. “But just because he wasn’t nasty about his dog doesn’t mean he wants any more to do with me.”

Even if Bitty really hoped he did.

Read on AO3

Read Part 3

Tagging: @zimbitsbingo

#zimbits #zimbits bingo #my fic

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morganamysticblog · 4 years

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The Royal Romance - Book 2 - Fanfic

This is from The Royal Romance – Book 2 – after Drake and MC confront Bastien…

MC – alone in her room on the train – So that was fun. NOT!! Drake’s statement that this conspiracy and set up goes all the way to the top is right. But it’s not Queen Regina like he thinks. This goes all the way to King Constantine. And the worst part of it, now that I’m really thinking about all of it, I’m pretty sure Liam knew the whole time.

(MC pulls out her laptop and opens it up.) I wonder if I my hacking skills from college can get into Cordonian palace security. (After a few minutes…) Wow, that was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Cordonia royal security is crap. I have full access to everything. Security cameras, past recordings, everything. At least they have good cameras in pretty much every possible location except bedrooms.

Now…how far back should I go? Liam started acting weird right after the Royal Regatta. Let’s start there.

MC accesses the security logs and finds one in a small dining room with King Constantine, Liam and Bastien. The video and audio are great. All color, full sound.

Constantine – Liam, I see you’re getting rather close to that commoner girl, Heather.

Liam – Yes father. I believe she is the one.

Constantine – You’re blinded by your heart son. Keep your eyes open to your responsibilities. Have fun with the girl for a while, do what you will with her, but she will not be Queen. Madeleine has been born for this, trained since birth. She will be your choice at your Coronation.

Liam – But I have no feelings for Madeleine father.

Constantine – Feelings have nothing to do with this, Liam. This is for the stability of Cordonia. You will make the correct decision when the time comes, or I will make it for you.

Liam – (hanging his head, frowning) Yes father.(Liam leaves the room leaving Constantine and Bastien alone.)

Constantine – Bastien, watch him closely. We need a plan to rid ourselves of that girl when the time comes, if she doesn’t leave of her own volition.

Bastien – Yes sir.

Constantine – I will think on this and let you know when we need to initiate a plan.

Bastien – Of course sir.(MC stops the video.)

So he did know. He knew this whole time. Drake was right, the royals just mess with people. This all makes so much sense now. He’s been trying to distract me, keep me off balance. Especially now on this engagement tour. “I want to talk about our future…come with me to this super romantic cave.” The trip to the Eiffel Tower. And even tonight at the speakeasy, wanting to take me on a midnight tour of Paris. He said he would use his resources to help me find out who set me up. Yeah right. He’s using his resources to mess with me and keep me away from the truth.

I can’t stay here anymore. I am done with being someone’s plaything. I need to let the others know I am leaving. (Picking up Jackson’s leash) Come on baby, I know it’s late, but we’re going for a walk. (MC packs up her personal things and leaves the train.)

(Down the street MC finds a decently lit park and sits down.)I can record messages to everybody and then send them all at once after I’m on my way to the airport or wherever.

MESSAGE TO HANA –Hana, you are such an amazing friend. I want to thank you so much for always being there for me since the day we met. I hope you realize how wonderful you are and how strong you really are. Never give up on your dreams. I wish I could stay and help you find your path, but things have gotten to be a little too much for me. Please keep in touch. You can call, text, video chat, whatever, any time. Take care of yourself Hana. Good bye.

MESSAGE TO MAXWELL –Maxwell, my little brother. I will never be able to thank you enough for taking me in and making me a part of your family. It’s been quite a while since I had that. I could always count on you to make me smile, no matter how bad I felt. I wish I could give you one last big hug, but I really need to be out on my own now. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me with trying to clear my name. But, I’m done investigating. I just want to move on with my life. Take care of yourself, Bertrand and little Bartie. I hope you realize you’re the glue that holds the Beaumonts together. I will miss you so much. Keep in touch. Good bye.

MESSAGE TO LIAM –Liam. I don’t know where to even begin. You are one of the sweetest, most romantic men I have ever met. I truly thought we had a connection, even though it felt like I was a contestant on The Bachelor – Royal Edition. But, based on what I know now, I don’t know if any of it was real. If you did actually care for me, or if it was all part of the game. I know what happened, Liam. I know who set me up. And I know you knew about it. All of the offers for romantic getaways, all of the sweet things you would say when we were at different functions, the way you looked at me. It was all to distract me from finding out the truth. That may not have been the only reason, but it was a big part of it. You offered to help me find out the truth, but instead you kept keeping me away from it, lying to me. I feel like such an idiot allowing myself to be played like that. I actually trusted you and believed you. Let your father know he won. This “commoner” won’t be around to distract you any longer. Even after everything, I wish you the best. Take care of yourself and I wish you a long and happy marriage to Madeleine. Good bye Liam.

MESSAGE TO DRAKE –Drake – I hate having to say good bye to you like this, but I can’t stay here anymore. Not after tonight. Well, the part before the bar with you. That part was amazing. You have been so wonderful this whole time. I told you before that you were the one I want to be with. I meant it. You see yourself as always being in Liam’s shadow. I see him being in yours. You have been there for me every time I needed you. You saved me from the horse at the Derby. You helped me on the boat at the Regatta. This is when I started getting feelings for you, by the way. Getting to spend your birthday with you. And then the night with Tarek. That night I knew you were the one for me. I would love to be able to stay here with you, and only you, but I think it’s better if I leave, go back to the States somewhere, I don’t know. You were right, Drake. The royals love playing with people’s lives. And I was their latest target. So, I’m taking myself out of the game. Constantine is the one who set me up. And Drake, I know Liam is your best friend, that you trust him, that you have been to hell and back several times with him, but he knew, Drake. He knew the whole time. I thought he was offering to take me on those romantic excursions because of his feelings for me…which I pretty much blew off all of them to spend time with you by the way. But now I realize he was doing it to distract me. Get my mind off the investigation, take blame away from him. I’m sorry, Drake. I didn’t want to tell you like this. I hope you know this epiphany has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I hope you know how much I care about you, how much I…how much I…how much I love you, Drake. Bye.

MESSAGE TO OLIVIA –Hey Olivia. Well, I know how much you hate when I text or call you, but you’re just going to have to deal with it this time. I’m leaving. The information you need to finish the investigation we’ve been on…it’s Constantine. He’s the one that set us both up. He wanted to make sure that Liam chose Madeleine. He used Bastien to set me up, and he had the information on your parents ready to release against you. He would have been the only one who knew the truth that they were trying to assassinate him. In a way, after all this, I see why he has so many enemies. I think your parents were right to try to stop him from his major power trip. Use this information however you wish. I can search through the security videos again if you want true confirmation, but you’re smart enough to know it’s the truth. Take care of yourself Olivia. I know you don’t like letting people in, but I do consider you a friend. Keep in touch if you want. Good bye.

Well, that’s done. It’s 6:30. Everyone will be waking up soon. Might as well hit “send all”. (MC pushes the SEND button on the phone.)Now to find a cab so we can get to the airport Jackson.-

Inside the train – phones begin to beep.

Maxwell – hmmm, it’s little early for my alarm. Huh? Voice message. (He listens to the message.) Woah. I’m her little brother!! Awww. Wait…she left? (Maxwell comes out into the common area of the train.

Hana – Heather’s gone? What happened last night? (Hana comes out of her cabin and finds Maxwell.) Maxwell…what happened? Heather’s gone.

Maxwell – I know. I got a message from her. I know she and Drake talked to Bastien, and then they disappeared for a while. I haven’t talked to either one of them since.

Liam – sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulls his phone out and sees the message alert. He pushes the play button and hears Heather’s sweet voice. But the words she says to him are not so sweet. She knows. She knows all of it. Well, not all of it. He wasn’t trying to distract her, only spend time with her. He still loved her, even after everything that had happened. He hated having to keep the truth from her. It took all his willpower not to tell her. Maybe he should have told her. He would have lost her anyway, but at least it would have proven how much he cared for her. She hated him now. He should have seen it. She had been avoiding him lately. He sets the phone down and puts his hands over his face. Tears stream down. He just lost the one bright spot in his life. And there was nothing he could do about it. No apology could ever fix this. Slowly he regains his composure and walks out of his cabin. He finds Maxwell and Hana talking. Apparently Heather left them goodbye messages as well.

Maxwell – Liam, there you are. Heather’s gone. She left me and Hana messages saying how great we are and then just goodbye.

Liam – She left me a message as well. I…I need to get ready for today.But just as Liam is getting ready to head to the boutique car to change, Drake comes out of his cabin. Anger all over his face. Before Liam can say a word, Drake punches him in the face.

Drake – You son of a bitch. You know this whole time. You covered for your father, you lied to her. You lied to all of us. I hope your satisfied. Watching us all run around like little rats in a maze. I thought you were actually real. You’re an even better actor than your father. You’re going to be a wonderful king. And just so you know…the nights you kept inviting Heather to come spend time with you…the reason she never showed…she was with me.

Drake walks away as Liam stands with his jaw on the ground, rubbing his sore face. Hana and Maxwell, just stare, speechless.Drake leaves the train and starts walking down the street.

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hockeytrashgoblin · 4 years

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Just One Date? ~ Part 2

A/N: hi loves! Here’s part 2! not much to say about it. It’s really dialogue heavy compared to the last one. Not nearly as long as the last one but I guess it’s kinda close. lol oops enjoy!

“Hi gorgeous.” the low voice said walking past me quickly. I turned to look up and saw him wink at me as he left the room following my boss. I was doing some editing stuff while Tuch was in the studio doing an interview. Most likely one that I would be editing the next day. I tried my best to focus on my work but it was really distracting knowing that he was just one room away and that in less than an hour I would be leaving with him to go on date number two. It had been about a week since the first one and I was once again nervous. Not that surprising to anyone really. We had been talking pretty much non-stop though since the date which was really nice but I couldn’t help but still feel a little bit nervous to see him like that again. I’d seen him since but it wasn’t as big of a deal as another date was.

Again he decided not to tell me where he was taking me on this date which was annoying but kind of fun too. All he told me was to dress comfy in pants and not too loose clothes with boots. Some weird instructions let me tell you what but I did as I was told and just wore it to work. He didn’t want to wait for me to go home and get changed because it would be ‘burning daylight’ so we were just going to leave from here. I was completely wrapped in my thoughts when my boss and Alex came back into the room breaking me from them.

“Alright (y/n), I’m out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Lindsay have a good one. I’ll make sure to lock everything up before I go.”

“Okay cool. Alex are you ready to go?”

“Actually I’m giving (y/n) a ride home so I’m just going to wait for her if that’s alright?”

“Yeah of course. I’ll see you guys later.” she sounded kind of bitter about it and I scoffed when she left.

“What was that?” he asked laughing.

“My boss has a thing for you.” I said turning to him half laughing too.

“Oh really? Maybe I can get her number.” he said with a playful look in his eye. I rolled mine and spun my chair to face away from him again.

“Rude ass.”

“Beautiful, no. I was just kidding.” he said coming up behind me and hugging around my shoulders. “Your number is the only girl’s number I care to have. Besides my mom and sister of course.”

“Sure, sure Tuchy whatever you say.” I said with a sarcastic smile.

“Hey.” he pulled my chair around to face him again and we were definitely face to face. “That was a bad joke. I shouldn’t have said it and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I mean it gorgeous.” he leaned forward and gave me a chaste kiss. “Are you ready to go yet?”

“Just about. Just let me do this one last thing and then I’ll send it to Lindsay for feedback then we can get out of here.”

“Okay sounds good.”

“But you have to stop distracting me first.” I said kissing him again before spinning my chair back to the desk. I worked pretty quickly and got everything done. Alex slowed down the process by asking me a million questions about what I was doing and how to do it but eventually I finished and sent it to Lindsay for review.

“You’re so smart and talented. It’s so interesting watching you work.” he said as we left the building.

“Alex it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is.”

“Maybe sometime we could make a video and I could edit it together and teach you a bit of stuff.” I paused for a second thinking about what I had just said before continuing. “Okay I just realized it sounded like I was offering to make a sex tape with you and I just want to clarify that that is not at all what I was trying to suggest.”

“Do you need something for when I’m on the road?” he asked laughing at me.

“Noooo.”

“You could’ve just asked.”

“Noooo.” I said covering my face this time.

“Who knew quiet little (y/n) wanted to star in a sex tape with yours truly.”

“Alex shut up.” I groaned smacking his arm while still trying to hide my blushing face behind one hand.

“Didn’t want to have sex on a boat but wants to make a sex tape. Who knew you were like this? Little bit kinky don’t you think?” he asked with laughter still dancing in his eyes.

“You don’t even know yet.” I exclaimed before my face went even redder, my brain catching up to what I said. I slouched down in the seat of his car to try and disappear while Alex died of laughter. “Fuck off Tuch.”

“Babe, come on. How am I supposed to just leave that alone?” he asked still laughing.

“I’m sorry just please stop.” I begged. He looked at me and his face softened when he saw my face.

“I’m sorry for laughing and making jokes (y/n). I just wasn’t expecting you to say any of that. Didn’t think I’d ever get any kind of information like that, let alone find out that I don’t even know yet how kinky you are. I was just surprised. Forgive me?” he asked taking my hand and kissing the back of it while he continued driving.

“Yeah, yeah I forgive you.” I said rolling my eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised though. I’m a grown woman and I know what I like.”

“I think I just forget since you’re just a little baby.”

“Alex I’m literally only 2 years younger than you.”

“Yes. A baby.”

“This baby’s gonna fight you if you’re not careful.”

“Are we gonna film it?” he asked with a smirk winking at me. I groaned loudly.

“You’re the worst.” I yelled out into the car making him laugh.

“You love it.”

“Yeah well if someone could help me find out why that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Gotta get some scans done for sure.”

“See a brain specialist. ‘Dr. why do I subject myself to and enjoy the company of Alex Tuch?’”

“He’d probably say because I’m fantastic company to keep.” he said with a dopey smile.

“This doctor has not been in your company like I have then.”

“Ouch! You wound me.” he said grabbing his chest.

“Someone has to.” I said laughing. “Can’t let that ego get too big.”

“I did always need some help keeping that in check. Good thing I’ve got you to do it now huh?”

“I guess it is.” I said smiling softly at my hands. “Do I get to know what we’re doing today or what?”

“Or what.” he said smirking.

“Come on Alex please?” I begged, giving him my best puppy dog pout.

“Come on don’t give me that shit. (y/n) stop you’re so cute.”

“I will not.”

“Fine you little pain in the ass. I’m taking you horseback riding.”

“Yay! Wait really? We’re going to ride horses?” I asked getting excited and grabbing his arm which made him smile big too.

“Yes we’re going to ride horses. I thought it would be fun and I’ve heard you mention a few times that you like horses so..”

“I only mentioned that like once or twice, how did you remember that?”

“Oh uh it doesn’t matter really. I just remember a lot of things when it comes to you.” he said rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, his cheeks blushing a light shade of pink at the confession. I reached over and gave him a kiss on the cheek which had him blushing more.

“That’s so fucking cute.”

“Yeah well..”

“You’re so fucking cute. Look at that, I’ve got you blushing now.”

“You could stop any time.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Brat.” he said with a big grin.

“What are you gonna do about it Tuch?”

“You better watch it or you’ll find out.”

“Pfft no I won’t.”

“You’re not the only one who’s kinkier than originally expected (y/n).” he said in a low voice that had me swallowing whatever snappy remark I had waiting.

“Oh?”

“You’d probably be just as surprised as I will be.”

“Bold of you to assume we’ll get past this second date to find out.”

“Hey, we had that really good first date and if I remember correctly you’ve been blowing up my phone ever since so I’m pretty confident I’ll get a third one and maybe a fourth.” he said smirking.

“You’re so cocky. And I’d like to point up you blow up my phone just as much if not more than I do. I just have a lot of random things to say and no one to send them to.” I said looking at my hands.

“Hey no, don’t get all quiet on me.”

“I’ll stop if you want?”

“No (y/n) I don’t want you to stop. I was just joking around. I love hearing from you out of nowhere that someone is doing something weird on the bus or that you saw something cool to show me later. I think it’s really sweet that whenever things happen to you and around you, you want to tell someone. And the fact that the someone is me? Amazing. Don’t stop doing it.”

“I’m at a loss for words.” I said quietly.

“Well finally.” he said sarcastically making me hit his arm with a smile.

“You’re the worst.”

“You right. But come on we’re here so I can be the worst on a horse now.”

“Great.” I said jumping out of his truck.

“At least when you say yeehaw it’ll make sense here.” he said coming around to my side and taking my hand.

“Hey, yeehaw is an appropriate thing to say in any situation I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah sure, if you say so.”

“I do say so.”

We walked up to the registration building and signed in. The man working was super nice and very helpful pairing us with the perfect horses. I had a beautiful light brown horse with a black tail and mane. Her name was Sunny and she was gorgeous. She kind of looked like the horse from the movie Spirit. Tuch had a black one that was equally as beautiful. Alex took a couple pictures of me with Sunny before we left on the trail because in his words ‘this is just too cute not to capture’. He wouldn’t show me the pictures though which was annoying but oh well. It was so nice and relaxing to spend time with a horse again. It had been so long since I had ridden a horse but it was still awesome. I guess it was also nice to spend time with Alex too but. Horse.

Alex had a little more difficulty with riding his horse. She was a little more energetic than my horse, for lack of a better word. She just wanted to go fast but the guy who was leading the way held her by a leash so she wouldn’t run away. It was kind of funny.

We went uphill for quite a while through a really nice forest trail. I couldn’t believe the sights that we saw on the trip. Once we got to the top there was a beautiful mountain on the other side of a canyon with a small river running right through the middle of the land. It was like looking at a painting, something someone created in their mind, instead of real life scenery in front of me. We were back at the beginning way too soon for my liking. I pet the horse some more while Alex was signing out and fed her some treats.

“Come on beautiful, we gotta go.”

“Do we have to? I don’t wanna.” I said pouting slightly but still smiling.

“Yes (y/n) we do. We can come back again if you want to, I had fun.” he said grabbing my hand and leading me out.

“Even though you were a shit cowboy?”

“Excuse me? I was not a shit cowboy!” he exclaimed loudly.

“You had to be held on a leash Tuch! I was the better cowboy.”

“I will never admit that in my life.”

“You don’t have to. I know it’s true. The boys will believe me. It’s all good.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” he asked when we got to the car. I leaned against the door of the truck and just smiled at him sweetly.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Don’t you smile all sweet at me. Cute-ass bitch.” he said, making me let out a burst of laughter.

“You.” I said smiling more. He surged forward and connected his lips to mine in a way that left me breathless when he broke away.

“Sorry..” he said, pulling away. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Pfft okay. It’s fine.”

“Get in the car you little pain.” he said smirking giving me another quick kiss.

“Can’t get in the car if you keep kissing me.”

“Smart-ass.” he laughed and went to his side of the car getting in. I got in too and we started the drive back to my place. “Do you want to stop and get some food somewhere before I bring you back home?”

“Yeah sure. Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, it’s a cheat day so I thought maybe fast food if you don’t mind that?”

“Alex look at us. We’re full of hay and smell like horse. I don’t think any fancy places will be itching to let us come in. Besides I don’t want you to spend a lot of money on me.” I said getting quiet.

“I don’t mind spending money on you, (y/n).” he said snorting. “I have enough to spare.”

“I know I just..sorry nevermind I don’t know..”

“Hey, no tell me. You do know.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m going on dates with you because you’re spending a lot of money on me or something.. I’m not like that and I don’t want it to come across as that or anything.”

“I know that you aren’t like that, gorgeous. Don’t worry about that at all. I just want to have fun with you and maybe spoil you sometimes. You deserve that.”

“Just don’t go too crazy Tuch, I don’t need expensive things or dates.”

“I know I just wanted to.”

“Okay. The next date I’m planning.”

“See I told you I was confident about getting a third date out of you.” he said with a wink.

“Oh fuck off. As if anyone is surprised by this information.” I said rolling my eyes. “Well hopefully after the one I plan you’ll want a fourth.”

“I definitely will.”

“Wow the confidence you have in me is amazing.”

“I like you, why wouldn’t I be confident that I’d want to see you again?”

“I dunno.”

“Give yourself a little credit cutie.” he said putting his hand on my thigh and squeezing in a comforting way. “Is Mcdonald’s okay?”

“Uh yeah that works for me.”

“Okay cool.” he said pulling into the drive thru. “What do you want?”

“Large fry and a small M&M mcflurry.”

“Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yes.”

“And not because you’re worried about me spending money?”

“No that’s just all I want.”

“Okay if you’re sure.”

“I am Alex.” He ordered the food and sat it all in my lap as we drove out. “Why do I have everything?”

“I don’t want to drop it.”

“Do you want to come back and eat it at my place?”

“Yeah sure we can do that if you want.”

“I’m asking what you want Tuch.”

“Okay fine then yeah let’s go back to your place.” we drove back in pretty much silence since I was eating my mcflurry. When we got there I unlocked the door and let him lead the way in. He dropped the food on the table and laid across my whole couch making me roll my eyes.

“Just make yourself right at home.”

“I will thanks.” he said, smirking at me. I rolled my eyes again getting my food out of the bag and pushing his legs back so I could sit. “Hey this was my comfy spot.”

“Bite me.” I told him with my mouth full of french fries.

“I will if that’s what you’re into.” he said raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Calm your hormones Tuchy.”

“They’re calm.” he said wrapping an arm around my waist pulling me closer to him. He reached past me and grabbed his food but kept one hand around me.

“You’d probably have more luck if you just let go of me for a second.” I said as he struggled with the takeout containers.

“I don’t want to though.” he said squeezing my waist. “Just help me?”

“Stop pouting you baby.” I said opening his food for him. “Happy you ween?”

“Um I am not a ween but yes I’m happy.”

We ate pretty much in silence, just a random episode of spongebob on in the background. Once we were done I went and threw out the garbage before coming back in and sitting back against him.

“Come here.” he said quietly.

“Why?”

“I want to cuddle you duh.” he said rolling his eyes making me blush.

“Fine.”

“Come here cutie.” he pulled me down to him so we were spooning but he had his head lifted a little bit so we could both still watch cartoons. “There that’s better.”

“Good I’m glad you big baby.” I said pulling his arm across my chest and laced my fingers with his.

#alex tuch #alex tuch imagine #alex tuch x reader #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl story #vegas golden knights #Vegas golden knights imagine

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gyromitra-esculenta · 4 years

Text

Even If the Waters Rise 3/5 (*cough*)

Shadowrun inspired Mermay part 3 out of *now* 5 - it’s a monster. In this edition: Drama, drama, and once again, relationship drama.

Also, warnings for the whole planned thing: blood, gore, and violence; cannibalism (human on metahuman); questionable jokes and questionable totem choices; ambiguous relationships; referenced limb loss/cybernetics/etc; mating cycles.

Give or take a few days, Jesse turns up three weeks later, lacking fangs or a sun allergy, albeit with a certain pallor to his skin and aversion to the light, but that's easily explainable by the obvious hangover he's sporting, the kind that comes with a days-long drinking binge.

"Broke up already?" Jack pours himself a drink and then slides Jesse the bottle with about half of its contents remaining. He obviously needs it more than Jack.

"Don't want to talk 'bout it."

"Good. Because I'm not interested."

He ends up with all the sordid details, anyway.

It takes over two hours for Jesse to explain that his perpetual stalker vampire ex dumped him two nights past the club incident due to him supposedly smelling like a wet dog that also found and rolled in some prime ripe carrion. Jack's not going to comment on that. To him, Jesse reeks of his cigars first and foremost, and maybe under this odor hides a note of wet canine fur, mangy and full of dust - reminiscent of petrichor but more acidic and scratching the throat if inhaled too deeply or closely. Now, it's also alcohol sweat. But those two hours are enough for Jesse to get himself back into the drunken stupor.

Jack relocates him to the couch and orders take out - settling for some suspicious pizza as the safer option out of the available, even if he has trouble deciphering the ingredients. Someone out there probably knows what exactly 'sea chicken baby' is.

To his morbid astonishment, the 'Chicken of the Sea' turns out to be a sea cucumber, bland as fuck if not for the cheese and the sauce - and he's comfortably sure it would taste better raw than baked. He eats two slices and leaves the rest out on the counter for Jesse - and the state Jesse's in, he would probably be happy with a trashcan left out in some alleyway to pick through.

By the looks of him, that's a fair assumption to make, and not at all mean or undeserved.

But the question of how Jesse tracked him down remains. Their hidey-holes over the whole coastal area number in closer to a hundred than a fifty, so it's either an incredible draw of the luck (including the dang spirit dog) or someone had pointed him in Jack's direction. He brings it up during the check-in with Sombra, sure to vent his general disposition at both Jesse's intrusion, and the required daily contact.

"I think some responsibility would do you good," she brushes him off, "so take care of the puppy instead of moping by yourself for days."

"Maybe, just maybe, I do have a reason to mope," Jack snaps at her, "ever thought about that one?"

Sombra sighs.

"I don't know what had happened between you and Gabe, but..."

"Oh, you could, just load it up."

He immediately regrets going off on her, it's not her fault. Only it is her fault, in an illogical and convoluted way - because right now, he needs someone to blame and that someone will not be him.

"I'd never do that unless you want to show me."

Fuck this shit. He's tired and emotionally drained - he didn't even think it was possible.

"Listen, Jack," Sombra continues after he fails to answer her, "you have no idea what ice I had to get through just to send him a message, and the moment he got it, he just dropped everything and walked out of the meeting."

"Yeah, his asset was malfunctioning."

"Whatever happened, you're taking it hard, and you need something to occupy your time because sitting around is doing you no favors to your state of mind."

"Then find me something to do that doesn't include babysitting the human disaster all broken up over my couch."

"The fleet." Sombra mulls something over and Jack, elbows leaning on the windowsill as he finishes his drink, looks over the almost empty street below. "I'm running into walls and I'll need help with some more traditional intel gathering."

"You need hired muscle."

"The gist of it, yes, I need someone to beat some people up so they cough their contacts up, but I'm still pursuing some other venues right now."

"Tell me when you actually have people to rough up, the downtime's killing me, and this place's a total shithole."

"I know. I'll have tickets for you and the puppy tomorrow, and I need you to keep him on a leash because you're going to Yakuza-land for the foreseeable future." He can feel her smile trying to be reassuring pressed against his thoughts. "And you have a meeting scheduled."

"Yeah, about that, one, the only thing I know is 'shakuhachi shite' and 'arigato'," Sombra laughs muttering 'oh god', "and two, he can send them again through the proxy."

"Listen, you don't really want that. And that wasn't even 'fuck off'. That was dirty talk, Jack."

"Figures. I'm..." Jack sighs, massaging his temples. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Earlier, I mean."

"I know."

"I'm just, I don't know, angry? Not with you, you did what you had to, but... It's too much, all of it, and I'm sorry."

"I know. You'll work it out. It's okay."

"Fuck. Thanks, I guess. I'm not thanking for dropping the mongrel on my unsuspecting lap, though."

"You're welcome." She signs off and Jack pulls the plug out.

Even the mere prospect of meeting up with Gabriel after the incident gives him what he can describe only as anxiety. At least, that's what Jack decides to peg it as, something jumbled and all tied up in knots, and self-hating, and making him feel useless.

Nibbling on the third slice of the pizza and watching the sun go down, he knows what it really is, but refuses to give it the proper name. Calling it anything else lets him pretend it's nothing important and go about his life like nothing's different, even if it is - threatening to topple over and crush him under.

When Jesse starts moving, Jack forces him under the shower and his clothes into a washing machine. The thing is done with its load before Jesse is, and he dumps the debatably cleaner garments on the couch - the coyote is looking at him with an expression on its snout that's far too intelligent for his liking, half-mocking, and half-challenging. Jack turns the serape the other way. The coyote, apparently, takes a short hike all around the fabric to end up facing him again, and he could probably get into a trial of persistence with it but has a sneaking suspicion he would lose.

Fuck it. It can stare at him through the back of the couch as he undresses.

Jesse, predictably, ambles out to the shower and straight to the counter to assault the leftover pizza with the zeal of a person starving for days.

"Switch your SIN," Jack instructs him after he catches Jesse's attention with a tactical application of a ballistic shoe.

"What? Why?" Jesse mutters between the mouthfuls.

"We're flying to Japan tomorrow, would be best not to have Yakuza waiting on the ground for you when we get off."

"Why the fuck JIS?"

"Yakuza's probably involved with the fleet Som's tracking."

"They are. Fucking racists."

"You know that?"

"If anything has to do with harm to metas in the region, that's a safe bet it's them." Jesse wipes the oil from his mouth with the back of his hand, and the hand on his stomach. Of-fucking-course. "Say, we gonna be anywhere close to Hanamura?"

Jack sits on the bed, taking off his pants.

"Nowhere close. Everyone knows you there, and you're too recognizable." He stares at Jesse with contempt. "You just broke up with your main ex, you're not getting into another mess with another ex of yours. Don't make me tie you down."

"Nah, that about other business." Jesse stretches and walks around the counter in all his naked glory, stopping when Jack points with definite distaste on his face to the couch.

"You're still wet, the bed's mine, and the dog was giving me attitude."

"Whatever you say, pardner."

Jack cannot blame the sleepless night on Jesse, not directly - he doesn't snore, but maybe his presence has something to do with it. Regardless, his ensuing horrid morning disposition makes Jack snap at Jesse more than once, which Jesse completely ignores, or is simply oblivious to.

After he sends Jesse out with the trash and to wait for the car, Jack gives the flat the last once-over, making sure nothing personal is left lying around - unlikely they'll ever use the safehouse again, but good practice is good practice, and it's best not to tempt the fate.

The trip to the airport is relatively short and eventless, he only has to remind Jesse to switch his SIN once before they board. Jack pushes his bag into the overhead compartment and shuts it with a bang, taking his time before he sits and buckles into the seat.

The moment the plane rolls down the tarmac before takeoff he has to quash down his instincts screaming at him to get up and run. The lurch of wheels losing the contact with the ground below has Jack hunched and holding his head between his hands. Twitching at every suspect sound and tremor of the hull, he has nothing to distract himself with on the flight as his mind runs circles around images of a fiery inferno.

"Dude, have you tried taking something for it?" Jesse tries to start a conversation.

Jack shoots him down with a muttered 'fuck off' before returning to fighting to keep his stomach where it usually is and not in the vicinity of his throat where it battles for space with his now frantic heart. Two hours stretch into an imperceptible eternity of pure torture. Jesse waits for him to regain control of his shaking hands when the plane lands. They disembark among the last of the passengers.

The airport is a reconstructed dream of a crazy architect who, faced with a substantial lack of land, built it floating on water. Jack navigates them through the terminals to the water tram while keeping one eye out for anyone trying to latch onto their trail, hoping they look both intimidating and luckless enough to not attract the attention of any lookouts. It's not his first time in JIS, and, ironically, their best bet is using public transport. Some three years ago, the situation would be different, with the welcoming committee already waiting to bus him to his destination. Now, those bridges were burnt, and the goodwill was gone.

"What's the first rule?"

Jesse scoffs, sprawled on the seat, taking up two spaces realistically, legs kicked up to rest on the back of the seats in front of him to the distaste of the attendant.

"Not gonna risk Yakuza ink, even I'm not that stupid."

Jack stares at him with doubt.

"Except that one time."

"That one was different."

"I'm at loss for words," Jack rolls his eyes. "The second rule?"

"Don't antagonize the local racist shitbags?"

"Yeah, that. And the third?"

"Don't fuck with Yakuza."

"Good one."

"Nah, dude, not gonna go to Hanamura and fuck around, I need to go north later, check out something," Jesse shrugs. "Find someone to talk about that bear spirit because that shit was bad, man, real awful shit."

"I suspect you'll have time to do that. We can go together."

"Nah, no hard feelings, dude, but bear people don't trust that easy."

"Suit yourself," Jack rolls his eyes and nudges Jesse to get up as the tram lines up with the embankment. The taxi that drives them to the hotel rips them off, counting the normal rate several times over. Being foreigners, they are expected to pay more than locals for the same services, and making a scene would only add to the expenses - there's either some notation in the contract that would render any complaint null and void, or the local arm of the law would dismiss it anyway after they had at least ticketed them for creating a disturbance - if not outright put them under arrest on some bullshit charge. Well, Jack's not going to bother with it, it's not his money.

The hotel is one of those ridiculously posh ones, and he and Jesse draw curious glances as they pick up keycards from the reception area.

"Man, that's what I call life," Jesse announces after opening the alcohol cabinet, the first destination he chooses after walking into their shared room. Jack glances at the clock and just like that his heart is back to hammering against his ribs. He leaves his bag on the table.

"I'll be back tomorrow, do nothing stupid while I’m gone."

"Nah, jus’ gonna get stupid drunk and watch some holos."

Jack shrugs and heads out, leaving Jesse to his own devices, hoping he will stay true to his own words and not wander outside, especially not when drunk.

Gabriel's apartment is several floors up and Jack opts for stairs this time. The flight was enough excitement for the day, and the thought of forcing himself into the elevator fills him with revulsion on the spot. Halfway up, he realizes he’s only delaying the inevitable.

The heavy thing settled in his stomach is dread - and maybe, for the first time in his life, his instincts work as they should - screaming at him to run away, no matter where, just away, as he presses the card against the reader and keys in the code. Little late for that, huh? He pushes the door open, wincing at the breach of protocol: so wrapped earlier in his own thoughts he forgot about sending the text. The pad lies in the bag left with Jesse.

"I'm here," Jack announces to the room. His voice falls flat, even to his own ears. Gabriel looks over his shoulder while the screens in front of him flicker off one by one. Fucking dramatic, as usual.

"I can see it."

"I hate flying," Jack scrambles for an excuse - he doesn't need to, but it feels like he does - shrugs noncommittally, holding Gabriel's gaze. The mounting tension in the room seemingly affects only him - some misplaced power struggle Jack loses before it even began - and he breaks away the eye contact, turning away and stepping deeper into the suite. "There has to be a different method to get around."

"It is the most effective one."

The voice sounds too close, following Jack as he sheds his clothes.

"Maybe one that hits the orbit, I heard weightlessness is somewhat like swimming." He can at least give his honest opinion if they're on the subject.

"If the need arises for one."

Yeah, probably any launch of the type is conspicuous and more likely monitored, from the utilitarian point of view only reasonable if the speed is the key. Fuck that.

Jack loses the rest of his garments with the skin on the nape of his neck prickling under the scrutiny. Whether it's imagined or not doesn't matter, it's wrecking his nerves either way.

It's his turn to look over his shoulder, at Gabriel standing some distance away - shifting finally and coming closer to the bed.

"I wasn't aware flight provokes such high levels of stress for you."

Jack bites back the obvious answer - that unless he's bothered to know there's a lot Gabriel doesn't know about him - and the only time he cares to know is when it interferes with the operations. Won't lie to himself about the malice hidden under the thought.

"Now you know."

"Noted."

With Gabriel's thumb raising his chin up and the red and black eyes boring into his own, Jack falls back into the sheets. The sex is great, amazing even - it always is - but there is a certain measure of detachment that prevents him from losing himself in the act.

There's an invisible wall between him and Gabriel, one that wasn't there before, and the more Jack thinks about it curled up on his side, the more he realizes the fault lies with him, and him alone. Things have changed - he has changed - not Gabriel, and neither the arrangement. It's just a business transaction.

Trying to untangle the jumbled knot inside is like picking at an itching scab, only to discover there's pus underneath and nothing's healing. And it won't heal, not when Jack cannot pretend anymore he doesn't care, no matter how much he wants to. If that's what love is, it's a fucking miserable thing he wouldn't wish on anyone; he wonders if his past self also felt the same and he's merely stuck in following a preset rut. After all, the world is a cycle, isn't it?

Wanting Gabriel gone to let him sleep alone is a new one. So he can wallow in misery and self-pity in peace without the subject of his one-sided affection at his back.

Yeah. Love's an absolute utter bullshit, that's what Jack tells himself, staring at his own reflection in the still surface of the lake, fingers trailing in the water. The weathered wooden planks, blackened with tar, are far from the most pleasant to lie on - but the sun bearing down on his skin feels good and allays the discomfort.

The ripples born from his hand idly moving distort his reflection until Jack cannot recognize it anymore as his. And it isn't his, it's something else looking back at him from below the surface. Before he has time to react clawed fingers wrap around his wrist. The shining scales fading in and out of the skin glitter in the light with each minute shift.

It yanks him down with surprising strength

His skin scrapes on the wood - the water is cold - so cold - his lungs hurt with the lack of oxygen when he frees himself from the grip pulling him down - but the safety is far away - too far - and hungry mouths filled with sharp teeth latch onto his flesh.

He drowns.

The ending is the same, it's the rest of the dream that changes.

Lying cradled against Gabriel's side, with the arm wrapped around his waist and the palm resting on his stomach, Jack remains still, trying to wrest his thundering heart under control. Why he even bothers to remains a mystery because there is no viable way Gabriel isn't aware he's wide awake. What's left for Jack is to enjoy the rare closeness, something he's hard-pressed to; the satisfaction eludes him nonetheless while he watches Gabriel work. The screens close and reappear, once or twice prompted by the hand gesturing at them.

Jack tries to focus on the simple sensations: the warmth of the skin, the smell of the ocean, the lingering touch, but soon, it becomes unbearable, this picking at the open aching wound.

He moves away - the arm around his waist slackens and lets him go - and he sits up, disentangling himself from the sheets. Gabriel's attention remains focused on the screens, and Jack struggles for something to say.

"I'm going to take a shower," he mutters in the end, sliding off the bed.

The oppressive feeling of being observed and considered fades after the bathroom door closes behind him.

Of course, the whole room is done in subdued pink - salmon? - with elaborate cherry motifs running unbroken all around the walls with slight hints of darker colors. It's probably pretty and charming, and not at all tacky and lacking any real character or individual touch. Hotels always were like that.

The bathtub looks inviting, and Jack knows he could stay here for days by himself, but the reasons he's loath to are twofold. Jesse definitely constitutes one, the other one being the place that will make him think about Gabriel, and Gabriel only, the distractions available superficial.

Jack steps into the shower and, standing under the rain of warm water, he presses his forehead to the cold tiles. The voice inside his head provides him with an incessant background chant of 'you broke it' until he can't bear it anymore and punches the wall in frustration. The tiles crack.

He has no idea how long he's been in the bathroom - but Gabriel is gone when he walks out.

The pillbox lies on the pillow almost like an afterthought. Jack puts it in his pocket after gathering all his things.

He opts for the stairs again.

What he's not prepared for is Jesse scrambling to look at him over the back of the chair as he enters their room. Jack raises eyebrows at him.

"Shit! Dude. You're, like, glowing, but look like a kicked dog, but seriously," Jesse blindly reaches back behind himself for the open can of beer sitting on the small table, "you're bending the whole flow around you!"

"The what?" Jack notes the smell of cigars in the air, laced with something else, acrid and heady.

"Mana." Jesse sips from the can. "You got a fuckton of magic on you, like, a lot."

"Great. There's to hoping it won't kill me." Jack throws the jacket on the couch, sits in the other chair next to Jesse, and helps himself to the unopened can standing in the middle of empty ones.

"Don't think so, if it's bad, you'd be, like, dead ten times over, what with the potency. No spirit, for sure."

"Great. I feel nothing."

At least now, he had the explanation for Gabriel's clothes trick. Jack opens the can and downs half of it in one go.

"Offense meant, dude, but you got the sensitivity of a low-flying brick, and that means the only sensitivity you got is in the poor dude you're gonna brain."

"Thanks, I guess." Jack chuckles, toasting Jesse with a flourish. "Tell me," he vaguely points at himself, "if it does something weird."

"Will do. Wanna anything stronger with that?"

"That's what stinks in here?"

Jesse looks at him with his eyes pinched.

"Maybe."

"Pass, don't want to fuck up my lungs any more than they already are."

"Dude. You can breathe water, lil bit of smoke not gonna fuck them up."

"Still a pass." Jack finishes the beer and finds another can. "As long as it's not something you can be busted for, go ahead yourself."

Jesse snorts, apparently amused by his comment.

"It's all natural. Like, herbs and shrooms." To illustrate, he picks up a small baggie containing flaky brown fragments. "I smoke 'em, but go as well on the tongue."

This is a terrible idea. And Jack's tempted.

"No," he answers with a delay. "Especially if that's what gave you the mutt, might be contagious."

"Suit yourself." Jesse pulls out a cigar from his pocket and lights it, puffs on it lightly. Jack leaves it without a comment while flipping through the channels on the holo. They're both left with nothing to do for the foreseeable time. Jesse is more than content to spend the days idling: doing nothing but smoking, drinking, and watching tv, but Jack ventures out twice. He gives up on the whole idea of spending time outside of the hotel room soon.

He had forgotten how bland and hostile the whole of the JIS is to him despite the colors and the flashing lights, the music, and the chatter that never stops, or the cities that never sleep. It's a sea of humans only, maybe one or two occasional elves, almost no other metas, which serves to remind Jack that outside of the metropolis it's even worse.

Finding a place to drink and eat he's let in, not to mention not being faced with outright disdain when it becomes obvious he doesn't speak a speck of the language, is too bothersome.

Being confined to the hotel is not the worst thing in the world, Jack decides, not with his surprisingly stable mood, and the fact he's not fixating on the whole situation with Gabriel - only sometimes - and earthly mundane distractions are forthcoming. The majority of it, he thinks, is easily attributed to whatever Jesse's smoking the copious amounts of, and he himself is probably getting high on the fumes by the virtue of widely understood osmosis. Or ingestion. Call it what you will, it works wonders.

The idyll of the carefree quiescence ends with a dream in equal measure disturbingly different, and uncomfortably concordant. His feet are in the water - the waves wash up to his knees. He can feel every grain of sand on his skin: pressing in, irritating, ignored.

Pleasant warmth spills deep to his core, radiates from the bodies pressed to his sides - there's one hand slung over his chest - another carelessly pushes the elbow into his stomach - Jack shifts to remove the discomfort, and as he does so, he senses everyone else moving too. Like dominoes, every change of position prompts a chain reaction following down the line.

Lulled into half-sleep, this strange place in-between lucidity and unconsciousness, his eyes remain closed even with a familiar weight pressing down into almost the entire length of his body.

Something cold tickles his face and Jack finally looks up, at the silhouette cut starkly in the expanse of the pale blue sky, Gabriel's long wet hair brushing against his nose and cheeks, droplets of cool water splashing on heated skin giving him goosebumps.

Jack lifts his arms up. His fingers lock behind Gabriel's neck as he's spread open on the sand, a strange kind of pride bursting in his chest with each bite that draws blood from his skin. Nothing else exists or bears any importance but this one singular snapshot of time dredged from god knows where.

Jack freezes with his eyes wide open, his fingers almost breaking the surface of the water. The sensations - all so very specific and precise, unlike the vague suggestions of the usual dreamscapes - the sand scratching his arms and legs, and the back, the irritation lingering even now. The synthskin, even the kind slapped on his limbs, is never good enough to allow for the definition of the input and the interpretation on the level of the natural skin.

Dredged up. His own thought.

There's a sinking feeling, a frightening idea, that it's a memory. And it's not his. Jack schools his breathing; the jealousy at the effortless intimacy mixed with the shame of being an unwilling observer of someone else's intimate life swirl under his tongue. Or it's all jealousy. And spite. He grips the edges of the bathtub and pulls himself upright.

At the clinking and shuffling from the side, Jack turns his head to see Jesse tucking himself into his pants and buckling his belt.

"Christ, dude, you scared the piss outta me, like, for real."

Jack shows him the finger.

"How does your skin stay on, anyway?"

"It's just what it does? It's only fingers that do this dehydration thing."

"I don't mean that, and don't do this 'rise from the watery grave' shtick when I'm trying to take a leak," Jesse rolls his eyes, a gesture he's so fond of. "Almost pissed all over the wall."

"That's a 'you' problem, not a 'me' problem," Jack mutters, heaving himself upright and snatching a towel off the rack. He wraps it around himself while stepping out of the bathtub.

"Would be a 'you' problem if I'd turned around when you did the 'I live' routine."

Jack snorts, giving Jesse an appraising look supposed to convey his opinion on the subject matter, and moves to the main room - dripping water everywhere - where he sinks into his usual chair.

"By the way, I got my stuff arranged, so I'll be splitting in the evening later."

Jack acknowledges it with a grunt. With Jesse gone, he will probably be about ready to climb walls with the dearth of things left to do. Or return to drinking alone, which, arguably, is far from anything approximating a healthy coping mechanism.

"And you forgot toes. And the soles."

"Hm?"

"The prune looking thing, the feet do that too." Jesse drops back to the couch and plays with the remote. "That's stuff from the time we were all water monkeys, and so we could grab stuff better in water."

"No bullshit?"

"Nah, real stuff, that's why we like water that much. Some of us, at least, that's, like, where we should be most of the time."

"Cool."

"You're still a freak, though," Jesse salutes before opening a beer he has grabbed earlier from the cooler. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None. But, with the world as it is, isn't the whole evolution argument kind of moot? No-one accounted for the magic, did they?" Jack picks the plate with the remnants of yesterday's late-night snack up from the table and tries to discern if anything on it looks poisonous yet. Fried shrimps appear acceptable, to be honest, though the oil probably is a bit stale, Jack decides.

"Now, here, my dude, my friend, is the heart of the matter all those dudes who say a big man, or a big woman, or whatever in the sky did it don't get they get wrong."

"And that is?"

"And that is that even if that's all a fart of some higher power in the sky, it's still a creation, see? Someone sneezed, stuff crawled outta that sneeze, and the world began, it's still their word, ya know?"

Jack nibbles on the shrimp, deep in thought.

"Let's call that 'the great primordial snot theory' and never mention it again, deal?"

"Deal. Sounded better in my head."

"No," Jack lets out a defeated sigh, "you're onto something, but I'm definitely not going into the ramifications of a sneeze being the breath of life."

"But it has a nice ring to it."

"Yeah." Jack focuses on the shrimps, paying only nominal attention to both the show playing in the background and Jesse's mutterings while he slowly gathers his belongings that spread all over the rooms they've shared so far. Later, Jack escorts Jesse to the cab waiting for him, grips his hand for longer than needed when they shake.

"What's the main rule?"

"Don't get inked. Dude, who do you take me for?" Jesse snorts, trying to look offended and failing.

"A moron."

"Fair. Take care."

"You too."

Jesse ducks into his seat in the back of the cab and Jack shuts the door behind him - staying for a moment to see the car speed away from him before he returns to the hotel and for the first time considers the relative wasteland of devastation the room has become. After he pushes everything from the coffee table into a trash bin, he returns to the chair and checks in with Sombra.

"Feeling maudlin, are we?"

Jack shakes his head.

"What gave you the idea? Anyway, you still in Frisco?"

"Yes. Better access points to JIS networks."

"Right. Didn't cross my mind this might be the reason."

"There's good news too. When you get back from your meeting, I'll have a package waiting for you."

The meeting. He's on the last three doses remaining. Anxiety surges up in a sudden spike at the realization. He's been avoiding dwelling on the matter so well he pushed it almost entirely out of his mind.

"A package?"

"Some additional gear we will need to start digging, how to say it, organically."

"Beat people up, you mean."

"Yes," Sombra trails off slowly, a question in the air.

"Go on," Jack urges her, and after a lengthy pause, she continues.

"You never told me you only have nightmares."

"I have other dreams too." He's pretty sure of it, especially after the last one.

"Jack. Every time you enter the REM phase, you have repetitive patterns of stress. Listen," Sombra sighs, probably reading his silence the wrong way, "I wasn't... keen on sifting through all your data, I don't like infringing on your privacy more than I have to, but Gabe insisted on it, and it could've been avoided if you had talked about having problems."

"They're not really problems, though."

He can almost hear her mentally counting down.

"You consistently downplay your pain levels, you don't dream save for reliving the trauma you'd suffered, and, Jack, I tried simulating your brain activity, I clocked out after three minutes."

"I'm used to it."

"That's the thing, you shouldn't be used to it, it's not normal," Sombra huffs, and Jack's sure she's throwing things right now wherever she's physically at by now. "I'm angry with you, we'll talk tomorrow when you get the package, and I'll be less angry."

She disconnects without prior warning, leaving him alone. But that's the thing about pain, you become numb to some of it, Jack thinks, until it becomes just the background radiation of your life.

He takes a quick shower and finds a clean set of clothes to change into.

This time, Jack remembers about keeping the pad on his person, and sends the text as he climbs the stairs yet again, somewhat amazed at how three whole weeks have passed unnoticeably with Jesse there to keep him occupied - he's not going to lie, he's going to miss the bugger. Not the conversations, per se, but rather, the general awareness of his presence. Even if everyone is living their own separate lives outside of the operations, getting together is not so bad, after all.

Jack stops at the doors to the same suite as before. The code is unchanged. A few calming breaths and he walks in.

That's the thing about the constant pain, it doesn't disappear, it just numbs you down - it's a sort of resigned weary acceptance to his situation that leaves a dull ache in its wake, nothing earth-shattering anymore, but it's still there. The half-smile Jack musters at the sight of Gabriel observing him is surprisingly genuine, even to him himself. He can, and will, deal with it. His problem, not anyone else's.

"Long time no see," Jack quips at the inquisitive rise of Gabriel's eyebrow. "Hi, and all that jazz."

He doesn't expect an answer. There is none, save for Gabriel stepping closer, and Jack throws his hands around his neck while his heart flips in his chest - constricts into a singular point of fear and doubt - the touch on his hip giving him something - anything - to grab onto. Grounding, as is the finger raising his chin.

The red and black eyes regard him with moderate interest - observe and scrutinize - pass the judgment on him; Jack leans in against the instinct telling him for once to run and hide from the apex predator before him. But, has he ever listened to it when it urged him to do anything but fight? Not that he can recall such an incident.

In a small act of defiance, Jack catches Gabriel's lip between his teeth, scrapes the tip of a canine on the fragile skin on the inside, hard enough to draw blood. He waits with the bated breath for the reaction, taken aback by a sparkle of what could be amusement in Gabriel's posture, and the kiss, now tinged with the metallic aftertaste, deepening, becoming more forceful, his body pulled flush against Gabriel's, a hand on the nape of his neck.

Jack stumbles over his own feet while being led to the bedroom, lost in the kiss until the backs of his shins hit the edge of the bed, and with a gasp of surprise he lies on the covers - almost falling but also held and lowered - peeled out of his garments, and out of control. Having Gabriel's attention focused on him - and only him - makes Jack's head spin each and every time, regardless of the circumstances; a near-religious experience if he ever had to put a name to it, not unlike the moment the drifting dragon gazed at him - and through him.

He wanders back to the dream - the memory - of the beach, of the coarse sand biting into his skin; Gabriel's locks that have slipped from the low ponytail tickle his cheeks and nose as his fingers dig into Gabriel's shoulders, trying to find a way to bring him even closer. Maybe even to leave a mark - a sign of permanence - something that cannot be denied sunk beneath Gabriel's skin in a desperate attempt to put his claim on him before Jack dissolves in the smell and the taste of the ocean rushing over him, the whirling current pulling him down.

But this is what Jack knows: he is not willing to give this up, this bittersweet torture. It doesn't come as a sudden realization, more like a long-standing knowledge now unburied and close to the surface, driven home with the weight of the moisture hanging on his eyelashes. He reaches out and finds Gabriel's palm, twines their fingers together - always amazed at the contrast and the faint dark red lines following intricate patterns melting into the color of Gabriel's skin - pulls it close to his chest, its back pressing against his heart. Covers both their palms with his other hand and curls around it.

No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it will hurt, he's not going to give this up because the alternative is far worse, it's being abandoned and empty, and lost, and having nothing but that deep-seated ache.

Like this, he can at least pretend, Jack muses, slowly drifting off.

The first time he wakes up, it is to the darkness of the night and fingers combing slowly through his hair, Gabriel's hand still held close.

The next time he opens his eyes, it's morning, and he's alone in the suite – the pillbox waits on the pillow.

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #mermay #shadowrun mermaids and stuff #that's too much plot put some of it back please

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