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mumms-the-word · 3 months ago

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Love in the Time of Commorragh

Characters: Heinrix van Calox x Original Female Character (Lavinia de Vahl) Summary: Master of Whispers Lavinia de Vahl goes to check on Heinrix after he has been rescued from Tervantias's Anatomical Opera. Her own trials in Commorragh have left her bruised, beaten, and bloody, a fact that does not go unnoticed by Heinrix, though she is more concerned about him. When reassurances turn into kisses and Lavinia's pain gets in the way of further romance, Heinrix offers to heal her wounds the best way he knows how—a combination of biomancy and suitably distracting kisses. CWs: Slight NSFT, fade to black smut, mostly touching and some nudity, reference to abuse and torture A/N: This is basically a scene rewrite for the Commorragh romance scene buuut I wanted some extra content at the end to fit my character, who has been through hell on Commorragh as Rogue Trader Sofia's Master of Whispers, rather than as the Rogue Trader. Also, I'm new to this fandom, so hopefully I got terms and things right! Read it on AO3 here!

The Shrieker’s den was a hive of activity, with allies Lavinia didn’t recognize huddling near companions she knew well. There was an air of tension, like a band of rubber pulled nearly to the breaking point, but for now, all was calm. Everyone cast wary eyes toward the tall, pale Drukhar that lingered in one corner of the main platform, but so long as he was engrossed in conversation with the Rogue Trader, Sofia von Valancius, there was little to worry about.

For now.

Lavinia de Vahl recalled all too easily how they had arrived to find the Drukhar, Marazhai, sneering down the blocky muzzle of Argenta’s bolter gun. Lavinia had been more preoccupied with supporting Heinrix, only recently freed from Tervantias’s Anatomical Opera, his body weak and his vision all but destroyed. He had leaned heavily on her as they moved through the streets of Commorragh, partly for support and mostly because he needed her guidance. Though he was still mostly blind, he had instantly tensed at the sound of Marazhai’s voice in the den. Sofia intervened before anyone could come to actual blows, and then disappeared to some far-off corner to converse with the pale xenos. Lavinia dared not ask questions at the time. Both she and Heinrix had only just been freed from their Drukhari captors, with many of their wounds still openly weeping. Sofia could deal with Marazhai. Lavinia just wanted to make sure Heinrix was okay.

She found a quiet corner of the den for him, an abandoned platform with a few dirty mats and blankets that looked as though it had once served as sleeping quarters, or perhaps a medbay. Easing him down to sit on one of the mats, she had bent to press a kiss to his forehead, promising to return with whatever medical supplies she could find…if any.

Now, hours later, she returned to the platform with very little to show for her efforts save a few scraps of fabric to serve as bandages around her legs, a single medicae kit, and some new clothes to change into. She was eager to get out of the flimsy rags that had barely covered her breasts and bottom, “gifts” from the archon of some minor kabal that had “saved” her from the arena. Instead, she had found a top and trousers made of skin-tight leather, the kinds favored by the Drukhari Wych fighters. The top would leave her arms and midriff bare, and the leggings had to be cut shorter, but it was better than her current rags. Anything was.

The platform where she had left Heinrix was quiet and deserted, save for Heinrix himself. He sat where she had left him some hours ago, with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, as if in meditation. The air dropped several degrees the closer she ventured to him, chilled by his steady use of biomancy. She tried to keep her steps soft, her bruised bare feet picking safe spots on the platform, but as soon as she was only a few feet away, he raised his head and opened his eyes.

“Lavinia,” he said, smiling faintly. He seemed more exhausted than in pain…a moderately good sign, she thought. Instantly the biting cold of the air around him started to dissipate. “Back so soon.”

“I’ve been away for an hour or two, actually,” she said. She tucked her new clothes under her arm and handed him the medicae kit, glancing over him. “How are you feeling?”

By her quick study, he seemed all but physically healed. The punctures and slashes from the needles and hooks that had held him in place in that sarcophagus at the Anatomical Opera had smoothed over, little more than faint, pale scars now. But there was a new slope to his shoulders that spoke of sheer exhaustion. As he looked over her in turn, his first sight of her since their capture, his smile faded. She could see a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, a sign she’d come to equate with him overusing his warp abilities. He must have used up so much energy, trying to repair his body in so short a time.

In turn, though he took the medicae kit and set it to one side, his eyes combed over her, hitching and lingering on areas where Commorragh, or more specifically her temporary master, the archon, had made their mark on her. A ring of torn and inflamed flesh adorned her throat, the marks of a collar she’d been forced to wear with serrated teeth on the inside. Whip marks, bruises, and cuts patterned her arms, back, and middle, and she bore a distinctively dark series of bruises around her waist from where they had cinched the metal cage she wore to support her wide battle skirts too tightly into her flesh. The oddest marks were around her thighs, now wrapped in bloody bandages. Beneath the bandages, where Heinrix couldn’t see, her legs looked as though someone had taken a knife to them a hundred times each…the result of an ingenious and devious little trick her “savior” archon had devised after he had removed her from the arena. He seemed to find the skirt cage an amusing, primitive invention, and had ordered his subordinates to remove the bottommost ring and sharpen the spokes, turning them inward toward her legs. Every moment meant getting stabbed, if not in one direction, then another.

She’d worn that thing for hours.

His analysis complete, he flicked his gaze back up to meet hers, his eyebrows drawing close with concern. “Lavinia…”

She mustered up a smile just for him, even though she knew it probably appeared wan, tired, and thin. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I’ve been through worse than this.” She wiggled the fingers of one hand as if to illustrate her point, the mechanical third and fourth fingers of both hands a visible, if small, reminder of what she had endured before. Torture. Torment. These things were not the purview of the Drukhari alone. She shrugged, lowering her gaze. “This…this is nothing.”

Despite her words, she couldn’t help the hiss of pain that escaped her lips as she moved to settle next to him, the bandages around her legs rubbing painfully against her shredded skin as she sat down. She carefully arranged her legs so that she wouldn’t put too much pressure on them, tucking them to one side and sitting awkwardly on her hip. She gave Heinrix another smile to show she was fine.

He wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t ask. His eyes were on her neck again, tracing the ring of wounds that wrapped around the column of her throat. Gently, his touch almost featherlight, he traced the unmarred skin below her marks with one finger. “I…never asked what happened to you after we were captured. How you escaped…”

She took his hand, pulling it away from her throat and enveloping it with both of her own. “It’s not a pretty tale.”

“No story is pretty in Commorragh,” he said darkly, but his eyes were full of concern nonetheless. “Tell me. I will listen.”

She considered not saying anything, but by the way he traced over her marks and wounds with his eyes, she could tell he was already trying to piece together the events in his mind, using his experience with torture and his knowledge of xenos to draw conclusions. She squeezed his hand again.

“Later,” she said softly. “I will tell you later. It’s you I’m concerned about right now.”

He gave her a dubious look. “You are the one actively bleeding before me, and yet you’re worried about me?”

“Heinrix.” She responded to his look with a frown of her own. “I saw what that haemonculus kept you in. When you emerged, I…”

She thought he was dead, at first. His breaths were so thin and shallow they barely moved his chest and it was only the roving of his eyes beneath his lids that suggested he was alive at all. And when he opened his eyes and couldn’t see…when he tried to send her away, thinking she was a conjuration of his addled mind, a trick of the xenos, only believing her at the first touch of her flesh-and-metal hand on his cheek…

She shook her head. “You went through so much.”

“We both have,” he said, placing his free hand over hers. “But I am already on the mend. I promise.”

She didn’t believe him. Physically, his body might be free of marks now. But the exhaustion that weighed down his shoulders, the circles under his eyes, the mental torment he had experienced, the damage she couldn’t see…he wasn’t okay. There was a new streak of gray in his black hair that had not been there before. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, matted slightly with blood from his time in the haemonculus’ sarcophagus, half-expecting the gray to be a trick of the eerie green light of Commorragh’s lamps. But the silver strands fanned out from her fingers as she combed through them, light starlight in a night’s sky.

If she told him they were there, he’d biomance them away. She settled for resting her hand on his cheek instead.

“You don’t have to put on a strong front for me,” she said.

His chuckle was quiet and dry. “And you don’t have to wallow here with me while I recover. There are better ways to use your precious resting time.”

She shook her head and sat up on her knees, leaning in to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. “No. I want to be here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a choked groan as her hug squeezed some part of him that must not have fully healed. She started to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and guiding her to straddle his lap instead. “No,” he murmured into her shoulder, his hand smoothing carefully down her whip-scarred back. “Don’t let go. This is better. Much better.”

She felt as though she could cry, but she was too worn down for tears. She hid her face in his shoulder, tightening her hold on him again, and let him rock the two of them gently in silence.

“I wish you could just biomance yourself better in a flash,” she mumbled. He chuckled, his laughter warm against her bare skin.

“That would be ideal. But, unfortunately, biomancy takes time, moreso if the injuries are deep or old. It’s a slow, painstaking process. Especially if you have to grow new tissue.”

She pulled away, keeping her arms looped around his neck, and looked down at him. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience. Have you had to do that before?”

“Yes, I have.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but his hands were gentle on her waist as he helped her settle in his lap. “When my family disowned me, they also removed all the Knight pilot implants from my body…”

In words too cavalier and calm, Heinrix explained how the process of removing implants and augments, both from his Knight pilot training and from his psyker sanctioning, had cost him whole parts of his skull, his eye, his arm, and more. And how, despite that the revered Inquisitor Xavier Calcazar didn’t care how he looked, Heinrix had spent years repairing the damage…just to look normal.

“Xavier didn’t care that I was a maimed freak,” he said, without a hint of hurt. As if he were admitting that his mentor and superior didn’t care that he had dark hair, or was born on a Knight world, or liked playing regicide. “He needed me for my sorcery, nothing more. But I decided I would be more useful if I could start to look more like a human again.”

Look human again…Lavinia could only stare, trying to imagine what he must have looked like with so much damage, and aching at the thought that whatever he must have looked like, he must have hated. She looked down at her hands, only half of them natural, four fingers total replaced by golden, metal augments, and recalled how anxious she had been that her augments appear delicate, luxurious, fitting for a noble lady and not like a poor victim’s consolation prize for surviving a traumatizing event.

Would she have been drawn to him if he hadn’t spent so much time repairing himself? She knew her answer, and she hated herself for it.

But Heinrix didn’t seem to notice her heartache. He touched his face absently. “Repairing my eyeball took the longest. Even the nerve connections took less effort. Years went by before I managed to eliminate all the visual aberrations and I could see as well as I had when I was a child.”

Lavinia looked up at that, flicking her gaze back and forth between his left eye and his right. The left was a deep, dark brown, rich in color but nearly black in the light of Commorragh. The other was gray, almost black, enough that a single glance wouldn’t distinguish it as immediately different than the left eye. But she recalled from when they would converse on the voidship and on Dargonus that there was a small ring of steel blue around the pupil, blue that would disappear if his eye dilated just enough with interest…or desire.

She didn’t know which was the natural eye, but she suspected it might be the brown one. Did he hate the other one, the re-grown eye? How long had he spent trying to match it to the color of his original eye, only to settle for this gray-and-blue mixture that she found just as compelling as his natural brown?

She cradled his face in her hands, frowning faintly. “And after all that, you are still loyal to the Imperium and the Inquisition?”

He blinked and pulled back a little so that her hands fell to his shoulders instead. “Why…why wouldn’t I be? The Imperium deemed me stable enough to keep as a sanctioned psyker. The Inquisition gave me a new, higher role, a more honorable role. How could I not repay those debts?”

She ought not to have been surprised by his answer, but it shocked her even so. “They mutilated and maimed you purely because of what you are.”

He only stared at her. “I’m a psyker, Lavinia,” he said slowly. “The very fact of my existence is anathema and can only be excused by my usefulness—” Here she shook her head, preparing to draw away, but he looped his arms around her middle, stopping her, “—up until the point that I turn into a mutant or a portal to the warp. I am under no illusions—sanctioned or not, that is the future that awaits any sorcerer.”

Anathema, maimed freak, mutant, inevitable portal —was that all he saw himself as? Meanwhile, the Imperium wanted him to be stable, useful, and nothing more. She wanted to shake him, get him to see the insanity of is words. She was an Imperial citizen like all the rest, raised within a powerful noble family on a hive world that paid lip service to the Imperium in exchange for protection, but she knew where the Imperium’s failings were. It wasn’t the Imperium that had saved her when her betrothed had abducted and tormented her. It wasn’t the Inquisition or the Sisters of Battle or any other entity that served the God-Emperor with pride and wiped out heretics and dangerous figures alike.

It was the rabble, the servants, the mutants and outcasts trapped down in the cellars with her, the playthings of her sadistic fianc é —they were the ones that had broken her chains and fought alongside her. It was Sofia, her companion and only friend at the time, a sanctioned psyker herself, who had broken into the estate to save her. Outcast, mutants, and psykers, they were the ones who had come to her aid. The very same people the Imperium would rather put to death than allow to live freely on their worlds. The loyal imperialists? Didn’t give a damn.

“You keep talking as though you’re not a person,” she whispered. “It pains me even to listen to you and what you went through. I cannot imagine the agony you suffered.”

The surprise on this face was just another heartbreak. His lips parted as though he would respond, but not a single word passed his lips at first. He looked at her as though he couldn’t quite process what she’d just said.

“Lavinia…” He hesitated. “Pain is inevitable. It is shameful to dread it."

She sighed, turning her face away. A rote response, an automatic platitude that any good and loyal Imperialist would say. Was it so bad to admit that one didn’t need to bleed, that pain didn’t have to be the way of life, that life was more than the sacrifices one made to a Creed that did nothing to protect them? She was tired of everyone simply saying things that would please the Ecclesiarchy, rather than acting for the good of many.

She scanned the platform around them again. It was the lowest of the four that made up this dismal sector, with a platform on either side that could be reached by a ramp made of scrap metal or an old, twisted metal access ladder. The main platform, almost a full story above them and bordered by a few makeshift walls, was where the rest of their companions and allies were, resting or recuperating or planning for the next big task that would lead them out of Commorragh. She wondered if all of them thought the same as Heinrix did. That their lives mattered little, so long as they could lay them down for the mighty, silent God-Emperor. Certainly Argenta and Kibellah agreed. Jae and Yrliet…not so much. As for the Rogue Trader…

Lady Sofia was preoccupied with her new xenos pet. There would be no laying-down-her-life-for-the-God-Emperor from her.

When she looked at Heinrix again, he was watching her with an odd expression on his face. She raised her eyebrows slightly at him, a silent question, and he slowly shook his head. “What you just said,” he said, his voice whisper-soft, almost as though he dared not say it too loudly, “no one has ever said anything like that to me before. Thank you.”

Her heart could just shatter. “Oh, Heinrix…”

She cradled his face in her hands again, her thumbs brushing just beneath his beautiful, different-colored eyes. Your eyes , she had once said drunkenly to him, after Jae’s party on Footfall had filled her with too much heady amasec, I can’t pick a favorite . She still couldn’t. She could gaze in them for an entire Terran cycle, or ten, and still be no closer to the answer. There was simply too much to admire. Warm brown, stormy gray, and they were his eyes, no one else’s. How could she choose?

She loved this man, she realized, with all the sudden terror that such a realization would bring. She had never loved anyone like this before. She was simply too selfish. And yet here she sat, her every wound and ache and pain forgotten as she listened to him speak, aching for a man who valued himself only insofar as he was useful . Useful to the Imperium, to the Inquisition, to the Rogue Trader, to her. The mere thought of losing him felt like standing at the edge of an abyss, plummeting down into endless darkness and devoured.

She refused to let that happen. She would not lose him. Not to Commorragh and not, if she had any say in the matter, to the void-damned Inquisition.

“We will find a way out of here and go home,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t asking. She was promising.

The determination in his eyes matched her own. He nodded, carefully pulling her hands from his face and turning them so he could brush a kiss across her knuckles, first of one hand, then the other. “If it comes to it, I will lay down my life to get you home.” He leaned forward, then, and his breath ghosted over her lips as he added with a whisper, “And I will do it gladly.”

His kiss silenced the hitch in her breath at his words and her eyes fluttered shut. She wanted to protest—she wanted him alive, damn it!—but as one kiss followed another, his tongue brushing against the seam of her lips, seeking access, and as his hands gently pulled her hips forward to press her body against his, she lost the resolve to argue. For now.

“Well,” she breathed between kisses, “at least Commorragh managed to kill off the prude in you at last.”

His exasperated chuckle was all heat and humor, a genuine laugh that seemed to brighten all of their dismal surroundings at once. “Throne curse you, woman,” he murmured, to her delight. “Now be quiet.”

She smiled against his lips, preparing another witty remark, only to gasp in pain as his wandering hands brushed an open wound on her thigh. He pulled back, surprised, and looked down at where his fingers rested. When he lifted his hand, it came away smeared with fresh blood, slowly soaking through the bandages.

He cursed softly under his breath. “We should—”

“Ignore it,” she finished firmly, locking her hands behind his neck before he could try to pull away. “I believe you were kissing me senseless just now. Quieting my rebellious tongue? You wanted my silence, my dear Interrogator, did you not?” She raised her eyebrows at him with a smile.

He chuckled again. “Be that as it may, I think you’d only be more uncomfortable if we continued to…” He trailed off at the sight of her obvious pout, exaggerated just for him.

He pressed his lips together as if to resist smiling and sighed through his nose. But then an idea seemed to form in his head. “Very well. Then allow me to heal you.”

She blinked. “What?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, partly play and partly a question. “Surely I don’t need to explain the process by which I can use biomancy to—”

“No, no, of course not,” she said. “I understood what you meant. I merely…I don’t want you exhaust you. You’ve used so much biomancy already…”

“And a little more will not kill me,” he finished. He reached up as though he would curl his hand around the back of her neck, only to hover an inch or two away, staring at the angry, red wounds that circled her throat. “Just a little, enough to close these wounds and give you some relief. What do you say?”

She wanted to protest, but between a few of her wounds now freshly bleeding again and Heinrix’s patient, searching look, waiting for her to agree, she could only nod wordlessly, caving to his request.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered.

“It will feel strange,” he said. “But not painful. I would never hurt you, Lavinia.”

With his fingers carefully at her jaw, he guided her back in for a kiss, this one languid, slow, and sweet. She closed her eyes as his lips moved to the corner of her mouth, kissing there, and then brushing a trail of kisses along her jaw. She tilted her head back, careful of the wounds at her throat, and let her breath deepen and slow as she felt his lips press to the corner of her jaw, below her ear. All she wanted was to relax, give herself over his care, sink into pleasures that she hadn’t felt in so long…

That’s when she felt the air shift. Commorragh was already dank and chilly, the cold clinging damp to her exposed skin, but the cold that surrounded her now was clear as crystal, sharp and familiar. The icy cold of Heinrix’s warp energy.

The healing began as a prickle of gooseflesh along her skin, a wash of cold that made her want to shiver, though she resisted. Then a tingling sensation just beneath the surface, as though a small electric current now buzzed through her veins, fizzling where the blood met open air at the site of her wounds. A phantom touch seemed to trace along the wounds of her throat, sealing them slowly, the icy fizzle calming until an odd sense of numbness took over. And still, as he healed her, he pressed little kisses along her jaw and below her ear, sometimes no more than a brush of his lips or a light nuzzling of his nose as he focused on his task.

A moment later, his hand gently caressed the column of her throat, silently showing that her wounds there were closed. His touch brought no pain at all, save for a dull ache deep in the muscle of her neck, as though she were still bruised. Her breath shuddered through her as his lips trailed down her newly-healed throat, pausing to mouth a few slow kisses where her neck and shoulder met, his breath warm against her chilled skin.

“You…you’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she breathed, not entirely sure if she meant the healing, the kissing, or the combination of the two. He didn’t deign to answer, his hands now on her shoulders and smoothing slowly, slowly down the lengths of her arms.

The sensation was the same. A tingling, a fizzling, only this time, with so many wounds, it felt as though a colony of ants crawled beneath her skin. It was the same fuzzy static feeling one gets when their limb falls asleep and must slowly wake up again. It was a little unpleasant, but Heinrix’s kisses along her shoulder, dipping occasionally down to lathe his tongue against the hard ridge of her collarbone, kept her more than distracted. She was useless in his arms, at the mercy of his healing power and his lips. It was all she could do to remember to breathe.

His hands were at her waist next, slowly moving up, up, until she was certain he would take her breasts in hand, despite there being no serious wounds there. She arched her back to give him better access, only to feel his breath stutter on her skin as he chuckled, his touch moving away to her back instead.

“Patience,” he murmured, leaning his forehead against her, just above her chest. “Lest I lose focus.”

“Impossible,” she groaned. She let her head fall back and with one hand threaded her fingers through his hair, her third and fourth augmented fingers glimmering with metallic gold in the sea of his black locks. His focus was unbreakable, if he could do all this and still have the wherewithal to tease her. She could feel the effect this was having on him, too, as flush as she was against him, seated in his lap. There was a telltale hardness beneath her that she was all too familiar with for him to make any believable denials. Another five minutes of this and she would break before he did, pushing him back onto the platform floor to take him herself.

But his work was not yet done. Fingers and palms trailing down her back again, he smoothed over her hips and then, at last, to her thighs. Now the pain returned, the wounds much deeper here than elsewhere. Her hand clenched in his hair as the tingling sensation began in her legs and turned into a dull roar of cold electricity, as though he had connected live cables to her legs. It was difficult to tell if she imagined the twitchy sensation that took over her leg muscles, or if the stitching of her wounds was literally forcing her muscles to move. The frigid touch of biomancy turned to searing heat for one blinding second, enough to force a gasp out of her lungs and cause her entire body to tense—and then a wash of blessed numbness took over, flooding through her veins with a gentler, milder cold.

“My apologies,” Heinrix whispered, pressing a kiss over her heart. “Healing can sometimes be…unpleasant.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, giving a breathless laugh. “That was…”

Well. Better not to express in words what that had been like. Or what strange effect it had on her now. If he was as intimately familiar with the workings of her body now, after stitching her back together again, he probably knew better than she did.

Over the numbness spreading through her legs, she could distantly feel the warmth and weight of his palms, lightly calloused from years of handling swords, pistols, and staves. His hands passed over her thighs, checking for more wounds. This time, the temptation seemed too much for him and he curled his fingers into the plush flesh of her upper thighs, no longer seeking for wounds to cure, but simply touching. Grasping. Squeezing. Appreciating.

Lavinia pulled lightly on his hair, guiding him to lean his head back so she could look at him directly. As the blue glow of warp energy left his eyes, he gazed up at her with glassy eyes that glimmered with desire, his pupils dilated. That little ring of blue in his one gray eye was nowhere to be seen now. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was enthralled.

“Heinrix,” she breathed, “we’re not done yet, right?”

He smiled, crooked, a mischievous little smirk she was sure she hadn’t seen before. “Still not satisfied, Mistress Lavinia?”

“I think you know the answer to that question. Only…” She tapped her leg with her free hand. “I’m not going to be numb for too much longer, am I?”

He paused, the glassy look in his eyes clearing as he considered her question. And then he laughed, his voice breathless and quiet. “No, not for long. Believe me—” He looped his arms around her again and turned them both in one fluid movement, so that she was laid back against the dingy mat and he was nestled between her bandaged thighs. Already one hand was at work loosening the bandages and smoothing over the cool, scarred skin beneath them. “I want you to feel everything I’m about to do to you.”

The pulse of heat that shivered through her had nothing to do with warp power or biomancy. As he leaned down to kiss her again, she let her own hands wander this time, to the buttons of his coat and his belt, deftly undoing them so that he could be free of his filthy, bloodstained Inquisition uniform. It was time for her to touch and explore, just as he had, to lay eyes on the man that existed beneath the buttoned-up collar and imperial medals. All she wanted now was him.

“I suppose I should thank you for the healing,” she managed to say, as he pulled the rags from her body and began to kiss down between the valley of her breasts and along the flat of her stomach. “It wouldn’t do to seem ungrateful.”

He chuckled yet again, pressing a kiss at her waist where the bruises from her tightly-cinched skirt cage had now faded. “Still talking, Mistress Lavinia. You’re never short on words.”

“I might be soon,” she breathed, a small gasp interrupting her as he reached up to squeeze one of her breasts, the chill of Commorragh and Heinrix’s biomancy hardening her nipple to a hard peak. He flashed her a dark-eyed chastizing look from where his face hovered below, nearly between her legs now, and she bit her lip, trying not to smile.

“No promises, Master van Calox,” she whispered. “The whole of Commorragh may soon be aware of what we’re up to.”

His response to that was a resigned, affectionate sigh—and a renewed focus on her as he pulled the last of the scraps of fabric and bandages away from her body, baring her entirely to the dim Commorragh chill.

#rogue trader #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k rogue trader #heinrix van calox #heinrix x von valancius #heinrix romance #heinrix x oc #i guess technically lavinia is my von valancius but she's a master of whispers right now #still related to theodora tho #is complicated lol #ANYWAY first RT fic woo #and its vague heinrix smut #surprises abound #my fic #rogue trader fic

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fleckcmscott · 1 year ago

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Help Wanted

Summary: Shaw & Associates needs a new girl. Patricia doesn't get it.

Words: 1,485

Warnings: None

A/N: Does this fit the category of fanfic? It takes place in Gotham City - in the universe of Joker - but it deals with original characters we've gotten to know in the Watch What Happens series. 🤔 Ah, well. Whatever it is, here you are. 😂 Please enjoy! Much appreciation to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

Also, I've left Sarah's name in rather than replace it with Y/N. Anyone who cares enough to read the adventures of Pat & Matt already knows her true identity. 🤣

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Reviewing the latest replies to the Help Wanted enticed Patricia about as much as the lint covered LifeSaver at the bottom of her purse.

Even with just herself and attorney Matt Stone, half the calendar was hard to fill. More twig than branch, this was the smallest satellite office under the Shaw & Associates umbrella. Most of the Wayne empire's legal matters were handled by colleagues in name only, men in suits glimpsed at annual galas or awards ceremonies honoring Thomas and Martha, Gotham's first couple.

No bankruptcy claims lurked in their files, no accusations of money laundering or tax evasion. No public scandals of affairs with maids to provoke cease and desist letters.

What would be the point of hiring someone when business was as slow as the zoo in the dead of winter?

Patricia browsed carefully typed pages, their perfect margins, streaks of dried whiteout. Nearly all were from local women. About half had attended community college, a handful had gotten certification from the city's Continuing Education program, while the rest had high school diplomas. The applicants ages ranged from nineteen to forty-four, with the vast majority in the under thirty crowd.

Her placid expression was at odds with the tightness of her stomach. At fifty-one, she could be referred to as a classic. When her husband Robert had been drafted to Korea and home had become too empty, she'd joined the firm as a typist. The seventy-five cents an hour had barely covered her train ticket to Old Gotham. But the long rides and scenery had been a welcome distraction from war worries.

Being a natural at shorthand, she'd advanced to legal secretary in a mere seven months, and with that came a recognition she hadn't realized she'd lacked. Between her mother's second-shift cleaning jobs and the day-to-day of keeping a home, praise had been a rare prize as kid. Now it evoked a drive to better herself even when life was pretty good.

By the time Robert had come home, she'd grown to love the legal profession and the part she played in it. After the start of his HVAC repair business and the birth of their daughter, Patricia enrolled in night school for legal assistant certification. She'd spent classes tucked in the corner of the classroom, textbook and notepad on her lap, a bag of coloring books and toys for Ruby strewn across the animal phonics rug.

The promotion to paralegal and transfer to this twig was one of her proudest moments. She'd worked hard to get where she was, enjoyed the routine of her job, overarching calm peppered by deadlines that kept her blood pumping.

Patricia flipped the pile of resumes over, tried to flip her reservations out of sight, out of mind. While Matt could be an oaf, he was an excellent lawyer and fair boss. She'd offered him a handkerchief when his wife had left him, and he'd sent flowers when her grandson was born. They worked well together, to the point where she'd finish his sentences before he'd had a chance to dictate the stop.

And yet the truth nagged. If she was about to lose all this to a younger model, it'd be impossible to land another job.

Mug in hand, she aimed for the breakroom to the right, which doubled as a conference room for three, four if one was standing.

But Matt called from his office. "You got a minute?"

Once she was seated in the high-back reserved for clients, he perched across from her, on his desk. He twisted to reach behind him. "Take a look at this and tell me what you think," he said, and held out a sheet of paper.

It was blinding white, 24 lb, watermarked with the word Eaton. The presentation came off as pretentious, but when she glimpsed the address of Boonville, Missouri, it became clear it was a small town's way to impress.

Sarah Thompson. Thirty-seven. Divorced. "She didn't list her height or weight," Patricia remarked. That put her in the upper third of candidates.

"I called her while you were at lunch. Sharp woman, good education."

A four-year graduate of Missouri State East. Patricia straightened. "Her work history's a little light. Two firms, one with her last name?"

"That's more than half the applicants," he said with a dismissive wave. "And I asked her about that. Ex-husband's firm. But if she's still there ten years after they split, she must be all right."

"Her background is probate and family court. That's outside of our scope."

"That experience'll be good for our upcoming pro bono work."

Pro bono work? They barely had enough paying work as it was. A skeptical shake of her head. "Matt, I've got to be honest. With things as slow as they are, I don't see the rationale of bringing anyone else on."

He glanced over her shoulder, stepped to close the door behind her, as if they were guests at the Watergate and the furniture could spy. Circling to his tufted executive chair, he folded his hands together, pointer fingers steepled. "Thomas Wayne is looking into a mayoral run."

"He's a cardiologist. Why on earth would he want that job?"

"Something about his family's legacy, the Waynes fixing Gotham, yada yada. Anthony Mancuso - remember him? He's from the Wayne Foundation, we met him at the New Year's party. Anyway, he's taking charge of the foundation's charity arm. The public works project they funded to rebuild the viaduct will be done in June, and the Wayne Boys Home has secured enough funding for the next five years.

"The foundation has an idea for a free medical clinic in Otisburg. And not just a rinky-dink place for VD testing and condoms. It'd be a substantial investment in the city-"

"That coincides with the campaign," Patricia said.

The observation hung in the air before Matt gave a loose shrug. "That coincides with the campaign. No one's sent in any details yet, but business is expected to pick up. It'll require a lot of filings. Our pro bono hours were already on the low end during out last audit." He gestured at the resume. "We'll see how the new hire does with that and go from there."

"I'll be working on the Wayne case?"

"Primarily, but I reserve the right to drag her into it when it gets hairy."

She eyed Miss Thompson's address again. "I wonder why she wants to move all the way up here."

"That's the beauty of it. She's only seen Gotham on the news. She doesn't know the politics, she has no opinions on the Waynes. And the best part? No kids. And at her age, they're unlikely. She can pick up any extra hours we need - unless you want the overtime."

Matt's loyalty buoyed Patricia's heart and mind. But how far would that loyalty stretch if the chips were down with a 2-9 offsuit? She crossed her legs at the knee. The hem of her wool skirt shifted at her shins. "What if all this doesn't go as planned?"

Forearms braced on his desk, he leaned forward. "You're not going anywhere. You've been here longer than I have, and you know how to work the coffee percolator."

Relief loosened the corners of her mouth.

"Missouri's an hour behind, right?" He checked his watch. "I'll call her and give her the good news." After punching in the number, he grabbed a key from his pen stand and tossed it to Patricia. "Head to the basement and see what we've got down there. Desk, chair, typewriter, you know the rest." Akin to a bird, his head darted down and towards the receiver. "Hi, Miss Thompson? This is Matthew Stone from Shaw & Associates. Fine and yourself? Good, good. Are you sitting down?"

Patricia sidled out of his office and closed the door. She surveyed the room, the acanthus leaves carved into mahogany cornices. Bronze fluorescent light fixtures. The eight-by-ten space that'd been all her own for the better part of two decades.

Legal pad in hand, she took a breathed a cleansing breath and went out into the hallway.

Her nerves were nearly gone. She pushed the elevator call button, and the predictable hums and whirs of pulleys and gears calmed the rest. She tapped her pen to her notepad and considered. If she was worried, this Sarah Thompson must be just as nervous. Likely more so, what with having to relocate to the city where Patricia was born and bred. She had to adjust to sharing with a colleague; this woman had to adjust to a whole new life.

A sudden sympathy tipped the scales, a reflection of the heavy heart that'd led her to this path so long ago.

Sarah must have a story. Patricia made a note to learn it.

Ding! beckoned the elevator door. Stepping inside, she started her list. "Order name plate and business cards."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl

#joker 2019 #watchwhathappens #i dunno man #what the hell do i tag this?! 🤣

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 2 years ago

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what is it about cruise ships that you find ugly? like are there any specific ones you hate or is it just all of them?

okay so ive been puzzling over to how to answer this for A While™ because:

theres so many ugly cruise ships i would love to roast, and theres a part of me that wants to make a sideblog about it a la @mcmansionhell but for cruise ships

i am autistic and this is my special interest and i also want to infodump about ship design conventions

theres also really pretty oceanliners like the ss france that got converted into cruise ships where the magical girl transformation sequence malfunctioned badly.

its not always just like the exterior thats badly designed, theres both Awful design inside the ship like the disney wish, and Awful business plans and conduct like the epirotiki lines

...but, thats a lot.

so instead, ive settled on four exterior design issues that i think you can see in a lot of cruise ships even if you dont know shit about ships.

this is by no means an exhaustive list but just some common observations that you will see in 97% of cruise ships.

im also gonna include an example ship for each and also further examples when needed.

so without further ado:

1. your ship looks like a bus and a ferry had an unholy love affair that ended with a baby neither wanted.

as an example of this anchor-christ, may i introduce you to the celebrity edge

something about the stern (back) just reminds me of diamond busses here in the uk while the bow (front) has a distinctly ferry-like look.

the super-structure that you see peaking above the spaceship-bridge on the bow is giving me double-decker bus energy.

the orange viewing box elevator thingy gives construction site energy, but also gives me public transport vibes? like i can just see something similar being added on buses with no explanation and we'd all just be like i guess buses are getting the budget silicon valley treatment.

further, celebrity edge has relatively sharp angles at the stern and bow. if you look at a lot of ocean liners, youll see shallower sweeping angles curving down, while a lot of cruise ships will have these sharper angles (though by angles, i mean curves still) or just will stop at the stern:

[Image ID: collage with five ships. In the top left corner, there are two images with the profiles of the SS France and the SS Andrea Doria. In the top right, there is the stern of the MSC Meraviglia. Bottom left: the stern of the Costa Deliziosa. Bottom right: stern of the Norwegian Epic]

though not pictured above, the rms queen mary actually earned her title at the miss pacific ocean competition where a cruise ship will never win because theyre just too ugly.

but my point is that the abrupt ending of superstructure and ship at the stern looks like a bus. it just does.

there is also like "this is just a block of flats" energy with the costa deliziosa, but thats getting into the next point:

2. oh no gang, billy bear misplaced his msc seaside hotel and now its floating out to sea on a barge! can you help him?

yes this is a butlins reference, what are you gonna do about it? call a red coat on me?

the msc seaside is one of many cruise ships where it looks like someone put a hotel on a barge... which is what a cruise ship actually is.

like, they are barely ships. anyone who says theyre going on a cruise to explore the ocean is trying to buff out their tinder bio. while cruise ships technically can sail across oceans, they dont. their journeys are incredibly short they sail very close to land, avoid any rough weather and its mandatory for all of their captains to have a north american blue grouse fursona.

and thats all because a cruise ship is hotel complex on a barge. its purpose is not to sail far because its just a hotel. there are multiple swimming pools and restaurants and night clubs and fucking rollercoasters on some of them. you can buy souvenirs, you can go do yoga, you can get a massage and as long as your surname doesnt end with a double n, you can put your kid into the available childcare.

forget sending the british army to pontins during covid, lets send them to pontoons!

hotels on barges are the most common version youll see, but there are other variations which include:

chopping mall 2: carnivore cruises

the 2006 remake of the anchor-christ: abargements/if youre renting in a block of flats on a barge, do you pay rent to a waterlord or is your landlord firmly stood on ground?

the happiest place on earth: disneywater!

the entire shenanigans going on with the freedom ship which i do not have time or energy to get into right now, so lets all just calm and down and take a breath and...

...3. close your eyes, imagine, feel it. youre on a cruise ship, the ovation of the seas; its an early august night and petrichor deluges the air. the skies above you glisten, a whirlpool of colour illuminated by hundreds of tiny flecks of light. youre alone on the deck, standing at the stern with your arms precariously balanced on the barrier as you turn your attention to the ocean below. its dark, the gentle waves nearly imperceptible yet bar the bone-white crests against the hull. you watch, captivated, listening to the ocean sing its terrible song. yet then somewhere behind you, the mellow thud of hoofs on the wooden deck weaves between the waves and the melody. you look up, lock eyes, feel a hurricane surround you as he stares back, do you remember to count his fingers?

so, you might have noticed that a lot of modern cruise ships, especially the bigger ones, look like some check-mark tech-bro on the bird app used an ai to steal the work of naval architects, photographers, artists, etc. to generate "their own design" for a cruise ship.

the example i chose for this was the ovation of the seas:

the super-structure has copy and paste vibes. the ship also looks like its lurching forward to attack me but thats beside the point.

one of the issues the designers for these ships - i would say naval architects but cruise lines sometimes choose someone for head of design who is not a naval architect and has never been on a ship before for shits, giggles and profits- run into is that its really difficult to make a long blank wall look good.

if youve ever made a house in the sims, youve probably ran into this yourself. youre happily building your house and it looks really good at the front and the back, but the side of it is just a wall and adding windows is giving copy and paste vibes.

my trick for this is either fake chimney, add an extra small popout, vines everywhere or hide it with trees, but these are not viable options for a cruise ship.

trust me, i checked:

hence, we end up with very long ships where its just ctrl c ctrl v for 300+ metres.

so how do you fix this?

well, idk maybe you could take notes from any of the longer ocean liners built in recent history.

you know, like the ss united states or the rms queen mary 2 or the ss michelangelo or the ss normandie or the mv kungsholm or the ss principe perfeito:

now im not saying all of these liners are the most beautiful boats ever; theyre not. as much as i adore her, queen mary 2 is a little ugly. most of them even have an element of copy and paste.

but none of them feel ai-generated. and a lot of them look really really pretty. you can tell that they were designed by human beings.

because the naval architects and naval designers who knew what they were doing. weve got clever use of colours, gorgeous use of curves and sweeping lines that balance out all the design elements. the sameness is broken up when possible, and the ship has focal points designed within to catch your eye.

and all of them have beautiful bows. most ocean liners had/have noticeable bows due to functionality; they needed sharp bows to cut through waves because they were crossing the ocean every week. and so extra care would be taken to both make the bow work for its function and also, look really fucking cool.

the ss normandie specifically has a unique bow shape and structure designed by vladimir yourkevitch, a russian naval architect who had emigrated to france after the russian revolution.

the bow is slanted and looks almost clipper-like. theres this clear bulbous bulb (thats the wrong term but the bit at the bottom) beneath the waterline. this design is matched with a slim hull designed to be hydrodynamic, which made her a very fast ship.

she and the rms queen mary fought over the blue ribband for several years before ww2 broke out. [x][x]

its a little wibbly-wobbly-looking but it gives her a very distinct profile and she just looks really cool. you dont notice the repeating pattern of windows on the super structure because of how striking her entire design is.

and well, there has been attempts to capture this with cruise ships.

they run into problems with it though because their bows are not designed the way ocean liners' bows were because a cruise ship does not need to cut through waves. itd be really weird if you were in a fancy restaurant and you were giving a steak knife for your caesar salad.

so what else can you do to make your bow look so beautiful her kissing booth would be sold out all weekend?

4. your bow art is ugly. it is ugly. it is really ugly. please stop putting art on your bow. it is all ugly.

yeah.

take a moment .

its okay.

i promise

shes not real.

you can breathe.

take another breath.

youre okay.

are you scrolled far down enough that you cant see her anymore?

yeah so that was the aidanova. probably the worst bow art i have ever encountered but im yet to encounter any bow art that isnt awful.

pride of america is terrible; caribbean princess' is just completely out of place; norwegian prima is the epitome of "what the fuck?"; majestic princess' makes the ship look naked somehow.

now i will concede that a lot of bow art is probably aimed at children because family cruises are a thing, but i wont concede that it changes anything.

the bow art is still ugly and i struggle to see how it would be appealing to a child. like engaging children is more than just throwing some bright colours and patterns on a canvas? children are smarter than that and even in my joking post making fun of cruise ships, im not gonna stand for the way we invalidate the personhood of children. theyre not things to be distracted with simple solutions.

weirdly the aidanovas is the one id be less harsh about in terms of engaging children because there is more to dig into like a boat version of thomas the tank engine or like how do boat body work? the art isnt surface level.

but its still just ugly. the shape of the bow does not compliment the face and the change in colour in the eyes is very distracting.

tbh, if youre gonna do bow art, youve got two options that arent awful:

actually aim it at kids in a way thats not just surface level look at bright colour braxter. have focus groups with kids, gets their feedback, have kids contribute. respect the intelligence and personhood of kids.

just go all out. balls to the fucking wall, just break every damn rule in the book and apply every technique your art teacher hated. the ship is gonna be ugly anyway, make it fun ugly. camp is in. pantomime it up in this bitch!

and anyway, that concludes my "brief" answer to this question 👍

btw if you would follow a blog that just trashes cruise ships because of how ugly they are, please tell me because like, if enough people would enjoy it to make the effort worth it, i Will do it.

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squidthechaotickid · 2 years ago

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glad you showed interest bc I am about to go OFF hold on-

k so basically. It's what it says. Everyone lives in one house. Why? Doesn't matter they're all there and they are this close to murdering each other over the GODDAMNED dishes that SOMEONE keeps leaving in the sink

ANYWAY. I have a list on my notes app listing how everyone is as a roommate but bc it's very long I'm going to shorten it here. Also at the bottom are just other random facts :]

Mk: decent roommate, forgets to finish chores sometimes but mostly is alright. His room is fairly messy but it's definitely not the worst in the house

Mei: Will steal unlabeled food in the fridge. She's a Twitch Streamer and everyone has been a guest on stream at least once. There's like a whole side au abt her Twitch streaming hijinks but that's a separate rant

Tang: never does chores, probably steals snacks, hosts DnD campaigns in the basement with the others

Pigsy: Ends out paying for most the damages to the house bc he's the only one with a decent job, (besides Mk) cooks dinner a lot but will make others do it if he's tired

Sandy: Perfect roommate. Cleans, bakes for everyone sometimes, has his cats but they never leave a mess bc he always cleans cat hair b4 it can become a problem. Always offers impromptu therapy sessions with the cats and has tried to convince everyone to get therapy

Red Son: banned from cooking dinner bc only his parents can deal with his spice level. Every room in the house has at least 3 fire extinguishers bc of him

Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King: Share a room bc marriage. Are pretty chill but will complain abt anything. If you left a single crumb in the kitchen after a snack at 3 am? Prepare to get a lecture.

Wukong: TERRIBLE ROOMMATE. Never cleans and his room is a hazard zone. Go in there and you WILL get trapped in some weird artifact. Also he has a full peach tree in there, somehow.

Macaque: Officially he doesnt live there and just visits a lot, but he actually lives in the closet without anyone's knowledge. Bails Bai He out of chores a lot.

Bai He: Only kid in the house, everyone alternates taking her to school. Macaque takes her out to do fun stuff a lot, especially when she has chores

Yin and Jin: exist only to cause chaos. They prank everyone all the time and are forced to clean up the mess every time. Share a room even though there's more spare bedrooms.

Spider queen: is a pretty chill roommate. Does chores and mostly keeps to herself. Keeps the other spider people from killing

The mayor: no one knows he's there. Shows up at three am in the corner of your vision. By the time you blink, he's gone. Mostly chill tho he cleans up sometimes. The only person he talks to is Bai He bc of her pervious connection to lbd. They have tea parties together :]

Lady Bone Demon: Tied up in the basement. She gets fed sometimes and her mouth gets taped shut when Tang is doing his DnD campaigns.

Random stuff:

Mei is like, a really popular twitch Streamer, so obviously everyone is happy to play with her on stream sometimes, except wukong bc stage fright. The one time he was on stream he was very awkward and kept suggesting that he cut his head off/disembowel himself bc "It was entertaining that one time, won't it be fun again haha?" He hasn't been invited back since (even tho chat very much wanted him to do that. They still reference it and ask "decapitation stream when??"

Theres a whole fan base dedicated to wukong, ofc, and they are obsessed with Mei's streams bc sometimes he shows up in the background of her streams. There's a lot of insane conspiracy abt him based on random things that get brought up on Mei's streams. Sometimes she straight up lies for the fun of it, just to see what people come up with.

Pigsy is so tired of paying to replace walls.

Sandy has everyone's favorite teas memorized and has a storage of them in his room, just in case.

Wukong read and writes rpf of himself on ao3. He had the top rated shadowpeach fic on there. Also has a shadowpeach themed Tumblr.

Macaque also has a Tumblr but it's dedicated to hating wukong.

This happens sometime post s3 but pre s4 (don't ask why spider queen is there shhhh) but post s4 Peng also ends up in the basement

Tang is great at disappearing so no one finds him when chores are being distributed.

If spider queens new eyeliner disappears ONE MORE TIME she will kill. (Looking at Wukong. He has a record of stealing things)

Ne Zha is there but he only ever visits. He's like the cool uncle who brings gifts everytime he comes over

The monkeys from flower fruit mountain live there also. They cause chaos but it kinda just blends in with everything else going on

Im going to write a fic I swear

I got a whole Everyone-Lives-in-the-same-house lego monkie kid au plotted in my head, if anyone wants me to go insane abt it rq

#squid rambles #lmk #I will write a fic abt this it's been bouncing in my mind for too long not to #Anyway thanks for showing interest all it takes is literally one (1) person showing any sort of interest for me to go into info dumping mod

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heartpiercer · 2 years ago

Text

LFC - Marsira Ith’valin

「 general information 」

FULL NAME: Marsira Elayne Ith’valin

NICKNAME(S): Mar, Mars, Marsi

TITLE(S): The Heartpiercer, of the Unseen Path

AGE: 182

DATE OF BIRTH: June 27th

RACE: Quel’dorei

GENDER: Female, cisgender.

PRONOUNS: She/Her

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single, never married.

PROFESSION(S): Mercenary, sharpshooter, dragonrider, ranger of the Unseen Path. Former Farstrider (Captain), Ex-SI:7 (Director)

LANGUAGES: Thalassian, Common, Draconic, Sign

「 physicality & appearance 」

HAIR: Crimson red, wavy, shoulder blade length

EYES: Deep blue

HEIGHT: 5’10”

BUILD: Mesomorphic; muscular and athletic. Archer’s build.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS:

A jagged scar that darts by the corner of her right eye and stops just below her left cheekbone

An odd fern-like scar on her left bicep that stretches down her arm.

Freckles dotted across her cheeks.

Green, dragon-like tattoos on her arms and torso.

COMMON ACCESSORIES:

A lip ring, center of bottom lip.

A tongue piercing

Dagger, heart and playing card earrings.

「 personality & traits 」

Reserved even on the best of days, Marsira is more often a quiet observer than she is an engager in conversation. She's a decent conversationalist when spoken to, piercing the person in question with her bright blue eyes all the while. There is a certain kindness there, shrouded from the world at large in the shadowy fog of snark and sarcasm; kept safe from those who would use and abuse it.

Despite her quietness, there's an overwhelming aura of confidence and power about her. She's blunt, and by her own admission is easily annoyed by those who prevaricate or don't speak their mind. She does have her moments of frustration that can turn into fiery outbursts, but it is not a common occurrence.

Want to know more? Interact or RP!

「personal information 」

HOBBIES: Whittling, blacksmithing, drawing, reading

SKILL(S): Archery, trapper, tracker, survivalist, sharpshooter, bounty hunter.

RESIDENCE: Elwynn Forest

BIRTHPLACE: Quel’thalas

AFFILIATIONS: The Unseen Path, Glove & Gauntlet

「 relations 」

SPOUSE:

None.

CHILDREN:

None.

PARENTS:

Erzaen Ith’valin, father.

Sylrise Ith’valin-Duskfeather, mother. †

SIBLINGS:

None.

OTHER RELATIVES:

None

PETS/COMPANIONS/FAMILIARS:

Her drake, a black dragon named Avoth.

A blue hydra named Ire.

「 habits & vices」

SMOKING: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

「 other/ooc 」

FACE REFERENCE(S):Katherine Mcnamara

VOICE REFERENCE(S): Janet Varney as Avatar Korra

ALIGNMENT: Neutral

SERVER: Moon Guard - Alliance

OTHER:

Although this is an Alliance-aligned character, she won’t outright attack those of the Horde; she is currently far more preoccupied with what’s happening on the Dragon Isles to be bothered.

I will not interact/roleplay with minors or anyone under the age of 18.

Though I am fine writing characters in more intimate situations if it is appropriate, do not try to force ERP or expect it in any way when writing with me. Should you do so, it will likely end in a block.

I will not write with godmodders (ex. never misses a hit and never gets hit, their character is so overpowered that they’re basically a god and can’t ever lose, etc).

#looking for contact #lfc #looking for roleplay #lfrp #world of warcraft original character #wow rp #world of warcraft rp #wyrmrest accord #moon guard #alliance #horde #cross faction rp #marsira ith'valin

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milazka · 4 years ago

Text

not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose.

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her.

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare.

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins.

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched.

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget.

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance.

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious.

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash.

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt.

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?”

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm.

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?”

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well.

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?”

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.”

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,”

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine.

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties.

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds. She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him.

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him.

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl.

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?”

“Uh no, should I have?”

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?”

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question.

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

─── ° • ❀ ───

taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

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Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

#ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell #england national team imagine #chelsea imagine #footie fic #football fic #footballer fic

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adelheidvonschicksal · 4 years ago

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Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks

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kookiesjoonies · 5 years ago

Text

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done.

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor.

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged.

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.”

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that.

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!”

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head.

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with.

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser.

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing.

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough.

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit.

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible.

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care.

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth.

“What did you just say?”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.”

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response.

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already.

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?”

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.”

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself.

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again.

“I’ll teach you.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm.

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.”

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons.

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side.

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life.

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only.

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on.

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders.

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled.

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook.

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that.

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you.

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out.

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs.

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke.

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling.

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.”

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?”

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this.

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.”

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same.

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable.

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.”

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard.

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors.

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.”

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping.

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.”

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up.

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out.

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you.

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.”

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria.

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit.

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers.

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded.

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth.

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?”

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source.

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue.

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful.

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone.

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him.

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time.

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away.

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth.

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.”

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled.

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling.

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all.

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.”

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest.

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed.

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned.

You smiled at him, eyes half open.

“This feels like a dream.”

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you.

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts.

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was.

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened.

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!”

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong.

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you.

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you.

“But, I wanted to make you cum.”

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.”

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now.

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?”

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut.

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…”

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right.

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head.

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.”

Just him.

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction.

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half.

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out.

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it.

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions.

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay.

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process.

You moaned quietly at the sight.

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone.

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps.

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.”

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube.

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock.

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created.

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often.

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity.

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed.

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth.

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end.

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had.

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could.

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm.

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior.

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth.

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond.

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying.

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this.

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content.

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek.

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you.

This was it, you thought.

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

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mochacoffee · 5 years ago

Photo

I created a 3D model and floor plan of Aziraphale’s bookshop in Good Omens!

I really wanted one for reference and it seemed like many others did too, so I put together my best approximation of where everything is. Beneath the color version, you’ll see I’ve included two simplified, labeled versions of the plan. The verbal labels are so you know what the object is. The numerical labels are there to make it easy to find more information about the object. I’ve put a numbered index below the cut that features the relevant reference images I used for each object and some more information about why I put it where I did/why it’s relevant/etc. I want to be very clear that I did not add anything to this from my own imagination; every single item and feature represents something I actually saw in the shop.

If you have any questions or want more information about this, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask! I put so much time into figuring it out and I would be more than happy to be a resource for anyone who needs it. Also, if you notice any errors, let me know and I’ll update the post. I hope this is helpful!

Update: Here’s a link to an interactive view of the shop! It takes a moment to load. You can click the “3D” tab in the top right to view it in first person and walk around inside. Double click a spot on the floor to move there and pan around by clicking and dragging. The oval symbol next to the person walking gives you a birds-eye view.

Update 2: Here’s a higher quality rendering of the first person perspective! Update 3: I made an alternate first person render here complete with a ceiling, light fixtures, and ambient lighting from outside. This one is optimized for making it seem more like you’re actually there, whereas the previous one is for maximum visibility. This render also has some minor accuracy improvements, which are detailed under the cut in the relevant sections. (The first interactive link with the birds-eye view updates automatically.) Update 4: In case you’re interested in Aziraphale’s books specifically, I’ve made a catalogue of those here.

1. Unknown closet

Images

There is a door behind Gabriel when he talks to Aziraphale in the backroom. So where does it lead? Well. The wall we can see behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop (see #17: boxes/storage) doesn’t have a door in it. It’s also facing the wrong direction and it’s in the middle of the southwest wall ⁠— we know this because Aziraphale can see Shadwell in the entrance from there. So the wall behind him at that moment is definitely not the wall of the backroom. We’re left with this door and unaccounted-for corner. The only thing that makes sense to me then is that there’s a closet there between the two spaces. My personal theory is that this closet is “the back” that Aziraphale refers to keeping the Châteauneuf-du-Pape in since I didn’t see any other obvious alcohol storage space in the shop. Update: @n0nb1narydemon has suggested this could be a bathroom for guests or because culturally it’s a room you can use to extricate yourself from situations, which is another possibility! They also asked where I think the doors behind object #20 lead, and I thought it would be good to add here that they might lead to the shop next door or to this unknown room. It’s possible the room actually extends further into the next shop and encompasses the part of the wall where the doors are, but I didn’t have concrete evidence to support that idea so I didn’t include it in the floor plan. Update: I was wrong about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape! In the DVD bookshop tour we learn that the cabinet in the top left corner of the backroom is where Aziraphale keeps his alcohol, including that particular wine. I added a reference photo of Neil pointing it out. Thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens for bringing the existence of this tour to my attention — ya girl got the special edition blu-ray even though I don’t have a blu-ray player yet so I hadn’t actually seen it. Also, there is a chair right next to this cabinet against the wall which I missed in my initial rendering of the shop but have since added.

2. Part of shop next door (top right)

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This was very tricky to figure out because you can see from the exterior of the shop that there is no wall past the back door, but from the interior there is clearly more space there. BUT in a behind the scenes photo of David during the fire scene, you can see on this back wall that there’s actually a nook with two large entryways, similar to the one that makes up the backroom. From the exterior you can see that the area next to the back door is taken up by the window of the next shop, so I concluded that this little square of space was not part of the bookshop’s interior, but the nook did extend further back than where the shop appears to end from the outside. I had to make one bookshelf more nubby than the others to make this work, but after a LOT of trial and error I decided one nubby bookshelf was the only thing that could explain the apparent architecture of the space. Any floor design that accounted for a bookshelf of the same length as the others just did not make sense on a fundamental level.

3. Part of shop next door (bottom left)

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From the exterior of the shop you can see that this window belongs to the adjacent store, as the wall is a different color. Within the bookshop you can also see when Gabriel and Sandalphon enter the backroom, there’s no window behind them; there’s a sink. So it’s definitely not Aziraphale’s window. The wall of the backroom is also further into the shop’s interior than the wall Aziraphale’s desk sits against, so there’s a corner of space inside that’s unaccounted for. At first I assumed it was plumbing from the sink that had been sealed off or something, but when I realized that’s where the window was on the outside, I figured the space is probably part of the next shop over.

4. Aziraphale’s desk

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This is where Aziraphale sits in the shop like 90% of the time. It’s on the Eastern side of the shop because Aziraphale was the guardian of the Eastern gate in Eden and because production designer Michael Ralph is a goddamn genius (source). Shout out to @posted-omens for this fascinating post analyzing the chariot sculpture on his desk. Update: Fun fact, the ladder behind his desk is actually called a library chair, supposedly designed by Benjamin Franklin. It functions as a ladder but you can also fold it into a chair! Neil mentions this in the DVD extra bookshop tour. I added screen caps of it to the reference photos above since I don’t have a specific section for the ladders!

5. Phone Aziraphale calls Crowley from

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I will be honest with you: I think there’s something a little fucked up about this corner. It is my nemesis. I tried so many things to make it work and I just could not get it exactly right, but what you see in the floor plan is my best guess as to what’s going on. The conundrum is that the spot where Aziraphale stands when he’s on the phone with Crowley is definitely closer to the fence around the staircase than it is in my layout. But the table he’s in front of is also clearly against the outside wall of the backroom, and the stairs being where I’ve put them here is the only thing that made sense based on the reference photos. So there’s some weird spacing issue where there’s a little too much room between the fence around the stairs and this phone. If I were to move the walls to close that gap then there would be way too much space in the backroom and way too little space on the southwest side of the shop, so I think the walls are correct as they are. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. What I can say for certain is that the phone is there and it’s on a table next to a lamp, and the table is definitely against the wall of the backroom and behind the staircase. The distance between these things doesn’t hold up perfectly, but their arrangement does. On another note, this is one of two phones in the shop. The other is on the table next to the cash register (see #9) which Aziraphale picks up when Crowley calls to say they need to talk about Armageddon. I believe this is the same one he uses to call Adam’s house in episode two, only he moves it from the table by the register to the top of a pile of books (which I’m pretty sure were stacked on the circular table between his desk and the sofa). Update: OKAY SO it turns out in the behind-the-scenes bookshop tour on the DVD we get two more teeny tiny glimpses of this corner! I added them to the reference photo album above. It appears I was right about the lamp, phone, and bookshelf being where they are, except that the bookshelf and table are touching. There’s also a ladder propped against the shelf. I’d say it’s possible there are actually two bookshelves here; based on the parallax in the DVD tour, the one next to the phone didn’t appear to be against the wall, but we know there is a bookshelf against that wall because we see it in the show. (P.S. There’s also another chair against that wall which I didn’t see because Aziraphale was standing in front of it, so I added that too.) This leads me to believe there’s one against the wall and another one further from it next to the table. But that’s just my speculation, so I won’t change the actual floor plan unless I find more evidence.

6. Where they’re drinking when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound

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When Aziraphale sits down at this table, the background is of the same space he refers to as the “backroom” when Gabriel and Sandalphon show up. He’s across the table from Crowley, behind whom you can see a bookshelf, the staircase, and the coat rack. The table is half in the backroom half out, since the room has two large entryways in its wall. Update: I realized the wall behind this table actually dips back further! It is a weirdly-shaped wall! But in the DVD special tour of the bookshop Neil walks past it and there’s clearly an area that recesses even further, so I’ve modified that in the interactive floor plan :)

7. Bench of books that start the fire

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When Shadwell leaves the book shop and slams the door, one of the candles knocks over and rolls into a pile of books and other papers (including the Sound of Music lmao). You can see it’s the same bench the customer is standing in front of when he gives Gabriel a weird look after he yells about pornography. (I love this customer so much because they gave me a super HD shot of this particular area.) The poles of the fence around the bench, the staircase behind it, and the smaller shelves beside it holding Terry Pratchett’s books make it clear that the bench is in that spot in the shop and that it’s the place the fire starts.

8. Coat rack with Terry’s hat on it

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Aziraphale hangs his coat here right before Crowley calls him to say they need to talk about Armageddon. Out of focus in the frame you can see the lion sculpture that sits on the fence surrounding the stairs (see #11) and a bookshelf. The camera pans past the shelf and we see him walk past his desk to pick up the phone by the cash register, which puts that shelf right next to his sitting area. We can also see the coat rack in the background when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound. The coat rack has Terry Pratchett’s hat and scarf on it in his honor (source).

9. Antique cash register

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You can see this register in the background when Crowley is on the couch and when Aziraphale invites Gabriel and Sandalphon into the backroom. I know it’s an antique cash register because it’s photographed and referenced directly on page 79 of the Good Omens TV Companion. It’s a typewriter in my floor plan because the website I used (floorplanner.com), who knows why, did not have a 3D model of a cash register from the early 1900s.

10. Back door

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Thank you so much to @fuckyeahgoodomens for this post where they figured all this out!! Wonderful work! You can see this door from the exterior of the shop and its existence is referenced in the Good Omens script book on page 94. It’s also in the background of a behind the scenes shot of Aziraphale pulling away the carpet so he can contact heaven. Behind him in that shot you can see the bust (which moves around a lot - see #19) and a grandfather clock, and in the show from one of the aerial shots you can see that the carpet is pulled west, further confirming the door’s location.

11. Fence around the stairs

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I have concluded that this is a fence to keep customers from going up to the second floor. It looks to be made of golden pillars with wooden shelving atop them. The fence crosses beneath the staircase on one side and the other side ends about where the stair’s railing does. You can see this fence behind Crowley when he realizes Adam has named the hellhound, behind Aziraphale when he calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the antichrist is, and next to the customer who gives Gabriel a look after he yells “PORNOGRAPHY!” It’s also visible in one of the aerial shots of the shop. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I noticed the lion sculpture on this fence is not just a lion, but a lion with a woman holding its mane. I think it might also be a lamp? In one of the reference photos, the one that looks down from the second floor, it appears there’s a light in the woman’s other hand. I’d be interested to see if we can track down what this particular sculpture is and what it might mean. Update: @cantdewwrite has suggested here that the light/sculpture could be a replica of one of the bronze statues in the Victoria Memorial, which does look quite similar. I’m fairly certain Aziraphale’s sculpture is of a woman, which would make it the figure in the memorial representing peace.

12. Open book of illustrated story of Adam and Eve

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Shout out to @amuseoffyre for this post where she figured out what this was! Update: I’ve determined that this book is The Gospel in the Old Testament: A series of pictures by Harold Copping. The painting is, naturally, by Harold Copping. It’s called “Adam and Eve after the fall.” Unfortunately this book is out of print and I haven’t been able to track down an ebook or scan of it, so I can’t confirm the text just yet. But based on its premise, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s telling the story of Adam and Eve directly. Aziraphale has a second copy of this book visible on the shelf next to the sofa.

13. Antique computer

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This is the computer Aziraphale does his extremely scrupulous taxes with, as confirmed in this ask that @neil-gaiman answered from @prismatic-bell! It’s an Amstrad, according to the bookshop tour in the DVD extras.

14. Spiral staircase

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These stairs are in many shots of the shop so it was pretty obvious where they were.

15. Sink, teapots, etc.

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You can see this wall right before Gabriel walks into the backroom and behind Aziraphale when he’s drinking with Crowley at the end of episode one. It appears he has two hand towels, a ceramic angel soap dish (aw), some teapots, and a decorated box above it, among other things. On the floor beside the sink is what I believe to be a broom handle, though it could be a mop? Next to that is a bronze statue of an angel atop a small table piled with books. On the other side of the sink is an open book on a stand ⁠— it has a fabric bookmark in it with a crucifix at the end, so I’m assuming it’s a bible. Light reading while you make your tea I guess. Update: Thank you so much to @brightwanderer for pointing out in this post that he has four extra angel wing mugs above the sink as well! I couldn’t figure out what they were! Update: Neil said in this ask that you can see an oven by the sink when Gabriel and Sandalphon walk in. Which you can! It’s real small and there’s a little pot on top of it. I’ve added a screencap of it to the images album for this area. Update: I’m donating my heart and soul to @ack-emma for suggesting in the replies to this ask that the central object above the sink is a samovar!! I had never heard of this so I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I think they hit the nail on the head. Y’all Aziraphale really likes tea.

16. Sculpture

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Thank you @ineffable-endearments, @behold-my-squeees, @srebrnafh, @aethelflaedladyofmercia for contributing to this post about the statue and its potential symbolism! Update: @doctorscienceknowsfandom has added some analysis to the post above suggesting that this is a sculpture of Paris, the figure from Greek mythology. I’m inclined to agree! Update: BINGO! @tifaria has found Aziraphale’s exact statue (confirmed Paris!) in this post. Brilliant work!! This community continues to blow me away. Further discussion about the sculpture’s meaning in the context of the show here — be sure to check the notes for further commentary.

17. Boxes/storage

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These boxes and piles of books can be seen behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop and behind Crowley while he’s rambling drunkenly about why they should stop Armageddon in episode one. They’re in a nook that goes further back than where the shop appears to end from its exterior (see #2 for more info on that!).

18. Stacks of books

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You can see this stack in one of the aerial shots of Shadwell in the shop. I didn’t include most stacks of books in the floor plan because they’re literally everywhere and I had to manually set how high each book would be from the floor, so putting them in piles got tedious very quickly. But I did include a few notable ones, and this is one of those imo because there’s not much else in that area as far as I can tell.

19. Bust

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This little guy moves around quite a bit, unlike most things in the shop. In some photos/scenes it’s where I put it on the floor plan, but in others it’s closer to the northwestern wall and in this 360 video of the shop it’s right between two of the columns. I chose to put it where I did because it’s there in the scene where Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Armageddon, whereas the other locations I’ve seen it in were from behind the scenes shots and stuff. I’m not sure who the bust is of! It appears to have a little ribbon with a medal around its next though. Update: More speculation about the bust here, courtesy of @aethelflaedladyofmercia! Update: @fuckyeahgoodomens has confirmed in this post that the thing around the bust’s neck is the medal given to Aziraphale by Gabriel in this deleted scene!

20. Divider I think?

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Please for the love of god if you know what this thing is, tell me. My best guess is it’s a room divider because what else looks like that?? But I don’t know why you would put a room divider there. And it still doesn’t look exactly like a divider either. But the decorative element at the top and apparent gap between the metal frame and the red bit leads me to believe it’s not furniture or a box. This mystery object is my second nemesis after the weird corner (#5). Update: @brightwanderer has suggested that it might be an embroidered/tapestry draft screen, which I think makes more sense! Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I found a very brief image of this item over Neil’s shoulder which I added to the reference photos above. I think by some miracle I was right and it is a divider. It could be a draft screen but at the very least it is shaped like a divider with at least three sections. Wahoo!

21. Record player

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This is the phonograph that’s playing Franz Schubert’s String Quintet in C major (thank you again to @fuckyeahgoodomens for that info) when we first see Aziraphale in the shop. It also plays Queen’s You’re My Best Friend when Crowley runs into the fire.

22. Terry Pratchett’s books

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Another one of the many little Terry easter eggs in the show is this set of his books! @devoursjohnlock made a post highlighting some other specific books you can find in the shop.

23. Chess set

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I saw a post once pointing out this chess set and the implication that Aziraphale and Crowley must play together sometimes, which I thought was a really nice detail to put into the set. But I can’t find the post to credit it! I will update this with a link if I do. Update: Pretty sure this is the post I saw. Thank you to @losyanya for mentioning it :)

24. Circular entryway

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This is one of many circle motifs that production designer Michael Ralph incorporated into the shop. It’s gorgeous. I think there’s actually more room between the archway and the door than I’ve included in this floor plan; Shadwell takes a few steps through it when he runs out of the shop. But I think the fix is just the door being further out from the entryway rather than the entryway being further in. I didn’t want to fuck with the walls to improve this particular area because when I realized the spacing was wrong, I was almost done and would’ve had to manually move each object in the shop over a few inches over. Made more sense to leave the caveat in a footnote. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour you get a brief glimpse of something on the inside wall of the entryway. I think it’s a wall sconce or something along those lines. There’s one on either side. I added them to the reference album above! I also figured out how to extend the walls to accommodate some more space there without having to move everything else, so I did that. Update: Here’s a link to some meta discussion about the cupid sculpture in front of this entryway!

25. Sofa Crowley sits on when he suggests they could be godfathers

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You can see that the sofa is next to Aziraphale’s desk and the cash register, and also that there’s a bookshelf behind it. From the entrance to the shop you can see two bookshelves on either side of the central circle, so it was pretty clear that the couch was on the other side of one of those shelves.

26. Wall crucifix

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I find it very interesting that Aziraphale has this considering Jesus isn’t a big part of angelic lore or heaven’s general priorities in the show. It would make more sense to me that he has it because it’s another memento of his time with Crowley, sort of like the illustrated story of Adam and Eve by his desk (#12). Also, fun fact, the opposite side of this wall segment is where he put up all his maps and notes about the whereabouts of the Antichrist in episode three.

#good omens #aziraphale's bookshop #good omens reference #floor plan #ref #i hope people see this i posted it at 2am because i was too excited about it to wait until daylight hours #OKAY SO PEOPLE SAW IT THANKS GUYS #check out the tag:#bookshop questions #for follow-up Qs!

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mackeydoodledoo · 4 years ago

Text

Twice the Chaos: Chapter 1

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x (Fem!DemonHybrid)OC: Pandora Barlowe

Summary: You were only passing through. You had nowhere to go; you were the spawn of Satan himself. There was no place in the world for you. Until you met a blonde vampire.

Warnings: Parental Abandonment, Depression, Chaotic Life

A/n: Listen... I’m just tryna see something here...

Key: Bold/Italics = Telepathic Conversation/Thoughts

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Your mother had left you when you were of age; not wanting to take care of a freak. That was how your mother always referred to you. Your Father? He was never around. Since being left out into the streets, life has been absolute chaos. You try to make a living for yourself; but you began developing new features.

“I’m sorry, we can no longer have you be working at our establishment,” The owner comes up to you

You were just trying to clean tables; next was you getting fired?

“What? Why? I haven’t violated any of your rules,” You try to counter-argue, “More so, I’ve been trying to not violate them...”

“Your... Vibe... Everyone’s giving us weird looks... It’d be better if you no longer worked here,” He doesn’t budge

You storm out of your former workplace.

That is IT! I’m done!

You try running your hands through your hair but you felt something knock against your fingertips.

Stubs?! That can’t be...

You saw something move from the bottom corner of your eye.

A tail?! What the absolute hell is happening?

You run off to the woods in order to avoid getting any further attention from humans. You did everything... Just simply trying to get through like at the age of 18. Clearly it wasn’t going to happen...

You are beginning to become like me...

Who said that?!

You were beginning to freak out.

Your father...

What are you talking about?! My dad was never around! He could be dead for all I know and care!

You don’t get it do you?... I am your father...

Father?

You were sure your father just ran off with another woman. But, it wasn’t logically possible to have someone telepathically speak to you.

Why am I going to believe some voice in my head that’s never been around until now?!

You just try to get the same voice out of your head.

You’re like me... You can come home. You won’t have to worry about being judged here...

Home?! My mother threw me out as soon as I turned 18... Since then I couldn’t even keep a single job afloat without anyone that comes within my radius getting me fired because of my “bad vibes”! Well, look at it this way-

No! Face it! There’s no place for me!!!!! Heaven or Hell? Doesn’t matter... There’s no damn place for a freak like me...

The voice in your head ceased then. But, the development of new features hadn’t. Your stubs? Grew into small horns. Tail? Resembled a Demon’s tail. Pointed end and everything.. It’s been months since you had your last job... Anyone really. You use a beanie to cover your horns and you shove your tail into your pants or jacket; whichever was comfortable. You mysteriously was still stable enough to create your own little place in the woods. But, it was still depressing for you. You still thought about how your mother abandoned you, getting fired just because of the vibes you give off, despite trying to be a normal human.

“Why me?...” You ask yourself, “Why me?....”

You look up as soon as you felt a single raindrop fall.

I need a new tarp... But, I’m not in for going back into town... They wouldn’t eve just as so sell me a new tarp... Whatever I guess...

You had passed out while the rain was going on. However, when you open your eyes, you were expected to feel wet. But, you felt warm. You look up to see a brand new tarp draped over your small hideout and you look back down to see a Sherpa-lined blanket engulfing you in warmth.

Who?...

“Got me these?...” You ask yourself

You crawl out of the hideout and try to look around the woods to see if there was anyone else that had been camping out. But, no such people were there. You scoff but felt thankful that someone was sympathetic enough to give you a whole new tarp to go over your head and a blanket.

Fortunately it had stopped raining by the time you went out to go fishing to get your fill for the day. To be honest, it didn’t feel so bad when you would be out fishing, you found a big enough lake to see the sun rise and set over the horizon, you were able to catch a handful of fish to get you through each day.

I see you’ve grown accustomed to living on your own... Nice job kiddo.

What did I say about coming out to “chat”? Don’t try and persuade me to “Come home”.

I’m not. I’m just checking in on you. You claim that there’s no place for you here... Yet, you’ve made a small place for yourself?

Might as well be somewhere off the grid.

Not to that once blondie...

A blondie?... Who?...

Not sure, but that new tarp and blanket? That’s from her.... She’s been coming nearly every night...

You watch me sleep?...

I do it to protect you so you could sleep.

Don’t try and act like my dad... I’m fine without him....

You still don’t believe me?..

Still haven’t seen you face to face.

You wouldn’t want to see me face to face....

Good, we’re on the same page then. Don’t think I’d want to meet my old man anyway...

Once dusk had hit, you were putting out a firepit you had set up to cook the fish you had caught not too long before.

I got you kiddo. Go ahead and sleep.

I said don’t treat me like you’re trying to be like my dad. I never knew him anyway...

You take the blanket and use a couple of your flannels as a pillow.

Goodnight...

Night.

The same old routine persisted. You felt the off-putting vibes on how you were able to be this stable, especially living in an unused shed of all places that was clearly in a state of decay.

I think that blondie has taken a liking to you.

She’s still in question? She doesn’t even know me... How could you know?

When she would come check on you, just last night she was lying next to you. I know because she’s been visiting every night.

And she can’t see you?

No one can.

That’s a ‘shocker’... But can she not hear you?...

Only you and myself.

“Weird...” You take a deep breath as you sit against the tree

You were kind of fishing from sitting on a tree branch, decently high from the ground.

You’ve thought about the last several nights you were sleeping in your little hideout space. You would open your eyes, but still be half asleep. As you were half awake and half asleep; you could have sworn you felt an arm hooked around your waistline. But you don’t think anything of it as you pass right back out. The feeling would be gone in the morning.

You really think there is someone?

She’s come every night. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be taken to where she lives.

Out here? In the middle of nowhere? I doubt it..

Like clockwork, you set up your makeshift flannel pillow and lay across the old tarp you decided to use as a covering form the molding hardwood floor.

You open your eyes and realize the cold morning feeling is no longer around. Your eyes begin adjusting to so much light coming into the room.

“You’re awake now?” A feminine voice asks you

You were startled. Startled to the point where you fell off the bed. You groan at the impact. Trying to gain your vision back, a figure comes walking over to you. You immediately sit up and begin backing away.

“You-you don’t wanna be near me,” You say, almost in a drunken state, “I’m no good around people...”

“Says who?” She asks

“Says the many people that have fired me from jobs because of the vibes I give off,” You groan when you feel the wall against your back

“Well, they just go by the book cover,” She says, helping you back into bed, “You should lay down... You hit your head there pretty hard.”

In your still blurred vision; the woman’s hair was brunette.

That isn’t her...

But, she isn’t giving off any bad vibes...

I’ll be the judge of that...

You try to sit up again but a hand is gently pressed against your shoulder.

“My daughter will be here any minute to check on you,” She says, calmly, “You should thank her when you have the chance... She felt miserable watching you every night.”

She... Felt miserable?...

See? She does like you.

But, she still barely knows me. I don’t even know her name and vice versa.

That could change here.

Will you just stop talking?....

The next time you open your eyes, your vision slowly coming together; you saw a faint color of blonde.

Could it be?...

“I told you you shouldn’t have brought that... Thing in here. She’ll get us all killed,” A male voice tries to persuade the blonde

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” She argues, “She was miserable. Carlisle and Esme already said she could stay here under my care.”

“If you get us killed it’s your fault,” He replies

You hear him storm out of the room.

“You’re awake for real now?” She sits at the bedside

“Where?-” You ask, trying to sit up

“My family estate,” She explains

“My-my stuff, some of my stuff-” You begin freaking out

“Already taken care of,” She slightly smiles

You sit up from the lush bedsheets, taking deep breathes as you try to wrap your head around the last several hours.

“How long was I out?” You ask the blonde

“Several hours,” She answers, “I continuously checked on you... You were... Crying, tossing and turning, talked in your sleep...”

“Oh? What about?” You ask

“Does... ‘Why me?...’, ‘What am I?...’ Ring a bell?” She asks

It does for me.

Shut up.

“I may have had those kinds of panic attacks while I slept...” You explains, “Which is why I look like shit right?..”

“I was going to say that you’ve slept for so long,” She says, cocking an eyebrow at you, “But if you think that too than you do you.”

It was an awkward silence for the both of you. You didn’t know what to make of this blondie.

I like her.

I said shut up.

What? She’s pretty, she’s looked after you the last serval nights.

That doesn’t mean she’s my soulmate or anything... We barely know each other, let alone each others’ names.

“My name’s Rosalie Hale,” the blondie answers

“Huh?” You ask, removing the bedsheets from your legs

“You... Didn’t know my name so... Thought I’d tell you,” She says, “Now, you must be hungry.”

“Yeah,” You say, in a suspicious tone, “Lead the way blondie.”

“It’s Rosalie,” She corrects you

“Alright blondie,” You continue using that nickname

Rosalie turns to you to try and hit you. You easily block her arm with yours. For the first time since childhood, you laughed. A genuine laugh had come out of your mouth. You stopped dead in your tracks; making Rosalie turn to you.

“You okay?” she asks, walking up to you

A chill runs up your spine as you feel her gentle touch against your forearm. You look back at her with a slight surprise. But, Rosalie didn’t seem phased by your sudden change in expression.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I haven’t laughed in awhile... It’s.. Been a very long time.”

“How long is a long time?” She asks

“Probably when I was a little kid...” You sigh, “Since then, I’ve never really learned to smile, laugh or experience any sort of positive thing...”

“I’m so sorry,” She says, her expression changing to concern, “Well, what matters most is that you now have an actual roof over your head. You are under my care now.”

“You- don’t do me any favors blondie!” You try to protest

“Too late!” She smiles, letting out a small giggle

Ooooh, I do like her.

Aren’t you a fire spirit or something? Lay off buddy.

Oh we getting jealous now huh?

What?!- No! You aren’t physically here, so that means you can’t have blondie.

So you can?

That’s not what I’m saying- you know what, shut your trap!

“Your friend there is fond of me I see,” Rosalie blushes

“What? Him?” You ask, “You... Can hear him?”

“He’s in your head no?” She asks you

“Well, yes but- how can you know that?” You ask

“Let’s just say I’m full of surprises,” She smirks

You watch her walk off into the kitchen as you make eye contact with what looked to be her family members.

“I hope you’re well rested now sweetheart,” A brunette speaks

“That’s the adoptive mother and father; Carlisle and Esme,” Rosalie explains to you

“I’m sorry you have had a tough time these past few months,” Carlisle says, “But, you are more than welcome here.”

“Oh, just at least I can get back up on my feet,” You say, bashfully, “I wouldn’t want to take up any more space than I already have..”

“Nonsense!” A male voice enthusiastically says

Your feet lose contact with the ground. You let out a yelp as you try to get a vision of who had just grabbed you.

“That is my brother... Emmett Cullen,” Rosalie scoffs, “He’s a little bit... Chaotic..”

“Chaotic is my middle name,” He jokes as he sets you right back onto the ground

“Four of our other kids are somewhere around...” Carlisle explains, “Oh, they must be out hunting. You’ll see them when you see them.”

“Thank you again,” You say

Quite a family...

You’re telling me...

After you had gotten a proper meal for the first time in months, you found yourself in the library. You don’t really read that often anymore as you have come to the conclusion that it would take you a century to read a single book.

“Looking for something in particular?” Rosalie asks from the doorway

“To be honest... No,” You answer, “I guess I’ve just been wandering aimlessly. Never really been in a house this... Spacious..”

It’ll be much more spacious when you come live with me.

Like I said before. You are not my father and don’t try to have me come to wherever the hell it is that you live in.. Not a chance..

“You don’t get along with your dad very well?” Rosalie asks

“Never knew him...” You sigh, looking out to the forestry that surrounded the estate, “My mother said he left as soon as I was born...”

“Hey, before you go on, do you... Want to talk about it elsewhere?” She asks, placing her palm over your upper arm

“That would be nice,” You slightly smile

“I know a place,” Rosalie smiles

In one swift motion, Rosalie hoists you over her shoulder.

“You better hold on leech,” Rosalie teases

“That should be ME telling you that,” You nervously chuckle

Rosalie hops out of an open window; breaking into an inhuman speed. You weren’t sure where to hold on along Rosalie’s clothing without touching an area where Rosalie wouldn’t want you to touch her. So you just hang over her shoulder. Almost like a heavy weight.

“You doing okay?” Rosalie asks

“Yep!” You sort of lie, “Good as we can be blondie!”

“We’re almost there!” Rosalie announces to the both of you

Chapter 2

#Rosalie Hale x Reader #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #emmet cullen #edward cullen #bella swan #rosalie hale #female reader

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 4 years ago

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Jin Guangyao isn't cruel because he is nice sometimes! No... no... just no. He pretends to be a nice, sweet person to get what he wants, it is exactly why he got away with the killings and plannings for the Yin Hu Fu, YEARS AFTER JIN GUANGSHAN IS OUT OF THE PICTURE. He's the only legitimate Jin left old enough to take over the Sect, who the hell was gonna argue that when all relevant Jins were dead and Nie Mingjue was killed by the happy smiling pretty boy?

First example, he was actively friends with Xue Yang, there is no saying he was coerced into that one since he recommended him as a guest disciple and made creepy little jokes with him.

Jin GuangYao sighed, “I only turned around for a second and you stirred up so much trouble for me. I only had to pay for a bowl of dumplings in the beginning, and now I have to pay for his table, chairs, pots and pans, and even bowls.”

Xue Yang, “You’ll miss the couple of coins?”

Jin GuangYao, “No.”

Xue Yang, “Then why are you sighing?”

Jin GuangYao, “I don’t think you’ll miss the couple of coins either. Why can’t you try being a normal customer once in a while?”

Xue Yang, “Back in Kuizhou I never paid for anything I wanted. Just like this.” As he spoke, he casually plucked off a stick of sugared haws off a vendor’s pole. It might be the first time the vendor saw such a shameless person. As he stared open-mouthed, Xue Yang took a bite, “Besides, you can deal with the trouble of me wrecking a tiny stall, can’t you?”

Jin GuangYao smiled, “You little delinquent. Wreck stalls however you want. I wouldn’t even care if you burned down the entire street. Just one thing—don’t wear the Stars Amidst Snow robes and cover up your face. Don’t let anyone know who did it, or it’d be trouble for me.”

He tossed the money to the vendor

A.K.A: haha you're funny and I don't care who you fuck over but be sly and

Next example:

And so, Jin GuangShan sought after all those who imitated Wei WuXian in cultivating the ghostly path and gathered them under his rule. He spent a great amount of money and resources on these people, ordering them to study and analyze the structure of the Tiger Seal in secrecy so that they could replicate and restore it. Among them, not many achieved anything, while the one who walked the furthest was the youngest Xue Yang, recommended by Jin GuangYao alone.

Jin GuangYao was overjoyed. He accepted him as a guest cultivator and gave him high rights and freedom. The corpse training ground was an area of land Jin GuangYao specially requested for Xue Yang for him to research in secrecy, which meant for him to fool around however he wanted to.

He gave a whole torture playground for Xue Yang to use, he specifically asked for this from his own mouth, for Xue Yang to use and he would check in on progress. As for his morals:

Jin GuangYao’s tone was somewhat reproachful, “He Su gongzi is a respected cultivator, after all. How could you refer to him in such a disrespectful way?”

The cultivator laughed coldly, “I’ve already fallen in your hands. What are you keeping up the pretense for?”

Jin GuangYao responded with a kind expression, “You don’t have to look at me like that. I also had no choice. To elect a chief cultivator is an irresistible trend. What was the use of stirring up trouble and seeking arguments everywhere? I’ve already warned you again and again, yet you were determined not to listen to me. Under these circumstances, things are already beyond redemption. From the bottom of my heart, I, too, feel utmost pain and regret.”

He Su, “What was the irresistible trend? What was stirring up trouble? Jin GuangShan wanted to establish the position of chief cultivator only to imitate the QishanWen Sect in being the only one at the top. Do you think all the world is ignorant? You frame me like this only because I spoke the truth!”

Jin GuangYao smiled, saying nothing. He Su continued, “When you really succeed, all of the world of cultivation would see the true face of the LanlingJin Sect. Do you think killing me alone would put you eternally at ease? How wrong you are! We, the TingshanHe Sect, teem with talent. From now on, we’ll unite and never surrender to you Wen-dogs of another skin!”

Hearing this, Jin GuangYao squinted slightly, the corners of his lips curving up. It was the usual kind, gentle expression. Seeing this, He Su felt his heart skip a beat. At the same time, commotion sounded outside the corpse training ground, among it the cries of women and children.

He Su spun around, only to see a group of LanlingJin Sect cultivators drag inside sixty or seventy people all wearing the same uniform. There were men and women, old and young. Every one of them was a cross between shock and fear, while some were already crying. Both tied up, a girl and a boy kneeled on the ground as they wailed at He Su, “Ge!”

He Su was shocked speechless, his face instantly as white as paper, “Jin GuangYao! What are you doing?! It’s enough if you kill me—why drag my entire sect along?!”

Jin GuangYao looked down and fixed his sleeves, still grinning, “Weren’t you yourself the one who reminded me just now? Even if I killed you, I wouldn’t be put eternally at ease. The TingshanHe Sect teems with talent, and from now on, you’d unite and never surrender—I was quite frightened. After much thought, this was the only thing I could come up with.”

Among the group are children. That he did see and stare at gleefully as he lets Xue Yang decide to use all of them for corpse experiments. What does that mean??? Maybe that Jin Guangyao is also not in fact best uncle as he similarly was willing to kill Jin Ling who he "loved" as bait to try running away and is more than willing to use his "friends" for his own rise to power or to run away.

Examples of him enjoying emotionally torturing others as much as Xue Yang as a tactic:

Example 1:

“That’s not the way to go about things, is it? The TingshanHe Sect rebelled and schemed to assassinate Sect Leader Jin with all its forces before it was caught red-handed. How could that be called without a reason?”

The ones overhead cried, “Ge! He’s lying! We didn’t, we didn’t!”

He Su, “Utter nonsense! Open your eyes and fucking look! There are nine-year-old children here! Old men who can’t even walk! How could they rebel against anything?! Why would they assassinate your dad out of nowhere?!”

Jin GuangYao, “Because you made a mistake and committed murder, Young Master He Su, while they refused to accept Koi Tower’s conviction of you, of course.”

He Su finally remembered the accusation for which he was transferred to such a creepy place, “It’s all made up! I never killed a cultivator of the LanlingJin Sect! I’ve never even seen the person who died! I don’t even know if he was really a cultivator from your sect! I… I…”

He stammered for a while before eventually caving in, “I… I don’t even know what happened, I don’t even know!”

Yet, at such a place, nobody would listen to his protests.

Example 2:

Just as he was about to move, Jin GuangYao smiled, “HanGuang-Jun, it’s best if you take five steps back.”

Wei WuXian suddenly felt a small, sharp sting come from his neck. Lan XiChen lowered his voice, “Be careful. Do not move!”

Lan WangJi’s gaze landed on Wei WuXian’s neck. His face paled slightly.

An almost invisible guqin string, light and golden, was tied around Wei WuXian’s neck.

The guqin string was extremely thin. It was covered in special paint as well, making it almost invisible to the eye. Along with how disoriented Wei WuXian was, unable to pay attention to anything else, he didn’t notice it when it wrapped around his throat.

“Lan Zhan, don’t! Don’t back away!”

But Lan WangJi immediately walked five steps back without any hesitation.

Jin GuangYao, “Wonderful. Now, please sheathe Bichen.”

With a clank, Lan WangJi obeyed again. Wei WuXian raged, “Don’t ask for too much!”

Jin GuangYao quipped, “This is already asking for too much? Next, I’m even going to ask HanGuang-Jun to seal away his spiritual powers. What would that be called?”

Wei WuXian seethed, “You…”

Before he could finish, the sharp pain of flesh being lacerated came from his throat. Something dripped down his neck. Lan WangJi’s face was pale. Jin GuangYao said, “How could he not listen to me? Just think about it, Wei gongzi, his life is in my hands.”

Lan WangJi spoke one word at a time, “Do. Not. Touch. Him.”

“Then you know what to do, HanGuang-Jun.”

A moment later, Lan WangJi responded, “Yes.”

Lan XiChen sighed. Lan WangJi raised his hands. With two strong taps, he locked his own spiritual powers.

Jin GuangYao smiled, his voice soft, “This really is…”

Lan WangJi’s eyes were locked on them, “Let him go.”

Example 3:

Wei WuXian wouldn’t have had to be responsible for a life as heavy as Jin ZiXuan’s, and the things that happened later wouldn’t have had to happen.

Yet now, he finally realized even the reason behind culprit’s curse wasn’t to frame him. Even the cause didn’t have anything to do with him!

Such a fact was truly difficult to accept.

As he laughed, Wei WuXian’s eyes reddened. He mocked, whether at himself or otherwise, “I can’t believe it’s because of someone like you… because of such a ridiculous reason!”

But Jin GuangYao seemed like he knew what he thought, “Wei gongzi, you really shouldn’t think like this.”

Wei WuXian, “Oh? You know what I think?”

Jin GuangYao, “Of course. It’s quite easy. You’re definitely thinking about how unfortunate you are. In reality, you’re not. Even if Su She didn’t curse Jin ZiXun, Mr. Wei, you’d receive a siege sooner or later, because of some other reason.” He smiled, “Because that’s what kind of a person you are. At best, you’re the untamed hero; at worst, you offend people wherever you go. Unless all those whom you’ve offended lived their lives safely, as soon as something happened to them or someone did something to them, the first person they suspect would be you and the first person they seek revenge on would also you. And this is something you have no control over.”

Somehow, Wei WuXian smiled, “What should I do? For some reason, I think you make a lot of sense.”

Jin GuangYao, “And even if you didn’t lose control at the Qiongqi Path, could you guarantee you didn’t lose control sometime in the rest of your life? Thus, someone like you is destined to have a short life. You see? Doesn’t it feel a lot better if you think about it this way?”

He takes little time in using others hurt or their protective instincts against them, and is just as gleeful to see others in powerless situations in comparison to him as it still gives him a form of control to worm his way out of everything that has caught up to him.

Jin GuangYao, “Ge, every word of what I say is true.”

His tone was more than earnest. Ever since he captured Lan XiChen, he’d indeed been treating him with respect. At this point, Lan XiChen wasn’t able to turn against him yet. He could only sigh, “Sect Leader Jin, I have already said, when you went your own way to scheme such havoc at Burial Mound, that there was no longer any need to call me ‘Brother.’”

Jin GuangYao, “What happened at Burial Mound was an accident, a mistake. But, I can’t go back anymore.”

Lan XiChen, “What do you mean you cannot go back?”

Lan WangJi frowned slightly, his voice cold, “Xiongzhang, do not engage in excessive conversation with him.”

Wei WuXian reminded him as well, “Sect Leader Lan, do you remember what you said to Sect Leader Jiang? Don’t spend too long talking to him.”

Jin GuangYao, “Ge, listen to me. I don’t deny that I did those things…”

Lan XiChen, “How could you deny them? There are both witnesses and proof!”

Jin GuangYao, “And so I said I don’t deny them! But to have killed my father, my wife, my son, ge—if not because I had no other choice, why would I have done those things? Could it be that I’m really so out of my mind in your eyes?!”

"Your… wife…” As though he couldn’t say it, he immediately changed his phrasing, "Your sister, Qin Su, did you really marry her while knowing what blood relationship you had with her?”

Jin GuangYao stared blankly at him. Suddenly, tears rolled down his eyes. He answered with pain, “… Yes.” Lan XiChen took in a deep breath. His face was almost ashen. Jin GuangYao whispered, "But I really had no choice.”

With a sigh, Lan XiChen continued, “Third, do not try to avoid it and answer me—did you plan the death of Jin ZiXuan on purpose?!”

Hearing his father’s name, Jin Ling, who’d been holding Jiang Cheng, widened his eyes.

Lan WangJi raised his voice somewhat, “Xiongzhang, you believe him?”

Lan XiChen’s expression was complicated, “Of course I do not believe that Jin ZiXuan ran into the attack at Qiongqi Path by accident, but… let him speak first.”

Jin GuangYao knew he wouldn’t be believed if he denied it no matter what. He clenched his teeth, “… I indeed didn’t run into Jin ZiXuan by accident.”

Jin Ling immediately clenched his fists.

Jin GuangYao continued, “But I’ve never thought of planning everything that happened afterward either. You don’t have to think of me as so clever and faultless. Many things can’t be controlled at all. How could I have known that he’d definitely die by Wei WuXian’s hands together with Jin ZiXun? How could I have predicted that Wei WuXian would definitely lose control and the Ghost General would definitely run a riot?”

Wei WuXian’s voice was harsh, “And you said you didn’t run into him by accident? Isn’t that self-contradiction?!”

Jin GuangYao, “I don’t deny that I told him about the attack at Qiongqi Path on purpose, but I only thought that he’d encounter some difficulties if he ran into you when you were being troubled by his cousin since he’d never been on good terms with you. How could I have known that you would simply kill everyone present, Wei gongzi?”

“Why was a sect leader who spent money like water unwilling to do the smallest favor and buy my mother’s freedom? Simple—it was too much trouble. My mother waited for so many years, weaving together so many difficult circumstances when she talked to me, imagining for his sake so many hardships. And the real reason was only a single word: trouble.

“This is what he said, ‘It’s especially women who’ve read some books who think they’re a level higher than other women. They’re the most troublesome, with so many demands and unrealistic thoughts. If I bought her freedom and took her back to Lanling, who knows how much fuss she’d make. It was best that I let her stay where she was just like that. With her conditions, she’d probably be popular for a few more years. She wouldn’t have to worry about her spendings for the rest of her life.’

“‘Son? Oh, forget it.’”

Jin GuangYao’s memory was extraordinary. With such a word-by-word repetition, one could even imagine that drunk expression of Jin GuangShan’s when he said these words, “Ge, look, those three words were all that I was worth to my father, ‘Oh, forget it.’ Hahahaha…”

Pain flashed before Lan XiChen’s face, “Even if your father… you…” He still couldn’t find an appropriate comment and gave up, sighing instead, “What is the use of saying all this now?”

Jin GuangYao shrugged as he smiled, “I can’t help it. To seek pity even after doing all these terrible things—that’s the kind of person I am.”

At the word ‘pity’, he suddenly flipped his wrist. A red guqin string wrapped around Jin Ling’s neck.

Tears still hung at the corners of Jin GuangYao’s eyes as he spoke, voice low, “Don’t move!”

"I had no choice", "I couldn't predict anyone would be killed" "He mocked and forgot my mother and I". He uses all of this as a try to convince a kind Lan Xichen to let him go. However,he contradicts his own defenses as he had said Wei Wuxian was always fated to die for his actions and lack of being to keep things under control. This empathy is faked on his end while he makes excuses all while he never extended the same courtesy to those he killed, innocent or not, and underhandedly still tries to get those sympathetic under his manipulations. When they are not working he resorts again to threatening lives. He uses his mother also as a reason for revenge, however his grab for power alone after Jin Guangshan and Nie Mingjue are killed was solely based on his own obsession of status at that point. His mother was no longer a goal to accomplish anything and his continued lies dragged in more than one innocent party to get what he wanted.

He never saw Jin Ling, Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji, or Wei Wuxian as anything but pawns despite his soft words to them that are really just a mockery within Guanyin Temple at that point. He has placed none of them before himself in terms of what he cares for and never had.

TL:DR: Jin Guangyao's "kindness" was always a mask and Nie Mingjue was right that he was irredeemable, genuinely unkind and cruel as a person.

(Edit: Jin Guangyao stans don't even try, I will block you if you dare to reply to this)

#mdzs #mdzs mo dao zu shi #Jin Guangyao #I'm a little tired of him being painted as something he is not too #he would never have been kind to Wei Wuxian in turn as he used his infamy for his own benefit #he said he was fated to die anyways #that's not friend material #nor would Wei Wuxian ever willingly work with him #lol good friend and shushu Jin Guangyao #please this take is just as annoying as any of Jiang Cheng's excuses

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kyberphilosopher · 5 years ago

Text

Rᴀɴᴄᴏʀ

While the Titans make their way through the district of Trost, a wounded soldier makes an unexpected discovery. Word Count: 4098 Requested: yes! Warnings: violence.

“The word rancor is best when you're not just talking about anger, you're talking about a deep, twisted bitter type of anger in your heart. The open rancor in political discussion prevents cooperation between political parties.

The most helpful way to remember rancor with all its dark, miserable bitterness is to think of how rancor rhymes with canker, as in canker sore, the horrible painful burning on your lip. Or, you might want to remind yourself that rancor has its roots in the word rancid meaning "rotten." Rancor refers particularly to the sort of ill-will associated with resentment, envy, slow-brewing anger, and a very personal sort of hatred.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fuck. It hurts.

You collapse into a kneel. Your left knee scuffs against the damp, cold ground, dirtying the leg of your pants and the top of your boot. As your right hand prods the side of your torso, hot, burning pain courses through your veins with a spark. It feels almost as if the entire area is on fire, which you’re able to identify from the time your friend Jean accidentally caused you to burn your elbow over a candle at dinner.

Still, this is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. This pain... your ribs must be broken. Fuck.

“Shit,” you hiss to yourself through tight teeth. The hand on your abdomen strengthens its grip against the skin as your head rears back to look up to the sky. It’s cloudy grey, with absolutely no light from the sun peeking through. At first glance, the clouds appear to you as a muddy shade of blue. However, the longer you stare at them, the more you think they might be a cool purple-gray. It’s going to rain, soon.

It’s too dangerous, being on the ground like this. The tall buildings surrounding you, added to the isolation of the entire premises, makes you feel like you’re at the bottom of a valley. If only you’d been able to catch your balance on the roof.

Squad 29. Part of the vanguard, although the six of you had only been cadets. None of you were within the top ten. In fact, you’d chalked up your assigned position to just being extra bodies used to buy extra time. Completely expendable.

Although you’d managed to graduate 15th in your division, the other members of the squad hadn’t heeded your advice. They were a rather close knit group of friends, excluding you and one of the other boys. But those four had been committed to barreling head first into the titan’s mouths, regardless of what better plans there could’ve been to come up with. One of them died immediately.

You, the most physically adept of the group, killed two titans on your own, and aided in one assist. Then, you and Finn were attempting on taking down a thirteen meter, when an abnormal swatted the both of you like mere flies. You cleared the air, smacking into a distant tiled roof before you could fire an anchor to steady yourself. Even though you attempted to physically compose your legs, you rolled over the side and onto an abandoned market stall. When it broke under you, you dragged yourself to the middle of the street- where you are now.

But you can’t move. Every intake of air is a piercing stab to your lungs, a thorn in your side, literally. Beads of sweat are beginning to break across your temples, intensified with the concentration of your knitted brows.

If your ODM gear isn’t broken on some miracle, then how will you survive? You received basic medical lessons, but you’re no healer. If you ran into a healer, would they even help you? Compared to Hanna and Franz, or those friends you’d been assigned with, your life wasn’t worth much. You weren’t associated closely with anyone in the 104th, and you’d neither written, nor received letters from your family in well over three years. The irony is that you’d always thought being a lone wolf had more pros than cons. And now, you may pay the price for it.

Pop. A single drop of rain erupts in the center of your eyebrows. The first promise of an oncoming storm.

Your eyes flutter to a close briefly, before reopening. The smell of petrichor floods your senses, invigorating you with memories of spring and dirt. It’s enough to make you want to stand up and finally anchor your way to the high ground, but the slightest movement inflames your ribs all over again. And so no matter how much you wish you weren’t, you clutch the left side of your stomach in the middle of a lonely stone street, crippled in on yourself as you tremble in silent pain.

Sheets of rain begin to fall, reminding you that natural forces are never far behind. However, it’s not colorful like spring, or pleasant to associate with, like dirt. It’s icy and stark, drenching your hair and clothes in a matter of seconds.

Get up, you order yourself, but your body does not obey. Get. Up.

You’ve got more problems than just your ribs. The stiller you are, the more body parts you begin to realize are worse for the wear. Your left wrist feels stiff, like a wheel that can’t rotate full circle. Your right ankle feels limp, like a glass structure on the verge of shattering. But the main problem is in your lungs, because of the damage to your bones. It’s possible that you stabbed your own innards, and now you’re slowly dying. You need that medical attention.

A particularly sharp inhale turns to a wheeze. “Fuck,” you mutter hoarsely, digging the soles of your boots into the ground beneath you to solidify yourself.

Little pebbles between the cracks of the hard surface begin to bounce softly, like little tremors. A steady pace of booms fill the air, and the stench of death walks around the corner.

Lifting your head slightly and craning your neck to the right, you see the shadow of a large, ten meter titan lumbering towards you. With matted, dusty blond hair to its shoulders, you can make out the stain of thick redness running down its potbelly stomach, slowly washing away in the rain.

“No,” you struggle, now clambering to force yourself off the ground. “Come on- fuck.”

You’re going to die. You’re going to die- you’re going to die. You’re going to die, and they won’t even find your body. You’ll be labeled missing in action, and nobody will know what really happened to you. Not unless you get up.

A shooting cry for help springs to your veins. Every breath is agony. Your heart lurches, your ribs shaking and burning without any pressure anymore. Your left hand reaches to the ground to hold yourself up, unable to keep yourself balanced on your own.

No, this is it. You’re done for.

“Fuck,” you sigh out finally, the acceptance of defeat freeing you.

The titan’s coming closer. Your head falls back again, and you look up into the pouring precipitation. Quickly, your eyelids blink at a rapid place from the micro knives of wetness piercing into them. The sweat you previously worked up has run away, turning your skin cold.

You wait for your final thought to turn into ‘it was a good life’. But it doesn’t come. In fact, no thought comes to you at all. Your mind is blank, even when you turn to stare in the face of death, whose enormous hand is reaching out to you.

No thoughts. Just... fuck.

A fist erupts through the maw of the ten meter. With an explosive pop, something thick showers over you, glooping in your hair and dripping down your nose and into your mouth. Something in your ears click as a hollow, electric roar amplifies itself into the air. As you open your sticky, goo ridden eyelids to look at your grim reaper, you find the beast lifted off the ground by an incredible force.

Another titan- a muscular one about fifteen meters, with his hand straight through the smaller ones mouth. With long, dark brown hair whipping harshly in the wind and rain, emerald eyes glow like a flame of grass. He is... vicious, and what splattered on you was blood, and it’s burning but you’re too shocked by the sight ahead of you to care.

The fifteen meter pushes the ten meter off of his wrist with his other hand, before gripping him by the nape and throwing him through the air like nothing more than a ball.

Your free arm covers your head with fear as you flinch. For a split second, you are shielded from the rain, and can hear the whistling sound of something flying at a quick speed. Even with shut eyes, your vision darkness with the shadow of a large body. And then the ground shakes as the monster collapses with a boom.

What the hell?

Out of breath, you widen your eyes as you stare at the steaming hulk of flesh. Salty water slips in drops off of strands of your hair. The titan blood covering you begins to evaporate just as you turn to the other titan, breathing through your mouth despite the oncoming pain.

What the hell?

The fifteen meter leans back on his heels to observe his work of the other titan. His toned, muscular form shines in the glint of the wet rain. His dark hair clings to his neck tightly. When his two rows of teeth open, warm puffs of steam hiss out in a flurry as easily as air.

Abnormal. He’s gotta be... an... abnormal...

And then he meets your eyes, and it’s all over.

You watch a large, muscled hand reach out to you. There’s too much pain to move, or panic, or even think. Your life isn’t flashing before your eyes. You’re not thinking of home, family, anything like that. You’re thinking about how the icy rain has stopped falling against you for a brief moment, stopped by the skin of your killer.

Eyes shut tight as you keep applying pressure on your ribcage. The hood of your sweatshirt lifts up, choking you as your body follows limply. There’s only a few seconds before you can’t feel the rough ground anymore, and you know you’re up in the air. The rain sparks against your skin again, adding to the weight that’s gone straight to your throat and ankles.

And then...

Your feet touch against a solid again. The hood falls back against your shoulders. Your weight returns to your entire body. That’s a sharp stab against your ribs that makes you grit your teeth and pop your eyes open, but you find that there’s no gaping mouth in front of you. There is no, absolutely no chance, threat of death.

You’re... on a roof. The Abnormal is drawing his palm away from you, looking down through his dark hair that’s soaked in the salty water from above. His eyes are piercing and intelligent, but they’re not angry. He’s not going to kill you. He’s not going to hurt you.

As your eyes continuously widen, the Abnormal finally turns away from you. Great booms ring out into the air, the flats of his feet crush the ground beneath him with no effort at all. All the muscles in his back are tensing and shifting, drawing further and further away from you.

He didn’t kill you. The biggest, strongest titan you’ve ever seen didn’t kill you. Even when it had you between its fingers. And the way he looked at you... it was showing something more than other titans. It was showing intelligence, awareness. If something of this caliber has a bone to pick with its fellow titans, are you really going to slip away this easily?

If you could possibly steer the thing to find your way back to your squad, you could use it to your advantage in the battle. How many humans could you save with this? Could this be enough to take out the Colossal? Or the Armored, even? There’s only one way to find out.

You’ve made a discovery. This realization alone gives you the motivation you need to push yourself to your feet with a whimper. It’s time to catch up to that thing.

Limping as you pick up your pacing, trying your best to work up an acceleration before firing the anchors of your ODM gear. One hand still held tightly against your side, your fingers squeeze the triggers of your gear. The anchor latches into the skin of Abnormal with a click, albeit just barely, and you fly towards him with as much care as you can.

You clamber to the top of the muscle, trying to find your footing while still holding your abdomen. One of your hands reaches out to grip onto a lock of brunette hair on the beast like a kind of rope, hoping to steady yourself. Luckily, your ride comes to a stop, shifting its head to acknowledge you. Once more, you hold eye contact, but this time you’re quick to overcome your disbelief.

Could it understand communication?

You go to say something, but the pressure on your lungs makes you wince and hiss instead. A gasp falls from the back of your throat- a strangled cry that confirms how serious this injury really is. Something is broken, something is wrong, and you pull on the titans hair as you try to keep yourself steady from falling off and injuring yourself further, and for a split second you think you’ll hurt it.

“Fuck,” you wheeze out with shut eyes.

Beside you, you feel the rumbling of a growling breath. The shoulder you stand on shifts, reminding you that your ankle is also pained. When your eyes open again, there’s a hand beside you, reaching out once more.

You scoot away from it best you can, tugging on the things hair for leverage. It’s grimy, and dirty, but long and soft and slick at the same time. Weirdly enough, it’s better than most of your fellow soldiers hair.

The Abnormals fingers come into range, and with as much might as you can muster, you slap it away. It barely moves, of course. There’s another growl. The fingers extend again. Another push to shove it away.

“No,” you strangle out weakly. “Stop it.”

And then he does stop. You twist your head around to meet his eyes once more, but they’re right where you left them- on you.

“I can stay,” you say hoarsely as your ribs crack uncomfortably. “I can stay.”

The drum of the rain fades into silence. There is only you, and whatever he is, staring at each other with desperation and analyzation. Nothing else exists. Not the battle around you, nor the lives being lost at this very moment. It’s just the promise of life that pushes you to keep going. It’s the new chance of hope that you’ve been given, purely by chance.

The rain around you comes back to life. It shudders with the wind, loud and clear and explosive. It seems to be on the verge of turning to hail, popping and pricking against rooftops a million times over. It’s making the air colder, more violent. But it’s nothing compared to the way the Abnormal bows its head shortly. It’s nothing compared to the way the Abnormal nods at you.

“Okay,” you breathe out with disbelief. “Okay.”

A loud, shrieking roar pulls the both of you from your gaze. At the end of the road is a nine meter, with messy short hair and a wide mouth splattered with blood. Beside it is a smaller titan, maybe four meters, on its hands and knees like it’s about to pounce. With those stupid, hated expressions, you can see where your new partner got the strength to rip off a head.

You pull on the Abnormals hair in preparation. He rears his head back, breathing out steam to the sky. Beneath the soles of your shoes, you can feel its strange skin heating up like a fresh fire.

At once, your fingers squeeze the triggers of your ODM. It anchors into the wall of a building to the left of the smaller titan. At the same time, your Abnormal companion steps forward, cocking his fist back.

It takes a lot of strength and teeth gritting to pull both of your blades out. The hand leaving your side makes you feel the inside of your ribs pop. But you hold them behind you, twisting as you turn and make quick work of slicing the nape of the four meter before it can make any moves. It’s still, and then it collapses, smoking.

Your partner shoves the nine meter into a building. Both his hands pull back into fists, pommeling the thing repeatedly. You click the trigger again, jumping up into the air far above the rooftops all around you. You’re soaring, and coming closer and closer to the titan until you swing out with a whisper. Its head falls back, while your Abnormal lifts his leg to knee it in the chest.

The Abnormal shows emotions. It shows anger- even after he sees that his foe has been finished off. Prompting you, as you twist to aim your ODM gear again, to wonder if he is even an Abnormal. For all you know, he could be something completely different entirely. But then what is it? What have you discovered here?

You fall back to the shoulder of your partner gracefully. You sheathe both swords, grip onto his hair with one hand, and onto your side with the other. He stops his movements, still breathing out like a rancor human would.

You learn quickly that it’s better if you don’t try to control him. He’s more efficient when you treat him like a partner, and split up to clear a path for him. So you do. You spring from his shoulder to take out whatever slow, stupid creature crosses your path, though occasionally he moves before you can do so as if he’d rather do it himself. It’s not easy at all with your ribs in the condition that they are, and every movement makes your ankle and wrist click like they’re on the verge of snapping away. They probably are. Breathing, again with your rib problem, is becoming increasingly difficult, and there’s no sign of your squad in sight.

There’s no soldiers to be seen at all, actually- not even using ODM gear above you. It’s almost like the entire battle has just ended. Maybe everyone died. Everyone, except you, who did not even make the top ten and should be dead anyway.

You clutch your stomach as you think about this. The great being you’ve come to rely on in the past few minutes cranes his neck to look at you.

Your eyes close as you breathe as steadily as you can. The stabbing, electrical, unimaginable pain is becoming more and more unbearable by the second. You could’ve pierced a lung, and now you’re slowly dying, with only a foe who’s not even a foe to comfort you. At least you’ve started to like the strange rows of teeth he possesses. Looking at that as you die might make you feel better.

In one motion, the shadow of a hand covers you. The little pricks of rain have ceased once again, so you open your eyes to look up. Sure enough, a behemoth of a hand shields you like an umbrella, keeping you from soaking any further.

You look to meet his eyes. Before, they were all emerald green. But now, you can see flecks of teal in them. They’re strangely beautiful, almost otherworldly. And they remind you of something you can neither define nor place. Something you’ve never seen before. Cool toned, but also... warm.

“What the hell are you?” you whisper out, half to yourself.

Large fingers brush against your hood softly. It’s tugged up and placed over your head as gently as the giant can muster, the raindrops stuck to the cloth falling into your eyes. Maybe you won’t die. Maybe you really, really won’t.

The Abnormal growls again, though it’s still distant and none threatening. It’s more like a vibration, really. This thing is the embodiment of anger and vengeance, and yet its saved your life multiple times. You should be... you should be dead. How many times have you thought that today?

Your ribs bring you back to reality. Breathing a little too inwardly proves to be your undoing, nearly collapsing over as you grab at the area. It stings, it stabs, and you choke on your own throat with tightly shut eyes.

Yes, I should be dead. The proof is right here.

There’s one movement. It’s slow and fluid, as if something gentle was about to happen. But that, like all other gentle things, dies fast. Because there’s a second motion, a quicker one and a more abrupt one. And then there’s something slamming into you, your head going hot, the wind in your ears, and finally your back bursting open on something rough.

You can’t think. You can’t move. But only one thing comes to mind: The Titan.

“Y/N?!”

You groan in response, eyes closed as pain tingles up from your toes slowly.

“Where did you come from?! Y/N?!”

...

You’ve never liked waking up. You might’ve tolerated it in your youth, before the titans came, but since you’d enlisted, it was hard to be an early bird. It made you grumpy. Luckily, you weren’t social enough to have people around you to witness you doing so. Except for now, and the man in front of you with intense eyes and a long face.

On his jacket is the sigil of the military police- a green unicorn shining like bravery. His lips are slightly snarled, despite the charismatic voice that you barely bother listening to.

He tells you his name- Nile- and asks yours. You don’t answer. He has to get the report from the nurse, who only has your first name listed because nobody else in the corps knows your last. He keeps overusing it in some strange attempt to make you feel at ease, unaware that your intelligence has a built in bullshit detector.

What an idiot, you think behind your bandaged head.

Nile asks you if you can tell him what happened to you, but you can tell he doesn’t care. You keep it short and anonymous. (“I was assigned to the vanguard. I already know my squad is dead.”)

He asks if you know someone with the last name Jaeger. You do. But it feels wrong to say so. (“Probably.”)

By the end of it, Nile’s stupid looking eye is practically twitching. He asks about your injuries, which you learn more about. your ribs were broken, as you’d expected. There was internal bleeding, your appendix had been removed, a few broken fingers on your right hand. Twisted ankle, broken wrist. Then Nile asks how you got them.

(“I fell.”)

And he asks how you fell, like he’s looking for a specific answer.

(“I landed on a roof and lost my feet.”)

He also questions if you ran into any Abnormals. If maybe they were responsible for your injuries.

You narrow your eyes.

(“I only ran into one.”)

And finally, if that one hurt you.

(“No.”)

You know that he knows. But it doesn’t matter. Something inside of you tells you that you can’t tattle on your Abnormal discovery. If he was responsible for knocking you off his shoulder, which he probably was, you still weren’t going to say a word. He saved your life. Considering he’s alive and well, maybe even captured, it’s only fitting you save him in return.

Nile leaves at least, foaming at the mouth in frustration, masked only in a thin layer of politeness. Rain drops hit the window behind you. You crane your head around to watch them, the thunder booming lowly. Last time you were in this weather, that great beast had shielded you from it. Once with his hand, another with your own hood. And if you squint hard enough through the pain, you can just make out the silhouette of a rancor titan, and the tiny human on its shoulder, eager to return the favor.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Did I reread this? I skimmed it. Why? Because this took over a week or 2 to get out and I have to start finishing requests before i lose my mind with all these drafts oh god. i always so i’ll go back and edit but i never do lmao. my bad.

Fun fact! the original draft showcased the reader being separated from eren, and losing all gas. surrounded by titans, they yell at the titan for help, but he is distracted by a titan nearby after leading him to Mikasa. While the reader finally dies, eren sees them from over the buildings and roars, begins to stomp on the nape of the titan, and is infused with a new rage. The reader is listed missing in action, and Eren can’t remember what happened to them, but remembers seeing them. Another happy ending!

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

cant take my eyes off of you (g.w.)

prompt: george feels like he’s on top of the world when he’s with you and he needs to let you know how he feels.

pairing: george weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

warnings: underage drinking, intoxication, dirty dancing, sexual references (blink and you’ll miss it), language

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley

It wouldn’t be a common room victory celebration without a surplus of various booze, music loud enough to shatter your ear drum, and random students scattered around dancing and screaming to the music. It was a sensory overload at its finest, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. The quidditch victory was well earned against Hufflepuff and the team wanted to celebrate properly. This ultimately translated to getting absolutely hammered before 10pm.

You stood in the corner of the room, standing next to Hermione and Ginny, sipping on whatever drink Lee had poured you. To be honest, you couldn’t make out what it was; it was a cocktail of miscellaneous liquors that would be sure to have you regretting this decision in the morning.

As you sipped on your beverage, you turned to your two friends and gave them a sneaky smile as the music gets turned up even louder. “Oh, no,” Hermione started. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What? I just want to dance,” you start to back up towards the dance floor, pulling Ginny along with you as she laughs. “Come on, Granger! Loosen up!”

You and Ginny immediately start to break out into dance, swinging your hips to the music as Ginny chugs the rest of the drink in her cup, you following suit. The liquor is sweet, but burns your throat and warms your chest. When you finish it, you throw your cup to the ground and give into the pulsating base. Ginny laughs as you throw your hands in the air and scream sing the lyrics to the song. It was nice to finally loosen up after a long week.

But you halt your dancing when you feel two arms wrap around your waist, lip attaching themselves to your neck. You immediately flip around to see your George staring back at you, a drunk smile on his lips as a low chuckle fall from his mouth. “You scared me,” you place a hand on your chest before leaning into him, his arms pulling close against his chest.

George’s goofy grin remains on his face as he ducks his head down to press a kiss to your lips. His lips taste of whiskey, his kiss intoxicating you better than the alcohol. George mumbles against your lips, “Figured I’d join you on the dance floor.” He smiles before kissing you again, you smiling and shaking your head, his lips kissing yours against, harder as you place your hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer to you. The bass of the music pounded through the floor and shook your core as your heart beat faster as George continued to kiss you on the dance floor. Any memory of what you were doing before George came along slipped out of your mind and all you could focus on was the way his body moved against yours as he kissed you.

His hands are gripping your hips as you pull away, hips moving against each other in sync, a smirk on George’s lips. Your faces are inches apart as you giggle, pressed against each other in a sea of bodies on the dance floor. People around you wolf whistled as you danced against George, his eyes not daring to leave yours for a moment. You pressed your backside against George, grinding yourself on him with a cheeky smirk. It was enough to drive George absolutely mad, the look of your body pressed against his, your body feeling the music, rocking against him. It was making his pulse quicken and his face heat up.

He spun you back around to look him in the eyes, a challenging grin on your lips when you saw the lust in his eyes, only being amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. “You are trouble,” George tells you with a laugh in his voice, making you bite down on your bottom lip, pulling the soft flesh in between your teeth. George looked unreal in this moment; his chocolate eyes dark with desire, hair messy from running his fingers through it, t-shirt clinging to every muscle on his arms, chest, and torso. Oh, the things you would do if you were alone.

Daring to make him sweat even more, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” you ask, tease laced in your voice, before you nibble on his ear gently, causing him to hold back a deep groan. With one hand on his chest, you push him away, giving him the most innocent look you can, big doe eyes that plead naiveté. George shakes his head as he presses his tongue to his cheek, knowing damn well what you were doing. “I’m getting another drink, I’ll be back,” you tell him with a wink. “Don’t go anywhere.”

George just laughs, “Oh, I’m stay right where the fuck I am.” You shake your head and laugh before leaving the dance floor, back to the table where all the liquor was lined up.

Mixed bottles half full scattered around the table as people crowded around as Ron stood on a chair, his Gryffindor tied around his head as he held up a bottle of fire whiskey, pouring the liquor into people’s mouth as they opened them. The sight was enough to make you laugh; Ron Weasley, assuming his brothers’ old positions of bartender. He locked eyes with you and an excited grin appeared on his lips. He held up the bottle as if to say, You want some? to which you stepped forward, titled your head back, and opened your mouth, Ron pouring one, two, three shots worth of whiskey in your mouth. You swallowed and shuddered at the taste, making Ron laugh out loud. “Bollocks, (Y/N),” he laughed out. Ron handed the bottle off to Dean and hopped off the chair, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you walked away from the mass of people wanting a shot. “I saw you and my brother having a good time on the dance floor,” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes. “He’s bloody whipped for you.”

You and Ron stood at the sidelines, watching George spin Ginny around on the dance floor, goofy smiles on both of their faces before Fred ran over and nearly tackled Ginny as she laughed. George looked over to where you stood with his younger brother and smiled softly. He dropped his left eye in a wink as your heart fluttered with glee. That boy would be the death of you.

The two of you hadn’t been together long, maybe three months, but it was quite obvious that George was mad for you. Ron had that much right. George had been infatuated with you for awhile and had been trying to get you to go out with him for months before you said yes. You knew that George had no problem getting dates with girls, but you wanted to make him sweat. Even though you found him insanely attractive and funny and sweet, you pretended like you had no interest in him. You made him work for your first date and work he did. After you said yes to being his girlfriend, George was on cloud nine. No one had ever seen George react like this to anything, but that’s how people knew you were special.

You sighed and looked at Ron, “He’s everything I could ever ask for.” Ron faked gagging as you slapped his arm. But it was all so true. George was a dream come true; you couldn’t believe how perfect he was. He was funny and outgoing and exciting, but also so kind and gentle and thoughtful. George was everything you’ve ever wanted and more. “Hey, you brought it up, don’t blame me!” you pointed a finger in his face as Ron laughed, the two of you continuing to chat and drink, watching the bodies on the floor dance away.

George still remained on the dance floor with his twin and Ginny, laughing and dancing and goofing off. Every once in a while George would look over and watch you, how you spoke to his brother, catching George’s eye every once in a while, you smiling gently at him before going back to Ron. George observed how you spoke with your hands, throwing your head back when you laughed, clutching your sides. He watched as you pulled your glossed lips in between your teeth, nibbling on the sensitive skin. He adored the way your mouth moved when you spoke, the words rolling off your lips like the sweetest honey. Without even realizing what he was saying, he just spoke out to his siblings, “I love her.”

Ginny and Fred abruptly stopped dancing and stared at their brother, faces twisted with both shock and confusion. He was surely drunk and just talking out of his ass, right? George had never confessed to loving a girl before. Fred looks at George and speaks, “Mate, what?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. There was a magnetic force that just made George want to stare at you forever and always. The sight of you left him weak, unable to speak. George couldn’t compare you to anyone else; in his eyes, you were the only one. The standard. And he couldn’t believe you were all his. He thanked his lucky stars that he was alive and attended this damned school at the same time you did. “It’s just...she’s just too good to be true, isn’t she?” George sighs, all lovesick. In his mind, he thought of holding you in his arm, feeling like he was in heaven at the touch. Knowing that he was the one who could make you happy and make you feel loved was a dream come true for him. George Weasley was undeniably in love and he fell hard.

“He’s gone soft,” Fred looks at Ginny who slaps his arm. “Ow! Fuck was what for?” he rubs his arm with a hurt look on his face.

Ginny looks at George who’s eyes have not left you. She looks at George with a small smile; seeing her brother so smitten was heart warming to the youngest Weasley. “Are you...going to tell her?” she asks over the music.

George breaks his stare from you and looks to Ginny. “Should I tell her now?” he asks as Ginny worriedly looks to Fred for advice, but he just shrugs. He didn’t know the first thing when it came to a confession this grand. “I don’t want to wait any longer, but I don’t want to do it in the middle of a fucking party,” he starts to ramble. “But, Merlin, I can’t wait anymore. Should I run outside and go pick flowers from the courtyard? Or should I do a grand romantic gesture here?” he continues to ramble on as Ginny’s eyes just widen more and more with each sentence.

But before George can continue listing off ways to confess his love, you appear behind him and grab his hand. George turns around and the sight of you almost makes him faint. You sport a happy smile as you look at Fred and Ginny before turning to George and saying, “You wanna go get some fresh air outside?”

Perfect, George thinks to himself. He doesn’t bother excusing himself from the dance floor. George simply holds your hand tighter and runs off with you as you laugh, calling out a We’ll be back soon! to Fred and Ginny. “Or not!” George calls back before leaving the common room, running down the moving staircase, both of you a laughing, tipsy mess.

When you finally make it down the stairs and outside, you take a deep breath in, enjoying the cool, crisp air and how it didn’t smell of alcohol and sweat like the common room. You walk further into the courtyard, happily sighing as George wraps his arms around you as you giggle, looking up at him. He places a gentle kiss to your lips as you smile. “Hi, Georgie,” you coo up at him. Just the sound of your voice make him feel warm inside.

Breathlessly, he speaks, “Hey, gorgeous.” You can’t help, but let a large smile appear on your face as your cheeks feel hot. The two of you continue to walk, hand in hand, enjoying the others company and the silence and still of the night.

But inside George’s mind, he was screaming at himself to tell you about how he was feeling and how he couldn’t go another second without telling you how much he loved you. But every time he opened his mouth, the moment didn’t feel right. He wanted this moment to memorable. Something the two of you could look back on fondly. But George was nearly about to blurt it out if he didn’t tell you soon.

“George? Baby, are you alright?” you interrupt his thoughts, placing a hand on his cheek. He seemed so consumed with thought and it worried you that something was bothering him.

He shook his head and spoke, “Perfectly alright, my darling.” You smiled up at him before walking over to the bunch of roses that bloomed in the corner of the courtyard. You examined the bush for the perfect one and stumbled upon a fully blossomed yellow rose. Quickly, you plucked it from the bush and skipped back over to George, tucking the beautiful bud behind his ear, making the tall boy in front of you blush a wild shade of red. “You look adorable.”

George’s heart was beating so hard in his chest, you could mistake it for a heart attack. Now was the time. It was now or never. Without further hesitant, George just looks at you and lets the words flow out of his mouth. “I love you, baby,” he speaks, simply.

Although the words were so simple, it all meant so much. When the words fell from his mouth, your heart stops and you feel like this is some sort of dream. Your eyes widen as you look up at George who is smiling like a child on Christmas. The look of love in his eyes was enough to make you reciprocate the same goofy grin and giggle.

George starts, “I love you, (Y/N). Trust in me when I say this. I love you so much. And if it’s alright, I need you. I need you to warm the lonely nights. I need to show you how much you mean to me. Godric, now that I’ve found you and I found love with you, I can’t help but want to spend the rest of my days with you.” His words make tears form in your eyes as love makes your heart swell in your ribcage. “All I want to do is love you. So, let me love you, baby.”

With a breathy giggle, you grab his face and press your lips to George’s, mustering up all the love you had in your body. George is smiling widely into the kiss as you laugh, “I love you.” In between kisses, you keep repeating those special three words to him, only making the boy happier and happier. With one final kiss, you pull away and wrap your arms around him, beaming. “I love you, George. All I want to do is love you.”

He could barely believe that you felt the same way about him. What you had, this love, was real and you felt the same way that he felt. This was everything George could ever want and more. He shakes his head in disbelief, holding your hands in his, as he looks up to the sky and breathes out, “Holy fuck,” making you laugh.

All of a sudden, George jumps up on a bench in the courtyard and yells out, “I love (Y/N)! And she loves me!” You try to shush him, knowing damn well you weren’t supposed to be out of your dormitories at this time of night. “I don’t care! I don’t care who hears me! I’m in love! And she loves me back!” he cries before jumping down and scooping you in his arms, spinning you around as you both laugh wildly. You were in love.

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