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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

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// loki spoilers

This is basically a huge infodump on my thoughts about the first episode, because I doubt y’all want to sift through my trauma-ridden ramblings. I’ll make another post for the rest. This is just everything not related to the IW stuff/my reaction to that. It’s general thoughts, theories, musings.

1. When Loki gets first taken into the TVA. Is that Peggy Carter in the background? Others have suggested it might be. What would that mean??? Will we see the TVA fix the mess the Russos made with Steve/Peggy (not likely) or is it just a lookalike? Who knows..

2. A skrull at the main intake desk! Idk not super relevant just interesting!

3. I’m kind of glad they changed the... uncomfortable scene... with the robot burning his clothes off. He gets more time to react to seeing the machine itself, and he seems more shocked (”Now.. H-hang on just a minute.”) than angry (”Now hang on just a minute!”) i still feel.. horrible for him, i’m glad nobody Saw him and that the machine didn’t grab the clothes off, but still. Ehhh.. uncomfortable.

He is beautiful though, don’t get me wrong - I’d just prefer a shirtless Loki scene where he wants to be shirtless? let him do what he wants with his body?? he’s probably felt so out of control of his body, from being jotun to falling through space that any invasion of privacy like that hits extra deep...

That being said, I recognize the utility of the scene for the narrative - his lack of control, his literally being stripped of what he was before.

4. WHO IS THE MAN WITH THE CAT. What is his name. I love that he has a mug with his cat on it. But I want to know more. Who is he?

4.1 WHY DIDNT YOU LET LOKI PET THE CAT Please,,, I am begging you,,, let loki pet the cat and have something react kindly to him and purr all happily at his scratching behind their ears plea s e

5. The info sheet. Now this is just a little nitpicky tidbit, but in a previous promo they listed Loki’s height as 6′4 ft and weight as 525 lbs. This is taken directly from the comics if I’m not mistaken. However, in the actual show he’s listed as 6′2 (Tom’s height and Loki’s presumed height) but I don’t remember if his weight is the same. Is Loki 6′2? 6′4? please let me know i want to know how smol i am in comparison

6. His little aggressive shaking of the ticket at the guard makes me giggle each time.

7. The fact the turnstile hits so low on him reminds me,, I am short compared to him. Those things hit my stomach/waist. That one hit his legs. I am once again asking Loki to pick me up.

8. The cartoon with Miss Minutes introducing the TVA is wonderful, I love the art style especially. But it raises questions about Variants... I guess Variants can just, pop out of nowhere? Any action could be the wrong one? And then once you commit the wrong action you either get returned or pruned? Yikes??? And THIS ties into another thing later!

9. The trial scene. I have a hunch - a feeling, a suspicion. That one of three things may be true.

A. The Time-Keepers never actually existed. They’re fabricated, and now whoever runs the TVA is actually using the excuse of “The Time-Keepers decree it so!!!” to carry out whatever They think is right. The fact we haven’t seen the Time-Keepers makes me.. suspicious...

B. The Time-Keepers existed, but they have since passed on, however that may have happened. Now someone is doing the same as above, using the excuse of the Time-Keepers apparent dictations to run things.

C. The Time-Keepers do exist, and do run the timeline/TVA, but maybe they’re not infallible? Maybe the TVA info video is lying or incomplete in some way? Idk I just feel like, something about the TVA and how they run things has to be wrong. It has to? Something is off. Again, this will tie into another thought later...

I have no idea if any of these are actually true! But Loki’s questions of “Who’s in charge here? What do they do? What do you do?” punctuated by laughter leads me to believe he’s suspecting something too, or perhaps just trying to figure this mess out.

10. Seiðr/Magic. We see in this scene, Loki’s magic (”powers”) don’t work in the TVA. (and a quick side note, did he have to Flex like that? do you have to make me see Loki’s bare arms Flex like that? be still my heart. anyway please get that collar off of him and let him rest for five minutes) This makes me wonder.. Why isn’t Loki in his Jotun form? His pale skin and blue eyes are decided by magic, are they not? I suppose this is 2012, so perhaps Odin’s magic is keeping Loki looking like that. But if magic doesn’t work in the TVA, why would his spell reach so far? Clearly Loki’s magic isn’t what’s doing it. How is Loki not appearing as a Jotun? Is his Jotun form repressed - is pale skin his default now, rather than something hidden by magic? I need answers!

11. he sounds so scared about being “reset” please dont hurt him,,

12. cALLING LOKI A PUSSYCAT? (lokitty confirmed) I think Mobius was goading him (Mobius strikes me.. As extremely clever. He’s trying to push Loki’s buttons to see who he’s dealing with. At least, I hope so. Because if he really meant that “You were born to cause pain and suffering and death... All so that others can achieve the best versions of themselves.” and that line about killing Frigga??? No no no he is not guilty. He had no way of knowing what would happen. It wasn’t right to send Algrim up to Asgard (i think algrim wouldve found the way up anyway) but there was no intent to hurt Frigga. I really hope you’re trying to goad him, Mobius, because if you believe that I trust you much less. anyway i digress) but wow is he pushing Loki’s buttons a lot. I can’t... Blame him entirely, I understand he’s trying to make sure Loki’s on his side, maybe I’m just too soft for Loki idk. But some of that was very cruel to say. /:

12.1 AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT MOBIUS. That scene with the girl in the church?? Did that little girl kill the men? Is that young Sylvie? Or is she using an illusion to make herself look young and innocent? What’s going on!!!!

13. LOKI SNATCHING THE LITTLE TIME-TWISTER DEVICE AND STOWING IT IN HIS POCKET.... POCKET....... sorry sometimes i get so caught up about loki that i just say random words in between little noises and squeals,,, i am a silly thing

14. CASEY. CASEY??? That whole exchange is funny. Poor Loki, just trying to intimidate this guy so he can escape but - Casey doesn’t know what a fish is. to be fair.... thor doesn’t seem to know what a raccoon is... right?

15. That bit with the infinity stones is kind of funny until you realize

A. Natasha died for a paperweight

B. Tony died from paperweights

C. Loki was tortured for paperweights

D. Oh, and Gamora died for a paperweight too. And Vision. Need I go on?

Then it becomes less of exclusively “haha funny” and now it’s a mix of funny and pain and gosh, is that a good way to sum up being a Marvel/Loki fan sometimes...

16. Loki gazing at the timeline all “Is this the most powerful thing in the universe?” or something, i’m sorry i don’t remember exactly... made me think of a meme and i shall make it presently.

17. I love that Loki got to see examples of how his family loves him but the fact he’s all “I can’t go back.” really just breaks me. It’s like he can finally see they love him after all of this mess, and now he doesn’t have the chance. Please, please let him be happy. Give him some relief. This is the Loki that just came off finding out about being Jotun, falling from the Bifrost, encountering Thanos, attacking Earth, facing defeat, and now he’s being thrashed around in this wild place and has just found out he inadvertently caused Frigga’s death (he did not kill her: his actions, by mistake, lead to her murder, let me be very clear) AND Odin will die AND all the rest... And he wants to be with them.

18. Loki’s reaction to Thor suggesting the hug makes me soft. Please I want to hug this little mischief man so so so bad-

19. Skipping over the iw parts! That’s for another post because this one will be grossly long anyway.

20. “I don’t enjoy hurting people.” and “It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear. A desperate play for control.” was all so, so validating. I’ve been trying to argue on Loki’s behalf for almost a solid decade. Seeing the show recognize that Loki’s not all just violence and hurting for “fun”, that he’s not unhinged and bloodthirsty.. Is so nice. It’s just so, so comforting. and it gives me hope for future episodes that they won’t go the route of “oh haha loki bullied and mistreated and stabbed thor for years!!! :)” loki cries during basically every fight with Thor and you want me to believe he stabs Thor for fun? absolutely not.

21. Theory.. Just another hunch.. So we know a fugitive variant, aka Loki, is running amok. Refer back to 8 and 9.C. What if the Time-Keepers never actually fixed the timeline into a single timeline? What if there are other timelines, and these different Loki variants have hopped over to the current one? Or, maybe the Time-Keepers did fix the timeline into a single one, and these Lokis are remnants from that huge time-war at the beginning? Time runs differently in relative spaces, they may have Just Left that war from their perspective!

I say Lokis and not Loki because we’re pretty sure there’s Female/Lady Loki, Old Man/King Loki, and possibly Young/Kid Loki. That’s at least three. From the peeks of Asgard and NYC we’ve seen from the trailers, I think we’re also getting an Asgardian King!Loki and Midgardian King/Vote!Loki. (unless our dearest variant is hopping into timelines and situating into them, but I doubt Mobius would let that happen..?) That’s five.

To further support this, keep in mind, I believe recently six (i think 6 regular and 6 rare...) different funko pops were announced for the series? I’m not sure if they’re in addition to the Loki and Mobius already released. If they are, there’s enough room for each Loki and maybe a TVA agent. One of the pops is supposed to have a buddy/companion I think? Maybe they’re making the cat guy into one, or maybe there’s something else (Throg, anyone?).

22. That is totally Lady Loki/Sylvie at the end by the way. Has to be. But why does she want the reset devices? Why did she snatch that TVA Hunter? Again, WHAT’S GOING ON

ANYWAY this was a very long post if you made it this far, I commend you.

#no proofread only post #long posts about loki #loki #loki series #loki spoilers #sigyn says WORDS #SPOILER HEAVY

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adoredconnor · 3 years

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Hunter, Profiled

Chapter One - Beginnings

Summary: Sam and Spencer meet on a case where a serial arsonist terrorizes a college campus. Sam and Dean think it may be a phoenix. Takes place during the events Criminal Minds 1x02

Ship: Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.8k

CW: Canon typical violence, heavy out of canon, monsters are still real

Spencer leaned forward in his seat, placing pawns on the chess board in front of him. The plane rides usually took long enough for Gideon and himself to fit at least one match in before arriving.

“Hey Reid, you got a statistic on arsonists?” Morgan asks, not once glancing over his shoulder.

“82% are white males between 17 and 27. Female arsonists are far less likely, their motive typically being revenge.”

“Sounds like our boy’s a student.”

The Behavioral Analysis Unit had been called out to identify and detain a serial arsonist who had been terrorizing Bradshaw College in Tempe, Arizona. The unknown subject, Unsub, had set multiple fires within a few weeks, and was escalating rapidly. As far as Morgan was concerned, the Unsub was a student on campus. Gideon, however, believed that the unit shouldn’t attempt to categorize the arsonist so early in the case.

The jet landed only a few hours later in sunny Arizona, though its beauty was darkened by the woes and depression of the students and faculty on campus. Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner and Gideon hit the ground running, immediately going to talk with the Dean of Students, Ellen Turner.

The Dean offered what little information that she knew, that diesel fuel had been stolen a day before a fire was set and chemicals from a chemistry lab. Hotch was worried, though his stoic expression never wavered, and expressed his concerns to Gideon.

Spencer went to investigate the scene of the first fire alongside Hotch. They approached the room, only to find it occupied by another man facing away from them. Spencer spared a glance towards the man before turning to Hotch, raising an eyebrow in concern. Agent Hotchner raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, grabbing the young man’s attention in front of him. He turned around, slightly shaking the brown bangs across his head.

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI, who are you and what are you doing on my crime scene?”

“Oh, uh… I’m Detective Sam Winchester, with Smith Detective Services. I was called on this case by the first victim’s mother.” Sam reaches a hand out to Hotch, who grudgingly shakes it. Sam turns to Spencer, seemingly noticing him for the first time, and offers his hand.

“O-oh, actually the number of germs passed through handshakes is alarmingly high. It would actually be safer to kiss,” Spencer stutters over his words, looking down at his feet as he finishes his sentence. Hotch glances at Spencer before moving into the dormitory to assess and analyze the damage and possible causes.

Sam peers down at the man standing in front of him, “As nice as that would be, I think Agent Hotchner might kick my ass if we kissed on a crime scene.” Sam admired Spencer’s red tie and beige shirt combination before turning to Hotch.

“The door was locked,” Hotch says.

“Matthew Rowland and his roommate watched as the doorknob turned against the lock,” Spencer states.

“But the unsub couldn’t get in.”

“So he pours the accelerant into the room from the hallway.”

“Wait,” Sam cuts in, “He wouldn’t have been able to see the fire.”

Spencer nods along and adds, “But he could hear Matthew Rowland screaming.”

Hotch looks at Sam again, “What’re you thinking Winchester?”

Sam takes a deep breath, “I believe he left quickly to avoid being spotted.”

Hotch shakes his head, “It doesn’t make sense.” He moves over to Spencer’s side.

“Pyromania as a mental disorder may just be a simple myth, but we do know from precedent that serial arsonists derive pleasure,” Spencer blushes ever-so slightly and moves his gaze away from Sam, “from pathological fire setting.”

“Sex and power,” Hotch agrees. Sam chokes down a cough.

“Why would he set a fire he couldn’t watch?” Spencer seems puzzled for the first time that day.

Sam quickly looks him up and down, “Well if that isn’t the question of the hour.”

Hotch heads out of the dorm and heads down to Elle and Gideon. “There was no device used on Matthew Rowland,” Gideon says, explaining the simultaneous ignition devices to an arriving Agent Hotchner. Gideon analyzes the third device in the box, “The unsub set that one manually?”

“He wanted to be there to enjoy the kid’s death,” Morgan inputs, only glancing up when he hears a knock at the door.

A man, roughly in his mid-twenties with short and slicked brown hair, strolls in with a light air of arrogance. “I don’t think so.”

“Who the hell are you?” Morgan questions, moving a hand towards his holster.

“Dean Winchester, private investigator, and you are?”

“That’s SSA Derek Morgan. Spencer, I mean Dr. Reid was just telling me about him.” Dean spins around to see his brother walking just slightly too close to Spencer for it to be casual. Sam notices his brother’s look and shuffles away from Spencer’s side. “Sorry, I’ve only been introduced to Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid, and perhaps Agent Morgan.”

Hotch nods towards Morgan, who then moves his hand away from his holster. He gestures around the table, “This is SSA Gideon and SSA Greenaway. Now that introductions are done, let’s focus on the case.”

Elle nods, “Well if the target was Matthew Rowland, then why set the other two fires?”

The BAU debates for a while, attempting to figure out the motive behind the fires. Dean moves towards Sam, gesturing with his head to the other side of the room where they wouldn’t be heard. Sam speaks first, “So get this, the diesel fuel was stolen from the grounds shed before the fire that killed Matthew Rowlands was set. Those FBI agents are thinking pyromaniac with his heart set on revenge.”

“And what are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure if it’s entirely possible, but Dean, what if we’re dealing with a phoenix?”

“Why would a phoenix need to use gasoline to create a fire? It could’ve incinerated the kid in a heartbeat.”

“For the dramatics, and to see him suffer? I’m not sure yet, but there’s something more here than just some college student that’s a little too happy with a lighter.”

Hotch looks back towards the brothers, narrowing his eyes before turning back towards his team.

“You say ‘college student’ as if you weren’t one not that long ago.” Dean quips before flinching slightly. He knew that would bring Sam’s recent loss of his girlfriend. Sam glared down at his brother with tears in his eyes before moving back towards Spencer’s side.

Spencer turned and motioned for Sam to join him and Elle in their makeshift office space. They grabbed coffees and sat down, throwing theories and ideas at one another again.

“The timer sets the road flare, which then lights the chemical mixture inside the canister. Simple,” Elle states before taking a long drink of her coffee. Sam snorts.

“I mean, there’s a meticulous construction to it,” Spencer rambles on about the construction of the explosive.

“What if it’s a chemistry student or professor?” Sam interjects, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

“Mmm… I say student. You need self-confidence to lecture in front of a classroom full of 30 college kids. Arsonists are socially incompetent. This guy, he doesn’t go on dates. He doesn’t go to parties. He doesn’t feel comfortable in front of groups.” Elle goes on. Spencer looks up towards her with an offended and sad look in his eye. “And of course he’s a total psychopath.”

Spencer shrugs and looks back down at the device he was fiddling with. Elle walks out of the room to get some air. Sam slides over towards Spencer. “Hey, I’m sorry about what she said. I’m sure she means well.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. She’s not wrong anyways, 23 years and I haven’t been on a date in my life.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of guys and girls who’d love to go on a date with you. I mean, why wouldn’t they? You’re smart, handsome, and a FBI agent.” Sam’s eyes widen a fraction before he clears his throat. Within a second, he hears a fire alarm going off. Spencer looks towards Sam in alarm before taking off, Sam only a step behind him.

Derek and Dean find Elle walking down the stairs, and turn to the now smoking building in alarm. They sprint towards the building, only to find Gideon in there attempting to rescue the latest victim. Derek pulls Gideon away from the scene as Elle and Dean back out, clearing the rest of the students off the stairs and out of the building.

Sam and Spencer reach the building, looking up in disdain. Hotch reaches them and Elle, whom he tells to take photos of the crowd. Dean moves over to Elle’s side and begins taking photos alongside her, “Hey hot stuff.” He winks and she rolls her eyes, “What? Too soon?”

Hotch, Spencer, and Sam stand in the chemistry lab, watching the students closely. “Reid, since you’re more their age, why don’t you do the talking?” Hotch demands, rather than truly asking. Spencer looks at him with apprehension.

“Why can’t Sam do it? He’s around my age, at least from what I can tell. He’s better with talking and connecting with them.”

“Winchester. I need you to talk to the students.”

Sam turns towards the older man, narrowing his eyes before nodding, “Only if Reid comes with.” Another raised eyebrow from Hotch. “I get jittery sometimes, and it’s nice to have backup.” Spencer’s lips quirk up in a small smile.

Sam clears his throat, “Hi, guys. I’m Detective Sam Winchester and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m a private investigator.”

“I’m a, uh, agent with the- the BAU, the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Which, um, it used to be called the BSU, the Behavioral Science Unit, but not anymore.” Spencer rambles.

“What he’s trying to say is we’d love to know how you can help us,” Hotch smoothly cuts in, earning a stern glare from Sam. Sam turns to Spencer and gives him an encouraging smile before turning back to the students.

One of the male students gets up and walks over towards them holding a hand out and asking, “May I please?” He grabs the lightbulb from Spencer, “See this? Drill a hole in the side, fill it with gasoline or whatever’s good and flammable. Turn the light on. Boom.” After a quick judging look from Spencer, he continues on, “That is what went down, didn’t it?”

“The stuff’s all over the net,” a girl from the back chimes in.

“You wanna know what I think? I think it would be a good time to take a semester off.” The male student pushes the lightbulb into Spencer’s chest.

Sam moves towards Spencer, almost pushing him behind. “Don’t touch him.” Hotch looks at the men and the student before heading to the elevator. They all follow him in.

“Hold on. You need a key to get it movin’ after 10 PM.” The male student says, almost smugly.

“So what are you still doin’ here?” Hotch asks.

“I can’t leave. We’ve all got projects. You know how to solve the three-body problem? Computing the mutual gravitational interaction between the Earth, Sun, and Moon?”

Sam watches Spencer nod his head along to the student’s words. “You actually know how to solve that?” Spencer nods. “I figured that you were a genius for being a doctor at the age of… Wait, hold old even are you?”

“I’m 23.”

“You’re 23 and you already have a doctorate? I’m 22 and I don’t even have a degree.”

“Yes, as well as multiple other bachelor’s degrees. I’m working towards earning another PhD.”

Sam lets out a low whistle that has Hotch turning towards them, assessing. Sam meets his gaze and cocks his head a little before turning back to Spencer. He smiles down at Spencer for a moment before the elevator opens.

The BAU gathers around a table, listening to the Unsub’s message that was left on the hotline. Dean stood next to Elle, actually paying attention to the case instead of flirting with her. He glanced over to where Sam was standing. Sam was behind Spencer, who was perched on a desk. Sam’s hand rested gently on Spencer’s back as he leaned in to hear the tape better.

Gideon replayed the track again and again, something nagging at him. Dean turned towards Elle with a roll of his eyes after Gideon turned up the volume yet again. Gideon headed outside, Spencer and Sam following not too far behind. Spencer sits down at the base of a tree, watching Gideon pace around, “What if the Unsub is one of the students leaving?”

“No, he’s not done yet. He’s not going anywhere. Keep thinkin’,” Gideon says.

“You mean out--outside the box? That’s what Morgan is always telling me. He says that’s why I’ll never beat you at chess.”

“He’s probably right.”

Spencer chuckles and smiles before looking up at Sam, who was running his fingers through his hair, “Do you want to go get a coffee? You look like you could use one.” At Sam’s offended look, Spencer amended, “Not that you look bad, you look really good-- I mean you look fine.” Spencer blushed. Sam’s mouth quirked up for a second as he nodded. Sam offered a hand out to Spencer, who happily took it, and pulled him up. Spencer stumbled over a root and ended up crashing into Sam. Sam laughed whole-heartedly as he steadied the doctor. They set off, going towards one of the coffee shops right next to campus.

“So, this Morgan guy, he’s always telling you to think outside the box? How do you apply that to a case?”

“In this situation, what exactly is the box?”

“Wouldn’t it be the standard profile of a serial arsonist? If everything you know is already in the box, what’s left?”

“What you don’t know. The unknown.”

They approached the coffee shop, heavily decorated with photos of the sports teams from the college across the street. Sam pats his pockets for a moment before groaning, drawing the attention of the profiler next to him. “I forgot my wallet in my car earlier,” Sam explains. Spencer turns, ready to leave, when Sam stops him. “You can still get your coffee, I can tell you really want one right now. Go order and I’ll get us a table.” Spencer smiles at that and waits.

After receiving his concernedly cheap coffee, Spencer makes his way over to the table where Sam sits. Sam had taken off his jacket at some point and rolled up his sleeves, drawing Spencer’s gaze to the muscles there. His eyes flick up to Sam’s. Sam smiles gently as he analyzes Spencer’s eyes.

“You don’t mind sharing with me, right?” Sam says, glancing down from Spencer’s eyes to the warm coffee cup in his hands. Spencer shakes his head and holds the cup out to Sam. Sam takes a quick sip from the cup and thrusts it back towards the other brunet. “How much sugar did you put in this?”

Spencer chokes out a laugh. They sit in an amicable silence, broken only by the conversations of the people around them. Spencer’s knees bump into Sam’s under the table. Sadly, the coffee has run out and they have a serial arsonist to capture. Sam grabs his jacket and tosses it back on. Spencer can’t help the flood of disappointment in him as the strong arms of the man across from him disappear under the fabric.

They walk towards the campus once more and catch up with Morgan in their meeting area. Morgan finishes his phone call with Garcia and turns towards the two young men walking through the door, “Hey Reid, Garcia says it’s not ‘Karen’. It’s something more like-”

“Charown!” Gideon interrupts, speeding through the open doorway.

“Charown?” Spencer questions.

“Charown. I do it because of Charown.”

“It’s Hebrew.”

“Isn’t that god’s burning anger?” Sam interjects.

Dean, Elle, and Hotch enter the room to join the rest of the BAU. Elle and Hotch move towards where Gideon is. Dean hangs back near the other end of the room.

“The motive is now religious?” Elle asks.

“Well, you know, in a lot of religions God is related to fire.” Spencer spouts off.

Sam moves towards Dean, who gives him the look that says “what the hell are we still doing here”. Sam cuts a look towards Spencer and another to Hotch. They both turn towards the BAU members as voices rise higher and arguments start. Spencer turns away from them, seemingly overstimulated by the argument, before looking directly at Sam.

“Compulsion,” Spencer whispers. He nods to Sam and moves to the computer and video area. Dean gives Sam an odd look, which he shrugs off. He follows Spencer to the computer area, where Spencer sits intensely watching the tapes of the first fire. The screams of the first victim surround them and Sam turns away for a moment before steeling himself. Spencer taps the computer desk in deep thought before rewinding the video. He brings a hand up to his forehead to lean on as he intently watches the video. Sam stands directly behind him, pondering. He gets up from the chair and moves over to the whiteboard, where he erases everything.

“What’re you thinking Spence?” Sam asks, leaning against the desk that Spencer had just been at. He notices Gideon watching through the door and turns back to the computer with he recording on it. Gideon encourages Spencer to think outside the box, then leaves both the men to their thoughts. Spencer rushes over to the laptop again, replaying the same clip of where gasoline pours inside the first victim’s room.

“Three times,” Spencer says. Sam looks at the man next to him and then at the footage. The doorknob to the victim’s dorm turned three times in a row. Spencer quickly gets up and moves to where the professor’s burned office is. Sam follows behind, easily catching up to Spencer with his long strides. Spencer wipes the soot off the professor’s door plate, revealing the number three. Once more he turns and walks hurriedly to the first victim’s dormitory. Sam and Spencer move the caution tape out of the way and enter. Spencer opens the drawers in the victim’s desk, searching for something important. Sam stands back, watching with a mixture of unease and curiosity. He finds the victim’s schedule, “Professor Wallace, Tuesday, three o’clock.” He gestures for Sam to follow him as they head back to the rest of the BAU.

“I know why the profiles never fit,” Spencer states confidently, “You were right to tell Morgan to not rely on precedent. The fires thus far have been completely task oriented.”

“So once they’re set the Unsub is done?” Sam asks. Hotch nods.

“Exactly. The Unsub is not a classical serial arsonist. He’s someone who uses fire because of a completely different disorder!”

“Which is?” Gideon questions.

“An extreme manifestation of OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He does everything in threes. And if I’m right, he’ll have to kill again. There’s a form of OCD called scrupulosity.”

Sam makes a confused face and turns to Hotch. “Religious obsession and compulsion,” the unit chief explains. Sam nods in understanding.

“So he has an obsessive fear of committing sin?” Sam ponders aloud.

Spencer nods, “It creates so much anxiety that he’s compelled to do something to ease that anxiety.”

Spencer presents all of the evidence he’s found so far and explains all the behavioral evidence connecting the Unsub to a pattern of threes and the fires.

“I think I know who it is. And it’s not a he, it’s a she.” Hotch states before calling the dean of the school.

While the dean sends over Clara Hayes’s file, they go over all the evidence leading them to Clara. “They were working on the three body problem,” Sam remembers.

Dean, Elle, and Morgan head to Clara’s room with a S.W.A.T. unit. They find the walls plastered with papers and the room filled with candles. “OCD? I’m thinking more like OMG,” Morgan says, earning a hearty chuckle out of Dean.

“OMG?” Elle asks.

“Oh, my God,” Dean and Morgan answer.

They read off the fire related biblical quotes on Clara’s walls and gaze at the pictures on her desk.

“Moloch was the demon sun god of the Canaanites. In order to keep from incurring his wrath the people would sacrifice their children to them by burning them alive,” Spencer tells the group in Clara’s room.

Hotch and Gideon give the order to the local officers to run into each building and pull the fire alarms to get the students out. Elle, Dean, and Morgan had found at least 30 homemade bombs in the building. What they didn’t know, however, was that the chemistry students working late at night were stuck in the elevator.

Clara finds the three students in the elevator and sprays them with gasoline, enjoying the sound of their screams. She pulls out a stick and lights it on fire, staring at it for a moment.

“Put it down Clara!” the male student yells.

Hotch attempts to talk her down, but she keeps telling him that they need to be tested or they’ll face God’s wrath. She mutters about Charown, Charon, Moloch, and other religious deities. Dean sprints up the stairs with Gideon, hearing a gunshot. Gideon stomps out the fire starter while Dean and Hotch hold their guns on Clara. She was helped downstairs and taken to medical care. Dean worked with the campus security to help the students out of the elevator.

The BAU had decided to stay the night and fly early in the morning the next day. Sam and Dean drove over to the hotel the agents had been staying at. Morgan walked over to the Impala, striking up a conversation with Dean on the car. Sam headed towards Spencer, walking with purpose to get to the man. “Hey Spencer. I was wondering if I could get your phone number? I’d hate to lose touch with a genius,” Sam smiled as he spoke. Spencer nodded and spouted off his phone number, watching Sam punch it into his contacts.

“I sent you a text so you can put me in your contacts. Don’t be a stranger, okay? It was nice finding someone so easy to work with.”

“I-I’ll see you around Sam.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

Sam walked over to the Impala and got in, waving goodbye to Spencer as the brothers sped off to whatever case they had next in line.

Spencer watched until they were completely out of view before entering the SUV next to him, grab bag in hand. He had a feeling he’d see Sam again.

#spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid #Sam Winchester #Sam x Spencer #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #angst #fluff #pining #mlm

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sub-hoshi-enthusiast · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I request Hoseok from BTS with a pain kink? 😏

Hobi is my Bias Wrecker, I felt like I was betraying Jimin the entire time I was writing this... but I do love myself some sub!Hobi! 🥵🥵 Sorry for the long wait, I started writing this a while ago but got writers block about half way through.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!Hobi, fem!dom!reader, pegging, degradation, spanking, pain kink.

Mistress's Little Painslut

Hobi was sure you were just torturing him by now. He has had a crush on you since you both turned 17. You had originally been one of his sister's friends, but when you two met, no one could deny the immediate connection. You were there to cheer him on when he started dancing. You were the one to convince him that he should try out and become a trainee at BigHit. When he felt like quitting, you were always there to cheer him up, telling him all of his hard work would pay off. A few months later it did- he joined a boy group called BTS and became a worldwide phenomenon. You were there with him for everything. It wasn't a surprise he introduced you to the rest of his members as soon as he possibly could.

Since you two have known each other since third grade, you are very comfortable around each other. You would sleep over at the dorms a lot- ARMY knew who you were a few months after BTS's debut and shipped you and Hobi hardcore so you didn't need to worry about scandals-, you would give each other 'friendly' kisses on the cheek, and were almost always seen out together.

Just like Hoseok, you were a dancer, and enjoyed learning all the BTS choreography by heart. You have been going to college for dancing for quite a few years now. It is common knowledge that dancers have amazing thighs, look at almost any Kpop dancer and you will see they have thighs of a greek god. So it was a given you loved looking at your best friend's thighs and ass- you had told him once if there's a nice ass you have to appreciate it. What was torturing him, however, was the fact that you liked to grab it.

If you were just standing next to him, your hand was in his back pocket. After dancing with him, you would walk over and slap or squeeze his ass before you left. You had started doing it absentmindedly at this point. You would be looking down at your phone, not realizing he was right next to you, and you would just reach down and squeeze his ass. He liked when you did it absentmindedly though. When you just did it normally, you made sure not to hit too hard, just light enough for it to be friendly. But when you weren't thinking about it, you would grab him hard and, god, did he love it. He would have to bite his lip to make sure he wouldn't let out an embarrassingly loud sound and weird you out. He would always blush and tell you to stop with a chuckle, but he was sure if you did actually stopped, he would be on his knees begging you to do it again.

The boys were throwing a party to celebrate them performing at the Grammys, though you were slightly pissed off that they weren't nominated for anything, but they decided to invite you anyway. It was just you, the boys, and a lot of alcohol. Luckily, you had a high alcohol tolerance, but Hobi didn't, so you made sure to check on him to make sure he wasn't completely wasted by the end of the night. You were all sitting in the living room, laughing at some dumb joke Jin had told (Yoongi was drunk enough to lay back and actually laugh at his horrible dad jokes). You looked down at your glass and saw it was almost empty.

"I'm gonna go get another drink, anyone coming with?" You asked as you stood up from your spot on the couch between Hobi and Jimin, having to pry Jimin's arms off you in order to stand up. Hobi looked at his empty glass, decided he wasn't drunk enough yet and stood up to follow you.

"I'll get something too." You both walked to the kitchen after seeing no one else was getting up. You reached into the fridge and got a coke and some whipped cream flavored vodka as your best friend just got a beer. You were pouring your drink next to Hobi, who was facing the counter and opening his beer with the bottle opener before pouring it in a glass. You absentmindedly reached down and gave his ass a harsh squeeze after you finished your drink. He was already tipsy, so he couldn't hold back the little whimper that left his lips. He was hoping it was quiet enough so you couldn't hear it, but when you froze in front of the fridge after putting away the bottle of vodka, he knew that wasn't the case. You slowly turned around and faced him with wide eyes, watching as his face suddenly lit up a fiery red.

"D-did you just-"

"No!" He immediately cut you off before running back to the living room. He was always a horrible liar and you both knew it. A smirk fell on your face as you started thinking of a plan. You entered the living room with a neutral look on your face.

"What took you so long, did you get lost in there or something?" Yoongi joked as he looked up at you. You chuckled and sat back on the couch.

"No, I accidentally spilled a coke so I cleaned it up and got another one." He nodded, believing the flimsy excuse you gave him. No one thought anything of it when you leaned over and cuddled up to Hobi, since it was something you two always did. He tensed up beside you but relaxed after you did nothing but lay on him for a few minutes. After a few more games, jokes, and about halfway through a movie you had looked at the time. Time to put your plan in action.

"Well, this was fun but I really need to get going." You said as you stood up from the couch, having to pry Jimin off you yet again- you forgot how clingy he was when he was drunk. The boys all pouted, saying you could just stay the night.

"No no no, I would love to but I have an interview in the morning for a new job."

"Another one? Don't you already have two part time jobs?" Jungkook asked as he looked up at you. You shrugged.

"College is expensive."

"I'm so glad I'm never going to college." You laughed and patted his shoulder before heading to the door.

"Aren't you drunk? You can't drive home. Let one of us drive you." Namjoon said before you opened the door. You laughed and shook your head.

"The only one that isn't drunk is Taehyung, and he's sleeping so I don't want to wake him. It's a short walk to my place from here, I'll be fine." Jin looked at the clock.

"It's 10 o'clock at night, it's dangerous for you to be walking alone out there. Let one of us at least walk with you." You smirked before turning towards the boys.

"Alright. Hobi, are you alright with walking me home?" His eyes widened as he quickly saw what you were doing. It would look way too suspicious if he turned down your offer, and all the boys would bombard him with questions as soon as you left. He slowly nodded his head and walked towards you. You smiled sweetly up at him. "Ok, goodnight you guys."

A chorus of 'goodbye's is all you heard before you closed the door and started your journey home. Hobi looked at the ground for most of the walk staying silent. You giggled as you looked over at him.

"What? Are you scared of me now?" He looked up at you for a second before looking quickly back down with a short chuckle. "Is this because of what happened in the kitchen?" You saw his ears burn red before slowly nodding. You chuckled. "Hobi, it's not that big of a deal. We've been best friends for, like, 20 years. I don't want this to make you awkward around me." He let out a sigh and looked up at you with a slight smile. "Now, if I may ask, what exactly happened in the kitchen?" He gulped and looked away from you.

"W-well, you usually grab my ass a lot harder when you aren't r-really thinking about it, s-so it kind of hurt." He managed to stutter out. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize… but i don't think you're telling me the whole truth." He gulped and snapped his head over to you as you both stopped in your tracks at your front door.

"W-what do you mean?"

"Well…" you started as you slowly walked toward Hobi, making him back up with every step you took forward, "The sound you let out didn't really sound like you were in pain. In fact..." Hobi gulped as you pressed him against your door with a wicked smirk, "...it sounded like you enjoyed it." His breathing had doubled its pace as his eyes looked at everything but you. You grabbed his chin and made him face you, as your other hand reached down and harshly grabbed a handful of his ass. He whimpered again, almost loud enough to be a moan this time. You smirked wider and leaned in to press a few kisses to the side of his throat as you lifted your knee to press against his growing erection. He whined and held onto your shoulders as you pushed your knee harder against him. You bit down on a spot on his neck, close to his collar bones.

"H-harder." He barely mumbled. You stopped what you were doing and looked up at him.

"What?" He gulped and locked eyes with you as a pretty pink color stained his face.

"H-harder. Please- b-bite me harder." You smirk at his answer and leaned back into his neck, biting him hard enough to almost draw blood. He moaned louder, throwing his head back against the wooden door as his hands tangled themselves in your hair.

"Oh, so my little baby's a painslut, huh?" You teased as you grabbed his ass again. He whimpered loudly and grinded his hard-on against your knee at a faster pace. "Fuck, you just keep getting hotter." You growled against him before quickly opening the door, almost making him fall before you grabbed his hips and pulled him up. You shoved him into the house, slamming and locking the door behind you before you grabbed his wrist with a bruising force, dragging him to the bedroom. He almost fell on the floor as you threw him in your room, closing the door behind you. When he saw the look of hunger in your eyes as you turned around, he bit his lip and shivered. You quickly made your way across the room and pulled him in for a kiss, harshly pinning him down on your bed. He whimpered beneath you when you pulled away, biting so hard on his lip you drew blood. He reached his hands up to remove your shirt, making you grab his hand and pin them above his head.

"No touching or moving until I tell you to." You told him, making him whine in protest. You immediately ripped his clothes off before leaning down and sucking marks on his neck and chest, making sure that by the end of the night everyone would know who he belonged to. He was whimpering pitifully beneath you and squirming in your grip. You started grinding your hips into his as you pulled away from his neck, looking down at his flushed face.

"How long have you been thinking about this? Me pinning you down and making you mine as you whimper like a dumb pup beneath me. How long?" He let out a shaky moan as you grinded your hips into his harder.

"G-God, ages! Always wanted mistress to pin me down and mark me, h-hurt me, dominate me, do w-whatever she wants with me, because I'm just her dumb little painslut." He whined as he threw his head back. Your pupils dilated when you heard him call you mistress and you smirked down at him. You tutted at him, shaking your head.

"I don't think you're supposed to think about your best friend like that, baby. What a naughty boy." You whispered lowly into his ear. He started breathing heavily as he grinded his hips up to meet yours with shallow whimpers. You thought for a second before smirking and pinning his hips to the bed. You chuckled darkly in his ear, making a shiver shoot up his spine.

"What did I say about moving, baby?" His eyes widened as he immediately started trying to stutter out an explanation.

"I-I'm sorry! You just felt so g-good mistress, I-I couldn't help myself! I-" you landed a harsh slap on his thigh which made him whine.

"I didn't ask for your pathetic excuses." Your eyes lit up as you thought of something. You moved to sit up but paused and looked down at him, your eyes softening. "Safe word?" He blinked and looked up at you in confusion from your sudden change in tone. You reached one of your hands up and moved a few strands of hair from his face. "I know this probably ruins the mood, but you're still my best friend and I want to make sure I don't make you uncomfortable." He cringed beneath you as you called him your best friend, sadness showing in his eyes. "What's wrong baby?" He looked away from you, a gloss over his eyes told you he might start crying soon.

"You… you called me your best friend so I just-" the sniffle he let out cut him off as the tears slowly started falling down his face before he turned to lock eyes with you, the sadness in them breaking your heart, "-I just thought that you saw t-this as a one night s-stand and we wouldn't talk about it again, which sucks b-because I've had this huge c-crush on you since we were s-seventeen." You pulled him to sit up and pressed kisses all over his face while wiping the tears away.

"Oh, baby, no! I just wasn't sure what you would want me to call you! I mean, we aren't officially dating yet, are we?" He looked up at you as you held his face softly in your hands.

"I-I guess not…"

"Well, now we are. You are now officially my boyfriend." You told him in a playful tone as you gave him a light peck on the nose, making him giggle. He took a deep breath in and let it out before looking at you again.

"Red." You tilted your head in confusion. "My safe word, it's red."

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"What were you gonna do?"

"Well, I was going to spank you but if you're still too sensitive-" before you could finish your sentence he moved your legs so you were sitting on the edge of the bed and draped himself over them with his ass in the air, looking up at you expectantly. You laughed before lightly kneading the skin of his ass.

"You're sure?" He nodded enthusiastically and pushed his ass back into your hand more. You let out a breath before looking back down at him with a dark look in your eyes. "I think fifteen sounds good, don't you baby?" He shivered and nodded eagerly with a whimper. You smirked and brought your hand up before smacking his ass with a harsh slap that echoed around the room, followed up a loud whimper from Hobi. "I want you to count out loud for me."

"Yes mistress!" He exclaimed as he pushed his ass back into your hand as it kneaded the slowly reddening skin. You slapped the area between his thigh and ass, hitting harder than you did before. "F-fuck, two!" You did this for a few more minutes. By the time you reached ten, you could feel how hard he was against you as his precum soaked through your jeans.

"Thirt-teen! F-f- fuck- fourteen!" You smirked down at him as you felt him grinding his hard-on against the rough fabric of your jeans. You waited a minute before rearing your hand back and slapping him as hard as you could.

"FIFTEEN!!" He called out as his body jerked forward. He slowly fell limp against your legs, not having the strength to hold himself up as you kneaded his ass, which now had a red handprint on it. He whimpered and started pushing his hard cock against your jean clad thigh. He let out a loud yelp when you slapped his ass again.

"Did I say you could move, slut?" He bit his lip with a whine as you pulled him up by his hair and pushed him back against the mattress.

"N-no, mistress, 'm sorry." He whimpered as he looked up at you. You smirked down at him before reaching into your bedside drawer and pulled out two black ribbons, using one to tie him to the headboard and the other to blindfold him.You heard his breath hitch as you restricted his vision, making him 3x more sensitive. He turned his head as he heard you open your bedside drawer and pull something out, shortly after hearing the sound of your pants hitting the floor. He shook with a loud gasp as he felt the tip of a strap-on he had remembered seeing in your drawer but had never mentioned to you. You let out a dark chuckle and leaned down so you were blowing hot breath on his ear.

"I don't think bad boys deserve to be stretched out, do they baby?" He let out a moan as you bit down harshly on his earlobe.

"I-" he was cut off by another whimper as you slapped one of the many red marks you had left on his ass.

"I didn't ask for your opinion." You growled before slamming your hips into his, not giving him time to adjust before pounding ruthlessly into him. He let out loud cries of pleasure as his back lifted off the bed, his head thrown back in pleasure.

"O-oh my god!!" He whimpered out in a high-pitched tone when he felt your hand creep up his chest before settling around his throat. You smirked and squeezed, making him gasp and squirm more beneath you. You continued to pound into him, leaning down to press kisses over the bruises you had left on his neck at the beginning of your session. After a few minutes, he came hard after you had given him permission to do so. He expected you to stop or slow down, but he let out a pathetic moan as you sped up the pace of your hips.

"W-wait, mistress!! Fuck- I-It hurts." He felt you devilishly smirk against his neck.

"You said you've had a crush on me since we were 17, right?" You asked him as you slightly slowed down the movement of your hips and lightened your grip on his throat. He slowly nodded in confusion. At his answer you sped up the pace of your hips again, moving the hand that was wrapped around his throat to pinch and tease his nipples. "Then you're going to cum for each year you kept this secret from your mistress." He moaned louder as he came again, coating his stomach with his seed as you continued to pound into him, lightly scratching over the red marks on his ass. Tears started streaming down his flushed face as Hobi realized he was in for a long night.

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jenovahh · 3 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 17 - The Same Thing

“We’re special?”

Is this… your memory?

You remember this room. This smell. This day.

This person.

This smile.

“Yes.” Pink lips pull into a nurturing smile, cream hands pinch your chubby cheeks. You have grown yes, but there is still remaining baby fat yet to be lost. “We are chosen by our Mother, Hydaelyn. She loves us very much.”

“How do you know?” your smaller self asks, playing with the blocks in your hand. It is a lazy afternoon day, the cartoons on the TV long forgotten. A girl who can be no more than seven years older than you is crouched on the floor by your side, handing you more blocks to build your budding city. Her hair is intricately braided and pulled into a spiky bun at the back of her head.

“Well...let's say that she likes me a lot, a lot,”

“You’re her favorite?” you interrupt, dropping your blocks and pouting.

“No, no! She does not have favorites; she loves both you and I equally.” The girl whispers, giving you a boop on the nose. “She just gave me an important job to do.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” You ask, eyes wide as saucepans.

“To take care of you silly!” The girl scoops you up in her arms and spins you around, your childish laughter filling the room. The memory makes you smile, until the sky is suddenly black and the room dark. Heavy footfalls sound around you until they crash in on the room, the girl clutching you tight.

“There she is!”

“The Oracle of Light!”

“Get her!”

Tears stream down the younger you’s face, left to cry and wail in the middle of the floor next to your abandoned blocks as the girl is dragged away by unseen forces. Thunder crashes, rain pours, the nightmare falls apart--

“Minfilia! Don’t go…!”

“Honey!”

As your eyes focus, you find Estinien’s staring right back, his eyes concerned and wary, his hands pinning your arms to your sides. The last vestiges of the nightmare ebb away, your body slowly grounding itself back in reality once more. “I…”

Frowning, Estinien heaves out a humorless laugh before finally releasing you, falling short of collapsing on the bed as he takes a seat at the edge. A tense silence ensues, your head hung low in shame of showing such weakness. Sniffling, your skin feels tense, bringing your hands to your cheeks you realize you had been crying in your sleep.

“Are you all right?” He finally asks, looking at you from over his shoulder.

You do not answer, not immediately. You aren’t alright. You haven’t been alright for a long ass time.

“I’m fine.” You lie, despite your words to him earlier that you had not lied to him. He’s clearly not in a fighting mood, seeing fit to not call you out on it. Dressed in more casual wear now, his hair is drawn back in a low ponytail resting against his neck.

"Look. I can only be there for you if you let me." He says with just a hint of pleading to it. "You can lean on me. You don't have to do this alone."

Shaking your head, you pray for him to see the desperation in your eyes. "I don't...I'm scared something could happen to you." You admit, your voice just a breath below a whisper, hoping he can hear how genuine your fear is.

Frowning again, he curses beneath his breath. "Your ride's here. Called when you were asleep, asking why you'd been gone longer than usual." Standing to his feet, he heads to exit the room. “Your clothes are over there on the dresser for you to change into. I already packed the old ones in your bag." Saying nothing more, he leaves you alone. A lone tear rolls down your cheek, falling to the plush sheets he had wrapped you in but a few hours before. Taking a steadying breath you throw them back and swing your legs over the edge, standing to your feet.

You trudge over to the adjoined bathroom to quickly freshen up and get dressed, swishing some water around your mouth and finger combing your hair. With a fresh change of clothes, you look a little less debauched, but somehow it still feels like the walk of shame as you make your way down the stairs to the front door. Estinien has made himself scarce, and unable to tell if you should be thankful or miserable for it. Deciding not to pay it much mind, you toe on your shoes and begin your trek across the grounds, heading for the side gate to try and avoid Cid if possible. Sure enough your driver, Yuyusho, is waiting out by the car, looking somewhat worried.

"Miss Honey!" he calls running over to you. "I hadn't heard from you for so long, I had feared the worst."

Giving a strained smile, you shrug nonchalantly. "I'm sorry, Yuyusho. What did Estinien tell you?"

"He said he had hit you so hard he knocked you unconscious." Yuyusho responds, to which you tell yourself the next time you see Estinien to make sure you knock him unconscious. "Are you still feeling unwell?"

"I think he may have exaggerated a bit…" you grumble, teeth clenched in a forced smile, "but we certainly hit it harder than usual today. I'm sorry to make you worry." His genuine concern is actually refreshing, and you make a note to try and learn more about him.

"I'm just glad to hear you're all right." he beams, waddling over to the rear door and opening it for you. "We must return to the estate at once; Lord Varis is expecting you." Nodding, you step into the car, the sound of the shutting door feeling so ominous. The ride back is silent as usual, but the guilt you had felt in Estinien's arms seems to only compound with every malm you get closer to the Galvus estate.

Pulling into the driveway, you give Yuyusbo your goodbyes and head inside, readjusting your bag as you walk through the doors. What few maids are there greet you, but you pay them no mind, finding it hard to keep your head up as you make a beeline for Varis' office.

Knocking on the door, you take a deep breath, bouncing off one foot to the other.

"Enter."

Twisting the handle, you step inside, finding the Galvus patriarch sitting at his desk as usual. The same moody lighting fills the room, not a window in sight as you move to take a seat in your usual chair.

He scribbles at a few documents for a minute or two, finishing up whatever task he has been working on. Placing his pen back in its stand, he weaves his fingers together and levels you with an inquisitive look. "You are late." An observation and a statement. An accusation almost.

"I know." You answer, shoulders slumped.

He arches a brow, a smirk curling his lips. "Will you not explain the reason for your tardiness?"

Wringing your hands together, you debate on telling the truth. You don't know how Cid's robot would've jumbled the conversation and play it back when they scanned it. You would lie, but what would you even lie about?

"That is an interesting mark you have there."

Jolting up, you follow his gaze to where it is pointedly aimed at your neck. Whipping out your phone, you use the camera to sure enough find a few hickeys on your collarbone. Pursing your lips, you feel the urge to cry again. If Varis noticed this, then surely Zenos--

"I will not require your choker from you this time. I doubt anyone is eager to hear you moan like a bitch in heat." Varis interrupts your thoughts, looking entirely too satisfied. "Though I must say, I am pleased. Perhaps now that he's loosened your legs, that bodyguard will loosen his tongue."

The thought of using sex just to weasel information out of Estinien fills you with anger, and it is only the fact you are no longer in the hot seat that keeps you quiet and obedient before this monster.

"Go and enjoy the rest of your day off. I’d suppose you would need your rest after such an intense...session." he chuckles lowly. "I will inform my son he is not to bother you for the rest of the evening. You are dismissed.”

This is clearly the most pleased Varis has ever been with you and yet you can’t help but resent him quietly as you stand without uttering a word and retreat from the room. Dragging your bag along the floor out of spite, you climb the stairs to your room, using your free hand to tug the scoop of your neckline to hopefully cover the marks. You’re almost tempted to make a break for it, but you know your clamor would be heard throughout the halls, so it is with sluggish feet you keep a leisurely pace to your quarters. Thankfully he is absent, allowing you to slip into your room unbothered. You do not get the privilege of being able to lock your room, so you pray Varis was right when he said Zenos would be ordered to bug off for the rest of the day.

You don’t turn on the big chandelier that hangs from your ceiling, instead choosing to draw every curtain and turn on the single, wrought iron lamp in your room. Hauntingly beautiful, for once you are glad that Varis’ gothic aesthetic matches your mood. You can’t remember the last time you felt so down on yourself, but if it’s been too long to remember, maybe you deserve to throw yourself a pity party.

So you do.

You flop down face first on the bed and let the fluff of the bedding take hold of you, breathing in freshly cleaned linen. Fisting your hands in them, you giggle to yourself at the thought of rolling yourself up like a piece of sushi like you used to when you were a kid. Such simpler times and yet, such dark times too. You try not to dwell on them much, for each time you do, all that it brings about is nightmares. Nightmares of being an orphan, of losing Minfilia, of unknown blood on your hands…

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling you from your daze. Reaching to grab it you squint at the screen to see that it is Ardbert calling you. You didn’t deserve a third friend’s shoulder to cry on in one day, if you even had anymore tears to cry at all. You reject his call and shoot him a quick message that you’re just going to take the rest of the day to chill, which he buys quickly enough.

You wish you could confide in Ardbert all that had happened today: about Varis, about Cid, hells, even just gossiping like adults about what a good lay Estinien is. But the walls have ears and the hills have eyes and you would never do anything to jeopardize his life if you could help it. As much as Ardbert wanted you to depend on him, as dangerous as he knew this family was, he still was willing to stick out his neck for you, even if it meant his own life.

You didn’t deserve this kindness. Not for the sins you now bear.

You deserved cruelty; you needed it. You needed to be kicked around, made to feel lower than dirt, pounded into the ground--

So that you could spring forth with rebirth once more as fierce and explosive as ever.

You deserved nothing but malice as penance for the crimes you’ve committed. You needed to be bound. You needed--

An image of golden hair and blue eyes fills your vision.

You need to sleep.

Summer slowly gives way to fall, its chill creeping in steadily. Your morning yoga had instead changed to morning jogs, doing laps around the estate until your lungs burned. Somedays Zenos had joined you in strained silence, and other days he barked orders at you from the comfort of a lawn chair as he sipped on his Ul’Dahn coffee. Things were obviously tense between you to anyone with eyes, but neither of you (or anyone else for that matter) were willing to be the first to address it, for you were sure neither of you were sure what it was to address. You each acted almost robotically around the other; clipped sentences, only speaking when asked a direct question or given an order. There was no teasing, no scathing remarks, no insults carefully masked as a compliment.

It was miserable.

A few weeks pass, and the changing weather matches your mood. You still visit Estinien to spar despite what occurred between the two of you, the waters still murky on how to proceed. Despite that, it doesn’t mean you are unwilling to find comfort in his body; letting yourself be cared for, feeling normal, even if only for a little while.

“Are you sure you still wish to remain my son’s bodyguard?”

“Yes. If I want a change in a career path, I assure you, you will be the first to know.” You respond in monotone, doing your best to repress how obviously annoyed you are.

“I merely extend the offer in good faith; it is clear that things have...soured between my son and yourself.” Varis comments, clicking away at his computer while nursing a glass of wine. He swirls the ruby liquid around in its glass, golden eyes sparkling with the reflected light of his computer screen. He has that bemused expression again; like a cat that got the cream. “I will remind you again that this offer has no expiration date. You may join my security detail at your leisure.” He cuts you with a look that borders on lustful, and it takes every ounce of control in your body to keep the muscles in your face from making a disgusted expression.

“You had...called me here for something sir?” you sigh, through restraining your utter distaste for him.

"Yes. We will be traveling abroad for an important gala and naturally you will be coming along. We will be departing for La Noscea and staying in Limsa Lominsa. You will need to pack enough clothing for a three nights' stay as I will have other things to tend to there before we depart. Luggage has already been provided for you, as well as all the proper documentation to travel abroad. We will leave in the morning and I expect you to be prepared to leave at dawn. Am I understood?" He asks and you give a curt nod. "Good. Go on and pack your things." he waves you sway with a flick of his hand and you obey, albeit unwillingly.

Heading to your room, you can't help but feel a little giddy; never in your wildest dreams did you see yourself being able to travel, let alone outside of the country. You remember daydreaming with Minfilia about the two of you running away and seeing the magic the world has to offer, but it was a dream that never got to come true.

Packing your things, you resolve to try and take as many pictures as you can, to hold onto the memories you would create, in hope that Minfilia would see them too, in spirit. She was with you, you knew it.

You text Ardbert about your departure, and while he expresses his envy, he makes you promise to bring him back tons of souvenirs and La Noscean snacks with that hefty paycheck of yours. He even offers to bring you his own suitcase to fill to the brim, which gets a good laugh out of you. You can never be thankful enough for his friendship, and do resolve to bring back as much for him as you can.

When you leave for the airport you ride with Rhitahtyn and Livia in first class in a separate airplane, not quite understanding why you can’t ride in the private jet with your client, but deciding that honestly, you could probably use the space. You spare yourself no luxury as you settle into the overly cushy seats that first class has to offer, choosing to indulge in a vintage glass of wine and Boscaiola for your mid-flight dinner. Each bite is delicious and you savor each one, knowing that as soon as you land, Zenos will be watching you like a hawk. The question came to mind of why Varis simply didn’t have you fly economy and spare himself some money, to which Livia scoffed as she cut into her ribeye steak.

“It would be an insult to him, and his wealth. Lord Varis is clearly not hurting to save money; to not even afford his security detail something as common as first class would be in poor taste.”

You suppose that made sense, given that your work uniforms were pressed and starched every week and also handmade. Even though you had long since adjusted to your life of luxury, you realized there was still so little you understood about it all.

“We are not close to the ocean and yet I still can still smell the salt in the air. I will never understand the appeal.” Livia huffs with a curl to her lip, her red hair blowing gently in the balmy wind as you wait for the chauffeurs to retrieve the cars. Naturally, the Galvus’ were swarmed by paparazzi as they made their way through the airport, and they were surprisingly rowdy too, at least compared to Kugane citizens. You wondered if it was just because they were La Noscean.

“I’ve always found it comforting.” Rhitahtyn sighs wistfully, allowing the sun to hit his face.

“I suppose you would. You had spent most of your youth here, did you not?” Livia asks, and the two launch off into conversation, which you are more than happy to leave them to. Taking out your phone, you take pictures just as you promised yourself you would, of the sky, the clouds, the birds overhead. There really was a different feeling about being here, and you didn't care if you could feel eyes on you for soaking it in.

"I hear Garlond's due to arrive perhaps just an hour later," Varis announces, his voice carrying over the passing cars and planes that have taken off. "The event is not until tomorrow evening. Feel free to spend your night at your leisure, Honey."

You groan internally at his obvious bait, but Zenos beats you to a response. "How many times do I have to tell you to not order my bodyguard around?"

"Yes, yes, well-- if you want to keep such a tight grip on her and not allow her any freedom, I suppose that is your prerogative now isn't it? Though I wouldn't be surprised if you find her in someone else’s arms as a result…" Varis purrs and you blanch immediately as Zenos' eyes flick to you with an unreadable emotion.

Unable to decipher what he's thinking, you decide to not say anything at all, guiltily looking away. You miss Varis’ smug smirk, his hands reaching up to adjust his tie unnecessarily. “Well. I have given my suggestion, do with it as you may. I will be getting some work done this evening before the gala tomorrow.” With perfect timing, the cars pull up, windows tinted to where the chauffeur is basically a shadow. Saying nothing, you quietly open the door for Zenos, who doesn’t spare you a glance as he steps inside. Unfortunately, this is where you must part ways with Rhitahtyn and Livia, and once again have your boss as your sole companion.

As the car pulls away from the airport, you find yourself wishing that Ardbert was allowed to come along to be your driver. Even if you two weren’t allowed to talk to each other, just his presence alone was a comfort, especially in the recent weeks where things were incredibly tense. With no Ardbert here, things feel worsened and you choose to spend the entire ride watching the world pass by.

Thankfully Zenos is of the same mind, saying nothing. You can’t deny that you miss the bickering, the banter, but you know you’re too stubborn yourself to initiate it again. You hardly know why he started closing himself off to you in the first place, making it hard to find a place to start to try and get things to being relatively normal again. Jealousy couldn’t be the only reason, could it? You practically worry your lip raw from biting it while thinking too hard, the car pulling up to the hotel before you know it.

Arriving at your destination, The Mizzenmast Inn is a five star hotel, the valet rushing to open the door before you can even reach for the handle. Stepping out, you get a whiff of the salty air, even able to distantly hear the ocean. Were you close to the shore?

“Our luggage...where is it?” You ask more to yourself, but it seems it reaches other ears.

“It will be delivered here if it hasn’t been already.” Zenos answers, climbing out the car and glancing around. As he moves past you, you nod and shut the door, following him inside. “Collect our room keys from the front desk.”

“S-Sure.” Ambling over to the front desk, you flash your ID to the receptionist who goes through the motions of giving you a warm welcome. Once done, she hands you two shiny, black cards, seeming to be made of metal. Liking their weight, you play with them in your hand a bit before giving your thanks and meeting Zenos by the elevators. One arrives just as you stand by his side, and you both enter to head to your rooms.

The building was fairly tall from the outside, and you wouldn’t doubt that Varis of course requested the highest room with the best view if any of the other rich people hadn’t already. Imagining such a view in your mind, you’re jolted from your thoughts as the elevator comes to a sudden halt, your eyes immediately searching for danger. “Zenos,” you start, moving near him, but instead you are pressed against the wall instead, wincing as your back uncomfortably hits the hand rail.

Opening your eyes, you gasp as Zenos suddenly yanks your blazer to the side, his fingers alarmingly quick in popping the first few buttons of your shirt open. Face heating, you move your arms to push him away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

His gaze is focused as he pulls the shirt to the side as well, fingers running over your skin around your neck. Through searching one side he examines the other, eyes scrutinous as he visibly frowns. Finally meeting your eyes, he has that unreadable expression again. “What was my father talking about?”

Pursing your lips, you try to quickly decide what to say. Better to stall. “What do you mean?”

His eyes narrow like a cat’s, unbridled rage simmering just below their blue depths. “Do not lie to me.”

Silent, you break his stare, glancing at yourself in the reflective surface of an adjacent wall. With his bulk, his height, he encompasses you entirely, his hand still firm yet feather light on your throat. His other palm is flat against the wall, his body far too close to be considered professional. Like this, one might even say you...looked good together.

You grunt as the hand that was at your throat jumps up to your chin, gripping fiercely to make you face him. “What. Did my father. Mean?” He asks, enunciating each syllable painfully slow.

“What’s it matter to you?” you lash out, falling all too easily back into the need to defy him. “Why the sudden interest, huh?”

However, it seems Zenos isn’t in the mood to play games, as he doesn’t rise to your bait. “You don’t just train with that bodyguard, now do you?”

“If you mean that we also have tea and converse, then you would be correct.” You lie, hating the taste of it on your tongue. Something about lying to Zenos felt...wrong.

Maybe because despite all his faults, he was nothing but genuine.

You’re thankful you remember some of Lyse’s tips for getting rid of hickeys in just a day or so. Never would you have thought you’d actually need that advice, especially not for this.

“And what of me? Do you not consider me worthy of the same?” He asks, and you swear you see just a brief flicker of pain before it is lost in a sea of jealousy.

“Well, Estinien doesn’t call me a savage and actually treats me like an equal.” You huff, reaching up with a free hand to grip his wrist to see if you can coax him to loosen his grip. “He doesn’t berate me, he doesn’t make me feel like shit. He treats me like a fucking person.”

He seems to mull this over before he tightens his grip more. “I would not think you would care about such trivial things.”

“They’re not trivial, you bastard. They’re what makes us mortal.” You sigh, giving him a pitying look. “You treat me like shit every day and you really think I wouldn’t jump at the chance to talk to someone who doesn’t?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

His fist slams into the wall, cracking the glass. “You should only talk to me.” He snarls, and like a chain reaction his anger incites your own.

“I couldn’t give two shits about your little ownership speech.” You snatch his hand from your face and twist his arm painfully, uncaring whether you hurt him or not. “As smart as you are Zenos, you learn absolutely fucking nothing.” Reaching past him, you re-engage the elevator, choosing instead to get off on the closest floor. The elevator doors open blessedly quick and you exit onto whatever floor it deposits you on, stalking down the hall without looking back.

The rest of that day is instead spent in your hotel room, feeling conflicted as hell, but unsure why to even yourself. It is tempting to call Ardbert, but something about being out of the country and calling home seems even more high risk. Instead, you choose to simply order in all the first class food you can stomach, and charge it all to the Galvus account.

The alone time at least lets you have your thoughts to yourself, to think about whether you imagined the hurt in his eyes or not.

I promise to make it worth your while...if you weren’t my employee.

Punching your pillow you scream out your frustrations into the downy cushion, kicking your feet as you abuse the poor pillow some more.

Why did everything have to be so hard?

Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why couldn’t he be more like Estinien? What was so hard about treating you like a fucking human being--

Why do you care?

He doesn’t care about you. It’s a fact you have to constantly remind yourself of. He doesn’t care about you, he just thinks of you as his toy and now daddy is making him share. He’s behaving like a child unable to process his feelings, lacking in emotional maturity. That wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“Rookie! You ready?”

“I’ll be out in just a minute!” You call, fastening your cufflinks, shaped to be the Garlean logo like every other accessory you were allowed to wear. One would think Varis would use his own logo for his brand to put on all his things, especially since he had seemingly renounced Garlemald entirely. It’s not the time to think about that however, quickly putting your linkpearl in your ear and other necessary tools where they belong. Stepping out the door, your coworkers are waiting for you looking equally sharp, giving you an approving nod.

“Security is still going to be tight, right?” You ask, giving Rhitahtyn a small smile as he waits for you and Livia to board the elevator first, ever the gentleman. How it was that Livia could see past his Roegadyn heritage yet get on your case made no sense, but you decided not to think too deeply on it. It was time to get to work and no matter how tense things were between you and your employer, you had a job to do.

“Yes, largely in part due to the happenings at the hospital. I believe Lord Varis refused to attend at all unless security was up to his expectations. Of course, after the nearly successful attempt on his life, no one could discredit him for being paranoid or overthinking it.” Rhitahtyn explains, his mass making the elevator feel a little cramped.

“Well hopefully nothing eventful will happen. I’d like a nice peaceful night of just being a shadow for once…” you sigh wistfully, soothed by Rhitahtyn’s low chuckle.

“Aye, I hope for the same. We will at least have our fill of hors d'oeuvres tonight. Even so, never let your guard down, rookie.” Giving you a light clap on the shoulder, he nudges you to head out the elevator first as it comes to a stop, where you are to await Zenos and Varis in the lobby. The sun is only just now setting on the horizon, casting warm tones onto the still bustling city. While Limsa Lominsa is nowhere near the size and modernity of Kugane, it still has its charm, with significantly less skyscrapers decorating its skyline. You get so caught up in admiring the beauty as you stare out the windows, you miss the elevator signaling Varis and Zenos’ arrival.

The two are dressed in tuxedos like any male at any formal event, and you find yourself mentally wishing that men in society had a little more variety. That isn’t to say they look bad; their tuxedos are tailored to fit and boy do they fit well. You hardly spare Varis a glance as you drink Zenos in, admiring the fine line of his body. His tuxedo is cut differently than his father’s, perhaps due to his body type, for a normal tux would look frumpy and unflattering to his form.

His golden hair is washed and straightened, trimmed perfectly to where a single hair isn’t out of place. The cut of the tux accentuates his broad shoulders and slim waist, leading to narrow hips that flare into muscled thighs. His slacks are made to fit somewhat snugly, but still allow movement, showing off his prime physique and toned glutes.

He would easily qualify to be an Adonis in anyone’s book, even your own.

“Blink, rookie.” Rhitahtyn whispers, giving you a nudge. Face flaming red, you quickly turn away, ceasing your staring. Were you really that obvious?

You prayed that wasn’t the case, following the two men down a hallway. The gala was being held at the same hotel you were staying at, at least saving you a car ride anywhere. Shadowing Zenos, you go into work mode, staying just within arm’s reach and looking for any would be threats. Reaching another hallway, you can already hear loud chatter and camera flashes of other attendees making their way in. Here, Varis would break off and walk down the red carpet to get the attention he so craved while you and Zenos would head straight into the venue.

Entering the ballroom, the decorations are breathtaking as always, nothing short of magical. Hues of blues and silvers glimmer across the room, all kinds of crystals twinkling and catching the light, making refractions on the walls and floor. If only it weren’t inappropriate to whip out your phone and catch a few photos. You would love to be able to share these pictures with Y’Shtola and Lyse when your job here was done. You dreamed of being able to sit back and laugh about all of this around some glasses of wine and a shitty romcom in your pajamas.

“Daydreaming again?” Zenos drones, not having looked in your direction, but clearly speaking to you.

“I don’t daydream.” You answer angrily, still on high alert for potential threats.

“I’m sure you don’t. That’s why you didn’t hear me telling you to go get me a glass of champagne.” He tuts, crossing his arms and raising a single brow.

“How do you know I wasn’t just ignoring you?” The rebuttals come as fast as ever, almost naturally.

“Of course you were. Just do as I say.” He gives that bored sigh, and it grates on you as much as it gives you an undercurrent of worry. “I already tire of the event and it has barely even started.”

Frowning, you do as told and meander to the closest table, dodging past a few clumped celebrities. In a strange way they had become familiar faces; people you saw in person plenty of times even if you had no direct interaction with them. They certainly wouldn’t know who you were…

“Hey...you’re that bodyguard right? For the Galvus kid?”

...or maybe they did.

Turning after picking up a glass, you find world renowned singer Guydelot giving you a rather fine smirk. Blushing, you bow respectfully. “That I am.” You respond hastily, standing straight once more.

“A pleasure to meet you. I must say, even though I saw the news myself on tv, seeing you in person doesn’t quite do you justice to what I had envisioned in my mind’s eye. You are...quieter than I thought at first.” He laughs, rich and loud and you can’t help but join in.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint.” You respond casually, sorely out of practice with small talk.

“Not at all...after all,” he sashays by you to swipe a flute from the table, giving you a sultry look. “You are far prettier than I had envisioned as well.”

Flustered, you nearly drop the champagne flute you were holding from your hands as your ears burn hot. “That’s uh, quite the compliment…” you murmur, quite unsure what to say.

“Think nothing of it!” He teases, sauntering closer to you. “Though, with how tight security is tonight, do you think you could spare me a few minutes of your evening? Surely your charge won’t notice you missing for a little while.”

“She can not.”

Zenos’ voice cuts through the air like a knife with its finality, his hand landing on your shoulder possessively. Looking back at him, his eyes are trained on Guydelot as if he would kill him where he stood were they anywhere else but here. Growling, you glare at him right back. “Where do you get off,”

“Ah, so the one being guarded is the protective one I see!” Guydelot pouts, taking a long swig from his glass to finish it off. Setting it back down on the table, he gives you a wink. “I know when I’m beat and am highly allergic to getting a beating in particular. Good evening to you my lady, and of course, to you as well Zenos.” Saying nothing more, you watch as he meanders back into the crowd.

Standing there in silence, your rage doesn’t come to you at first. It simmers just below the surface, almost as if it is just one layer away from seeping from your pores. “Why. Did you. Do that.”

“Your job is to protect me. You do not get to go off and,”

“I am well aware of what I get to and do not get to do!” You nearly yell, taking a deep breath so you can remember to lower your voice. “What is with you? You fucking ignore me, treat me like the rest of your fucking employees and by that I mean you talk to me as if I’m no better than the dirt below your feet. You don’t want to tease me or even argue with me anymore. Is it because of Estinien? Are you jealous?”

Glaring at you, he snatches the champagne from your hand as he grabs your wrist. “Do not presume to know me.” He breathes lowly, his grasp on your wrist incredibly painful but you will not back down. Not to him.

“I’m not presuming shit. I’m just trying to get things back to normal. I’m trying to see what’s wrong, Twelve help me, I’m trying to be a friend to you!” You snap, finally getting things off your chest you had wanted to say for so long.

“I do not need you to be my friend.” He’s almost raised his voice now too, leaning in closer, eclipsing the light in the room from your vision.

“Then what is it Zenos? What do you need? What is it that has changed how we speak to each other? Why have you closed yourself off?” The questions tumble out before you can stop them, the concern in your voice loosening his grip, as he suddenly can’t hold your gaze any longer.

“Stop asking such nonsensical questions. I don’t have to explain myself to you, savage.” he bites out, taking a step away from you.

“Stop running away and just tell me!” You hiss under your breath, stepping forward, chasing him down. “What is wrong, Zenos? Just tell me, I...I want things to be normal again.”

His expression is the most conflicted you’ve ever seen it, his touch on you feather light before he lets go of you entirely. People are surely staring at you, but you pay them no mind, focused on him, in this moment. All he has to do is tell you what’s wrong, confide in you this once, and maybe things will be normal again, you can smile around him again--

“I have let you go unchecked for too long. You need to learn your place.”

At that your face visibly falls, and so does your heart.

“Honey!”

Tears sting just behind your eyes as you turn to that familiar voice, seeing Cid squeeze his way through the crowd to get to you. “I didn’t know you would be here!” he beams, setting his glass of wine down on the nearby table. You do nothing as you are suddenly dragged into a fierce hug, your face buried in his shoulder where the beginnings of your tears are soaked by his tuxedo. “C-Cid,”

“Wonderful as always to see you.” He cuts you off, giving you a tight squeeze before pulling away slightly. “Why don’t you and Estinien go and relax for a minute; eat some finger food and drink some champagne?” Looking over his shoulder, sure enough Estinien is there, glaring at Zenos as if he wants to fight, but his gaze softens when he looks back to you.

“That is my bodyguard, Garlond.” Zenos seethes, stepping forward until Cid places a steadying hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“If you’ve not noticed, you’ve garnered quite a lot of attention my dear boy...and you know I know your father as well as you do. He wouldn’t be pleased if it was bad attention, now would he?” Cid mumbles under his breath, causing Zenos to actually take a good look around the room. The guests still converse and chat, but they are clearly angled in a way to keep an eye on the two of you. Seeing this, Zenos huffs before straightening up. “Atta boy. Why don’t we have a little walk around the place, hmm? I’m sure those two will keep us in their sights and there’s plenty of security around here.”

Nodding, albeit reluctantly, Zenos downs the flute he was holding and swaps it for another, uncaring of the bubbly liquid sloshing over the rim slightly. Casting you one last glance, he follows Cid into the crowd, taking the curious eyes with him.

You watch them disappear into the masses, standing stock still until Estinien places a gentle hand on your back. “You looked like you needed saving.” He comments, not saying what he truly wants to say. Testing the waters.

The floor suddenly captures your interest, suddenly unable to keep your head up to look at him. “I...not really. That’s just another Tuesday with us.” You laugh without humor, digging your heel into the floor. Finally gaining the courage to meet his stare, you falter at Estinien’s shrewd look.

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what you’re going through,” he begins, reaching to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “but you deserve better than that.”

Shaking your head, you turn to stare longingly in the direction Zenos had disappeared in. “I’m not so sure about that. But what I am sure of, is that to explain our relationship is...something probably best left unexplained.” Shaking your head, you turn back to face him, giving him a weak smile. “I’m not even sure I understand.”

Estinien says nothing to that, his expression somewhat pained, but it is gone in a flash. “I see.” he breathes, a note of determination to his voice. “Well, until you do, why don’t we listen to the old man? It was his idea after all.”

For the majority of the evening, you stick with Estinien, his presence a literal lifesaver in a sea of chaos. The one time you catch Varis’ eye he gives you that smug smirk again, the one that makes you sick to your stomach. You stealthily urge Estinien to steer you elsewhere in the gala, skimming the outer rim of the crowd where it is relatively quieter. You converse about any and everything, and soon enough your initial worries fade to the back of your mind as you keep Zenos and Cid in your sights. The night wanes on, but you don’t feel tired quite yet. Some guests have already turned in, the main events of the gala having already transpired. Your feet hurt a little, but not so much you couldn’t tough out another bell.

“It’s getting pretty late, yeah? My feet are gonna be hurting something fierce.” You comment, giving Estinien a light nudge. “I figured old man Cid would’ve turned in by now.” you joke, to which Estinien gives a smirk of his own.

“One day I’ll be there to see his reaction to you calling him ‘old man’, and laugh when he stops being so nice to you.” Estinien chuckles, only laughing harder when you give him a playful punch on his arm. “If you’re so tired, why don’t I carry you back to your room, hm?” He asks, blue eyes burning with muted desire.

Flushing with warmth, you do your best to not sound flustered. “You know I can’t leave until Zenos does! And you can’t leave until Cid does either!”

“True.” Estinien sighs dramatically, but not without encroaching on your space more than is appropriate for being just friends. “But if I recall, you’re staying at this hotel correct? Would certainly look a lot less suspicious if you brought me back to your room…”

Giving him another playful nudge, you giggle. “You’re awful.”

“Only for you.” He grins, tossing you a wink. “What do you say? I won’t tell if you won’t.” His hand creeps along your back, hovering just above your ass. Thankfully your backs are against the closest wall, so to anyone passing by, the two of you look innocent enough. But those long finger’s intentions are anything but pure.

“Oh I...I mean…” What would it mean were you to bring Estinien back to your room tonight? Within the bounds of the estate, you could write it off as just visiting a friend, letting off steam. But here, abroad, far from your original duty, would it still be friends with benefits? Two colleagues scratching an itch?

Did he want more?

Sensing your inner turmoil, Estinien moves his hand back up to your shoulder; neutral territory. “Honey, I don’t mean to pressure you.”

“No, that’s not it--” You begin but out of the corner of your eye, you catch golden hair rushing out the door. Confused, you reach for your linkpearl. “Livia, did Zenos tell either of you he was leaving?”

“Negative.”

Frowning, you break yourself from Estinien’s grip, but not before he grabs your hand before you can get away entirely. “Honey, wait,”

Looking back at him, he looks so vulnerable. This is something you need to talk about; you know it is, but--

You have a job to do.

“I’m sorry,” You pull away and push your way through the crowd to try and follow after Zenos as quickly as you can.

Knowing his long strides, he might be gone already. You pray he’s just heading back to his room and forgot to tell you, but he’s always so meticulous; this is so unlike him. Especially with how fiercely protective he was being, it makes no sense for him to suddenly stalk off like that. Willing your feet to move a little faster, you round the corner to the elevators in record time.

Mashing the button doesn’t make an elevator come any faster, but your patience is worn thin. You watch the others tick up, praying that one of these is his and that you’re not too far behind. Sure he can handle himself, but what if someone gets the jump on him like last time--

“Come on, come on…” You grumble, jumping onto the elevator as soon as the doors open, mashing the button for the floor Zenos is staying on. You shouldn’t be missed from the gala if only he stalked off, and hopefully no one else noticed, most importantly Varis. You really did not need to hear it from him tonight.

The elevator comes to a stop and you hop off immediately, spotting Zenos’ golden hair trailing behind him just as he turns a corner. “Zenos!” you call, following after him. As usual, his gait is hard to keep up with, but you know he fucking heard you. “Zenos!” you try again, trying to also be mindful of the late hour and not raise your voice. You’re nearly jogging down the hall to catch up with him so that you don’t have to yell for him. Growling, you give yourself that extra push to catch up to him. “I know you hear me you piece of--”

Suddenly he’s snagged you by the arm and slammed you into the closest wall, the impact jarring your vision for a moment. “That fucking hurt,” you hiss, as your vision refocuses, gasping as you find him far closer than he seemed.

Too close in fact.

His arms caged you in, his body shielding your own just like it had in the elevator yesterday. His hair cloaks his face in shadow, for the halls are not brightly lit to add to the atmosphere. There’s not a soul around, leaving the hall eerily quiet were it not for the sound of your own breaths intermingling with Zenos’. The scent of his cologne drifts into your nose, something so earthy and woodsy and sophisticated all at once. Even though he’s pinned you here, he doesn’t seem like he’s going to make the first move. “Zenos,”

“Why won’t you belong to me?”

The question alone leaves you speechless, not for the question itself, but for how confused and desperate he sounded. When he finally looks up to meet your eyes, you see pain, so much pain. “Would it be so wrong to be mine and mine alone?”

You bark out an empty laugh, shifting beneath him. “You can’t own people, Zenos.” His face breaks into even more confusion, and for the first time you truly do pity him. “Have you really never had a friend? One who didn’t want your money, your power, your status?”

“I have had no need of them.” His voice is firm, resolute. “What need do I have of such people when I have power? I have been a hunter without equal; no one has deserved the right.” He hisses, pressing in closer to you. “No one except you.”

“And yet you can’t even treat me like your friend!” You snap back, baring your teeth at him. “You call me names, you treat me like an insect! And you wonder why I won’t belong to you?” You try to push him off but he bears his weight against you, fueling your frustration. “Zenos yae Galvus,”

“You belong to me whether you like it or not.”

A loud crack sounds throughout the hallway.

It is the sound of your hand connecting with the side of his face.

Even Zenos himself is appalled; despite all the ways you have struck him, never, never have you dared to slap him across the face.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Tears well in your eyes, and you let them fall, uncaring for once how weak and vulnerable you are before him. He is still in shock it seems, so you continue onward. “You fucking idiot, I care about you!” You nearly roar, caring about nothing in this moment, except for him. “Even though I’m not supposed to--” your voice cracks and breaks, your hands coming up to furiously wipe at your tears. “You keep pushing me away like some fucking child-- what am I supposed to do?!”

You stand there and cry, the tears seeming like they won’t stop flowing. “I wake up to see your face every morning, I eat breakfast with you, I go to work with you, I come home with you. And you think I wouldn’t care? Do you even know what that is? To care?” You smack him on the chest, though you might as well be hitting stone. “You...you…!” You hit him again, but there’s no strength in any of your strikes, and he stands there and takes your assault wordlessly as you cry in the hallway. “I’ve become a killer! For you! I took someone’s life because I cared about yours more!”

That seems to awaken something in him, his eyes wide with shock and a sudden understanding. “I do belong to you.” he whispers, almost as it was an epiphany, and those words are enough to finally make you the confused one.

“W-What…?” You stammer, giving him an incredulous look. “I tell you I fucking care about your sociopathic ass, and all you have to say is,”

Your words are cut off by the press of his lips against your own.

Your brain lags malms behind your body, finally catching up to the fact you are currently kissing the heir of Galvus Enterprises. His arms ensnare you immediately, bring you against his firm body, and you’re ashamed at how quickly you melt into him.

Pushing harshly at him, you try to pry him off you, but it’s like pushing against steel. “Get off me,”

“No,” he rasps, lips pressing hot kisses to your jaw as you refuse to let him kiss you again. His touch is like fire, threatening to burn you alive and turn you to ash if you’re not careful.

Panicking, you try to break from his grip.

“Zenos, let me go,” you demand, giving a well placed hit to his ribs. He grunts in pain but is otherwise undeterred. If anything, it’s spurred him on. “What are you doing,”

“I don’t know,” he admits, nipping at the skin on your neck. “But this feels right.” He growls, grabbing your legs to haul you against the wall, placing himself between them. Your arms loop around his neck automatically to steady yourself, gasping as you stare into his ice blue eyes.

“I realized this now…” He trails off, hands flexing on your thighs. “We do not speak in terms the other understands,” he breathes, inching his face closer to yours. Cool, blue eyes jump to your lips for a moment before coming back to meet your gaze. “But we want the same thing.”

He presses his forehead to yours, breathing deeply as you feel the bump of his third eye on your skin. “You care about me…” he breathes as if he is testing the word on his tongue. A shiver so strong going down his spine that you can feel it in his grip. “And you belong to me.” Pulling away, he opens his eyes, overflowing with desire. “I’m through playing games.” The finality of that statement lets you know that from now on, nothing will ever be the same.

“Tonight, I will make sure you never forget you are mine.”

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

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bangtanlalaland · 4 years

Text

situationship 「prologue」 | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳you recall the moment you made the worst yet best mistake of your life that involves your best friend: Namjoon Kim.

— college!au

→pairing: college student!kim namjoon x female reader

→genre: smut, pwp

→word count: 5.2k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: kissing, unprotected sex (remember: no glove, no love!) slight degradation/pet names (basically being called a cock-slut lollol) daddy kink, mentions of sexting, joon is huge, (srsly he’s packed downstairs so plz be prepared) mentions of masturbation, oral (m + f receiving), nipple piercings, hair pulling, ass slapping, creampie, overstimulation, breath play, (just a little lol) face-fucking

title inspired by: “situationship” by snoh aalegra

a/n: HIIII U HOES, so sorry i haven’t posted in v long, life has me all over the place. so here’s my valentine’s day gift from me to u so plz forgive me. a special thank you to everyone that has shown me love for “in case we die” & “the final touch,” promise i have more content on the way!! LOVE U HOES 💘

prologue 「sixty minutes」

It was all so easy. Fleeing to him in an instant whenever he’d hit you with the:

“Are you up? I need you rn” text.

Maybe you’re just a fool, but you simply cannot resist him. No, you aren’t dating. Of course not because that would be silly, right? You’re just best friends. Best friends who occasionally fuck each other’s brains out. You didn’t like putting a label on it either, especially the “friends-with-benefits” one. And that was the problem. This entire situationship being a never ending cycle:

You both have sex ⟶ You get caught up in your feels ⟶ You come to your own conclusion that you’ll break it off with him ⟶ He texts you saying that he “needs” you and how much he misses being inside of you ⟶ Lastly, you go back to him - repeating the process all over again.

And here you are again, riding the hell out of your “friend” Namjoon.

“Yeah, just like that.. ride this fucking dick, fuck!” Namjoon exclaims, slapping and gripping your ass cheeks as you continue to ride him.

“Daddy!” Your head thrown back in ecstasy at how his thick cock fills you up completely. In this moment, all of your feels and doubts of ever getting into this situation with him - gone. Your ultimate goal is to cum on his cock, for what is now probably the thousandth time.

But you love it. You love how amazing he feels inside you. How he can make you feel good beyond limits, and how he pleases you in ways you didn’t think was possible. And Namjoon loves it too. The power he has to make you writhe and scream his name strokes his ego tremendously. He loves that he’s the only man in this entire world that knows what it’s like to hear your moans as he fucks you continuously.

How he’s the only man to ever see your lips part, eyes shut tight, and body tremble as your walls contract around his shaft, being completely drowned within your orgasm - all because of him.

This whole fling first started when he supposedly “accidentally” sent you a dick pic. Apparently you weren’t the intended recipient. You were stunned, not so much that he sent you a photo of his cock but it was the size of him + including the vulgar message sent with the photo itself:

From: joonie 🤩 11:17 pm

My cock is throbbing rn. So horny and in the mood to bend you over and fuck you until your body gives out.

The moment you opened the message, your mouth instantly salivated and your core throbbed with anticipation. It was almost as if he knew exactly what you were doing in that moment because when you got his notification, you were busy watching porn paired with your fingers inside of your cunt. For the past 4 years you’d known Joon, you never put much thought into what his dick may look like.

It was perfectly sculpted, and obviously hard as a brick with a slight curve. You could faintly see a small leak of precum oozing from his juicy, flesh-tone tip. Considering that he messaged you at just the right moment, when your hormones are at its peak, you reply:

To: joonie 🤩 11:20 pm

mmm, please... never knew how thick you are. would love to feel you stretching me out 🥵

And in that moment, you couldn’t believe what you’d just started. The tension between your legs taking over you completely. Nothing but lust oozed from your actions. Finally seeing that sexting your best friend was literally the perfect way to orgasm all over your fingers, you softly chanted his name to yourself. Imagining him standing before you stroking himself with his delicious member. After releasing yourself of your tension, you felt somewhat guilty and awkward that you’d just came to a picture of your best friends cock AND sexted him.

You also pondered who he really meant to send the photo to, which caused you to relish in your feels for the remainder of the night as you sheepishly attempted to fall asleep in your frozen, lonely bed. Part of you liked to think that you were blessed he even sent it to you. But after that night, everything changed. You hadn’t heard from him the next day until later that night asking if you were awake. You simply brushed it off and didn’t bother opening up the message, that way he wouldn’t know if you read it or not.

The reason mainly being that you were afraid he’d want to sext again. Throughout the week, you’d cross paths in certain periods on campus, but you tried in your willpower to avoid him at ALL costs. It all came down to you being aware of your surroundings to make sure he didn’t see you before you saw him. And when you would see him from a distance, you’d instantly turn the other way or hide until the coast was clear. You remembered he would even text you asking where you were since he hadn’t seen you since that day, and you would lie to him saying you were busy studying for exams or running an errand. When in reality, you were at your single room dorm, stuffing your face with gelato and watching Netflix.

The way you now saw Namjoon was so much differently. You both share one class together every Wednesday, and he took the opportunity to sit beside you considering that he hadn’t seen you since before that night. Being near him made you antsy, and you found yourself giving him short responses, making hardly any eye contact. He noticed this and was not happy about it. The distance you kept between him since that night worried him non-stop.

The constant question of: “What the fuck was I thinking?” flooded his mind everyday.

After two weeks of putting up with your edgy behavior, he decided that it was enough. It’s Saturday and yet again, you told him you were studying in the schools library and he knew that was bullshit. Because you have no classes on Saturday, you work during the school week, are off every weekend, and he’d already checked the library. Obviously you were not there, and it pissed him off that you were blowing him off like this. At least, not in the way he’d like to be blown by you.

He marched around campus making his way to your dorm. The sound of your door being knocked on startled you as you were warming up a yakisoba bowl in the microwave. You stand up onto your tippy toes to peek through the peephole. Your entire insides perform a back flip as you notice your best friend standing on the other side of the door. He runs his fingers through his blonde mullet, strands of purple at the tips, his arm resting on the doorframe, and he does not look happy. After not getting a response, he gives a few more hard knocks urging you to open the door.

“Come on, ____. I know you’re in there. We need to talk!”

Fuck. You think to yourself and take a deep breath. He obviously was not going to let up, you know Joon. Your fingers nervously unloosen the lock on the door and grasp the handle pulling it open slowly. Namjoon’s eyes snap up, his breath caught in his throat as he gazes you up and down with those familiar, wide, monolids that could captivate anyone who looks his way. His lips part gradually, and his tongue glides across his bottom lip. It wasn’t until you saw his expression that you noticed you were attired in the shortest pajama shorts you have along with a sleeveless, white tank and no bra. The imprint of your barbell piercings that decorate your nipples clearly visible. Of course, Namjoon wasn’t aware you had these said piercings. You instantly crossed your arms, wanting to hide from his gaze.

Finally breaking the silence he slips, “Nice library you have here. Sure doesn’t look like one though.”

You sigh dramatically and roll your eyes, “Seriously?”

Namjoon steps inside, welcoming his own self in without giving you time to do so yourself. He slowly treads inside, removing his Nikes by the door then flopping down on your loveseat, his legs spread wide open. An awkward silence overtakes your dorm, yet you continue with your antics and into the kitchen to grab your chopsticks so you could finish making your instant yakisoba. Joon notices this and silently follows you into the kitchen. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you feel his presence behind you. You look up and feel his hand placed over yours, resulting in you dropping your chopsticks. Your body naturally responds and jerks around now facing him.

“Joon-”

He continues his gaze, looking deeply into your eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you in that moment of time. His features looked so mesmerizing. You adored the tiny beauty marks that decorate his face, especially the one that sits below his bottom lip; flying strands of his bleach, blonde, hair catch your attention. After an entire week of not paying him any attention, you had nearly forgotten how physically attractive Namjoon is. It is almost sickening, and this is one of the many reasons why you wish you hadn’t started this thing. His stare softens, almost as if he’s thinking. His fingers gracefully caress your cheek, your body naturally responds - shivering under his touch.

“____, what’s been going on with you?"

Unable to form coherent words, you simply respond, “Nothing.” You shift yourself, turning your back to him breaking the contact he once had on your cheek. You hear a deep sigh emit from Namjoon.

“Goddammit, there you go again!” Your eyes widen at the sound of him raising his voice.

“What?!” You retort, slamming your chopsticks down and turning your gaze back to him with raised brows.

“You’re lying. Again. First the library, and now this. I know something’s wrong with you. You’ve practically been avoiding me all week!”

Your eyes shut immediately, trying to hold back anything stupid from slipping out of your lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me since...” he trails off, and you open your eyes to find him with his arms crossed, head hung low.

“Joonie..” You attempt to muster up the correct form to continue your sentence. His wide eyes staring back at you, waiting for an answer.

“I just can’t.. I-I can’t look at you the same way, you know? I don’t know it’s just weird. Just knowing what you, um..”

Joon scoffs, shaking his head, “Then why lead me on?”

Your snap your neck to the side giving him a ‘Really?’ look. “I lead you on?” Your tone dipped in a bit of sassiness.

“You are the one that sent me a picture of your dick! And you want to blame me for it?”

Namjoon blinks rapidly, somewhat taken aback by your tone.

“Well, y-yeah. I mean, you played along with it.” He responds, scratching the back of his neck and hanging his head low again. Truth is, he lied to you too. He didn’t exactly “accidentally” send you that photo. He meant for you to see it. For months, he’d contemplated how he should approach his feelings toward you. All the while, he felt it was a stupid idea, but he also thought it would be a hit or miss. He tends to act out before fully thinking about his actions, and that’s just one of his many weaknesses. You, of course, being his main one.

Deep down you knew he wasn’t lying, because you both know each other long enough to know enough about one another. Yet another silence lingers throughout the space. You sigh in exhaustion, pulling your thoughts together.

“Yes... I did.” Namjoon looks up and locks eyes with you. To him, you look incredibly delectable with the shape of your bare tits, along with your piercings, poking through the light fabric of your tank. His eyes are no longer soft, they’re dark and lustful. Just being under his gaze, gets you warmer by the second. It’s like he’s cooking you with his own eyes, and you are sizzling right now.

His lips part, as he slowly inches toward you.

“Did you like it?” He probes with a hint of curiosity behind the question.

You take a deep breath, looking dead-straight into his eyes while brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Y-yes, I really did.” You say, barely a whisper. Namjoon hums in response, lightly grazing his index finger across your shoulder and down your arm. You’re not sure why but your core suddenly tingled at the simple, physical contact. Causing you to gasp lowly.

“Do you want.. what we said we would do to each other that night? Because, I want you in ways that you don’t understand.” He smirks at your sudden action of rubbing your thighs together. You hum in approval. He runs his index and middle finger across your lips,

“I want to hear you say it, pretty baby.” The sudden pet name made you slip a moan you’re sure he heard.

“I want you, Joonie. Want you to stuff me with your thick cock.” You play along and guide your hands to rub his arms and broad shoulders up and down, looking up at him with innocent-like puppy dog eyes. Just the sight of you alone makes him want to shove his cock so far down your throat, making you gag on it with watery eyes. His growing erection becomes noticeable beneath his sweats. His hands make their way down your side, gripping your waist. He leans down to whisper in your ear,

“Imma beat that pussy like you never ever felt before.”

Your kitty cat clenches around emptiness, desperately wanting to be filled. Before you had a chance to respond, Namjoon pulls away and presses his lips on yours. You naturally wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. The faint smell of his cologne, masked with notes of orange, mint, and cinnamon reel you in to heighten your arousal. His pink, pillow-y lips play a game of tug of war, lightly grazing his teeth along your bottom lip. Your kisses filled with pent-up tension and longing for one another.

He pulls away from your lips and lifts you up, your legs naturally wrapping themselves around his waist as he leads you over to the loveseat and sits down, straddling yourself on top of him. He grips your waist, running his large hands across your ass. You follow the rhythm of his hands and grind against his clothed erection, wanting some type of friction to ease your libido all while gaining a sexy moan from him. Namjoon works one of his hands up into your hair, lightly tugging on it to give him access to your neck.

“Mmm, Joonie.” Your eyes shut as a response to his lips smothering your jawline and neck with wet kisses. Your fingers get lost within the forest that’s his mullet. He continues his trail up to your earlobe, gently nibbling on it.

“Want you.. So bad.. Have no idea.” He slips in between breaths. His deep voice rumbling from his chest, creating a vibration that streams throughout your body ending at your core.

“Want you too, so much.” You respond, pulling away to glance into his eyes, the color like deep pools of medium, roast coffee. He caresses your face, tracing circles on your cheek and presses his lips against yours again. The silky, wet feeling of his plush lips persuades you to pursue your previous actions of grinding. He snakes his hands up to lightly massage your breasts. The sudden motion of your piercings causing you to moan within his mouth.

Namjoon tugs at the hem of your tank and you follow along, tossing the material away on the floor while helping him to remove his basic tee. Your bare chest exposed to him, nipples cool, hardened, and aching for attention. You hear him whisper a “Fuck,” under his breath. His warm embrace sends shivers down your spine, as he desperately caresses your tits. You take this moment to admire the golden tone of his bare skin, so smooth yet such chiseled features.

“When did you get these?” Namjoon questions, gently sliding your piercing back and forth.

“Hmm.. last spring break!”

“So sexy,” He slips, while using his index and middle finger to lightly pinch your other nipple. The piercings make your nipples so much more sensitive to even the slightest touch. Namjoon licks your left nipple in slow circles, while watching your reaction. He gently wraps his lips around you, sucking your nipple with such soft care. The warm, wetness of his tongue and smooth, plushness of his lips soothes and excites you at the same time. Your kitty clenching and gushing, full of arousal and hot and ready for him. He uses his other hand to sneak into your shorts and past your panties. His slender fingers find your drenched folds, coating his digits with your juice.

Your fingernails softly graze over his scalp, as you throw your head back calling his name. He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, humming into you as a response.

“Are you really this wet for your best friend, hm? Does Daddy turn you on this much?”

“Mmm, yes Joonie..” His erection growing by the second, and you can feel it twitch beneath you in his sweats. “Such a dirty girl, want to be cock slut for your own best friend.”

He pulls his fingers from you and you silently whimper at the loss of his touch. Your eyes pry open and find him with his eyes closed, tasting your arousal that was left on his fingers. He moans at the taste. “Mmm... Heavenly.”

The small compliment making you blush and grow warmer between your thighs. Surprisingly, he slips his fingers back into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in circles. Making you gasp in shock,

“Joonie...” You look down at him, caressing his smooth strands. He slips a finger inside of you, pushing in and out. You move your hips along his rhythm, as he slips another finger inside of you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your eyebrows furrowing together at the pleasure your core feels, emitting more wetness onto his fingers while creating squelching noises as Namjoon continues to finger your pussy. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, mimicking the tightness of the coil in the pit of your tummy.

“Want you to cum all over my fingers, pretty baby.” Namjoon commands, while slipping his fingers from your pussy, focusing on your clit, rubbing with just the perfect amount of pressure. Absolutely enough to make you cum on the spot. Your moans slip from you uncontrollably.

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” Namjoon coos, while continuously circling your clit with your fingers, all while watching you writhe above him.

“Y-you, J-J-,” Unable to even finish your sentence, your fingers lose their place within his hair. Your body continues shaking from cumming so hard.

“That’s right. Only me. Just look at you, pretty baby. Losing yourself all over your best friends fingers. Only I can do that, hm? Only I can make you feel this good.”

You push his hand away, whining at the overstimulation. Finally he lets up and licks his fingers clean. Still twitching, you glide your fingers down to meet his crotch, massaging him through his clothing.

“Can I... Please? Need you in my mouth.” He eyes your motions and moans in approval. You climb off of him and sit on your knees between his legs. He lifts up to help you remove his sweats. His member visibly shown through his Calvin Klein briefs. It’s so stiff and hard. Your hand finds itself rubbing him again, as you kiss along his thighs. Slowly teasing and finally reaching his cock through the material covering it.

“Fuck... such a tease. You’re a good baby, for Daddy.. Right?”

You look up at him and nod.

“Speak, pretty baby.” He probes, lifting your chin up with his fingers.

“Y-yes I am.”

“Yes what?” Namjoon groans, his voice much harder than before.

You shift slightly at the sudden change in his demeanor, your arousal growing thicker. You thought it was sexy though, how he was now taking control.

“Yes, Daddy..”

He smiles that pretty smile and pets your hair.

“Good girl.” You take this chance to pull his briefs down just enough that his cock springs straight up. Your jaw drops open at the size of him. Pictures couldn’t compare to the real thing, your mouth instantly salivating at his thick length, his bulbous tip the perfect color, matching the shade of his lips and dripping with precum. You moan at the sight of him, wrapping your fingers around him, you gently stroke, sticking your tongue out to taste the bit of liquid oozing.

Namjoon hisses at the feeling, you teasing him with kitten licks. His grasp on your hair gets tighter, “Please don’t tease, baby. Daddy has waited so long to have those pretty lips around his cock.” You took this as a cue to finally encase your lips around him, starting with his tip. His chest rumbles as a moan erupts from within. You swirl your tongue around the tip, sucking tightly while massaging his balls.

“Fuck!” Without warning, Joon bucks his hips upward to get himself further into your mouth, his grip on your hair becomes tighter as he pushes your head down further to take his entire length inside your mouth. You’re taken by surprise at his pace, and almost choke, as your hands now drop on top of his thighs lightly grazing with your nails while Namjoon fucks your face. Literally. You shut your eyes wanting to focus on keeping your gag reflex under control, keeping your throat relaxed, your saliva oozing out and coating Namjoon’s cock and balls creating lewd noises within your tight-spaced dorm.

“Shit yes... Look at Daddy with that pretty fucking face of yours.” He stops his thrusting, holding your head down still. You manage to open your eyes and move your gaze toward his. With water eyes, streams of tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You’re on the brink of losing your breath. The sight of you full of his cock, almost out of breath makes him want to blow his load all over your face. But if he’s going to cum, he has to inside of you.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” Namjoon finally releases his grip from you, resulting in you letting out a massive gasp, coughing to sync your breathing back to normal. A trail of spit still connecting from his soaked cock to your lips. “Shorts off now.” Namjoon demands. You slip your finger under the hem to pull them down until he interrupts, “Turn around so I can see that ass.”

You jump slightly at his deep voice. His act of dominance making you clench around nothing as you squeeze your thighs together, needing some type of friction. This doesn’t go unnoticed. Your shorts fall to the floor, revealing your bottom that’s clothed with a pair of silk, purple panties that are cut short enough to show your full cheeks. Suddenly, you feel a sharp slap to your right cheek, making you whimper out loud.

“Look at you all horny and desperate for your own best friends dick. I should fuck you until you can’t think of anything else other than my dick.” And another harsh slap.

“Mmm, fuck!” Another slap. Namjoon reaches forward to aggressively pull your panties down. He lifts you up and carries you over his shoulder to your bedroom, throwing you on the bed. Your pussy throbs in anticipation, loving how rough he’s being with you.

Namjoon wastes no time as he aggressively pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs open as wide as they can go. He uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips open, revealing yourself all to him. Pulsing and soaked. “Mmm. Such a pretty little pussy. I’ve waited so long to finally bury my dick inside of you.” He coos while stroking your hair and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, while caressing your cheek. He uses his other hand to grab his cock, slapping your pussy with his cock. Your hips naturally bucking to get some type of friction. He continues coating his cock in your juices, smirking as you whimper in anticipation.

“Pretty baby, so horny and wet for Daddy’s cock.” Your fingers anxiously grip the bedsheets, as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Namjoon hisses as he easily slips inside of your tight kitty. Your eyes shut closed, lips parting, “Oh my fuck,” you moan while gripping his toned, caramel arms. His girthy length offering a slight burn, finally over-rided by a nostalgic tinglyness. The feeling is like no other. To have someone you trust, someone you care about, offering their entire self to you. To have all of Namjoon within you.

“So warm. So wet. Fuck... You feel amazing, ____.” Namjoon fucks you with long and deep strokes, making the bed creak with each thrust. He continues this slow pace, relishing in the feel of your walls clamping around his stiff shaft. You know he’s trying his hardest not to cum so fast. However, the tingly feeling within your core has skyrocketed, and you’re ready to burst any moment now.

“P-please,” you whimper, attempting to move your hips along with his at a faster pace.

“What does my pretty baby want, hm?” Namjoon notices your expression and comes to a halt.

“Please fuck me harder, Joonie, please!” you whine while grinding your hips to create some type of friction. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your desperation for him. “Have you forgotten your manners, princess?” He asks, with a smirk pinching your left cheek.

You groan in response. “Please, Daddy! Just need to be fucked harder, please! My pussy needs you.”

“That’s a good girl,” He pats your head and slips out of you, gripping your waist to flip you over flat on your tummy. He holds his weight on top of you, spreading your legs open to push his cock entirely into you. The angle of the position creates a more “deep” feeling, He’s so deep inside of you, you promise you feel him in your tummy. Your mouth flying agape, Namjoon leans forward to whisper in your ear while pounding from on top. “Be careful what you ask for.”

“You. Just. Might. Get. It.” He emphasizes his deep thrusts after each word. Your cries are muffled within the sheets while Joon continues to ram you from on top, his lower pelvic area literally slamming your body further and further into the full sized-bed. “Ungh, fuck y-yes! Please don’t stop!” Your dorm neighbors can probably hear your cries but at this point you don’t even care.

“Take this fucking dick like the good little cock-hungry slut you are, pretty baby.” Namjoon moans at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, drenching him in your sticky wetness. So tight, and slippery for his thick cock. His cock throbs relentlessly from the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass mixed with your cries of his name. Nearly on the verge of cumming, he lifts you up, bending you over with your ass now up and facing him. He bends down to lick a stripe from your pussy to your ass.

Your legs tremble at the sudden action. He works his tongue all over your folds, sucking and licking your pussy lips, while slipping inside of your entrance, tongue fucking you. You reach behind to grip his hair and grind yourself against his face. Namjoon trails his fingers to find your clit, slowly rubbing it in circles. Then latches his lips around your bud, sucking and licking your as if his life depended on it. His moans sending vibrations through you entirely. He grips your ass and gives your cheeks a few harsh slaps, and that’s what sends you completely over the edge.

“Daddy.. Cumming! Fuck.” Your toes curl, legs tremble, eyes roll back, and you claw the bedsheets as your orgasm washes over your entire body. He lets go of your clit with a pop, and uses his fingers to rub your clit vigorously, riding you through your high. “Yes, baby. Keep cumming for, Daddy. Doesn’t it feel good, hm? To have your best friend make you cum so hard?” You continue calling out his name.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck.. Please!”

You push his hand away, the overstimulation kicking in. Your body continues shaking, recovering from your orgasm. He lifts you up into the doggy position, gripping a handful of your hair and rams himself inside of you. He starts with a brutal pace, fucking you senseless, slipping swear words from his lips. You gasp at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm, not able to form coherent words from how hard Namjoon is fucking you. Namjoon’s thrusts gradually grow sloppier, as he’s on the brink of his own orgasm.

“Come here,” He pulls completely out of you and lays on his back, guiding you on top of him. You stuff his cock inside of you, whimpering at the feel of your clit brushing against his pelvic area - still sensitive from your orgasm. You take your time to ride him, going at your own pace - slow and steady. Namjoon uses one hand to grip your waist. “Want to feel you cum around my cock.” He slips his fingers on your clit, rubbing it in circles. You instantly jolt forward from the sensitivity, shaking your head.

“Joon! C-Can’t, it’s too much!”

“I think you can. You’ve been such a good girl, just cum one more time for Daddy, okay? I promise it will feel so good.”

You grasp his wrist, wanting to push his hand away, but you can’t. Too lost in his touch. He licks his fingers and rubs your clit again, with a slightly more pressure. His cock still sheathed fully inside of you, twitching within your walls. Your third orgasm approaches and it hits you stronger than before.

“Mmm, Namjoon!” Your nails find themselves on his chest, scratching his pecs as your entire body shakes tremendously, your pussy pulses rapidly around Namjoon’s dick. Your body collapses on top of his, out of strength and still trembling.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” Namjoon exclaims, he moans your name as his cock twitches itself inside of you, coating your walls with his warm cum. He pants, out of breath, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead.

You both lie there for what seems like awhile, regaining your breathing and taking a moment to process what just happened. Namjoons member falls soft, eventually slipping out of you. Both of your bodies pressed together and binded by perspiration. He gathers up the strength to caress your strands. His heart flutters at the warmth of your fingers drawing circles on his chest. The thud of his heart beating from within him causes you to lose yourself in your thoughts...

What have we just done? And how will we ever go back from this?

#kpopwritersclub #magicshopnet #bts smut #rm smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #rm fluff #bts oneshot #bangtanlalaland #did i really just add an expensive girl reference #what the fuck #is wrong with me

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stahlop · 4 years

Text

Making a Memory (1/?)

Well here it is! My submission for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. This idea has been in my head since last summer, but I didn't have the motivation to tackle it until this year. All I knew is that I wanted some form of The Parent Trap but I didn't like the idea of Emma and Killian being divorced, and then this is what it became.

Just a warning, there is nothing supernatural for the first few chapters.

Thank you so much to @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite for being my betas and for helping me come up with ideas for this since last summer. And to @mariakov81 for also helping with ideas and for the lovely artwork you gifted me for my birthday inspired by this story.

Thank you @gingerchangeling for the amazing artwork you made for this fic! I love it so much

Summary: Hope Swan and Alice Jones meet at summer camp and immediately realize two things: they look exactly alike and they don’t like each other. But the more they delve into things the more they realize this is not just another case of The Parent Trap, and that there may be more at stake (and more danger) than they thought.

Rated T (although it could change later on)

Read on Ao3

For as long as she could remember, Hope Swan had wanted to go to sleepaway camp. Oh sure, she’d been going to regular day camps every summer since she was five, but she wanted some time away from her mom. She’d begged her every year, but Emma Swan told her every year that they couldn’t afford it (bail bonds kept them comfortable, but didn’t leave a lot for extras). And every year Hope was disappointed. But this year, the year she was 13 (14 in three months), all that changed.

Hope’s older brother, Henry, had published his first novel a year ago at the age of 28 (yes, there was a 15 year age gap between them; that’s what happens when your mom first gets pregnant at 17, she waits a while before having another kid) and now had a sequel coming out, and had offered to pay for Hope to go to camp. Six weeks away from her mom. Not that Hope didn’t love her mom, but she was getting overbearing now that she was officially a teenager. It was as if she didn’t trust her at all. Hope had asked Henry if she was the same way when he turned 13, but he just gave a shrug and left it at that. Hope figured that being 45 with a 13-year-old and being 30 with a 13-year-old were completely different. And now she was here and having a great time and making new friends (Jen and Bianca), when she discovered the Jones girl.

She hadn’t noticed her on the first day. There were two 13-year-old girl cabins and Alice Jones happened to be in the other one. But on the second day, two girls from the other cabin said hi to her and called her Alice. She’d never seen these girls, since they weren’t in her cabin, but she figured it was the second day and all, and they must have mistaken her for another blonde-haired camper. But then more girls from the other cabin started calling her Alice and one of them tried to get her to go back to the other cabin with her. It was finally at lunch on that second day that she glanced over at the other cabin’s table and noticed a girl that looked exactly like her, except instead of her shoulder-length curls, this girl had much longer curls with purple streaks in them.

Jen noticed her looking. “The nerve of her! Coming here with your face!” She said angrily.

“Well, at least I understand why people thought I was someone else now.” Hope said. Of all the places to meet her doppleganger, she never would have thought it would have been at sleepaway camp. “It’s not a big deal, people will realize we’re two separate people eventually.” She said as she watched the Alice girl laughing with girls from her own cabin.

Except they didn’t. Everyday someone called her Alice and it was irritating Hope. Yes, they looked alike, but otherwise they were very different. Alice was a lot more punk rock, what with the streaks in her hair, the fact that she wore nothing but vintage band t-shirts and frayed cutoff shorts with Converse shoes. Hope mainly wore tank tops (sometimes with an open flannel shirt over it) with Bermuda shorts and sandals. She also wore her hair up in a simple ponytail, a perfect clone of her mother. Except for her blue eyes. Her mother seemed to have no idea where those came from seeing as she had green and her father had brown, or so she’d been told. She was too young to remember him when he died. Must have had two recessive blue eyes finally meet up her mother used to joke. Hope hadn’t got close enough to Alice to look at her eyes, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she had blue eyes too.

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Alice Jones was a bit of an odd duck. At least, that’s what she’d been told. Her Papa joked she had “a touch of the sight”. Alice didn’t think she was that peculiar. She likened herself to Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter series (minus the radish earrings). She just got gut feelings about people. But running into a girl who looked almost identical to herself at a summer camp was nothing she could have ever predicted. It was unnerving to see someone who looked so similar to herself but wasn’t her. It was like looking into a mirror to see a super serious version of herself. She didn’t like it one bit. And Alice liked everything. Nothing rattled her. She didn’t know why this girl did.

It wasn’t as if this girl -- Hope, she’d learned her name was Hope -- had done anything to her either. Her mere presence just left her feeling unsettled. That touch of sight her father joked that she had been sending off warning bells in her gut that something wasn’t right. But what could she do to avoid her? Alice thought that would be easy considering the size of the camp, she just didn’t bank on Hope having many of the same interests that she did. That first day, after all the rules had been told to them, they got to try out different specials (activities) and Hope seemed to be at most of the ones Alice had also gone to, and the feeling in her gut grew worse and worse. Like they weren’t supposed to be around each other.

“Everyone deserves a chance no matter what is in their past, Starfish.” Her Papa would say to her. It had just been her and her Papa for as long as Alice could remember. She usually had trouble making friends, being slightly odd as many girls she’d tried to befriend had told her, but she loved making new friends when the opportunity arose, and if people didn’t mind her idiosyncrasies. She’d always loved playing make-believe. She would often pretend she was Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and have tea parties with her Papa and stuffed animals (Papa was always a pirate in her make-believe world though). As she got older she started sketching landscapes and the occasional self-portrait and had won several art prizes at her school and local contests. That was why she was confused about the feelings she was having concerning Hope. She should be forging a friendship with this girl, getting to know her, not feeling like she should stay as far away from her as possible. How many people got to meet someone who looked exactly like them?

“Hey, Alice, it’s time for lunch!” Viola yelled, startling Alice out of her thoughts. Alice usually loved mealtimes, she loved food, grilled cheese and onion rings being her favorite, but that was when she knew she’d see Hope and her stomach would practically rebel at a mere glance at her. She’d been so excited to finally get to go to sleepaway camp (something she’d been begging her Papa about for years). It just hadn’t been feasible on a dock manager’s salary, but this year they’d started a scholarship program and Alice had applied and received it, so here she was. Too bad her camp experience was being ruined by her weird sixth sense.

“Thanks!” Alice said getting up from her bunk and slipping on her worn, pink Converse.

Alice wondered if she would have the urge to avoid Hope the entire summer. That would definitely dampen the camp experience.

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The change from avoidance to rivalry started over fencing of all things. Alice hadn’t known it was Hope that the director had pitted her against, as they were both wearing the required fencing masks and gear and it was impossible to tell who her opponent was. Alice had only recently started taking fencing lessons, something her Papa had wanted her to do, but she’d never been much for physical education or sports. She would have preferred archery or horseback riding (things she was happy she was getting to experience here at camp), but those were a bit expensive. The local YMCA offered fencing lessons for a low fee.

Her opponent was much better than she was. Alice had more of a hack at the other person with her sword approach rather than the correct stance. The other girl had much better form than she did and Alice could hear the frustrated sounds coming from her whenever Alice used two hands on her sword or kicked her opponent away (which Alice knew wasn’t legal, but this wasn’t a tournament and they were padded for goddess sake). At one point, Alice’s sword had been knocked out of her hands and she just lunged at the other girl. Alice knew she wasn’t playing by the rules, but she wanted to win and the fencing specialist hadn’t blown their whistle at her, so she kept on doing what she was doing.

Eventually, Alice ended up on her back with her opponent above her after she had tried to kick her again and her opponent had grabbed her foot instead, making Alice fall to the ground. They had definitely thrown the rules out the window, especially with her adversary completely disregarding the little footwork Alice had learned and doing swishy twists and turns. Bad form as her Papa would say. So, if she wasn’t going to play by the rules, then she wouldn’t either. Alice quickly kicked her knee upward, essentially kicking her opponent in the groin (even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt nearly as badly for a girl as it would a boy), but it was enough to push her back off of her. The distraction was enough that Alice managed to get herself back on her feet and jab the tip of her sword at the other girl’s chest. The whistle finally blew and the specialist came over asking the girls to take off their fencing masks so she could declare the winner and make sure they shook hands like good sports.

To say that both Alice and Hope were in shock when they realized they’d been fencing each other was an understatement.

“That was bad form, all that kicking you were doing.” Hope sneered at Alice.

“Me?” Alice practically screeched. “What was with all the twists and turns? Give you a leather duster and you could have been a pirate.”

“Girls,” the specialist said, trying to regain some control over the situation, “can you please just shake hands?” But both girls refused. Hope shucked off the rest of the fencing gear, threw her sword onto the ground, and huffed off while Alice actually attempted to pull her hand out of her glove for a handshake. The specialist gave a shrug to Alice and picked up the gear Hope had thrown on the ground before announcing that formal fencing lessons would be every Tuesday and Thursday during Specials time. Alice slowly took off her gear and put it in the designated bins. As much as she would enjoy fencing over the summer, running into Hope was not something she was looking forward to, so she decided to try something else to avoid her.

But it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Archery had been the next special Alice wanted to try. And there was Hope, already there with her arrow nocked in her bow and an arrow practically in the bullseye. After a few tries of her own (and almost hitting Hope --accidentally-- twice), Alice realized that maybe watching archery was more fun than actually trying to shoot a bow and arrow. Especially, because Hope thought she was trying to hit her on purpose.

“It was an accident.” Alice gritted through her teeth.

“Sure it was.” Hope huffed, swishing her ponytail behind her and storming off with two of her friends in tow.

“God, why is she such a bitch?” Alice’s friend, Lori, asked. “Anyone can see you’re just not that coordinated.” Lori joked. “Maybe you should just stick with art.”

“Yeah.” Said Alice sheepishly. She put the archery equipment away and headed for the art shack.

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Two days! It had been two days and Alice was already a thorn in her side!

“She’s like your stalker. She’s always showing up where you are.” Bianca huffed, sitting down on one of the benches in the ramada. Hope had needed to be away from the prying ears of her cabin.

“Yeah! Who does she think she is? It’s like she’s trying to be you.” Jen added in angrily, having just arrived from a trip to the Snack Shack. Even though they’d only been camp friends for the past four days, Hope, Bianca, and Jen had quickly bonded the way only 13-year-olds that had to live together could. She handed out packs of candy that she had got for them, gummy worms for herself and Bianca, and a pack of black licorice for Hope.

It was true that it seemed like wherever Hope was, Alice inevitably ended up there too. “There’s really only so many places one can go here, girls. I mean, we only have so many choices.” Hope said, opening her bag of licorice and taking a bite. She still hesitated to be around Alice, but it’s not like they could go anywhere outside of the boundary of the campgrounds. “I appreciate the sentiment though.” Hope said happy for the support. “I know it’s not rational, to dislike someone just because they look almost identical to me.” Her blue eyes looked to the ground.

“Hey, no matter what, we’ve got your back.” Bianca reminded her.

“And speaking of having your back,” Jen said, pulling out a piece of paper from her back pocket, “look at this.” She unfolded the paper and smoothed it down in front of them. It was an announcement for a dance.

“They’ve invited the boys camp from across the lake!” Jen said excitedly. The flyer announced that the dance would be in one week. “I can’t wait! I’ve never been to a dance.” She pressed the flyer to her lips and kissed it.

“Want to get a first kiss?” Bianca asked teasingly.

“What, like you’ve been kissed?” Jen responded back not so teasingly.

“I’ve been kissed.” Hope spoke up to diffuse the situation. She was older than most of her cabinmates, her birthday being in September, only three months away, so she did have a little bit more experience than some of them. Both girls’ eyes lit up.

“What was it like?” Jen asked.

“I bet it was super romantic.” Bianca said dreamily.

Hope, laughed and then cringed. “Um, my best guy friend and I tried kissing a few weeks before school got out. We’ve been friends since fourth grade.” She blushed at the embarrassment of the memory, Bianca and Jen hanging on her every word. “It was tech week for our school play, Peter Pan. I was Peter. That’s how I know how to sword fight.” Bianca and Jen both gave Hope an exasperated look as she started going off topic. “ Sorry. Anyway, he was on backstage crew and we were outside waiting for our parents to come pick us up. I saw my mom’s car and as I went to give him a hug like I usually did, because that’s just how we are, and he kissed me.”

Both Bianca and Jen’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of their heads and they both had the widest grins on their faces.

“So, how was it?” Jen asked, breaking the awkward silence of them both staring at Hope.

“Wet.” The girls laughed. “And weird. We didn’t know what we were doing. And he had braces. And, I think I can wait before getting kissed again.” The girls all dissolved into giggles. “I was really glad I was going to camp for the summer so I wouldn’t have to see him everyday. We both agreed to just stay friends.” Hope had not told her mother, even though she was bursting to. Hope knew that her mother had had bad luck with men, her father on the top of that list, and she really didn’t know how her mother would react to her having been kissed. She had confessed to Henry though. He told her he was the same age when he’d had his first kiss as well, which made her feel better about the whole thing.

“That’s still so exciting!” Bianca said breathlessly and finished up the last of her gummy worms. “I don’t know how you can eat black licorice.” She made a face to show what she really thought of it.

“I don’t like sweet stuff.” Hope scoffed and took a large bite of licorice.

“Whatever.” Jen said, grabbing her trash and throwing it away. “Let’s get back to the cabin so we can figure out what we’re going to wear to this dance.”

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“Did you hear about the dance?” Viola practically screamed as she rushed into the cabin. Alice looked up from where she’d been sketching the view from her window, not the greatest view, but Alice was trying to make her grass look more realistic and less like pencil strokes on the page.

“A dance?” Lori asked almost falling off her bunk to look at the flyer Viola had in her hands. They looked over the flyer as several other girls in the cabin also flocked over to them to peruse the flyer; all of them talking excitedly about finally getting to dress up a bit and getting to see members of the opposite sex after two weeks. This inevitably brought up the girl’s experiences with boys (not that they seemed to have a lot), a conversation that Alice felt uncomfortable with. Alice didn’t have much interest in boys yet (something she was sure her Papa was happy about). She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about them in general, let alone to do things with. She had her Papa and that’s really all she needed. That and her art. Just leave her in a beautiful location for a few hours with a sketch pad and some drawing utensils and she was happy.

“What about you, Alice?” Lori, a bushy haired girl asked after regaling the girls in the cabin with a tale of how the first guy she had kissed had also tried to cop a feel and had only discovered the tissues she’d stuffed into her bra.

“Oh, me?” Alice asked. “No kissing for me. I’m not really good with boys.” Once again, Alice was feeling like an oddball.

“Don’t worry,” said Viola, coming to sit over near Alice and taking her hand, “not all of us are boy crazy.” Viola smiled sweetly at her. Alice’s stomach nearly did a somersault.

Oh!

“Thanks.” Alice said giving a shy smile back and keeping their hands clasped a little while longer before pulling it away to continue her drawing.

Alice decided she would just find a chair out on the patio and sketch during the dance, since (according the the flyer) the whole shebang was mandatory. She would have rather stayed in her cabin during the dance instead of watching her cabinmates flirt badly with the boys.

Unfortunately, the intention of finding a boy to dance with for the night that Hope had been banking on, and the quiet drawing in the corner that Alice had hoped for (and maybe talking to Viola a bit more), did not end up coming to fruition.

It had started out great. Hope, Bianca, and Jen were in their pack and had all been asked to dance by boys in their own group. Sterling had been the one to catch Hope’s eye. He seemed quiet and reserved, and upon speaking to him for a little bit, found that he was very much into science.

“I’ve never been that good with science myself,” Hope told him sweetly when he brought up some experiment he was doing with blue lights at his camp, “but I know crime novels use blue and black lights to find blood at crime scenes.” She said hoping that she hadn’t come off as creepy. Luckily, Sterling thought it was adorable. He smiled at her and she noticed he was not wearing braces, even better.

Meanwhile, Alice had attempted to cajole Viola to come hang with her outside while she drew a picture of the lake in the moonlight. She’d brought some of her charcoal so she was making quite a mess of herself, but she wasn’t planning on doing much dancing or interacting with anyone else. “I’ll come out here later when I need a drink, okay?” Viola had said, smiling at her again. The drinks and refreshments had been set up under the patio not too far from where Alice had situated herself. She just hoped that none of the directors would notice her out here and try to make her come inside.

Alice had probably been outside all of 30 minutes when her gut started telling her something was wrong. She looked up at the sky thinking maybe rain was coming, but it was a clear, cloudless night. She looked over to the refreshment table and saw Hope talking with a boy. That must have been what set it off. She didn’t need any trouble from Hope right now, so she went back to her drawing. But it wasn’t meant to be.

After a few minutes a male voice asked her. “What are you drawing?” Alice looked up to see the boy that Hope had just been talking to looking over her shoulder at the barely started drawing.

“Um,” Alice said nervously, “just drawing the lake in the moonlight.” She looked back at the landscape in front of her determined not to continue this conversation. The last thing she needed was for Hope to have another reason to not like her just because this boy wanted to talk to her too.

She continued to draw and glanced over at the refreshment table to see a few girls she didn’t recognize hanging out and talking, when he spoke again.

“Are you just going to ignore me all night? I thought we’d hit it off pretty well in there.” Alice closed her eyes and gave a nervous laugh. Of course he thought she was Hope. Her doppelganger must have either gone to the restroom or ditched him and now he was out here thinking she was the girl he’d been talking to all evening.

“I’m not Hope.” she said plainly, still not looking up from her drawing.

“Are you seriously trying to pretend you’re someone else right now?” He asked incredulously. Alice rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.

“I’m not Hope. We just look alike. Tell me, how did I all of a sudden get purple streaks in my hair and have charcoal on my hands if I was with you?” She huffed. The boy opened his mouth to say something when the girl in question came out the double doors and immediately stopped at the scene in front of her.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Hope asked, hands crossing over her chest like armor. She was glaring at Alice, like the boy talking to her was her fault.

“I…, I mean…” The boy looked very confused as he turned his head looking at both girls.

“Mistaken identity. He thought I was you.” Alice said finally putting her drawing notebook and charcoal down and getting up from the chair she’d been sitting in all night. Her explanation did not seem to pacify Hope at all.

“Seriously, Sterling?” Hope walked over, the niggling in Alice’s gut getting worse. “You couldn’t tell the difference between us?” Sterling, for his part, had turned bright red and seemed quite embarrassed about the mix-up. “And you!” Hope said, swinging her body toward Alice’s. “I’m sure you didn’t have any part of this at all. I saw you out here before when we were talking. Hanging on every word.”

Alice was very confused as to what was happening now. She’d been sitting outside drawing and minding her own business. She hadn’t encouraged the boy in any way and now Hope was accusing her of intentionally, what, pretending to be her in this whole thing?”

“Look, Hope, I didn’t…” But Alice never got to finish her sentence as she felt a stinging sensation overcome her whole face. Hope stood across from her staring at her own hand as if she couldn’t believe she’d just slapped Alice. Sterling snuck off as the gaggle of girls who’d been chatting at the refreshment table stopped to watch the scene that was unfolding.

Alice held her hand to her face, not believing that Hope had had the audacity to slap her. And at the same moment, rage at this whole situation finally reached its boiling point, and Alice slapped Hope back, leaving a charcoal handprint across Hope’s face. Alice immediately put both hands over her mouth, horrified at what she had done.

“I’m sorry.” Alice said quickly, trying to diffuse the whole situation, but Hope 's eyes were practically black from her seething anger and she grabbed Alice’s hair and yanked her to the ground.

Alice was vaguely aware that there were screams coming from the other participants of the dance. That someone had yelled for the director, Mrs. Hatfield and the director of the boys camp. That Lori and Viola and Hope’s two friends all came out to try and convince the girls to stop fighting. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

As Hope dragged Alice down to the ground, Alice grabbed Hope around the knees, pulling her down to the ground as well. Hope immediately tried to gain the upper hand by straddling Alice and trying to slap her again, but Alice managed to roll her over so she was on top. They both kept rolling each other over, trying to regain the upper hand when they hit the refreshment table. More screaming abounded as the table came crashing down. Alice managed to avoid the punch from drenching her (as she happened to be on top when it came down on Hope), but Hope managed to wrench her over right as the ranch dressing came down on her face.

“Girls! Girls!” Mrs. Hatfield screamed. The director of the boys camp finally managed to pull Hope off of Alice (who now also had bits of chips in her hair), and get the two girls separated.

Mrs. Hatfield had seen enough. “In all my years,” she said, trying to maintain some semblance of control in her voice, when all she wanted to do was rant and rave at these girls, “this has been the most revolting, the most disgusting display of hooliganism we have ever had.” Alice hung her head in shame. For once her gut had led her down the wrong path and she would have to pay the price. “And from sisters who should be leading by example…”

“We’re not sisters!” Hope exclaimed, appalled that she had been brought into this as an instigator. Mrs. Hatfield’s mouth dropped and she looked from Hope to Alice and then back to Hope again.

“But they are, aren’t they?” Mrs. Hatfield asked the two other directors who were assessing all the food and drink that were now on the floor.

“Uh, no.” said one director with curly, red hair who looked between the two girls. “We have here, Alice Jones and Hope Swan. They just happen to look alike.”

Mrs. Hatfield looked at both of them again as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, but then gave up on trying to figure out why they looked so much alike when they weren’t actually related.

“You two will clean up this mess and then tomorrow you will pack your bags to move into the Get Along Cabin up the hill.” She said firmly.

“But…” Hope started to protest. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten herself into this situation. The moment she had slapped Alice she knew she’d been in the wrong, but it was like she couldn’t stop herself. Mrs. Hatfield cut her off with a look that would stop the deadliest murderer from coming anywhere near her.

“You have two hours to make this back porch spotless and then tomorrow you will have until noon to pack up your stuff. Are we clear?” She barked at them. Hope and Alice nodded. Mrs. Hatfield walked past the two sullen girls, motioned for the rest of the campers to follow her, and left the two girls on the back porch. Hope and Alice looked at each other, neither one wanting to admit that they were somewhat at fault, and began to start cleaning up what they could. Alice realized, after they cleaned the entire back porch, that her drawing notebook and charcoal must have ended up in the lake during the scuffle.

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Hope was determined to ignore Alice. Since they had been made to inhabit the Get Along Cabin, Hope had not said one word to her. Alice watched the first two days as Hope would get up in the morning with the camp radio station that blared into the cabin at 7AM, grab her things for a shower (their cabin boasted it’s own bathroom complete with shower, so they always had hot water and only had to share with each other, and not trek down the hill to the communal one), got ready after her shower, and headed down to the mess hall for breakfast. Alice liked to take her time in the mornings, especially since she and Hope had to also share the Get Along Table for all their meals. Luckily, they were able to join their own cabins for daily activities, but meals and free time were all spent together so they could learn to ‘get along’. Alice kept herself busy reading and rereading books she had brought with her, or drawing in another one of her notebooks. The bad gut feeling that Alice always had around Hope had calmed down immensely since they’d been made to cohabitate, and Alice, for the first time, wondered what her gut had been trying to tell her.

Hope, on the other hand, knew this whole thing was her fault but refused to admit it. She was being stubborn (like her mother). She had no idea what had compelled her to slap Alice when seeing the look on Sterling’s face told her that he had honestly mixed up the two girls. She just knew that she was so angry that a boy she kind of liked couldn’t tell the difference between them and it had really made her angry. She felt that her whole camp experience had been ruined by this girl and no amount of ‘I’m sorry’s’ were going to make up for that. Even if she needed to be the one to apologize to Alice. So she continued to ignore her instead.

Hope had known Alice liked to draw, but she didn’t realize how much she drew and just how good she actually was. She’d been drawing the past two days any time they were in the cabin. After each picture was finished being drawn, she would carefully rip it out of the book and tape it up on the wall by her bed. Many of them seemed to be landscape drawings of a small town that boasted an old clock tower above, what Alice had mumbled, was a library. Other drawings were of people that Hope had originally assumed were in Alice’s life, but when she drew a picture of what looked like a huntress version of Snow White and Prince Charming, Hope assumed that they were either part of Alice’s imagination, or maybe video game or cartoon characters. Hope still refused to talk to Alice so she couldn’t ask her what they were all about.

On the third day of their isolation, it rained. Cold, windy rain that made the campgrounds into a giant mud pit, so everyone had to stay in their cabins after lunch. Which meant Hope and Alice were stuck with each other until either the rain stopped or dinnertime. Hope was bored out of her mind. Unlike Alice, she had not thought to bring cabin activities to do when stuck in a cabin. She figured being at camp all the entertainment was provided for you. She hadn’t counted on downtime due to a rainy day.

It was unbearably muggy in the cabin, even though the rain brought cooler temperatures, the humidity was still clinging making Hope feel hot and sticky even though she had goosebumps. She figured opening the window a touch wouldn’t be that bad, just enough to cool the room down, or at least give her a bit of a breeze in which to lower her body temperature.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. Hope attempted to partially open the window, but it was as if it had a mind of its own and sprang open all the way. One little tug and rain and wind came pouring into the room!

“Oh, crap!” Hope exclaimed as she tried to get the window back down. A gust of wind and a torrential downpour of rain came sweeping into the room.

“HELP!” Hope screamed as papers started getting blown around the room and her bedspread started to get soaked.

Alice had been listening to music through an old iPod (cell phones were not allowed at camp, and even if they were, the reception was probably terrible) with earbuds in her ears when she heard Hope screaming. She took a deep breath, wondering what had happened that made Hope actually want to speak to her. She looked over to see rain pouring in the window onto Hope’s bed, and her drawings being blown off the walls and getting absolutely soaked.

She immediately tore the earbuds out of her ears and ran over to help. It took both of them, but they eventually got the window down to just a crack, enough to help cool the room but not enough for the rain and wind to get in.

“Oh, no!” Hope said, looking at the mess that had befallen the room. She started picking up the drawings that had been blown off the walls. “I’m so sorry.”

Just a few days ago Alice’s gut would’ve made her believe that Hope had done this on purpose and she would have been seething with anger. But today, today her gut was telling her Hope was being completely sincere. And why hadn’t it been doing this before. Why had she thought Hope was this horrible person after barely meeting her and over a stupid boy? She was 13 for goddess sake, she should know better than that.

“It’s okay.” Alice said, trying to save some of the pieces. She’d try and hang them over the radiator and see if they could be salvaged.

“Did you draw all these?” Hope asked, picking up one of the least wet pieces of artwork. It was one that Alice had done based off a book she’d read. It was Red Riding Hood, but retold as if she were also the wolf. Alice had drawn her with her red cloak billowing around her with a wolfish grin upon her lips. It was a stunning picture.

“Yeah. They’re based on a book I read.” Alice said not wanting to give Hope more information then she’d asked for. Their relationship was tentative at this point and her drawings were a sore spot for her when they were made fun of.

“They’re really good.” Hope said, now looking at the picture of the Evil Queen from Snow White. She definitely did not look like the Disney version, with the high ponytail and low plunging dress with bustier. “What book?”

“Um, it’s a new series. The first book came out a year ago, the sequel should be out right when camp ends. It’s called Once Upon a Time.” Alice gathered the rest of her drawings up from Hope as she explained the book. When it had come out, Alice felt as if someone had reached straight into her dreams and put them on the page. She’d always loved a good alternative fairy tale, but she’d seen these characters in her mind for years. It was like the author had created these characters directly from her brain.

Hope gasped. “Once Upon a Time by Henry Mills?” She asked incredulously. Alice nodded and Hope broke out into a huge grin. “That’s my brother. He wrote it.” Alice almost dropped the pictures on the damp floor again.

“Your brother is Henry Mills, the author of the book I’m currently obsessed with?” Alice couldn’t believe it. She’d almost become mortal enemies with the sister of her most favorite author. Stupid gut feeling. “You must tell me everything you know about the sequel?” She asked, now overly excited.

“Uh, I actually haven’t read it.” Hope admitted. She wasn’t much for fairy tales. She preferred crime and mystery novels. Alice’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at her admission.

“Your brother wrote a book and you didn’t even read it?” Alice asked, appalled. She ran over to her bed and Hope thought she might be ignoring her again, but then she realized she was searching through her belongings.”Ah ha!” she exclaimed when she found what she was looking for. It was a copy of Henry’s book with a brown cover that was supposed to mimic leather with gold lettering.

“Isn’t your last name Swan?” Alice asked as she brought the book over to Hope.

“Pen name.” Hope said, shrugging. She opened the book to the table of contents. She knew it was a book of fairy tales, that much Henry had told her, but Hope preferred reality to fantasy. Something she definitely picked up from her mother. Give her a good crime drama any day over a sappy Disney movie. The first chapter was entitled Wanted: Snow White for Crimes Against the Queen: Murder, Treason, Treachery. Well that was definitely different from the Disney version. The second chapter was titled A Wolf in Red Clothing, the third simply Elf Tonic.

Hope turned the page to the first chapter to see a wanted poster illustrating the chapter title. It was a pencil drawing of Snow White on a wanted poster with her crimes listed below her face. The drawing looked slightly familiar to Hope. Something about the chin, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Henry probably had it around his apartment when he was in the development stages and she’d seen it there and forgotten. But it tickled at her brain.

“They don’t seem to be your typical fairy tale fare do they?” Hope said flipping through to see other pencil drawn illustrations throughout the book.

“They are so much better. No damsels in distress in need of rescuing by a big strong prince, lots of women power and what not. Characters popping in and out of other fairy tale’s stories, and earned True Love’s Kiss. Your brother has a very vivid imagination!” Alice said excitedly.

“What’s this?” Hope asked, flipping to the final picture in the book, a baby being put into what looked like a tree with the name Emma on her baby blanket.

“It’s the whole impetus for the next book! What happens to Emma in the Land Without Magic after her father saved her from the Evil Queen’s curse to make everyone unhappy forever. She’s supposed to be the Savior and bring back the happy endings!” Hope ran her fingers over the picture, almost as if she were looking at a memory, rather than a fictional drawing.

“Our mother’s name is Emma.” Hope said pensively. “I didn’t realize Henry named a character after her. She’s amazing. Raised both of us without a dad. I guess he was in our lives for a little bit, considering the age difference between me and Henry, but he died when I was two, so it’s just been us and her for pretty much my whole life. She didn’t grow up with any family, so I guess it’s fitting...” Hope said wistfully, her heart suddenly so thankful that Henry decided to name a character in his book after their mother and make her the hero she always felt she was. “What about you, Alice? What’s your mother like?” Hope asked, wanting to take the spotlight off of her.

The smile that had been on Alice’s face vanished. She didn’t necessarily look sad, just void of emotion. “I don’t have a mother, just me and my Papa. My mother also died when I was two.” She took the book back from Hope, closed it, then sat to face Hope. “That’s weird, right? That both of us lost a parent when we were two?” Alice looked at Hope expectantly, waiting for something more from her, but she just looked down at the ground.

“There was a fire at our apartment. Papa got me out, Mama wasn’t so lucky. After that we moved out of Boston to the country. He still works in the city though, he just wanted something better for us and he didn’t want reminders of my mother all over the place. I don’t even have any pictures of her, something about them getting all burned up in the fire. I’m not sure why they didn’t have any in the Cloud or Google Photos or whatever. The only picture I’ve ever seen of my mother is a pencil sketch my Papa did when they first met.” Alice set her head back against Hope’s bed frame where they’d been sitting down on the floor. She glanced over at Hope who was looking over at her with wide eyes. “What?” Alice said, concerned.

“My father died in a fire too.” Hope barely whispered. “Mom got me and Henry out, but she couldn’t get back in for him. And the only pictures I’ve seen of him are from when he and my mom originally met, before he left her the first time. Somehow, all our pictures were lost in the fire, which, like you said, makes no sense seeing as we all have computers and smart phones and what not.” It was Alice who now had wide eyes when Hope looked over at her. “Don’t you think that’s weird?” Hope continued, “That we look alike and that we both lost a parent in a fire and that we have barely any pictures of the other parent. What’s your dad’s name?” Hope asked, all sense of pretense going out the window. She suddenly felt like they could be connected somehow. This overwhelming heaviness had invaded her body and she needed answers that could make it go away. There was no way they had this much in common without there being something connecting them.

“Killian Jones.” Alice answered immediately, because her gut was going crazy, practically pushing her to find these answers. “And your mother?”

“Emma Swan.” Hope replied. They sat in silence, not sure where to go from there. The answers hadn’t brought any huge revelation. Neither name meant anything to the other.

“When’s your birthday?” Alice asked. “Mine is September 27th.” If they had the same birthday that could still mean something. Maybe the reason for no photographs had been because of something else.

“September 28th.” Hope said. They both deflated a little. Until…

“What time were you born, Hope? I was born at 9:07 at night. I know because Papa always reminds me that it was the beginning of this huge lunar eclipse that also happened to fall on the Harvest Moon that year and it was called the Super Moon, so he used to call me his Super Harvest Baby.” Alice smiled at the memory. She looked over at Hope whose mouth was practically on the ground.

“I was born at 12:27, right when it ended. My mom also used to call me her Super Harvest Baby.” Hope paused as if she were thinking of the next thing to say. “This can’t be a coincidence. I...I,” She paused again, trying to get the right words out. “I think we might be twins, just born on either side of midnight.” Hope struggled to get the words out, her eyes now filling with tears at the prospect that she might not only have a sister she didn’t know about, but a twin sister at that.

The two girls stared at each other for a while, not sure what to do with the information that they both felt was the truth. Hope had felt the weight that had been pressing on her lift the moment she had suggested they were twins. Alice’s gut had stopped sending her warning signals too. They both felt this had to be true, they just couldn’t figure out how it could be true.

“Do you think we were separated somehow? Maybe our mother and father adopted us and we’re not biologically theirs?” Alice wondered aloud.

“No. I’m the spitting image of my mom, and so are you I suppose, just with blue eyes instead of green. And my dad had brown eyes, so I know they didn’t come from him.” Hope said, disputing Alice’s theory right off the bat.

“But my I have my dad’s blue eyes, which would also mean you do too.” Alice contemplated.

“Maybe they lied to us about the fire. It seems awfully convenient now that our other parent is dead and all the pictures of us with that parent disappeared.” Alice said grimly. She really didn’t like the thought of her Papa lying to her about something that important, but it seemed the only logical conclusion at the moment.

“Henry!” Hope all but yelled in Alice’s face. Alice looked at her confused. “Henry! He was 15 when I was born. Certainly he would know the whole story. Hopefully, he would tell me the whole story.” She suddenly looked concerned. “We need to talk to him somehow. I don’t want to freak him out in a letter, which means I somehow need to call him.” She started pacing the cabin. “But the directors won’t let us use phones. Even if we were in better standing than we currently were.” Hope said, getting more and more distressed.

“I think I can help you with that part.” Alice announced as her face widened into a huge smile.

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

It was lunch time the next day before Alice finally clued in Hope as to what she meant. Since they were in the Get Along Cabin, they were also forced to eat lunch at their own table away from the rest of the cabins. But Alice’s friend, Lori, from her former cabin, had managed to sneak a cell phone into camp and was using that to get money, food, and other sundries from her cabin mates.

Alice walked by her former cabin after receiving her lunch in line and gave a series of knocks on the table as she walked by. That was apparently the signal to let Lori know that she was interested in using the phone. Alice continued walking to the table she and Hope shared to eat lunch.

“That’s it?” Hope asked, having watched Alice give the signal.

“Yes. She’ll get in touch with us at some point today. You better have some money ready for her or she won’t give us anything.” Alice said, taking a bite of her sandwich which looked to her to be just orange marmalade and bread. Hope grimaced.

“What, it’s good.” Alice said, defending her sandwich choices.

They didn’t hear from Lori until after lights out that night. Hope’s anxiety was getting the best of her, convinced that her mother had been lying to her about her father her whole life. Alice was taking it more in stride, as she didn’t get flustered easily. That and her gut didn’t seem to sense that her father had ever lied to her, which made things more confusing.

A series of knocks, similar to the ones Alice had tapped on Lori’s table earlier that day, sounded from the other side of the door. Alice knocked back before letting Lori in. Hope rolled her eyes over the whole spy scenario they had going on.

After the door closed, Alice finally spoke. “Hope needs to make a phone call.” Lori looked at Hope, only knowing that she was the rival of her friend.

“Why should I help her?” Lori asked scrutinizing Hope who sat on her bed practically ignoring the whole conversation. “She doesn’t even look like she wants my help.”

“I do want your help.” Hope said with a sigh. “I need to call my brother. It’s an emergency and it concerns both myself and Alice, so name me your price so we can just get this over with, please.”

Lori arched a bushy eyebrow at Alice who nodded in agreement. “20 bucks.” she said simply.

“20 bucks for a phone call?” Hope asked incredulously, but this phone call was important and she really needed to talk to Henry.

“Hey, you took way more than that playing poker the other night.” Lori retaliated. Hope sighed. Lori was right. She’d walked away with at least $40 in quarters and ones. Hope walked over to her bed and pulled out a small box from under it and grabbed twenty ones. She stood up and walked back over to Lori and gave her the money. Lori made a big show of counting the money out before handing the phone over to Hope.

Hope dialed the number for Henry’s phone, thankful that she’d had his cell phone number memorized since she was six in case of emergencies, and praying that he answered even though it would come up as an unknown number. Surprisingly, he answered on the first ring.

“Hello?” Came the voice of her brother from the other side of the line.

“Oh, Henry, thank goodness. It’s Hope.” She said relieved.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at camp?” He asked, and then, “Are you alright? Do I need to come rescue you?” Big Brother Henry, always looking out for Little Sister.

“No, everything’s fine. Or, well….I don’t really know how to explain it.” She paused trying to get her bearings. Alice had distracted Lori from listening in by showing Lori her newest drawings that she’d done since moving into the Get Along Cabin. It seemed that Lori was a big fan of Alice’s artwork. Hope took a deep breath, “Um, there’s a girl here, who looks almost, well no, she is, identical to me. Her name is Alice.” She paused trying to see if she could hear any type of reaction from Henry, but there was nothing but the sound of his breathing on the other end. “Anyway, we have some questions, and, well, I thought you might be able to answer them.”

Henry remained silent for so long that Hope almost had to check the phone to see if they were still connected. After what seemed like forever, she heard Henry sigh.

“Do you have a day when your camp goes into town that I could possibly meet you?” He asked, and then, “Meet you and Alice?”

Hope looked over at the camp calendar that showed all the outings the camp would take during the six weeks. Sure enough, there was a town day coming up in two days. Hope told Henry this and they made plans to meet at a small coffee shop that Henry found through Google Maps.

“Do you know who she is, Henry? Do you know anything about what is going on?” Hope asked, her voice sounding really small.

Again, a resounding silence on Henry’s side. Hope could almost see him warring with himself whether to tell her anything or wait until he saw her in two days, and then she heard him sigh. The sigh she recognized as the Little Sister had won sigh.

“She’s your sister. You and Alice are twins.”

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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loreleywrites · 4 years

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The Gateshead Engine

If you bought the itch.io game bundle for racial justice and inequality a month ago, one of the games it contains is a single-player ttrpg called The Gateshead Engine by Adam Roy (Follow the link to buy and play yourself!)

The basis of the game is simple: It is Victorian England, and you have been commissioned to built a steampunk mech. You flip cards from a tarot deck to give you situations for your diary entries, and you can finish...basically whenever you want.

I enjoyed it greatly, and wanted to publicly share my game. Content warning for a bit of body horror and minor surgical stuff at the end? It’s not like, explicit though. Anyway, I haven’t stretched my horror muscles in a while, and I love how this game started vs where it ended. Hope y’all enjoy!

Starting Questions:

—Who are you, and why did you agree to build the Engine?

I am Loreley Weisel, German thermodynamicist on the brink of bankruptcy. Europe is corrupt, and my will careens towards destruction.

—Who is your patron, and what, if anything, do you know about them? Why did they tell you they wanted the Engine?

My patron is an English aristocrat, Thomas Boroughshire III. All I know is that he has deep pockets and a fascination for thermophysics. He wants my Engine as a mechanical marvel, a party trick for a boy with too many years behind him.

—What is your community like? What do they value and what do they fear?

The community is wealthy. Large estates line a well-kept road. Dogs are bred. Horses are shoed. Foxes are hunted. Gardens beg for release from their clipped restraints. The air itself is made of brick. They value stability, power (or the projection of it), and greed.

—What will the Engine do when it’s completed, and what will it change? (This may shift during play; for now, decide what you think the answer is when you agree to build the Engine.)

My Engine is a herald of death. The aristocracy will be beaten into submission, and England will follow France in the march towards the guillotine.

My Engine:

Diary:

Monday, April 26, 1880—

I do not belong here, in this kingdom, in this estate, in this…garage. Hope’s Paradise is far from the largest house in this community, and His Highness can barely provide enough space for me to work. He does not respect me, nor does his staff. Dinners will be cold on nights I work late. There will be no hot water when I go to draw a bath. They do not want me here.

Fitting enough; I do not wish to dwell here any longer than I have to.

The neighbors are no better. Squire Duncannon of Blah Blah Blah invites me to speak German whenever he harasses me with what he calls conversation, but refuses to use the tongue himself. His wife has never uttered a word beyond her scowl. When I pass by Covington Place, the children stop and watch, twittering among themselves. I wonder what the Duke and Duchess have told them about me. I would not know, for I have never been allowed inside their gates.

England will burn, and this wretched grove of greed will be the tinder.

Wednesday, April 28, 1880—

That godforsaken child has entered my workshop again. Grease smeared all across the floor. Handprints of coal dust cover every box and bench. Every fire hazard should come at the cost of a finger. The little brat will have nubs by week’s end.

Friday, April 30, 1880—

Saturday, May 1

A song. Melancholic, but strong. Thunderous, but ephemeral.

How many hours have slipped by tonight? Dream grips my mind like a starving urchin with hardtack. Maybe these gears and pipes are singing me a lullaby.

Oh for heaven’s sake it’s half two. To sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 4, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. Every thief with deep pockets thinks themselves a scientist just because they bought opium from one once. I know how to build my Engine. Fuck off with this talk about gas compression. My math is sound, and changing one element means redesigning the entire boiler system.

His Highness has been placated with some minor aesthetic downgrades that better cater to his asinine tastes. For now.

Wednesday, May 5, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. If it weren’t for the coal dust handprints, I’d think he was the child ransacking my workshop with relentless fervor. Instead, he has simply decided to rearrange my supplies to the garage entrance. My ankle will heal in a few days, but I cannot work on my Engine until it mends. Time is money, and he has more money than I have time.

Sunday, May 9, 1880—

The ankle works.

Monday, May 10, 1880—

His Highness invited his dearest, most important friends to dine in his atrociously cultivated garden. The Wells boy snuck off and found me in my workshop. I have never met another child like him. His curiosity is insatiable, and he knows more about thermodynamics than most learned men I’ve met.

He asked me a question I could not answer: “If this machine is meant for war, how can you fight a navy with it?”

I suppose this will be a larger problem when the revolution hatches from England and threatens the mainland. For now, I must keep focused on this single-minded task. If we make it that far, I will find an answer.

…Perhaps I am naïve and misguided.

Wednesday, May 12, 1880—

The entire community has decided to roll their porcine asses to the south of France for holiday. Such a shame I contracted a bit of a cough and elected to stay here to recover. The travel would have been much too hard on my delicate frame.

Two weeks of uninterrupted work begins tonight.

Friday, May 14, 1880—

For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Her Highness fainted at the pier moments before they were to board a ferry across the Channel. Feared she had come down with the same pestilence I had contracted. Now the entire extended Boroughshire rabble is returning posthaste.

The quiet? Gone. Their need for attention? Only I can sate it. My Engine? Still incomplete, and will be for some time.

If I drown myself in enough whiskey, the mystery of my death should keep their tiny minds occupied for at least a week.

I intend to refill my lamps and work as long as I can tonight. May their arrival home tomorrow wake me at noon for all I care.

Saturday, May 15, 1880—

I was awoken at nine in the morning. Forty minutes of unrestful rest.

Tuesday, May 17 18, 1880—

Knocked the fucking lamp looking for my pen. Lucky I didn’t burn this entire estate to ash.

…Perhaps unlucky.

He even haunts my dreams, touching my Engine and reducing it to rust at the moment that should have been my victory. What Hell of idiocy have I gotten myself into? Fucking aristocrats standing in the way of their own downfall by sheer incompetence. Back to sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 18, 1880 (again)—

I’ve read a number of fascinating papers that I received in the mail today. While I admit I know little of the burgeoning field of electrical engineering, the work being done in the States is fascinating. I intend to take a short trip into London to seek more research (And get a right stein of beer; this house and its occupants are worthless.)

Friday, May 21, 1880 (London)—

I have been granted access to ~~Royal~~ archives. Despite my distaste for locking knowledge away from the public, I am nonetheless grateful for this opportunity. All the kingdom’s brightest minds (what few there are) have recorded years of research on every possible thread of science.

Galvanic principles are fascinating to me. To think, all these thousands of years, we have had electricity inside us! Thoughts percolate, but I do not yet know to what end.

I shall return to the cursed Golden Land in the countryside tomorrow. Between my notes and a few papers, I have been allowed to abscond with, I am reinvigorated with hope for my work.

Saturday, May 22, 1880—

I should extricate and boil every last one of their tongues!

The entire community’s patriarchs were waiting in the living room of Hope’s Paradise (Clearly not my hope.) Word got out of my project, and every cock-waggling primitive decided that this was a matter that required ending their holiday early. While their offspring splash in the Mediterranean, their sagging eyes are now fixed on that fucking garage.

I don’t know who is merely curious, who else feels inadequate enough to lie about their scientific credentials, or who wants to break my Engine merely because I’m a woman. Too many men in my workshop. Had I less restraint, an axe may have been all I needed to solve this annoyance.

Hopefully the dullards bore sooner than later. I may need to beat Mr. Duncannon with a German dictionary regardless.

Tuesday, June 8, 1880—

Between the constant need to shun nosy men from my workshop and the actual work itself, I have not had the constitution to keep my diary.

But today…ah, today! The control platform appears to be totally functional! I have toiled too long to have failure spring from my fingertips. Rotational velocities are stable, cranks and gears are greased and mobile, the Gatling guns are…gatling.

For the first time since I began my work here, I feel like I have accomplished something great. The aristocracy’s days are numbered.

Monday, June 14, 1880—

Work continues to sap my focus. Boiler…not cooperating. I fear I will lose all the work I’ve done on it due to some unforeseen flaw. A redesign at this stage would be costly, but so would continuing with a faulty boiler. Either way, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clear my head.

Thursday, June 17, 1880—

Time off has proved productive. I finally finished reading the documents on loan from the ~~Royal~~ archives, and there is a fascinating bit of research by a man by the name of Frankenstein. His work on galvanic sciences from earlier this century are far beyond anything I’ve found from English archives in the last decade. This even only seems to be his initial work; perhaps I can track down his true masterpieces of intellect. Maybe I don’t even need to redesign a boiler…

One blight on my day over lunch: that coal-handed bastard child has returned. I think it’s Constance.

Wednesday, Jun 23, 1880—

The Andersons down the way lost one of their bitches last night. She was a beautiful hound, but her memory will live on in my diary. I wanted some hands-on experience with Frankenstein’s work, so I was able to procure the corpse for a small fee (to His Highness who is paying my bills).

Wondrous! Such are the things I learned. A body, made of muscle, controlled by electricity. I suspect I may need to seek out an anatomist or some other scholar of the biological sciences to continue this research.

My mind is alight with so many ideas…

Wednesday, June 30, 1880—

June ends and takes the boiler with it. My Engine shall have a grand new design. Thomas has been placated by promises of surprise. “The most groundbreaking work in thermodynamics!” I lied. His is a mind easily led astray by spectacle.

Sunday, July 4, 1880—

Constable came round today. Mr. Duncannon hasn’t been seen in three days. He left for an important business meeting in Paris, but missed his boat. Coach is missing too. It’s all very curious. I did everything I could to keep that sniveling pig out of my workshop. Given the way his nose recoiled into his skull, it seems the stench of grease and ozone was enough.

In more academic news, I received notice that more of Victor Frankenstein’s research papers are being released from an archive in Switzerland. I should have them by week’s end. My excitement radiates like the sun.

Friday, July 9, 1880—

Wolfgang. Heinrich. Fuchs.

At my forsaken door. With my forsaken research papers.

How the fuck did he find out I was working on galvanism? Who is he still connected to? Which one of my friends betrayed me (besides him)?

He was in this fucking house asking me fucking questions about my fucking work. Fuck him. He better not stick around. After what he took from me…fuck.

Tuesday, July 13, 1880—

Chaos reigns.

Wolfgang has shacked up with the Andersons. He swings by almost daily. When I’m not actually busy, I try to look it.

Constance has gotten her hands into the coal again (I haven’t disposed of it for appearance’s sake.)

The Duncannons are planning a funeral for…whatever his name was. I don’t think I ever bothered to remember anything about him other than when he would finally leave this hellish corner of England.

Thomas has been migrating in and out of Hope’s Paradise. Something about a trade deal in India. It sounds very important for a man who makes riches off the backs of foreigners.

I could use a big stein at a small biergarten.

Sunday, July 18, 1880—

Widow Duncannon speaks! Her first words spoken to me in the months I’ve resided her are accusations that I have something to do with the death of her husband and his driver. Utter nonsense. The police found the driver at the bottom of a pint in a pub last week. The way gossip echoes around these families, however, I won’t be surprised if they begin to turn on me.

My work must accelerate.

Thursday, July 22nd, 1880—

Widow Duncannon, Duchess Byron. Mrs. Boroughshire. All the Andersons. None of them will speak to me. They glare if they see me, so I try to keep to my room and my workshop as much as possible. I’m lucky Her Highness is so subservient to Thomas. This house would be unbearable if she had any willpower over it.

Tuesday, July 27, 1880—

Celebrations are in order! I have poured over work by Golgi, Frankenstein, and Schwann. Every guide I could find on electrical engineering. Trial after trial, failure after failure. And yet…

And yet.

It’s not that I have hope my Engine will work, it’s that I have knowledge that it will. My designs are so clear to me. My protypes are all working as planned. The path to revolution has been laid out before me. Now it is up to me to walk it.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.

Wednesday, July 28, 1880—

Coal hands. Inside my workshop. Inside. My. Workshop. And this time, ha! This time, I have a culprit.

I made it very clear to Constance that she will not be loitering in my laboratory anymore.

Saturday, August 7, 1880—

What have I become?

Why did I begin building my Engine? Something about a war? Who can say. Time marchers onward. My Engine will march with time. Every experiment has made it clearer to me that I have stumbled upon the greatest discovery of this era.

No one celebrates with me. Not Thomas. Not Her Highness. Not Constance, nor the boys, Timothy and Franklin. Even Wolfgang is silent (at last).

The neighbors have stopped visiting. I wave when I pass them by, but they just sneer and hurry past. Finally, I can work in peace and silence. Finally my genius can become reality. Finally all of Europe will know what Loreley Weisel is capable of.

I have become the herald of great change, a conduit of the very building blocks of existence.

Tuesday, August 10, 1880—

A toast to the Duke and Duchess! May their patronage live forever in my greatest work! Soon I hope to bring the Andersons into this project as well.

Wednesday, August 18, 1880—

The Engine lives! The support of this community has been invaluable as the final construction has occurred. Everyone has poured their hearts into my work, and it’s truly a masterpiece that could not have been built alone.

My galvanic calibrations have been finalized. My circuits have been tested. It is nearing time for me to put all of myself into my work. I will see success.

Saturday, August 21, 1880—

The loneliness is getting to me. Not even the dogs bark anymore. I talk to my Engine, but its flesh is silent.

Monday, August 23, 1880—

The constable returned. With six policemen. He had questions about His Highness and the Duke and Duchess and Widow Duncannon. I told him the truth: I could help him find them.

I cooperated.

I have a surplus.

Wednesday, August 25, 1880—

Why shouldn’t I? It worked for them. Shouldn’t it work for me? All the principles are the same. They’re muscle. I’m muscle. They’re electric. I’m electric. Why shouldn’t I be in control?

Thursday, August 26, 1880—

Wolfgang, that bastard! He said he knew everything that I had been up to. That is outrageous! He knows nothing!

I have destroyed my room in rage. Fucking Fuchs! What does he think he knows? Who has he told? I should have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my creation. He covets it. He wants it for himself. I know it. He got me kicked out of university, he got me run out of Germany. He is jealous. Jealous! He knows I’m better. He knows I’m smarter. He wants what I have, my Engine, my child. He can’t have it. He can’t. He won’t. Where did he go? Fucking Wolfgang I will fucking kill him. He knows nothing. He’s bluffing. He just wants my success. My genius. He is nothing. He will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He nothing. Nothing. nothing nothing nothing noth

Sunday, August 29, 1880—

This will be the final entry to my diary. The morning air is heavy with the musk of summer. It’s strange to me how calm I am given what I am about to do.

My Engine has come so far from its days as a sketch on a piece of parchment. Veins of red pulse behind the metal. Sinew, steel, and lightning working in harmony. Every stitch and every suture as perfect as the one before it. So many died for its creation, and so many more will die when I am finished today.

I expected my hand to shake more as I inked the incision lines across my skin. I expected my mind to be foggier as I tried to remember every nerve that would need work. Even the pain I am about to endure has not shaken my resolve.

I am uncertain what the scientific community will think of my work. Of the sacrifices I made. But I have proven a radical truth: All the money in the world does not stop one from being built from the same parts as another. And that’s all we are: Animals with organs and muscles and electricity surging through us. If machines can harness that energy, why can’t we? If new machines can be invented, why not new humans?

All I can hope for now is that my composure holds through the entire procedure. Once I am integrated into my Engine, I will command a mind and body unseen by man. Unparalleled by any of God’s creation. Magnificent in its genius. My genius.

Today I will change humanity forever.

#loreley writes horror #body horror #surgery #The Gateshead Engine

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encounterthepast · 4 years

Text

If you enjoy this please follow @RussInCheshire on twitter for his regular threads on UK politics.

As it’s the weekend, let’s start #TheWeekInTory with a frivolous and jolly story about our own govt deliberately starving hundreds of thousands of children...

1. In May, Boris Johnson promised “nobody will go hungry as a result of Coronavirus”

2. He then denied school meals to the 600,000 poorest children

3. So Marcus Rashford ran a campaign to get the govt to feed children, which - just think about that: he had to *campaign* for it

4. Then Boris Johnson congratulated Rashford on his campaign to overturn the cruel policies of, erm, Boris Johnson

5. And then 3 days later, Boris Johnson refused to feed those kids during school holidays

6. So this week Labour organised a parliamentary vote about it

7. And 322 Tories voted against feeding hungry children

8. Vicky Ford, the Children’s Minister (who you’ll be surprised to hear neither looks nor sounds like a ludicrous Dickensian villain) went ahead and voted against feeding children

9. Tory MP Jo Gideon voted against feeding children. Jo Gideon, in case you didn't think things could get any more unbelievable, is also the chair of "Feeding Britain", a charity that campaigns to end food poverty and hunger in the UK.

10. Tory MP Paul Scully waved away the grumbling parents of kids with grumbling tummies, and said “children have been going hungry under Labour for years”, seemingly forgetting Tories have been in power for a decade

11. Tory MP Ben Bradley, who once had to apologise for suggesting sterilising the poor, said feeding children will simply “increase their dependency”. On food. Yeah, wean the little bastards off it. It’ll do them good in the end, which will be around 3 agonising weeks.

12. At this point, pause to consider that MPs get their food and drink subsidised. A £31 meal in a parliamentary restaurant costs MPs £3.45. In 2018 this subsidy cost the taxpayer £4.4m. I can’t find any record of Tories like Ben Bradley voting against this.

13. Pressing on: Ben Bradley also said “Some parents prioritise other things ahead of their kids. Small minority, yes... but some do”. Yes, and a small minority of Tory MPs have been arrested for rape. Should we send them all to prison?

14. Also, Mark Francois voted (by proxy) to keep kids hungry. Not related to the previous item. Why would you think that?

15. Tory MP Nicky Morgan said the govt voted to starve 600,000 children cos a Labour MP called a Tory MP scum. And that’s not a scummy thing to do at all.

16. Tory MP David Simmonds said Marcus Rashford’s experience of poverty in secondary school “took place entirely under a Labour government”. Rashford was 11 when Tories came into power, making David Simmonds are rare example of an ad hominem attack on yourself

17. Simmonds then said Labour’s parliamentary vote was “all about currying favour with wealth and power and celebrity status”. He might be right – the govt managed to unify Gary Linaker and Nigel Farage in condemnation of their denial of food to kids

18. Brandan Clark-Smith (who voted to starve kids) demanded “more action to tackle the real causes of child poverty”

19. So at once, the govt cut minimum wage for furloughed people. They now get 2/3 of the money the govt says is the absolute minimum it is possible to survive on

20. And then it was revealed that low-paid workers who have to isolate due to Covid can claim £500. Yay!

21. But if they’re told to isolate by the govt’s contact tracing app, they can’t claim anything. Un-yay.

22. Long story short: the govt cannot spend £120m feeding children. But it can spend £522 on the Eat Out Scheme, which its own report said contributed “negligible amounts” to the hospitality economy, and Boris Johnson admitted drove up infection rates – especially in the North

23. Those infection rates caused the govt to move Manchester into Tier 3

24. So the Mayor of Manchester asked for a £90m support package (1/6th of the money the govt spent causing the problem in the first place)

25. The govt said no, £60m

26. The Mayor said, how about £65m?

27. The govt said no, £60m

28. The Mayor said ok, fine, we’ll take the £60m

29. And then govt offered Manchester £22m, and then went to the press and said the Mayor was "being unreasonable"

30. The negotiations were led by Robert Jenrick, who recently set up a fund for the poorest 101 towns, then awarded his town £25m even though it is the 270th poorest, and therefore not even eligible

31. £25m is £237 per person

32. Manchester gets £7.85 per person

33. Robert Jenrick gave Manchester (2.8 million people) £22m

34. Robert Jenrick gave Richard Desmond (1 person) £45m

35. The talks broke down when the govt wouldn’t spend an extra £5m

36. The govt plans to spend £7m vitally rebranding "Highways England" to "National Highways"

37. Manchester Young Conservatives tweeted “Boris has lied about helping us in the North. It’s time for him to go". Don't look - they deleted it. Suspect somebody had a word.

38. Meanwhile the govt said Manchester will get the £60m after all, and chaos continue to reign supreme

39. But that £60m is brief reprieve for the Tories of Manchester, as a govt report said Tory seats in the North of England (the so-called "Red Wall" seats) can expect to lose at least 4000 jobs *each* as a result of Brexit, even if we do get a deal. More if we don't.

40. The govt rushed to begin its first airport Coronavirus testing, a mere 211 days after mandatory airport testing was begun in South Korea

41. South Korea has had 8 deaths per million

42. The UK has had 665 deaths per million

43. More airport news, as the govt finally accepted Brexit will cause “up to 8-hour delays at passport checks” and asked the EU to allow UK citizens to queue at EU-only lanes. Like we did when we were in the EU. But we aren’t now. So tough.

44. A senior diplomat said, “Having grown up in Brussels, Boris Johnson values the ability to travel freely to the continent”. You’d think Boris Johnson would foresee this problem when he led the campaign to stop that freedom.

45. The independent reviewer of Terrorism Legislation said the UK “will be increasingly unable to cope” after Brexit, as we lose access to EU data-sharing agreements

46. And a No-Deal end to UK/EU scientific collaboration will leave London with a £3bn annual deficit

47. In the space of 38 days, the govt announced the £100bn "Operation Moonshot" to solve Covid; then cancelled it; and then re-launched it again after it was found they’d accidentally continued to pay over 200 private consultants up to £7000 a day to work on it.

48. So this week, Boris Johnson said Moonshot would continue, but it’s goals “would take time”, which is the literal opposite of what he said it would do when it first announced it, and makes the entire thing absolutely pointless

49. And now it’s been admitted that Operation Moonshot would be quietly folded into the existing £12bn Test and Trace programme, and the £100bn has vanished. Apart from the bits the Serco consultants took for doing… nothing.

50. But Boris Johnson said the Test and Trace programme was “helping a bit”, and “a bit” is the least you’d expect if you’d spent £12bn

51. And then the £12bn Test and Trace programme fell to its lowest success rate so far, identifying only 60% of at-risk people

52. Local councils, with no additional funding, are tracing 98% of cases

53. A quick sweep though other epic successes you may have missed (or deliberately blocked out): Equalities minister Kemi Badenoch declared that it should be illegal to teach about inequality

54. The Cabinet Secretary said the report into “vicious and orchestrated” bullying by Home Secretary and Dementor Priti Patel “may never see the light of day”, cos if you have a report that vindicates you, you definitely sit on it as long as possible

55. And the appeals court unanimously overturned Priti Patel’s policy of removing people from the UK without giving them access to legal process or justice because – and I’m paraphrasing the judges here – what the fuck, Patel? What the actual fuck?

56. Undeterred, she announced plans to make rough-sleeping “grounds for removal of permission to be in the UK” and "denial of legal aid". So if you’re too poor to have a home, you must pay for a lawyer or she’ll shove you in the sea

57. After an unnamed Tory MP said it “looks bad to be handing top jobs to your friend and old boss”, Charles Moore, Boris Johnson’s friend and old boss, withdrew as next BBC chair.

58. The new favourite is Richard Sharp, the - yep - friend and old boss of Rishi Sunak

59. You’ll be amazed to hear this: Richard Sharp is a major donor to the Tory party. These little coincidences keep on happening

60. The govt decided to prevent EU citizens from having physical proof of their right to live in their own home

61. Grant Shapps threatened to “seize control of Transport for London” to save it from financial ruin at the hands of Sadiq Khan, who – the bastard - achieved a mere 71% reduction in the debts caused by his noble predecessor, Boris Johnson

62. Matt Hancock, facts at his fingertips, told MPs from Yorkshire their constituents could go on holiday abroad

63. But not in the UK

64. And then that they CAN go on holiday in the UK

65. But can't leave Yorkshire

66. He then said “I'll get back to you” about the details

67. A cross-party report found “the UK’s foreign policy is adrift”, that it lacks “clarity, confidence and vision” and that Britain is “absent from the world stage”. All of which is very soothing, as we move into the govt's proclaimed goal of a post-Brexit Global Britain.

68. And we can all relax: the govt is finally supporting culture in the UK, specifically the Nevill Holt Opera, which performs private operas, and is owned by Boris Johnson’s friend (and - jaw on floor! - Tory donor) David Ross, who is worth £700m so really needs the money.

69. The Nevill Holt Opera only functions in the summer, so thank god it has been prioritised with £85,000 to “maintain operations” in October.

And now, in honour of the opera, the fat lady can sing, cos I’m off to drink myself into oblivion. Join me.

We live in interesting times.

#tory scum #tory britain #uk news #uk this week #free school meals #andy burnham #marcus rashford

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sweetbitterpdf · 4 years

Text

compte à rebours II (2.3k words)

chapter two (of two): ‘bonne année, eliott’

( chapter one here )

new year’s fic / determined eliott / a new year’s kiss

---

As Christmas comes and goes, Eliott spends time with family and friends. He exchanges presents, works on an assignment— criminal as it may be to assign work over break— and works on new art. It is, all things considered, time off from school that is well-spent.

So, naturally, he feels as if something is missing the entire time.

And, naturally, he knows that the something in question is Lucas.

He hasn’t been able to take his mind off of their almost-kiss since it had happened. He had been drunk enough while they watched the movie that the memory is a bit fuzzy around the edges. But he remembers Lucas’ warmth, as he leaned into him. He remembers Lucas’ little smile, when he asked if it was alright for him to curl up against him. He remembers falling asleep, and waking up considerably more sober.

He remembers needing to give Lucas a proper goodbye.

And Imane directing their attention toward the mistletoe.

And then—

Cowardice.

He could have kissed him, then.

He can hear his therapist chiding him for worrying about what ifs and could haves, but there are times when he can’t help it. He had wanted to— he had wanted to so badly— and it seemed as if Lucas had wanted to, as well.

But he wants his first kiss with Lucas, if such a thing is in the cards for them, to be perfect. He doesn’t want an ‘under the mistletoe on the way out of a party’ sort of first kiss. He wants something that’s thought out, something that’s timed perfectly.

Something like a New Year’s kiss.

The idea dawns on him suddenly, and upon checking the date— remembering what day it is is nearly impossible on break, the days all blend together, for him— he realizes he only has a couple of days to set this plan into motion.

---

Vendredi 13:15 Message à: Imane Bakhellal

Hey, Imane, it’s Eliott. Are there any plans going on for New Year’s?

Vendredi 13:17 Message de: Imane Bakhellal

You’re asking me and not my brother because…?

Vendredi 13:17 Message à: Imane Bakhellal

Idriss isn’t responding

Vendredi 13:17 Message de: Imane Bakhellal

Typical

Vendredi 13:18

We’re getting together at Emma’s place again, yeah. Should be pretty similar to Christmas

Vendredi 13:18 Message à: Imane Bakhellal

Oh, cool!

Vendredi 13:18 Message de: Imane Bakhellal

You and the guys are welcome, she says.

And yes, Lucas will be there

Eliott’s breath catches as he reads Imane’s message. We wasn’t going to ask— since he was under the assumption that wherever she ended up for New Year’s, Lucas would, too— but to have Imane know his motives leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed. He tries to type out a response, Oh, that’s cool— then I was assuming he would be, you’re best friends after all— then I’m glad— but he erases every single one.

Vendredi 13:21 Message de: Imane Bakhellal

Listen, I know you try your hardest to make your, frankly, enormous crush on him on the down-low, but you’re not good at it

Vendredi 13:23

And I have reason to believe that he feels similarly

Vendredi 13:23

I’m not typically one to give unsolicited advice, but seeing you both pine after each other has gotten old

Vendredi 13:24

I convinced him to talk to you about it last time, but you were kind of wasted

Vendredi 13:25 Message à: Imane Bakhellal

You did?

Vendredi 13:25 Message de: Imane Bakhellal

I did

Vendredi 13:25

And even if that wasn’t a success, I’m sure having you lay against him for that disgrace of a movie was good consolation

The information is hitting him like a whirlwind. It nearly knocks him back with its force, and all he can do to brave it is clutch his phone to his chest, take deep breaths, and process the information that Imane has just given him. To vow to tell Lucas how he feels regardless of reciprocation was one thing— but to hear that Lucas could feel the same gives him a whole new sense of courage. Because even if Lucas doesn’t feel the same— which is less of a possibility than he thought, surprisingly enough— he needs to know, where it is that they stand. He needs to know if he’s been pining away senselessly or not.

---

When he arrives at Emma’s on the 31st, he has something resembling a plan, in his head. This time, he vows to not drink nearly as much as he had the last time, to keep his mind at least mostly clear. He tells Idriss and Sofiance his plan. All teasing from them aside, they promise that they’ll keep an eye on him, in the event that he starts to get a little carried away. He arrives, and he knows what he wants to do, what he wants to say.

But then he sees Lucas, and all of his planning goes out the window.

He watches him for a few moments, and then flees instinctively to another room.

Idriss scoffs when he comes into the room to find Eliott alone. “You’re useless.”

“I’m not,” He whines, “I’m just… nervous. And I don’t want to intrude on him, at least right away.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t mind.” He rolls his eyes at the way Idriss smirks at him. It only makes Idriss laugh at him, though.

“Hush. I just… Need to think.”

“Need to stall, more like. Eliott, listen— “ Idriss takes him by the shoulder, his face serious. “You’re going to go and talk to him, or I’m going to make you.” Normally with something like this, he would think Idriss was fucking with him— but this time, he’s not so sure.

“I’m going to, I swear.” And he is, he swears. If he doesn’t tell Lucas tonight, he doesn’t know what he’ll do— and he also doesn’t know when they’ll see each other next.

“You’re getting a New Year’s kiss this year, dude. I’m sure of it. You have until…” Idriss stops, to think for a moment. “11:50— if you haven’t talked to him by then, I will drag you two together myself, so help me.”

“Okay, okay! You have my permission to do so.”

“I’m glad, but I wasn’t asking.”

He leaves them and roams around for the remainder of the party, chats with people here and there. Most of them bring up similar things as Idriss did— but Idriss is the only one he really believes.

Speak of the devil, he thinks, when he locks eyes with Idriss from across the room. He lifts up his arm, tapping his wrist— you’re running out of time— and Eliott checks his phone.

23:46, it reads.

He shoots Idriss a thumbs-up, and then sets off to find Lucas. He does without much trouble— Lucas is in the living room, chatting with his friends. When Lucas tosses his head back with laughter, Eliott’s reminded of the very first time he saw him— the way they bumped into each other on his very first day after transferring, the way Lucas hadn’t even noticed.

This time, though, Lucas notices.

“Eliott..” He says as he approaches, in a puff of air.

Arthur claps him on the shoulder in greeting. “Hey, dude!” Yann and Basile react similarly, and he greets them all, before returning his attention to Lucas.

“Can we talk?” This is a shot in the dark, a leap of faith. He expects an about what, or an in a minute, but instead, without missing a beat, Lucas simply says “Yeah.”

“On the balcony?” Eliott asks, gesturing to the door outside.

“Sure.” And so Eliott turns, and Lucas follows him out. It hits him, quite quickly, that he hadn’t thought this through— the winter air makes a chill run down his spine. “It’s cold.” He says, simply.

“Yeah.” Eliott agrees. “This shouldn’t take long, though.” Because he wants to keep things as short and straightforward as possible— despite the feelings that this involves, which are very much not.

“It’s alright.” Lucas responds. Eliott takes a deep breath, to steady himself.

“I wanted to apologize. For last time.”

“Eliott, I told you, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I know, but I still feel a bit bad about it. I wasn’t planning on getting that drunk.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Lucas’ smile is gentle, when he looks over. It makes Eliot go warm all over, despite the cold.

“That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk about, though.”

“Oh?” Lucas turns where they’re sat, facing him. Eliott pauses for a long moment, unsure of what to say, of where to start.

“I talked to Imane, the other day.” Or rather, Imane talked to him. He hadn’t contributed very much to their text conversation, really. “She told me about how she convinced you to come and talk to me.”

“‘Convinced,’ okay, Imane.” Lucas scoffs, air quotes accompanying the convinced.

“She also told me what she convinced you to talk to me about.” Eliott’s quiet, when he says it. Lucas’ expression falls.

“Oh.”

“I’ve heard it from her, and from Idriss—”

“Wait, Idriss?”

“Consequence of them being siblings, I guess.” He shrugs. “But I want to hear it from you.”

“Hear what?”

“I want to know how you feel, about me, from you. Not from anyone else.” They’re both quiet, now that it’s out in the open. “And I want to be able to tell you how I feel about you.” Eliott steals glances at Lucas, looks down, than at him again.

“How do you feel about me?” Lucas asks, after a long time. Eliott’s hesitant, but there’s something in Lucas’ eyes, even in the dark of night, that makes him want to be honest.

“I loved you from the very first moment I saw you.” It feels as if he’s stopped breathing, as if they’ve suddenly teleported to the vacuum of space. There’s no sound, between them— there’s no anything, until Lucas speaks again.

“When was it? That party?”

“No,” He remembers the one that Lucas is referring to, though. The first time he had seen Lucas drunk— clumsy and free as he danced around with his friends. “I saw you on my very first day, in January.”

“You did? I didn’t see you.”

“I know.” But I saw you, he nearly says. He remembers that moment, too— them bumping into each other, and the way that he was completely unable to look away from him, as he continued down the hall with his friends.

“Wow.” When he looks over again, Lucas is smiling. It’s a small thing, a smile for himself. His heart swells. Then— “Imane was right, you know”— and now Eliott’s smiling, too?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They’re looking at each other, now. It feels like he’s seeing Lucas anew, for the very first time. It’s beautiful. “What now?” Lucas asks, and he looks away for a brief moment, contemplating.

“Hmm,” He reaches over, taking Lucas’ hand gently in his own. “Now, we go on a date or two, live happily ever after, you know. The usual.” In reaction, Lucas laughs. It’s a soft sound, but it’s one he would give anything to keep hearing.

“Not a bad plan, if you ask me.” He leans in, without any hesitation this time, intent on far more than a quick kiss on the cheek— but Lucas pulls away, just as fast.

“Ah ah,” He tuts. “What kind of New Year's kiss would it be, if we didn’t wait for the countdown?”

“Lucas,” He whines, and Lucas laughs at him. He can’t help but smile, at the sound of it. “I just bared my soul to you.”

“Patience, Eliott.” Because he can’t resist, Eliott presses a kiss to the back of Lucas’ hand, as consolation. He loves the way Lucas’ breath catches, the way his eyes widen. Lucas blinks a few times, before moving to get up, pulling Eliott along with him. “You want another drink?”

“Just some water. I’m trying to make it through tonight hangover-free.” They go back inside, hand-in-hand, and their friends notice almost immediately. When Lucas’ friends do, he hides his face in Eliott’s chest. Eliott holds him there, keeps him close. Idriss notices, and Eliott shoots him another thumbs-up.

Cheering erupts from the other side of the room, and Eliott quickly realizes that the countdown to the New Year has begun.

Ten, he pushes Lucas away, just enough so that he can look at him. His breath catches, when he sees the way Lucas is looking at him, his eyes full of light.

Nine, as he looks around, he can see people coupling up, finding their partners. He can’t hide his grin, when he see that one of the pairs in question is Imane and Sofiane.

Eight, he returns his focus to Lucas. When he looks at Eliott now, it’s through his long eyelashes, and it’s as if some sort of physical force is pulling him in.

Seven, he reaches up with his free hand to cup Lucas’ cheek. He lets himself run his fingers along Lucas’ jawline, reveling in the warmth of his flushed skin.

Six, he thinks about where he was, this time last year. About how he had just finished fighting with Lucile, how she had just stormed out. Now, though, he’s here, holding Lucas. Holding the boy that he’s been in love with for nearly a year.

Five, and Lucas is looking at him like he’s worth something, like he wants to kiss him just as badly as he wants to kiss Lucas.

Four, he feels Lucas’ hands come to rest at the small of his back, and he pulls them back in close again.

Three, they’re so close that their noses brush, that their foreheads touch.

Two, Lucas’ eyes are hooded, and Eliott watches as they close fully.

One, he leans in that last little bit, and—

As the crowd hits zero, they kiss.

Kissing Lucas is like a dream, it’s so gentle and soft, but it makes his knees go weak with how badly he’s wanted this, how long he’s wanted it. They pull away, and all Eliott can do is to breathe out a wow. Lucas smiles up at him, and he’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful, that as the first moments of the new year pass them by, he can’t help kissing him again, and again, and again.

#skam #skam france #skamfr #elu #elu fic #lucas x eliott #mywriting;#the deadline gave me some trouble lmao but i finished it in the end!!#i'm really content with the ending #i hope u r too!#thank u for reading and i hope you've had and continue to have a safe holiday season!!

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what-even-is-thiss · 5 years

Text

Fic, Off of Land, Out of Water, Part 4, Moving

This is uuhhh... part 4. Sorry it took so long. I was in a couple of intensive summer writing classes and they nearly killed me.

Warnings: There’s like five cuss words and some offscreen death. 2,358 words.

Abstract: Why we’re all here. Where we are. No answer yet about what’s coming next.

First Previous Next

4. Moving

“An entire community was uprooted. You can’t expect us to be perfectly fixed after just one generation.” Logan huffed.

He looked at his reflection in the polished glass and angrily scrubbed at the scales on his face with a dead bit of coral.

“Everyone around here expects the city to be the way it was up north. We’re in tropical waters now.”

Gentle hands came from above him and got him to surrender the coral.

“You’re going to make yourself bleed again if you’re not careful, honey.” His Mom said, turning upside down and pressing her forehead to his.

“Mother…” Logan started.

“None of that. I don’t want you to be thinking about politics this early. You’re too young to be thinking about that.”

Logan sighed. “You make a fair point.”

The mermaid smiled. Her short black hair moved around her like seaweed. The scales cutting through it and going to wrap around her left arm were the color of seaweed.

“I always make fair points.”

“Mother, everyone is wrong sometimes. So when is father getting back?”

Her happy expression twitched.

“It’ll take a while. Magic takes up a lot of energy and there’s a lot of oil up there. I think it’s time we go to sleep, guppy.”

Logan sighed. “Mother, I’m 17. I could technically live on my own.”

She pulled him close. “Well let’s hope that you don’t have to.”

They locked the door and held each other close, prepared to sleep.

“Mother?” Logan asked.

“Yes, darling?”

“Should I go help him?”

“Listen to me. Don’t go to the surface. I don’t want to lose you. Now go to sleep.”

“But people younger than me go up all the time. How would you lose me?”

“You’ll know when you’re an adult, Logan. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, mother.”

……….

Virgil swam downward, pulling the body along with him.

It became darker. The chill became more intense. Creatures swam past him that he didn’t recognize. Most of them weren’t the type of thing he wanted to linger on for too long.

The small sunlight pendant tied around his neck did almost nothing down here. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as the water pressure increased. When he looked behind himself the tip of his tail disappeared into the blackness.

He was grateful for the darkness. Grateful that he couldn’t see her properly in the darkness. Grateful that he couldn’t see the grey mixing in with the brown of her skin, her wine red scales flaking off, her black eyes rolled back in her head and her long grey hair floating around as if dead now. No live thing making it move in circles and s shapes in the water.

Finally it became deep to the point where he knew if he continued that he would soon die. He stopped swimming and tapped the little light tied to his neck. It went out.

Now it was just him, the darkness, whatever creatures were swimming in the pitch black of the ocean, and what was left of the sea witch Val, whose mer name translates to “sunlight near the surface”.

The body smelled. He held it close and felt the ceremonial cords that the people in town had tied around her. It was assumed that everyone grew up being told how to perform a mer funeral but Virgil, of course, grew up on land and had no idea. He had to quietly pull the schoolmaster aside and ask.

Of course he was the closest thing to family she had and of course Logan was afraid of the depths and didn’t want to return after his parents’ funerals. So of course Virgil had to face this alone. The Catholic in him wanted to say a prayer. Something. But that’s not how they did things down here.

Instead he detached a sharp stone from the cord around his neck and held the body away from himself by the ropes tied around it.

“You were loved. To the depths you go. For your sake may you never be found.”

He cut the rope and let go of it. He swam upwards and didn’t look back. He didn’t turn his light on. If he did that might distract her soul from finding where it’s supposed to go, or anger the gods that would guide her. Or so the teacher had told him.

When he saw light he didn’t stop swimming. When he got to the town he didn’t stop. As soon as his body adjusted to a new depth he kept going higher. Somewhere in his frantic swimming he dropped the necklace with the bottle of sunlight and sharp rock. He swam further and further, his heart pounding from with the anxiety or exercise, he didn’t know.

Then he broke the surface and saw that he was alone with nothing on the horizon.

There was nothing and no one left to blame so he spent some time insulting the moon.

……….

Logan sat on the rock, his bare feet hanging in the water. There was something about the place where two elements met. Something good. That’s something Roman or one of the spiritual leaders down there would tell him though, so he’d never admit that out loud. He had a reputation after all.

He waited there, his feet in the water. Roman had offered to wait for Virgil with him. Logan told him no. No, he didn’t want Roman there for this. Virgil had been underwater for two weeks now, leaving him with his brothers. They saw Logan as their brother too now, but they weren’t Virgil. Besides, there was one talk that Virgil hadn’t finished with him. One he’d wanted since the day he’d broken the surface.

One that he now knew had been waiting for him since he was born.

……..

When something impossible happens, the universe will likely want some payment in return. Existence itself is impossible, so as a consequence of it existing it has to be complicated. If existence was possible, it would be a lot more straightforward.

If intelligent beings were meant to exist they would be a lot kinder and a lot more rational. However, they weren’t meant to exist and so they go around starting wars all the time.

By the time the universe got around to mermaids it was tired of symbolism. Being intelligent, the species would be suffering enough already, so why put the entire species through the wringer? That had already been done to humans, satyrs, dolphins, crows, octopi, and elves. Why do it to another species?

The thing was though, the land and the sea were mad. They were mad about everything. First the land takes away some sea life with evolution (which shouldn’t have existed) and then that life got intelligent and started cutting things and inventing magic. Then it had the audacity to return to the ocean again. The whales were bad enough, but humans returning? Unacceptable.

The universe decided that in this case it wouldn’t fuck up all humans and merpeople. Both of them had enough problems already. Instead, it would epically fuck up one human and one merperson about every hundred years or so, forcing both of them to move between land and sea. It would be really inconvenient for them and everyone that knew them. That was enough give and take to keep order, it decided.

Exactly six thousand seven hundred years later, Virgil got that scar on his stomach after a long day involving a broken car and a crying three year old screaming about how he didn’t want a little brother and Logan was too small to force his way out of his egg so the nurse had to cut him out of it. Both were born early. The ocean and land are impatient pieces of shit. The universe tried to cut them some slack but even the universe can’t stop intelligent creatures from being intelligent creatures.

Intelligent creatures are too stupid to see what’s right in front of them.

……….

Virgil pushed his bangs out of his eyes and slicked them back with water.

“And that’s the only thing they ever had me memorize.” he said.

Logan squinted at Virgil through his glasses. Ever since he’d gotten the hang of speaking with flat teeth he’d noticed how slurred Virgil’s speech was when he was a merman. The pointed teeth just weren’t designed to make certain noises and the way his vocal box interacted with air made it sound like he was talking with a bunch of cotton stuck in his throat.

“It’s… short. And crass.” Logan said. “Who came up with that?”

“I think it was translated to English in the 1980s.” Virgil said. “By a British person. It kind of sounds like reading a satire novel, I know. I think the original language is dead. The English was translated from… North Atlantic dialect? I don’t know. I’m not a fucking intellectual and neither was the guy that translated it, probably.”

Virgil dunked his head underwater and took a deep breath before raising up again and spitting the water out.

“Sorry. I can breathe air but it starts to taste nasty after a while.” he said.

Logan folded his legs, a trick he’d learned from volunteering with Patton in a kindergarten class, and thought for a second.

“So what were you doing in your private lessons all that time if you only had to memorize the story of how we got here?” Logan asked.

“Teaching human history and stuff.” Virgil said. “Whenever you get back down here they’ll probably have questions for you. They like to take what I teach them and turn it into poetry so it’s easier to memorize. Sometimes they change details so it sounds better though. I suspect that’s been happening for thousands of years now and so uh…”

“The history I’ve memorized is probably less than accurate.” Logan said.

Virgil let out a whistle of agreement and sympathy, something Logan had figured out by now that was a lot easier to do than speak in a more human way when you had a mer body. Virgil had caused himself a great deal of discomfort teaching Logan English for all those years. For Logan had never found it to be difficult. Virgil said the fact that human speech was easy for Logan clued him in to the fact that Logan was the one he was supposed to be looking for. His counterpart that would hopefully have a full childhood before he was exposed to the air. And he had. Sort of. He’d had to become more independent than most merpeople after his parents had died, but he did live underwater, blissfully unaware of what was coming.

And seeing what had happened to Virgil, that was likely for the best. He was supposed to be introduced to the ocean when he was twenty one, but like a typical teenager, he rebelled. So high school was binged in short homeschool sessions and socializing with other humans was done in small bites. As a result merpeople found him to be too threatening and humans found him to be too blunt. His unusually deep voice and not-quite-ridiculous-but-still-tall height didn’t help him blend in either. So he did what he did best. He avoided everyone except for Logan, his brothers, and his talent agent and made a living off of doing voiceovers and video game sound effects. A job that could be binged and he usually got quite easily with his deep voice. Nobody had to see his face. Except for when somebody dragged him out to do something “fun”.

……...

In the same way Logan was able to speak human languages fairly easily, Virgil was able to whistle and make other sounds like clicking or hissing with his mouth in a much more complex and nuanced way than other humans could. Logan found he lost the ability to fully speak mer language without sounding like a two year old with a mouth full of seaweed when he was human but Virgil’s mer speech on land sounded like it always did. Clear with a slight irregular sound that Logan now knew was a non native speaker accent and not a speech impediment.

This ability made Virgil a very good voice actor and voiceover artist. A voice actor and voiceover artist known for never appearing at conventions or taking interviews, but could occasionally be heard whistling like a bird in a Disney movie at an open mic night at a certain coffee shop that one of his brothers dragged him to. The one that wasn’t a drag queen, his fans would say. Wait, that drag queen is related to Virgil Sanders? The other fan would answer them that it was crazy right? Then they would go back to arguing about animation styles and bad movie trailers.

……..

The toddler sat on the box labeled “board games” and his oldest brother braided his hair.

“Why are you braiding her hair, Roman?” Virgil asked, tugging at his overalls. He hated wearing overalls.

The eight year old huffed. “She needs to look good for the new house, Virgil.” he said.

“That’s stupid.” Virgil said. “Houses can’t see.”

“Are you three arguing again? I’d better not hear you pulling on Trish’s hair!” came a voice from the next room.

“No, mom!” Roman called out.

Their mom left the house and soon enough they heard arguing from outside near the Uhaul. All three of the children were smart enough to try and drown it out. The one who wasn’t called Patton yet started hiding his face in his hands. Roman tied his hair off and gave him a hug. Virgil started whistling. He sounded like a bird from a movie.

“How did you do that?” Roman asked.

Virgil shrugged and just kept whistling. Outside their dad yelled something about missing the ocean and their mom yelled something about safety. Roman pushed a stuffed animal into the toddler’s hands. Virgil stopped whistling and closed the window. He wondered how he’d sleep without hearing the waves outside. He also wondered why he’d never gotten close to them.

#roman wrote a thing #sanders sides #mer au #sanders sides au #analogical #platonic analogical #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction #death mention

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