#Well........ Maybe that parts just a saucy fantasy for them

[jade-lynxx]

Back on my bullshit

[docholligay]

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

I came to this book with a not-insignificant amount of baggage and decided to read it anyway. Or, let it go through, rather. And it got drawn. This book, I know, is on a lot of people's favorite lists, which always carries with it a pressure, and I know most of those people experienced it as a child, which always makes me suck my teeth a little, because we all carry the weight of nostalgia with us when evaluating things we grew up with. Also, there was once major cheating trying to get this book into contention for Eight Days.

But, I read it anyway. This is a great kids' book. I know it was written before children's literature was as much a thing, and so it's slippery to define--the only reason it's very easy with Watership Down is the author was pretty clear that he wrote these stories for his daughters--but this is a children's book. It is a very very good children's book. I do sometimes have issue with the way that any time a book is sufficiently good, you see people say it's not for children. There are also excellent, well plotted, heartfelt children's books. Watership Down, Bridge to Terabithia, Tuck Everlasting, there are books that are written for children that resonate, and have meaning, and it is a mistake, and not kind to children, to assume all they can enjoy is pablum and power fantasies.

ANYWAY YES THAT IS MY NON-SPOILERY TAKE. This is an excellent children's book, and I will absolutely read it to Jewlet as she gets older. If this were NOT a children's book, and/or I was in a saucy little mood, I think I would be harder on it. I mean even technically any time I am recommended a children's book as a grown-ass woman, I am meant to take the recommendation as such, but this is such a GREAT children's book I gave it a pass I would not give a lesser one.

Spoilers below the cut

There are so many little things for a kid to take away from this, but it never feels like it's teaching a lesson, and I think it's all the more valuable for that. For example, at the end of the book, with the unicorn, this children's introduction to what it means to KNOW.

What the fuck do you mean by that, Holligay? I've been thinking over and over again about the end, and how she is not like other unicorns, can never be like other unicorns again, and I really like that. Sometimes, you know things your peers do not know. Sometimes, things have touched you that have not yet touched them, may never. It separates you, in some ways, from people. Not totally, but there is always something that feels different when they don't know the things you know. Hard concept to explain to a kid, hard concept to explain to an adult. Well done here.

Oh god, probably one of the more Doc moments of all: "The Bull's nought but a pet name you give your cowardice" what a great moment, and how correct. How many times are we all so guilty of the same? That the big bad is actually us breaking in the face of our fear, the same as the unicorn being driven into the sea, and on that note, I think it is important, and I love, that the Bull was all about FEAR. So far as i can tell, the Bull couldn't do jack shit to the Unicorn, but he could frighten all of them. It is fear that keeps beauty, and magic, and truth, in the bottom of the sea. This is something I would go over with Jewlet, what do we think about the fact that the secret, after all this time, was to be very brave? To refuse to stand down? Maybe fucking Cully could have done it, we don't know because the fear of what the Bull COULD DO, that just became a mask for cowardice.

Hm, other things: I love the idea that Schmendrick's reward for finding his magic is mortality, because to be able to die is a beautiful thing. It is the tragedy of the unicorn that she can't, in part. The skull says it's not good to have time. "Rush, scramble, desperation, this missed, that left behind, those others too big to fit into such a small space--that's the way life was meant to be. You're supposed to be late for some things. Don't worry about it." I love this especially within the fantasy landscape of the time this was written in, where we're still FAIRLY happy with the idea of The Undying being a reward, and immortality a boon.

There's something I really like about the spider who believes herself to be Ariadne, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

ANYWAY THIS IS NOT PROFESSIONALLY COMPOSED ENJOY

[justanotherquinnfan]

On The Devil of Dublin and Going "All In"

I doubt it has gone unnoticed by those in the Quinn community, but just in case this slipped under anyone's radar, The Devil of Dublin is now fully revealed (I mean his identity, pervs) and has made the announcement that he is going "all in" at the same time. That was something like 2 (3?) months ago, and watching his journey is SO fascinating.

So TDOD, or Eric Nolan, made a huge announcement some while back when he revealed not only what he looks like, but his name and daytime career. To say this is fairly unprecedented might be an understatement. To my knowledge, I haven't seen a major Quinn or erotica VA come out of their anonymity and certainly not like this. Not to mention the fact that Eric has been one of the most popular voices on the app.

I mentioned in the past that I was concerned that this move might have been due to pressure brought on by fans (something I assumed given the exodus of several anonymous VAs from social media). I was also concerned because of some discourse I had read from people worrying that if they saw what some of these actors looked like, how disappointed they would be if they didn't find them physically attractive.

To the first point, obviously I just wasn't giving Eric enough credit as a grown man who knows his mind. That's on me any my own unconscious bias that I am currently working towards.

To the second point, well. Eric honestly wasn't worried about that, nor should he have been, as he painted the image of himself to be as accurate as I'm sure his fans had hoped. But the poster on Reddit, where I read that baseless fear, still sticks in my mind and I feel the need to address it in a separate post. But for now, let's just say that if anyone was nervous that Eric wouldn't, er, live up to the hype, let's say, then I'm hoping it's been put to rest because honestly, have you seen him?

Since the reveal, I can't help but notice his posts, both on Quinn and social media, to be more filled with abandon. At the risk of a BDSM joke, it's like he'd been somewhat shackled down and now he is freed. He can incorporate more of himself into his work. I know he does a lot of collaboration with BB Easton (which is brilliant, she's a fantastic writer), but it's been cool to see him explore.

And explore he has! I think the first thing that really took me, hmm. Not off guard, but rather maybe by pleasant surprise? Was his Rest Day Ramble.

Now, I know I'm not the only one out there who can say they love a ramble, but I REALLY love rambles. There is something so much more vulnerable about them. If they are truly spontaneous and unscripted, there is a sense of reciprocation that might not exist in the fantasy scenarios. Which, I love those as well, but there can be at times (for me) a sense of loneliness in them. Like this is just for my benefit. And I do know that many creators get a real charge simply of the act of coming up and figuring out these fun stories, who enjoy the total process from start to finish. So I know it's not entirely one-sided. But, there is still something to be said about the feedback loop that comes from someone allowing themselves pleasure for the sake of another's pleasure.

I do want to be clear here, that I am still fully recognizing the parasocial nature of this exchange and I am both cognizant and respectful of the boundaries. But if a VA wants to adjust those boundaries and let us in just a little bit, I am grateful for the opportunity to share in the energetic exchange as I personally find it fulfilling.

I say so many words to just say that the Rest Day Ramble was so very hot. Just. So hot. Part of it is, in fact, that vulnerability. Eric speaks to the listener directly. He gently teases us for playing along and maybe responding to questions out loud. He gives us a window into his process, how it can physically affect him to do these audios. I will say, whether this is true or not, the idea that he finishes one of his saucy, extra spicy Devil stories feeling excited and bereft, took my breath away. I mean. What an image! And of course he knew exactly what he was doing by painting it for us.

I won't go much further into discussing this particular audio because I feel like it's worth it to go have a listen for yourself if you haven't. But it pretty much descends into the kind of sweaty miasma you tend to expect from a licentious 6ft-something tall Irishman. It's glorious and should definitely be in queue if it's not already.

From there we see a rise in some of the most delicious collabs I've ever seen. From his Devil's Pact series, in which we see Mairsyy as our knight in shining honor (poor guy....) to Tom York in the London Calling series (when will there be a part 3???P) to John York giving us some needed aftercare in Virtual VA and then Zach Cowman in Freaky, which is honestly just perfection. The next collab on the docket, it would seem, is Cavern Livingston, and I won't lie, I'm excited!

In between those we also see more audios that I feel offer even more of a wink-wink-nudge vibe. The Brat Test was a genius way to get fans to interact (hmm, that might be one bit of phrasing too far). His even more recent offering of "I Know, I Know..." addresses his reputation for the infidelity tag (one in which I am not personally super comfortable with, but to each their own) and he finishes the audio by saying something to the effect of, "He can have the best of you, I will happily take the worst of you." For those of us who struggle with listening to Quinn while in a relationship? That is a line that will do about 3 weeks worth of therapeutic healing and I thank him so much for it.

I will very honestly say that, prior to all of this change, I hadn't quite yet jumped on the TDOD train. I get why he's so popular, but my own journey is so roundabout, that I just hadn't quite figured him out yet. I look for things that are not just sexy, but also are helping me do some major healing of my own. I just wasn't sure where to begin with his work.

But once he opened up, it was a whole different ballgame because I'm very much the kind of person that only wants to play if everyone wants to play. And Eric essentially threw off the mask and said, "LET'S PLAY" and I was just hooked.

But the thing that really got to me? Was actually his episode of The Audiobook Club with John York. In it he is asked if he ever thought about taking a break from Quinn. And this sweet man literally teared up at the thought. He then goes on to say that he knows what he brings to the lives of so many of his fans. And what if, when someone is having just such a shitty week, they go to Quinn for some comfort and he's not there? He would feel terrible, like he let people.

Ok, so look. The realist in me would just respond with the fact there there is genuinely hours upon hours of content, that missing a drop or two is not the end of the world. But the romantic, the empathetic, part of me? Just feels so much (platonic) love for someone who really see what he's doing as not just building fantasies, but offering help to those who need it. And for that, and that alone, he will always have a fan in me. Because you don't need to look at Quinn like that. But it is that for so many of us and he just really gets it, you know? You don't abandon someone like that.

So, to conclude, I say that I am all in on Eric going all in! I am so excited to see what he has next in store for the world of Quinn, the world of audiobooks, just the world in general. Because it can only be something saucy and fun and the perfect escape we're looking for.

For anyone interested in responding, what are you looking forward to in the future from The Devil of Dublin? I would LOVE to see more collabs, particularly a part 3 to the London Calling series (especially if it ends as a "Why choose?" scenario, though I may spontaneously combust at the idea of both Tom AND Eric). Or perhaps another Devil's Pact, featuring Milo? But I would love to see Golden Retriever Milo in that scenario.

What about you? Let me know, the future is looking so much fun!

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Teasing (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

Alone ;) Together (ao3) - DavineNaughter

Summary: Phil couldn't remember being this happy in a long time. Not since he and Dan had found each other out as Friend, maybe when they started saying I love you out loud and in their heads. But this was a whole new level of happy, because along with it Phil felt himself overrun with relief.

Brat (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is a sassy little brat and he’s such a tease.

So Phil decides to put Dan back in his place, that place being on his knees.

His Obsession (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Phil is completely obsessed with Dan's ass. Even when out to dinner with his parents, Phil has trouble keeping his eyes and hands to himself.

Kiss Me Through The Camera (ao3) - PoisonWrites

Summary: "Phil wasn’t a stranger to seducing someone with just his words, so why was flirting with Dan the equivalent of digging to China with a teaspoon?"

Knick-Knacks (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan wants to get rid of most of their knick-knacks, their forever home has to be minimalistic. Phil isn't helping Dan pack, he's too busy buying more knick-knacks.

Practice Makes Perfect (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Phil said he would paint Dan's nails in a live show, and doesn't think much of it until Dan finds someone else to do it. Dan is surprised and amused at Phil's reaction.

seasons change (ao3) - sadlybunny

Summary: The boy is irresistible. He’s got that “couldn’t be bothered” attitude that has always intrigued Phil, always made him want to know Danny a little bit better. Phil knows falling in love with his best friend’s younger brother is wrong. But he just can’t seem to do the right thing.

Senpai and The Schoolgirl (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Inspired by Amazing Phil's "US v. JAPAN School Lunches with Dan and Phil" video from December 11, 2017, Dan tempts his boyfriend with the Japanese schoolgirl outfit following the conclusion of some sensual and playful filming.

Sensations (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Sure Dan and Phil usually kept their sex life fairly vanilla, but sometimes they’d play rough and Dan was a screamer and Phil loved taking control.

Sexual Fantasies (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan and Phil are joined by Martyn and Cornelia on their American road trip. Phil has to excuse himself from the casino when he sees the saucy and suggestive update to Dan's Instagram story.

Slow Down - intoapuddle

Summary: Phil knows that Dan can hear him. Phil knows that Dan thinks that two can play at this game. Phil knows that that absolutely isn’t true.

Tangled Up (ao3) - Misha_with_Wings

Summary: It was hard for Dan and Phil to get any time alone while on tour. They were constantly being rushed through meet and greets or shoved to another hotel. Luckily they could sometimes sneak away to the back of the tour bus and get all tangled up with each other.

Teasing - echohowell

Summary: Take some birthday fluff/pre-smut.

The Good Neighbor (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Phil's a nosy neighbor, Dan disaproves...kind of. Mostly they love to tease each other.

The Maestro And His Muse (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Phil is a professional artist. There are some things he has always wanted to try, and with a motto like Try New Things, it’s understandable that he’ll go through with many of them. Painting on living, breathing, naked human bodies is one of those things.

Unfortunately, he's chosen his good friend, muse, and crush Dan Howell as his subject. What could go wrong?

To The Shop And Back (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Dan does the laundry, but Phil needs his jeans.

Warm, incredibly happy, and well loved (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Phil wakes up to soft kisses. Dan has a dream, and it inspires him in the bedroom.

What Dan Wants, Dan Gets (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: "i hate men but i want them to touch me"

- actual Dan on twitter

so this fic is based on that lmao

[wingsofsmokeanddespair]

A Fic Challenge? Maybe.

So uh, been thinking long and hard about doing an old LJ fic challenge I was once part of back in the day. It was from Mission Insane and it’s been bugging me to do it with RusPrus because I can’t let this pairing go I guess.

So here’s my tables/prompts. We’ll see how far I get haha.

01. Themed Table-Weather 

01.

Rain

02.

Fog

03.

Snow

04.

Wind

05.

Sun

06.

Frost

07.

Storm

08.

Dew

09.

Humid

10.

Heat-Wave

  02. Themed Table-Colors

01.

Red

02.

Blue

03.

Yellow

04.

Green

05.

Orange

06.

Purple

07.

Black

08.

White

09.

Pink

10.

Grey

   03. Un-Themed Table

Un-Themed 2

01.

Goodbye

02.

Honour

03.

Faith

04.

Scoop

05.

Bonus

06.

Lint

07.

Video

08.

Idea

09.

Guess

10.

Meteor

  04. Un-Themed Table

Un-Themed 4

01.

Scandal

02.

Legend

03.

Cocoa

04.

Worthless

05.

Chef

06.

Eyes

07.

Book

08.

Trouble

09.

Easy

10.

Home

  05. 'Inspired By'

Songs

01.

Hatef--k-The Bravery

02.

Losing Touch-Empathy Test

03.

Why Do You Love Me?-Garbage

04.

Schizophrenic-Night Club

05.

Roulette-System of a Down

06.

Armata Strigoi-Powerwolf

07.

Sleeping Sickness-City and Colour

08.

Everybody Knows That You’re Insane-Queens of the Stoneage

09.

The Bells-i:Scintilla

10.

Blame me! Blame me!-Anberin

  Table 06. 'Inspired By'

Songs T2: Angst with Aesthetic Perfection

01.

Devotion

02.

Save Myself

03.

Pale

04.

Love Like Lies

05.

Betrayer ft. Morris Black

06.

Inhuman

07.

Lovesick

08.

All Beauty Destroyed

09.

Happily Ever After

10.

Showtime

  Table 07. Genre Table

Fluff

01.

Snuggle

02.

Lie In

03.

Cuddle

04.

Candy

05.

Dance

06.

Flirt

07.

Stolen Kisses

08.

Lazy Sunday

09.

Heart

10.

Love

  08. Genre Table

Pounce!Porn  We’ll see if I actually write porn. Really these prompts just sound fun for hijinks that are different from angst/melancholy which I usually write haha

01.

All Work And No Play…

02.

Surprise!

03.

There’s Something On Your Face

04.

Nobody’s Looking

05.

People Are Staring

06.

Quick, In Here!

07.

Did They See Us?

08.

Oh, Hello Officer…

09.

Where Did That Go?

10.

You’re Gorgeous When You’re Angry

   09. Pick Your Own Table

Hurt/Comfort

01.

Pain

02.

Sore

03.

Sick

04.

Broken

05.

Fix Me

06.

Distrust

07.

Hold Me

08.

Haunted

09.

Forgive

10.

Blanket

   10. Pick Your Own Table

Angst

01.

Broken

02.

Lost

03.

Thinking Of You

04.

Deprived

05.

Regret

06.

I Wish

07.

If Only

08.

Heartsick

09.

Change

10.

Miss You

  11. Pick Your Own Table

Un-Themed

01.

Angel

02.

Peep

03.

Thought

04.

Until

05.

Bell

06.

Door

07.

Gross

08.

Meal

09.

Tame

10.

Cruel

   12. Pick Your Own Table Saucy

01.

Kiss

02.

Suck

03.

Nibble

04.

Bite

05.

Lick

06.

Taste

07.

Touch

08.

Stroke

09.

Fondle

10.

Nuzzle

  13. Pick Your Own Table

Fantasy

01.

Dragon

02.

Fey

03.

Magic

04.

Glamour

05.

Quest

06.

White Knight

07.

Damsel In Distress

08.

You Must Save…

09.

We Need Your Help!

10.

Hero

  14. Pick Your Own Table

Un-Themed 5

01.

Moon

02.

Justice

03.

Fall

04.

Control

05.

Night

06.

Breathless

07.

Bed

08.

Winter

09.

Return

10.

Ghost

  15. Pick Your Own Table

Un-Themed 6

01.

Taboo

02.

Special

03.

Want

04.

Beast

05.

Charisma

06.

Desperate

07.

Promise

08.

Paranoia

09.

Baggage

10.

Unrequited

  16. Pick Your Own Table

Textures 

01.

Wood

02.

Stone

03.

Silk

04.

Paper

05.

Metal

06.

Plastic

07.

Wool

08.

Ceramic

09.

Sand

10.

Cork

  17. Pick Your Own Table

Quotes

01.

Always Forgive Your Enemies, Nothing Annoys Them So Much – Oscar Wilde

02.

Fiction Is Obliged To Stick To Possibilities, Truth Isn’t – Mark Twain

03.

Be Great In Act As You Have Been In Thought - Shakespeare

04.

Imagination Is More Important Than Knowledge - Einstein

05.

We Are What We Repeatedly Do - Aristotle

06.

However Beautiful The Strategy, You Should Occasionally Look At The Results – Winston Churchill

07.

Everything Has It’s Beauty, But Not Everyone Sees It - Confucius

08.

Be Careful When You Fight The Monsters, Lest You Become One - Nietzsche

09.

When You Get To The End Of Your Rope, Tie A Knot And Hang On – Franklin Roosevelt

10.

If You Cannot Get Rid Of The Family Skeleton, You May As Well Make It Dance – George Bernard Shaw

   18. Pick Your Own Table

Holiday/Vacation

01.

Swimming

02.

Cruise

03.

Ski-ing

04.

Camping

05.

Water Sports

06.

Hiking

07.

Fishing

08.

I Want To See You In Swimwear

09.

Let’s Go On A Picnic

10.

Sharks

  19. Pick Your Own Table

Cliché

01.

Sacrifice

02.

Angry Drunken Betrayal

03.

Amnesia

04.

Wounded

05.

Love Triangle

06.

Pretending To Be Together

07.

Sharing Body Heat

08.

Declarations Of Love

09.

Eavesdropping

10.

Drunken Kiss

   20. Pick Your Own Table

Gen-Fic Keep it clean.

01.

Glass

02.

Den

03.

Spoken

04.

Tale

05.

Leaf

06.

Dig

07.

Keen

08.

Building

09.

Sky

10.

Under

[voiceless-terror]

Perchance to Dream

@aspecarchivesweek Day Three: Drinks

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker, Sasha James

Jon comes out to Martin. Twice.

(Ft. Kiss-Averse Jonathan Sims and Hamlet References)

__________

“Ugh, no thank you.”

Martin pauses. Sasha and Tim titter behind their hands.

And Jon, well. He’s got a look of vehement disgust written across his features, not unlike when he’s laying into what he claims is a fabricated statement. Martin can feel his face turning red at the words.

Getting Jon to come out for drinks had been the hard part. It’s one month into his tenure as Head Archivist, and everyone’s starting to feel the scope of the task ahead of them. Tim thought a ‘monthiversary’ drink was in order, and the only way to get Jon to come out was to threaten him with some sort of ill begotten information, the likes of which Martin couldn’t hear behind the closed door. Ten minutes later, Jon emerged, looking grumpier than usual (and very dashing) with a scarf around his neck. And now he sat next to him in the cozy pub booth, Martin trying very hard to remain stock-still because Jon’s leaning into his side. Perhaps he’s cold? Either way, Martin isn’t going to discourage it. 

But then he’d had a few drinks and they all loosened up; even Jon’s laugh came easier. And Martin- well, Martin’s opening up a bit more than usual, chattering about his time in the library and bolstered by the smiles he receives in turn. Tim changed track to the personal, regaling them with his latest outdoor adventure while Sasha and Jon gave witty, sarcastic commentary. But then Tim directed the conversation towards him, and they seemed relatively interested in his poetry. He even felt comfortable enough to rattle out a few lines from his phone in a desperate hope to impress, and he stupidly chose one that referenced ‘lips like a rosebud’ and Jon reacts like he’s read a particularly saucy bit of a smut novel aloud. How embarrassing. 

“Whew,” Tim whistles lowly, folding his arms behind his neck with an exaggerated wince. “Harsh, boss.”

“No, that’s not it,” Jon says, shaking his head and putting a hand on Martin’s arm. Putting a hand on Martin’s arm. Putting a hand- “Martin, your poetry is fine, if a bit derivative.” Jon thinks his poetry is fine and he’s got his small, fine-boned hand on Martin’s arm and god, he’s got a poem about that too, somewhere in his phone-

Tim guffaws, slamming a hand on the table and startling Sasha. “What a compliment!”

“It’s just…kissing. Lips. Ugh.” Jon smashes his fork rather violently into a dumpling, sending bits of food flying across the table, one of which hit Tim directly above his eye. “I eat with my mouth.”

“Wise observation.”

“Very astute of you.”

Martin would join in on the banter but Jon’s hand is still on his arm and his warm weight is pressing into his side. Honestly, what’s Jon playing at? He could rip the poetry to shreds in front of him but as long as that hand remains on his arm he’d just sit there, not saying a word. Hell, he’d probably even agree.

“So the bossman doesn’t like kisses,” Tim says, taking an obnoxiously loud sip of whatever fruity beverage he’d decided on. “Is that why you ripped down all of my mistletoe back in research?”

Jon. Mistletoe. Hand still on arm.

“I don’t like any of it,” Jon says, removing his hand from Martin’s arm to make a decisive gesture across the table which nearly sent his drink flying. He instantly misses the pressure but the warmth is still there, burning through his sleeve. Jon looks incredibly drunk, now that Martin’s got a better angle to view his flushed cheeks and bright eyes and lips- “All that touching. I don’t understand why everyone’s so hung up on it. No thank you, not for me.”

A brief flash of understanding lights Sasha’s eyes but Martin’s not in a place to decipher it. He’s not sure if it’s the drink or the Jon-of-it-all that’s impeding him. He’s never seen him so relaxed, so animated about something that’s not work. He can’t even focus on the words coming out of Jon’s mouth at the moment.

But Sasha leans forward- once she’s got an idea in her head, she won’t let go until she’s seen it through. Martin recognizes that look. “You’re asexual, then?”

“Mm,” Jon mumbles, his head tilting back dangerously as he puts on an affected, exaggerated voice. “Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither.”

And then Martin’s gone, suddenly struck by a vision of teenage Jon, silhouetted on a stage by a dramatic spotlight, reciting Shakespeare like a born thespian- look, Martin despises theater, but even he’s not immune to Hamlet. In a dream world he’d be Ophelia, no, not Ophelia, idiot- maybe he’s a stage hand, or no, he helps Jon with his quick changes, that’s a job, right? So caught up is he in this pseudo-high school fantasy that the words being said don’t actually dawn on him until a full minute later, when Tim’s laughter reaches a crescendo.

“Boss, did you seriously just come out via Shakespeare?”

Jon’s not even denying it, giving a lazy, good-natured smile in response. Fuck. Here he is, having some stupid fantasy over his boss who is very much right next to him and very much not interested. God, is he taking advantage? He jumps to the side, trying desperately to put a few more inches of space between them for Jon’s comfort when that small hand comes back to his arm, the sudden and strong grip stopping him in his tracks. 

“No!” Jon’s voice is low, those dark eyes so intense. Martin can feel his face go scarlet from his gaze alone. “This is nice. I like it.”

Tim and Sasha share an evil little smile and Martin’s out of commission, the night’s revelations and Jon’s insistent snuggling having taken their toll. He couldn’t tell you what happened after that, how many drinks were shared or how he got home. All he remembers is the feel of Jon’s hand on his arm, his insistent closeness, and the sound of his laugh whenever Tim teased him.

The next day Jon comes in late, looking about as bad as the rest of them felt. From the way he interacts with them, it’s likely that he doesn’t even remember last night, what he did or what he said. Martin tries not to let it sting, and goes back to work, knowing there’s a side of Jon that he’ll likely never see again.

__________

“Martin, we have to...talk, if that’s alright.” 

Martin pauses, a lump building in his throat. “Okay.”

He settles in on Daisy’s lumpy couch, trying not to let his apprehension show. It’s been a week since Jon got him out of the Lonely and they’re still adjusting, but Martin likes to think they’re settling into a nice routine. There’s such a natural ease to their domesticity; they had their differences, sure, but he’s never seen the man so soft and unguarded, puttering around the cottage, making sure everything’s nice and comfortable for the two of them. And of course, there’s the bed situation. Only one, like in all the cliché fanfiction Martin had taken to reading back when he lived in the Archives and his biggest problem was worms. Maybe Jon doesn’t want to share anymore? He’s been strangely distant the past day, keeping space between them and hovering about in a nervous manner. He goes back through their interactions, trying to think of what he could’ve done wrong.

Jon sits down next to him, his face showing his own apprehension. “I know we’ve been getting...close, this past week. But if we’re going to ah, have an, er- well, you know, relationship- there’s some things you need to know.” Relationship. Jon thinks they're in a relationship. Martin didn’t want to put a label to it, too afraid it would shatter the fragile trust they built. But to be in a relationship with Jon, well, that’s something he’s always dreamed of, right?

So he relaxes minutely, tries not to show the utter joy he feels at the words. “Alright. What’s up?”

Jon takes a steadying breath, looking so oddly grave that Martin immediately wants to take him into his arms. “I don’t...well, I’m asexual. So I’m not really interested…” he makes a vague gesture down towards Martin’s crotch and then freezes, clearly embarrassed by the crudeness of the action. “I’m not interested in all of...that. Or kissing, for that matter. It’s just a personal boundary for me, if that’s alright.”

Oh. Martin blinks, taking in Jon’s serious countenance and hopeful eyes and while he wants to match it, he can’t control the laughter that bubbles out of his throat. “Oh-oh Jon-”

Jon immediately blanches, his brow furrowing in confusion and probably hurt. “W-What? What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck-it’s, it’s not that, that’s fine, it’s just-” Martin tries desperately to keep his laughter under control and fails. Christ, he can’t breathe. “Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither!” 

“Why are you quoting Shakespeare?” Jon’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Perhaps he has.

“Because you did, you daft thing!” Martin’s shoulders shake with the effort of containing himself, and he wipes a tear from his eye. He immediately puts a hand on Jon’s arm, a mirror’s reflection of that night at the bar and yet it’s still his hand that burns. “Jon, it’s fine. I already know. You told us over drinks my first month in the Archives.”

Jon’s face takes on that peculiar look of confusion and concentration that Martin loves, as if he’s searching his mind or maybe even the Eye for information. “I-oh. Oh!” He puts his head in his hands with a groan, ignoring Martin’s comforting pats to the back. “How embarrassing.”

“It was adorable.”

“No it wasn’t,” Jon whines into his hands even as he leans into Martin’s touch.

“It was,” Martin assures him, drawing him close to his side and letting him lean his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I laughed- you were just so serious, I couldn’t help it-”

“Yes, well,” Jon sighed, settling into his arms, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “It’s fine. As long you’re alright with…”

“More than alright.” It’s Jon, of course it’s alright. Being here with him, in their little shabby oasis- well, it’s more than enough. They sit there in silence for some time, Martin enjoying the closeness of the man he’d fought so hard to protect finally in his arms. He’s starting to think they just might be alright. He smiles to himself, perching his chin on top of Jon’s head.

“To be or not to be-”

“Shut up, Martin.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741983

[chazz-anova]

not me wanting to ask all of the nsfw a-z asks for the girlies 👀 jk unless

OKAY MY BEAUTIFUL FRIEND ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!!!! thank you so much ily 😭 (under the cut for sauciness)

A: Aphrodisiac - What turns them on?

What really turns Antoinette on is someone who can handle themselves. Looks are good on the surface level, but she really wants someone who has a lot of fire in them (and she likes a little attitude to lol)

B: Bondage - Who gets tied up and how?

It takes a lot of trust for Annie to let someone tie her up, but it isn't unheard of! She always needs to have an out though, Faith is the only one she trusts enough to use actual handcuffs and bondage rope. She also enjoys tying up her more submissive lovers

C: Cuddling - How do they cuddle?

She really prefers to be the little spoon! Cuddling normally isn't her thing but with Faith she loves to be held, another thing she really likes is to hold Faith after she's fallen asleep and just feel her breathing

D: Dirty - How do they dirty talk?

Anne's dirty talk is really sweet normally, she doesn't like degrading dirty talk. She likes to give a lot of praise and encouragement to her lover, especially while they're eating her out!

E: Exposed - Riskiest place they've had sex?

There's been a few high-class parties she'd gone to and ended up flirting with some poor man's wife... maybe a few of those times ended up in one of the myriad of bedrooms or bathrooms in the upper quarters

F: Favorite - What do they find sexy?

Antoinette really finds it sexy when it's someone who could dominate her, and she actually wants them to. When someone has like the perfect balance of suave and pragmatic... she also finds intelligence crazy sexy

G: Graceful - Weirdest position they've tried?

Hmm I don't know that it's weird but exotic I guess- she likes that one where she would be almost upside down and her legs are up near her head, and someone would be eating her out (maybe giving her a rimjob too, that's always fun)

H: Hands - What do they do with their hands?

She likes to multitask, so they're normally clawing down her lover's back or tangled in their hair... maybe playing with them as well if that's an option

I: Imagination - What do they fantasize about?

Annie isn't always one for fantasizing, but when she does she mainly imagines eating Faith's pussy, or being dominated in some way

J: Jazz - What's their go to sex song?

Though she isn't the biggest music fan- Antoinette likes some mellow beats in the background or something classical maybe

K: Kink - What's their secret kink?

Even with her domineering attitude, she absolutely loves to be dominated

L: Lingerie - What underwear do they like?

Garters, lace, sheer black tights, Annie loves wrapping herself like a present to present to her lover

M: Moan - What do they sound like? What sounds do they like?

She's relatively quiet, mainly panting and quiet moans... she really likes when she can hear her lover's appreciation though

N: Night - What time of day do they like to have sex?

Antoinette's favorite is after a long day of work, just before bed

O: Oral - Giving or receiving? Why?

Booooth she has a total oral fixation

P: Position - Favorite position and why?

Hmm it's a hard choice but she would probably choose doggy style, it feels the best and she really likes being face down, ass up, arching her back, and being on display to be devoured

Q: Quickie - How would they have a quickie?

For the most part a quickie is a no go- but if would be a passionate and fiery twenty minutes (no less than fifteen she needs to take some time lol)

R: Role Play - What's their role play fantasy?

The thought has crossed her mind once or twice of role playing as one of her victims so to speak, maybe some knifeplay with someone she entirely trusts (pretty much Faith only lol)

S: Sexy - How do they turn on their partner?

Annie always strives to look like a moving piece of art, something to be appreciated and admired. And when she's interested in someone, they definitely know... she has amazing bedroom eyes and once she bats her lashes it's all over

T: Trust - How do they have rough sex?

Rough sex for her means rough. She doesn't mind a little blood or bruises... and if things get rough you can guarantee there'll be a decent amount of both

U: Under - Who's in control and how?

It depends on her mood!

V: Voyeur - What do they like to watch?

Something that makes Antoinette so wet is watching Faith play with herself, it drives her insane

W: Wet - How do they do it in the shower?

Honestly she really doesn't doing it in the shower is not her thing it's too wet lol

X: X Rated - What kind of porn do they like?

Annie doesn't watch a lot of porn, but sometimes Faith can convince her to watch some lesbian porn together

Y: Yum - How do they use food during sex?

Hmm maybe some chocolate syrup for her lover to lick off of her, or something like that! She tries to be mindful of not getting like a UTI or something though using food lmfao

Z: Zipper - How do they undress?

Slowly, sensually, as a treat to the eye

A: Aphrodisiac - What turns them on?

ronnie really likes someone who takes charge, she always seems to go for the natural-born leaders with lots of charisma! she needs someone who isn't afraid to do what needs to be done

B: Bondage - Who gets tied up and how?

v looooves to be tied up, of course only by someone who's gained her trust. she's down to tie up her lover as well- but she isn't as dominant and normally it's her who's getting tied up

C: Cuddling - How do they cuddle?

she really likes when her lover lays their head on her stomach and she can play with their hair! that's her favorite, but she loves any kind of cuddles. it does take a lot for someone to get to that point with her though! honestly someone's more likely to get sex before cuddles lol

D: Dirty - How do they dirty talk?

she doesn't do a buuunch of dirty talk but when she does she likes to tell her lover that they're doing a good job, she likes a dirtier kind of dirty talk- a little rougher and less soft

E: Exposed - Riskiest place they've had sex?

one of veronica's favorite things is having kinda risky sex lol, so it's something she does often! the riskiest place was probably when her fwb brought her lunch at work, and they ended up in her squad car for part of the afternoon lol

F: Favorite - What do they find sexy?

tattoos, rough hands (she likes to be able to tell they're a hard worker because that's also sexy lol), and confidence!!!

G: Graceful - Weirdest position they've tried?

well again i wouldn't say it's weeeeird, but ronnie really likes the butterfly position, where her legs are up on someone's shoulders and they're really close to her

H: Hands - What do they do with their hands?

they're normally gripping the sheets, or playing with her partner

I: Imagination - What do they fantasize about?

veronica's main fantasy would be just getting pounded until she is officially destressed, that's all she wants lmao

J: Jazz - What's their go to sex song?

oooh hard one, she'd like something slow with a good beat in the background, like i wanna smoke by gangsta pat

K: Kink - What's their secret kink?

oooh hard to say.... i would say secretly she's a bit of a masochist, ronnie loves being slapped (lightly lol), spanked, ect. a little pain mixed with the pleasure amplifies it a lot for her!

L: Lingerie - What underwear do they like?

veronica doesn't wear a bunch of lingerie, her panties are normally plain cotton ones, sometimes with a pattern or something like that!

M: Moan - What do they sound like? What sounds do they like?

this bitch is LOUD!!!! v makes a lot of noise, and it's honestly hard for her to quiet down lmfao, she appreciates when her lover makes a decent amount of noise as well

N: Night - What time of day do they like to have sex?

morning sex is her favorite!!! the best way to start the day

O: Oral - Giving or receiving? Why?

both, no question... but mainly receiving lol she's kind of a pillow princess

P: Position - Favorite position and why?

hmmm hard to decide, ronnie's fave is probably from the side

Q: Quickie - How would they have a quickie?

she'd find somewhere a little secluded and quiet, and then go to pound town B)

R: Role Play - What's their role play fantasy?

veronica has ALWAYS wanted to roleplay as her deputy self and pretend to arrest her lover lolol

S: Sexy - How do they turn on their partner?

when she decides she wants to fuck, v kinda talks in a lower register, her bedroom voice so to speak lol. and she'll make plenty of innuendos, plus being very touchy

T: Trust - How do they have rough sex?

honestly she doesn't really ever have vanilla sex, rough is her fave and her usual!

U: Under - Who's in control and how?

veronica doesn't really enjoy domming, so really she likes her lover to be in charge! of course she always has a safeword or some kind of control still but the sense of being completely in someone else's control really turns her on

V: Voyeur - What do they like to watch?

okay this is a little kinky but, when ronnie is having public sex she likes to people watch lol

W: Wet - How do they do it in the shower?

v loves shower sex, and normally she does some form of standing sex while showering with someone, also she loves licking the water off her lover's body

X: X Rated - What kind of porn do they like?

she doesn't watch a lot of it- but gangbangs always get her going she likes those videos a lot!

Y: Yum - How do they use food during sex?

also not something she does often- but veronica wouldn't mind using some whipped cream on john and licking it off of him

Z: Zipper - How do they undress?

usually ronnie's in a hurry to disrobe and get down to business, so lots of pulling at her clothes and hungrily undressing

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Special Occasion

Sam x Rowena, 2750 words Summary: Sam loves all the pretty little sexy things his lover wears. When she hints that she might like him to take a turn in the lingerie, he plans a surprise for her.  (This story fits in the Celebrations AU) 

With all the thanks to @cracksinthewalls, @there-must-be-a-lock​ and @mskathywriteswords​. Longer AN at the end. 

*** It was late morning, or early afternoon, Sam never really kept track of time when he was with Rowena. He woke up slowly and rolled to face her. She still slept, her curls spilling over the satin of her pillowcase, a deep blue-green color that made her skin, even in sleep, seem to glow. He leaned over to kiss her softly, and without opening her eyes, she shook her head.  “Beauty sleep,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. It was an old joke between them, her insisting that at her age, beauty sleep was a must; and him replying that she could sleep all she wanted but she could never look more beautiful.  He trailed his lips warmly over her jawline to the shell of her ear, where he whispered, “What if I make you tea?” That got her to look at him, the sleepiest of glances, and the tiniest nod. He got out of bed, pulled on jeans, and padded out to the kitchen barefoot. Rowena had this electric tea kettle thing that turned out to be surprisingly handy for all the cups of tea she drank. The habit had grown on him, and this morning, he was preparing two cups of Five Roses. No sooner had he gotten out the teacups than he heard Rowena’s light footsteps. He turned around to see her yawning as she slipped into a chair at the table.  “What?” he teased as he placed her tea in front of her. “Do you think I need supervision to make a simple cup of tea?” She arched her brows over the rim of the cup as she lifted it and lazily blew on the steam rising from it. He took the moment to look at her. She had slipped into a light green robe with swirls on it. Paisleys, maybe, he thought, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have the words for half the things she wore. He didn’t have the words for her.

“Can I have a biscuit, my dear?” Her request interrupted his thoughts. 

Sam shook his head but obeyed. As he set the tin of shortbread down on the table, he asked her, “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?”

“As long as you’re here to give it to me,” she retorted. The glint in her green eyes, the saucy curve of her lips, hinted at much more than tea and biscuits. 

Instead of answering, he bent to kiss her. His hand skimmed over her shoulder and down her back to pull her closer. The green robe was sleek under his touch. It felt good, and he took a moment to enjoy the sensation of smooth fabric against his calloused palms. “I like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Rowena acted almost offended at his suggestion that she would wear the same thing twice. 

Sam was pretty sure her closet was part of some magic spell, because there was no way this apartment had room for half the beautiful things she wore, even if some of them were nothing more than bits of sheer cloth and lace. 

“Too bad I just have to take it off of you,” Sam teased as he folded to his knees in front of the chair where she was seated. 

“Oh do you?” She lowered her gaze and batted her lashes, putting on the tiniest pout. She was flirting hard, but he was such a sucker for it. She took a long drink from the teacup. 

“Maybe not yet,” he murmured as he pushed the hem up over her pale thighs, parting them with his fingers before pulling her forward. He trailed kisses up from her knee to her warm center, and when his lips finally pressed against her there, he heard the cup hit the saucer with a shaky ringing sound. 

*** Rowena forgot about everything when she had Sam between her legs like that. He was so good, knew her body so well. Sometimes he drew it out, teased her, made her beg. Not today. He seemed as eager to please her as she was to be pleasured. 

He drew a soft orgasm from her easily with nothing but his lips and tongue. It was her first of the day, but she knew it was far from the last. ***

Rowena was still trembling when Sam scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to bed, her body warm and yielding under the robe. 

“You know,” she said as she settled back against the pillows, eyes wide and sparkling, “It’s not only women who can wear beautiful things.” 

“Oh?” Sam grinned, trying to think of what she could be getting at. “Do you have a me-sized robe in that magic closet of yours? Want to dress me up in something short and shiny?”

“Please,” she whispered, but if she meant, “Please as if I would waste the space” or “Please I wish you would” he didn’t know. Maybe please was a response to the way he was rising up over her, pinning her wrists back with his hands, nudging her legs apart with one knee to open her up for him. 

In the close heat of her desire, Sam forgot all about the conversation. 

But he remembered later, when he went back home to the bunker. Thinking about the whole thing made him feel some confusing feelings. A little curiosity, more than a little embarrassment, but also, if he was honest, kinda turned on. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. So one day when he had his laptop open, he started searching.

He had picked out lingerie for Rowena before, so he started on those sites, but it was very obvious very quickly that nothing there would fit him.

Then he typed in “lingerie for men.” For the most part, it was a series of very brief underpants, many of them paired with a collar or cuffs that were somehow supposed to indicate a character. He browsed with an increasing sense of confusion, wondering if Rowena wanted him to look like a cowboy or a Chippendale’s dancer. 

“Whoa there.” Dean’s voice startled him and he slammed the laptop shut. “When you said you were doing research I didn’t think --”

Sam leapt to his feet and turned to face his brother. He could feel himself blushing, but he may as well be honest. “It’s not what you think.”

“Look, dude, some of those guys are good looking. I get it.” 

Sam tried to nod and shake his head at once, and ended up just heaving out a big sigh. “It’s not that. It’s Rowena.” 

“Oh I should’ve known, that kinky little witch!” Dean laughed, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. “Wait. Do you really think she wants you to look like a Halloween store Village People?” 

Sam smacked his brother across the back affectionately. “Some help you are.”

Dean calmed down at that. He put one hand on Sam’s arm. “Think of what the lady wears. Slinky things, lace, garter stockings, right? That’s what she likes.” 

Before Sam could ask how Dean was so sure Rowena wore a garter belt, he was gone. Maybe it was obvious, or maybe it was that one case where she had hidden a cursed dagger in the band of her stockings. 

He waited, looking over his shoulder as he opened the laptop, and carefully typed in, “garter belt for men.” Ohhhh. Maybe it was because of how strongly he associated them with Rowena. Maybe it was because they were at once more serious and more soft than the silly outfits he found first. For whatever reason, he liked these more. They looked sexy. 

Sam ordered a bunch of things, not the incredibly complicated things that were mostly straps, or the leather things. He didn’t think he was ready for that. But he got a garter belt, and a couple of pairs of stockings. He got a few different panties, because how was he supposed to know if he liked briefs or bikinis? He ordered it all in black, because that was foolproof. 

He didn’t think he should be barefoot for this look, but he was also pretty sure he couldn't walk in heels. Instead he bought a pair of low heeled men’s dress boots, reasoning that he could always wear them when he was pretending to be the FBI. 

He remembered how much he liked the feel of Rowena’s robe under his fingers, so he got himself a short robe too. And with that, he gave himself an out -- if she hated this look, if he felt too silly, he could just put on the robe until he could escape to the bathroom and take it all off. 

Sam waited with nervous excitement until the packages arrived, and then he tried on his new things. He tore the first pair of stockings he tried on, and then a quick internet search informed him that he had to roll them up from the toes. He thought about shaving, but ultimately decided against it. He was already putting in a lot of work to look good. 

He hadn’t much thought about looking good before, or putting effort into appearing sexy. Clothes for him had always been a necessity, something he bought cheaply and used until they wore out. What he liked hadn’t ever mattered much. And buying something this impractical? It was an entirely new experience. Even the robe was more revealing and indulgent than anything he had ever owned. 

But he did want to do what Rowena asked, loved the idea of giving her a happy surprise. So he texted her. When can I come see you again?

Friday. I’ll be out until dinner but you have the key.

Perfect.

He arranged for a late dinner to be delivered and got there early, giving himself plenty of time to get dressed. Belt and stockings, boots, a pair of satin panties trimmed with lace. He wrapped the robe over top, tying it shut at his waist while he waited. 

He found himself pacing the floor, listening to the strike of his heels. He kept the lights off but lit all the candles scattered around the room. He hoped he wasn't wrong. He hoped this was what Rowena wanted. He had paused for a moment to look out the window, trying to calm his racing heart, when the door opened. 

"Samuel?” He heard the surprise in her familiar lilting tone. 

*** Rowena knew Sam was there, sensed he was up to something. But never in all her three hundreds years had she thought she would see him all dressed up in bits of lace. 

“Ohhhhh,” she sighed softly. 

Even in her favorite fantasies, nothing she had imagined had prepared her for the way Sam looked. When he stepped away from her window, broad shoulders backlit by the city below, there was the slightest sway to his walk, a little sass she had never seen before.

When she untied his robe, felt the cool silk brush against his warm skin, and saw what he was wearing underneath -- it was all she could do not to fall to her knees in front of him right there. He had the longest legs she had ever seen, and yet the stockings fit perfectly, hugging the shape of his calves and his sculpted thighs. 

That broad expanse of bare skin, so warm and golden, framed in the skimpiest bits of black satin -- the contrast of his strength with the delicacy of the lace -- he looked like a god, and he was hers, all hers to worship. 

She wasn’t sure who moved first, him or her, just that suddenly she was in his arms, pressed up against the length of his body as he bent to kiss her, dark hair brushing her face before his lips ever met hers. She had always loved his height compared to hers, the way he could loom over her if he wanted, and his heeled boots only emphasized it. She slipped her fingers around his waist, enjoying the texture of fabric under her touch, and under it, the curve of his perfect ass. 

***

Rowena held out her hand and Sam took it, lacing his fingers in with hers and allowing her to lead him to the bedroom. She flicked on the bedside lamps to get a better view. Sam tried to stand in an attractive way but he had no idea how. As her gaze took him in from head to toe, he grew self conscious. 

"I'll bet I look pretty silly,” he said. 

***

“Silly, never. Pretty --” 

Pretty didn’t even begin to touch it. Beautiful, maybe, the way a piece of art was beautiful, an astounding specimen of the human form. She looked him over from head to toe. He tried to pose, the mighty hunter suddenly awkward, but she could see how he was trying, how every much he wanted her to like this, and it made him all the more endearing. 

When her gaze settled on his face, she saw hesitancy, as if he was afraid to disappoint her, but not a shred of shame. In fact, he looked almost proud, an impossibly delicious smirk curling his lips and pushing dimples into his sculpted cheeks. 

But there was more to it. Sam was so dead earnest, nothing silly or joking about him, only a burning desire to please. Even through his shyness, she could tell, he was also faintly aware that he looked amazing. He knew the effect he was having on her, was getting turned on by feeling desirable, and his kaleidoscope eyes sparkled with delight. 

***

Rowena laid her hand on Sam’s chest. He obeyed her slighted touch, settling on the edge of the bed. Then he drew her in close to stand between his knees, a familiar position that put their faces at the same height. 

“You like this?” he asked. The look she gave him, all sizzling desire, would’ve been answer enough. Her eyes and hands roamed his body before she finally spoke. 

"You have no idea,” she said, closing her sweet mouth over his for a passionate open mouthed kiss. She trailed her fingers slowly up his thighs, over the seams of his stockings, treating him to the most delicious friction as the delicate netting tugged and shifted over his legs.

"I had no idea,” he gasped. “Feels good, so good --"

But before he could finish the thought, she folded to the floor in front of him.  Her touch trailed under the bands of his stockings, sharp nails brushing his skin. She wound the straps of his garter belt around her fingers and twisted. He felt the close tugging friction all the way around his hips. 

Leaning forward, she closed her lips over him through the satin and lace of his panties. It was the most amazing feeling, damp and close but still muted by the silky fabric. All other words deserted him except for her name.

"Rowena." He sighed. "What --"

"Just enjoy this," she purred before her lips closed around him again. Her hands slipped around his waist and into the back of his panties to cup his ass. When she spoke again, she murmured the words against his skin. "Such a good boy, doing whatever I ask."

She pleasured him until he was breathing hard, until his fingers tangled in her long red curls, until he could no longer hold back a ragged moan. Then she pulled away, standing up to strip down to her own intricate lingerie. 

She tied his hands up with the sash from his robe before settling astride him. He tolerated that just long enough for her to get off, and then turned the tables with the sash around her shoulders, holding her close. The two of them reveled in each other's bodies and all the sensations of lace and silk. Over and over, orgasm after orgasm, curses and cries and laughter all mingled together. 

When they were finally sated, both of them long since bare before one another, Sam turned towards Rowena. She was already facing him in bed, freckled skin flushed, curls tousled and clinging around her face. 

“I always knew you liked the garter belt and stockings.” 

She just raised her brows and batted her lashes slowly. “I think you like them too.” 

He cupped her face in one broad hand and she met his kiss-bitten lips with her own, one more time. 

“Maybe.” He winked broadly. “But only for special occasions.”  *** AN: this started in a writing chat when I asked, “How many times is too many times for one character to wear a garter belt and stockings?” @cracksinthewalls answered: “Rowena wears them every day, but Sam, only on special occasions.  @there-must-be-a-lock wrote a head canon on this that also involved a certain angel.  Pictures were exchanged (purely for scientific purposes, of course) and now ... here we are. @cracksinthewalls and @mskathywriteswords​ provided the prereads. It’s a little different for me but I hope you enjoy! 

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho​​ @dawnie1988​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @defenderrosetyler​​ @divadinag​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @idreamofplaid​​ @kalesrebellion​​ @kickingitwithkirk​​ @maddiepants​​ @magssteenkamp​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​   @there-must-be-a-lock​​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @tloveswriting​​

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia​ @sammit-janet​ @lovealways-j

Rowena My Queen: @delightfullykrispypeach​​ @lilsylvia​​ @pansexualdarling​​ @songofthecagedmoose​​

[chocolatequeennk]

Let it Snow, 1/5

A winter adventure takes a turn when the Doctor and Rose are snowed in together in a remote cabin in the woods.

Ten x Rose, set just after New Earth

This is for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas. Day 1: Snowed In

AO3 | FF.NET

Chapter 1: Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful

The Doctor cast Rose surreptitious glances as he slowly circled the console, tapping dials as he went. He didn’t see any obvious signs that Lady Cassandra’s possession was still bothering her, but still… He didn’t want to throw them into danger just yet.

Rose hopped up on the jump seat and swung her feet. “Where are we going today?”

“Your choice,” he said. “Where would you like to go? We could go to a concert or watch the moon landing, or there’s a famous market on an asteroid… Anywhere you want, Rose Tyler.”

Rose arched an eyebrow, and he tugged on his ear in response. Of course she knew something was up, but he didn’t have to tell her what it was.

She rolled her eyes, then tilted her head back against the seat back. “Anywhere I want?” she repeated, testing him.

“Absolutely anywhere,” he promised.

“What if I want to tour the most famous pear orchard in the galaxy?”

He flinched, then nodded gamely. “Anywhere,” he promised. Just please don’t choose that.

Rose giggled, almost as if she’d heard that thought. “Nah, I won’t do that to you,” she promised. She tapped her finger against her chin, and a little wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.

Finally, when the Doctor thought he was going to burst from impatience, she grinned. “Could we go someplace with snow?” she requested. “Actual, proper snow—not ash.”

The Doctor rocked back on his heels and pressed his tongue against his teeth. “Snow isn’t much of an adventure,” he mused. “Unless…” He bounced on his toes and grinned at Rose. “How about a full-fledged winter holiday, just like you see in the movies?”

Rose’s answering grin sent a spark of electricity through the Doctor. “You mean, a cabin in the woods where we sit in front of a fireplace and watch snowflakes float lazily from the sky? And having snowball fights and building snowmen and going ice skating?”

“Oh yes!” the Doctor crowed.

“Sounds perfect,” Rose agreed.

She hopped up on the jump seat and watched the Doctor dance around the console, spinning dials and sliding levers into place. This Doctor was still so new, but he was also still so familiar.

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Just you wait—this will be the best winter holiday you’ve ever had, Rose Tyler.”

Rose shivered when he said her name. His new voice just… wrapped around the long o in a way that she felt down to her toes.

She fought back the urge to snog him. “Well that won’t be very hard,” she drawled. “Seeing how I’ve never had a winter holiday.”

The Doctor gasped. “Never? Well then, prepare to have all your fantasies fulfilled.”

It just wasn’t fair of him to say things like that, Rose mused. And especially not when he added that saucy grin and a teasing wink.

He’s an alien, remember, she reminded herself. Maybe he doesn’t even realise what he’s saying.

Still… She remembered a dance in a hospital and a different voice insisting that he was actually a man.

“You should go change,” the Doctor said, breaking into her musings. “And I imagine the TARDIS will have a suitcase waiting for you, too.”

The ship hummed, and Rose patted the nearest strut. Thanks, old girl, she told the ship as she walked back to her room.

Twenty minutes later, they were walking hand in hand through fairy tale streets. “And Librell is one of the best places in the galaxy to experience that Hollywood winter,” the Doctor rambled. “Beautifully stable climate, and a travel industry centred around snow festivals and etc.”

“So where are we going?” Rose asked. She turned a circle, looking at the marketplace in front of her. “I mean, we’re in the middle of a town, and that’s not exactly the image I had in mind.”

The Doctor tutted. “Oh ye of little faith,” he chided. “While you were getting dressed, I reserved the stereotypical snug cottage deep in the woods. But to get us there…” He nodded in the direction of the end of the street.

Rose turned around and gasped. A sled was waiting for them, with a horse hitched and ready to go.

“The full holiday experience,” the Doctor said smugly.

Rose was too amazed to talk as they got into the sled. The Doctor wrapped a blanket around their legs, and then the driver snapped the reins and they took off.

“How far out of town is the cabin?” she asked the Doctor.

“About ten kilometres,” the driver said. Rose looked up at him, a short man wearing a knit cap pulled low over his ears. “It’ll take us a good few hours to get there, so get comfortable.” He passed a jug over his shoulder. “This will keep you warm.”

Rose opened the flagon and inhaled the warm scent of spiced wine. “Oh, lovely,” she sighed. She took a sip and then snuggled down into the blankets to enjoy the ride.

The wind whipped at her face as they drove, and Rose’s cheeks and nose were frosty before the end of the first hour. She drank more of the wine and then tugged her scarf up until only her eyes were uncovered.

After two hours, she started actively looking for their cottage. Finally, she thought she spotted a tendril of smoke lifting up into the sky, and she held her hand up over her eyes to block the glare of the sun.

The road took a wide bend around a hill, and when they came to the other side, Rose saw a small cottage nestled back into the trees. “Is that it?” she asked, standing up halfway to get a better view.

“Yep!” The driver turned off the main road onto the lane. “Our best house. The kitchen is fully stocked, and my partner came out earlier to start a fire.”

Rose spotted the large front windows and hummed. “Perfect for watching the snow fall,” she told the Doctor.

The sled pulled up in front of the door, and she and the Doctor got out. The driver opened the door and handed the key over to the Doctor. “I’ll be back in a week to pick you up. If you run into any emergencies, there’s a phone in the kitchen. My number is taped to the wall next to it.”

The Doctor shouldered his way into the cabin and set their bag down just inside the door. “Thank you!” he told the driver, a wide grin stretched across his face. “I can’t imagine we’ll need to call for anything. We are here for an adventure after all, right Rose?”

Rose laughed. “That’s right,” she agreed. “The full winter experience.”

The driver raised an eyebrow. “All right then,” he said, walking back to the sled. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Rose waved at him, then followed the Doctor into the cabin. He stood in the middle of the small living room and waved at the cosy space. “Well, what do you think?”

Before looking around, she took off her hat, scarf, and gloves and set them on the kitchen table. Then she turned and took in the living room.

The Doctor pointed at the large stone fireplace on the opposite wall. “Imagine the crackling fire, maybe roasting some marshmallows while we watch the snow fall.”

Rose swallowed. That sounded a bit… romantic. Actually. Now that she thought about it, the whole winter holiday idea sounded a bit romantic. And the fact that the only seating in the room was a cosy love seat certainly didn’t make it any less romantic.

Oh bloody hell Rose Tyler, what have you done?

The Doctor was watching her hopefully, and she shoved aside her momentary panic. “It’s exactly what I pictured,” she told him. “And look at that television! I bet we can get By the Light of the Asteroid!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You are obsessed with that soap.”

“Well it was you that introduced me to it, so you only have yourself to blame!” she retorted.

The Doctor made a happy sound in the back of his throat, and it took Rose a moment to realise what she’d just said. It had been him—but it had been the old him, the one in leather.

“Well it was,” she grumbled, giving him a smile.

“Yes, yes it was.” He bounced on his toes and then pointed at the closed door. “Let’s see what we have in here.”

Rose reached the door first and pushed it open. The bedroom was just as cosy as the living room—and just as much meant for two people. She stared at the plush queen bed in the middle of the room.

“What is it?” the Doctor said. She felt him lean through the door and look over her shoulder.

Rose could almost hear him blink as he processed what he was looking at.

“Ah. There’s only one bed. And… I doubt there’s a second bedroom.”

She felt his arm shift and knew he was tugging at his ear. It surprised her to realise she knew so many of his tells already. This new Doctor was quickly becoming just… the Doctor, one she knew and… and cared about just as much as she had her old Doctor.

“There’s not a second bedroom because…”

She turned around and looked at the Doctor.

“Because I told the app I was looking for a house for two.”

Rose had to laugh at the sheepish look on his face. “And it didn’t occur to you that if you said you wanted a holiday house for two, the program would assume you meant a couple?” she guessed.

“Well I’ve never been part of a couple,” he retorted.

The way he said it made her breath catch in her throat for a second, but Rose forced herself to relax. He wasn’t saying he was part of a couple now—just that his lack of experience led to this particular thing.

His next words proved it. “Anyway, I don’t really sleep,” he said. “I can just sit in the living room and read all night, while you sleep the day away.”

Rose stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be able to say there’s no night on a time machine when we are actually on a planet,” she reminded him.

The Doctor swallowed a sigh. Rose wasn’t arguing with his offer to sleep on the love seat, and he was honestly a little disappointed. Not that… not that he’d done this on purpose, or even was certain he wanted to share a bed with her. Well, he knew he wanted to share a bed with her, he just wasn’t sure it was wise.

But regardless of desire or wisdom on his part, it would have been nice to see a little bit of interest on her face. He shook his head and quickly carried out the rest of the tour. He was eager to dispel some of the awkwardness, and he knew exactly how to do that.

As soon as they saw the kitchen, dining room, and the loo, he grabbed Rose’s hand and dragged her towards the door. “Come on!” he said.

Rose resisted, just a little. “Let me put my things back on,” she said. She grabbed her hat, gloves, and scarf from the table and quickly pulled them all on. “There, I’m ready. Let’s go have this winter adventure.”

The Doctor beamed at her, then ran out the door. “The first order of business is a snowman contest,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Like, we each build a snowman and the best one wins?” Rose asked.

The Doctor bounced slightly and nodded his head, and Rose started laughing. “And who is going to judge this contest, when we’re the only ones here?”

The Doctor sniffed. “I’ll have you know I can be a very impartial judge when the situation calls for it,” he said.

Rose shook her head, but she bent down and started packing snow together. “Yeah, all right,” she agreed. “It’ll be fun, even if the contest does end in a draw.”

“You know you’re admitting that you would be a biased judge,” the Doctor informed her. He squatted down in the snow facing the opposite direction and started working.

“At least I’m being honest,” she retorted.

He didn’t really have an answer for that, so he focused on his work. This had to be the absolute best snowman ever built, so that even Rose would have to vote for it.

He rolled snow into a single, giant ball. From there, his work little resembled building a snowman. He spent more time carving out snow and packing some onto other spots than he did rolling balls and using sticks to create limbs. Finally, he stepped back and nodded, satisfied with his creation.

“Are you done over here?” Rose asked. “Ooh, you made a snow Boe,” she said, immediately recognising the alien they’d met twice now.

“Yep!”

The Doctor brushed some excess snow off the front of the ‘glass.’ “What did you make?”

Rose bit her lip. “I… well, come see.”

He turned around and walked with her to her snow creation. The gasp, followed by a stunned silence, were all she needed.

“A snow TARDIS?” he said. “We said snowman, though. Or snow person.”

He sounded a little choked up, but when Rose looked at him, his eyes were dry.

She reached out and touched the door. “Well… she is a person, isn’t she? Maybe not quite like you or me, but she’s so real. I love it when she talks to me.”

The Doctor blinked and stared at her. “When she… You can understand her?” he demanded.

Rose nodded. “Yeah… I have ever since…”

She let the sentence dangle, but they both knew how it ended. At least, they both knew part of the story. Rose pursed her lips when she remembered that he still hadn’t told her the full story of what had happened on the Game Station. The last thing she remembered was staring into the TARDIS console and seeing a stream of gold light float around her. Then she woke up on the grating and he was dying.

The Doctor swallowed hard. Rose had not been telepathic before Bad Wolf. He was almost certain of it. Part of him wanted to call up the driver and ask to be taken home immediately so he could run tests on her. If Bad Wolf had changed that part of her, who knew what else had happened.

But this was a holiday, he reminded himself. And really, the TARDIS did talk, so why was it so shocking and distressing that Rose could understand her?

He shook his head. “We’ll come back to that later,” he said, more to himself than to her. “But for now…”

He looked at his giant face made out of snow and then back at Rose’s snow TARDIS. Truthfully, his creation was more intricate. But Rose’s… Rose’s was more meaningful.

“You win.”

oOoOo

The light was already fading when Rose spotted the first snowflake. “Oh, brilliant.” She stuck her tongue out and caught it.

“What’s so brilliant about it?” the Doctor asked. “By which I mean, you’ve been playing in the snow for all day. I’d think the novelty would have worn off by now.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’ve been playing in the snow,” she said, gesturing at the trampled snow. “And there’s not much left to play in, because we’ve either built snowmen or made snowballs or just stomped it down with our boots. This is fresh snow, Doctor.”

He leaned back and looked at the sky. “And lots of it,” he observed. Snow was falling steadily now. “Come on, let’s go inside and watch this through the window. Wasn’t that one of the things you wanted? Sitting next to a fireplace and watching the snow fall?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Ten minutes later, they were sitting cosily on the love seat, cocoa in hand. Not for the first time, Rose cursed the owners of this cabin. Only one bed, only a love seat… Sure it was a tiny cabin, but that didn’t mean that it would always be rented by a couple. Sitting here with her shoulder brushing against the Doctor’s every time either of them moved their arm made it hard to… it just made it hard.

She shifted her cocoa to her left hand so she wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid, like rest it on his knee. The quiet was giving her brain too much time to think and worry, so she cast about for something to talk about.

She found it, resting on the coffee table in front of them. “You have penguin socks,” she said, staring at the bright blue socks with a dancing penguins pattern.

The Doctor wiggled his toes. “Yep! It’s fun to be thematically appropriate.” He looked at her seriously. “You should always match your socks to your day.”

Rose shook her head. “You’re barmy.”

“I am not!” He pointed at her feet. “Look, you’ve got on thick, fuzzy socks. Perfect for lounging around in a cosy cabin during a snow storm.”

“Yeaaaaah…” Rose drawled. “They’re perfect for the weather, not for the theme of the day.”

The Doctor sniffed. “I’d argue that there’s not much of a difference at the moment.”

Rose tilted her head, silently acknowledging his point. The teasing had relieved some of the tension, and they settled back into quiet, watching the big, fluffy snowflakes fall past the window.

The snow didn’t stop all evening. In fact, it just kept coming harder and harder as they made dinner and settled back in the living room to watch reruns of By the Light of the Asteroid.

Rose went to bed earlier than she normally would, a little tired from all the physical exertion earlier in the day. She normally had a hard time falling asleep without the hum of the TARDIS surrounding her, but the stillness of the snowfall seemed to quiet her mind just as well.

A harsh whistling woke her up some time later. She lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to place the sound. Finally, curiosity drove her to get up, leaving behind the soft, cosy covers to investigate.

The air was chillier than it had been, and she pulled on the thick dressing gown she’d brought before leaving her room. The faint glow of firelight told her the Doctor was still awake, though she hadn’t really expected him to sleep on that love seat.

The sound accompanied her into the living room, and she understood it as soon as she joined the Doctor by the window. What had been soft snowfall had turned into a sheet of white swirling around the house.

“Bit of a storm,” he said.

Rose rolled her eyes. “It’s a blizzard, Doctor. A proper blizzard.”

The Doctor tugged on his ear. “Well… I suppose.”

They stared out at the literal white-out conditions for a few more minutes, and then he said, “This changes our perfect winter holiday a bit. We certainly aren’t going out in that.”

Rose snorted. “Definitely not. I don’t fancy getting lost in the snow and dying of hypothermia. That was not part of those holiday movies we talked about.”

To her surprise, the Doctor spun around, a wide smile on his face. “But don’t worry,” he said. “I have a plan for this.”

Despite the smile, Rose saw the uncertainty in his eyes. She slid her arm around his waist and gave him a half-hug. “I know—” A yawn interrupted her sentence. “I know you do,” she said.

The Doctor returned Rose’s half-hug, hoping she felt his gratitude in the gesture. Rose always rolled with the unpredictability of their life, so he’d known she wouldn’t be upset. But the level of trust she gave him would always humble him.

She yawned again, and he chuckled and gently nudged her towards the bedroom. “Go back to bed. I’ll have everything ready in the morning.” He watched her shuffle down the hallway before turning back the window.

A feeling of inevitability swirled around him just as much as the snow swirled around the house. When he’d suggested a winter adventure, he hadn’t anticipated a blizzard. Now instead of enjoying all kinds of outdoor winter fun, he and Rose would be snowed in together.

It’s like something out of a Hallmark movie. The Doctor raked his hand through his hair. The hero and heroine end up at a remote cabin in the woods, and then the snow begins to fall…

He swallowed hard. He remembered what usually came next in those movies. The forced proximity created intimacy which led to… feelings rising to the surface.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t have… feelings. He had given a regeneration for her, and his feelings for her had shaped the man he became.

But he didn’t know… He glanced down the hallway towards the bedroom. He was pretty sure Rose had had feelings for his past self. He hadn’t yet sussed out how she felt about this him. Did she know this new, new Doctor was still the old Doctor who… had feelings?

She had asked him to change back. Every time he thought about making a move, he remembered the painful blow of that rejection and changed course. He wanted some kind of sign that she wanted this him before he made any overtures.

“Still,” he muttered, keeping his voice low to not wake Rose up, “the universe has dropped us into the middle of a soppy romance. Maybe that’s the sign I need.”

And with the storm howling outside, the Doctor sat down and plotted the perfect snowed-in day.

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, The Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 2)

Summary: The adventure gets underway.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: None so far

Word Count: 2235

Read on AO3: here

Patton's eyes were huge. “The Narnia? With the talking animals and wholesome religious subtext?”

“That's the place,” said Roman. “I mean...I dialed back a little on the religious subtext, since that can be kind of a touchy subject. But Patton, there will be as many talking animals as you want.”

“So how is this going to work?” asked Virgil. “We're the main characters? Will you tell us what to do next?”

“I won't have to!” said Roman. “It's literally just the plot of the first book. All we have to do is go through the major story beats! We'll pick things up at the point where all four Pevensies go through the wardrobe together and meet up with the Beavers, and—”

“Whoa, slow down, Pagemaster. I hate to bust your bubble, but I don't actually remember much about the story.”

“Nor I,” said Logan. “It has been quite some time since Thomas either read the book or watched any of the film adaptations, and in the interim I have grown...” He trailed off, blinking, and then pulled a thin stack of index cards out of his jeans pocket and thumbed through them until he found the one he wanted. “...'fuzzy' on the details.”

“You needed a vocab card for 'fuzzy?'” asked Roman. “Never mind. Don't worry about not being fully up to speed—it's a pretty simple adventure story, and Patton and I can give—”

“Actually...” Patton said, sheepishly raising his hand like a schoolchild, “...I don't really remember much about the story either. I always get distracted by the talking animals and wholesome religious subtext.”

Roman stuck his tongue into his cheek for a moment, considering. Then he brightened. “Even better! This way I'll be able to surprise all three of you! And who knows—maybe it will all come back to you as we go along. So is everyone ready?”

They affirmed that they were.

“Oh. One more thing, before we go in. Stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own. You might find yourself having...odd impulses, ideas that you're not used to. That's the story, trying to nudge you in a particular direction. It's best to just go along with it. Remember that it's a story for kids, there will be a happy ending, and we're all friends.”

Virgil's eyes widened and he took a breath to speak, but Patton cut in: “I trust you, Roman.” Virgil let out the breath and bit back his protest.

Roman smiled. “Follow me, everyone. And try not to be too alarmed by anything we might encounter...”

They stepped into the wardrobe. Almost at once, a chilly breeze, tasting of snow and pine, fluttered past them and swirled around to tug the doors closed. “Don't worry, that was supposed to happen,” Roman said in a breathless half-whisper. “Head toward the light.” And indeed, as their eyes adjusted to the darkened, fur-lined interior of the wardrobe, they became able to perceive a cool light in the distance, opposite where they had entered. They went for it, pushing and stumbling through the rows of coats, gasping with startled...delight?...when the soft fur gave way to prickly conifer branches, and snow crunched underfoot, and finally blinking in the soft glow of a forest in deep winter.

Roman had gone all out. It was a world of white and blue-gray, the snow caked so thickly that only here and there was a hint of brown bark or green needle visible, and even these colors were muted. The only sounds, apart from the ones the Sides had brought with them, were the soughing of the breeze and the occasional patter of ice crystals from a distant tree branch. And it was cold—so much so that the first thing any of them did, apart from stare agape at the frozen landscape, was Virgil retreating a few yards into the grove they had emerged from and returning with four of the fur coats. He kept one and handed the rest to Patton for distribution.

“See, Virgil?” Roman said, his voice sounding oddly hollow as the snow and wind swallowed it. “You're getting the hang of this story already.”

“Less talk, more...whatever you have planned,” Virgil said, wrapping himself in black rabbit. “Let's get going before we all freeze our...toes off.”

“Hold up...where's Logan?” asked Patton.

“Over here,” came Logan's calm voice from a couple dozen yards away. He was starkly visible as a dark spot against the snow, standing perfectly motionless, huddled into himself and shivering slightly as he stared at the thing that had prompted him to drift away from the group.

“I remember this now,” he said as the others approached. “Come to think of it, it may be part of why I retained so little about the book in the first place. I mean...it's patently ridiculous. What fuels it? There are no gas lines in a wild forest.”

“If you must know...friendly spite,” said Roman.

“That warrants a fuller explanation,” said Logan, accepting a coat from Patton.

“Well,” Roman said, waving the group along, “C.S. Lewis, the author, was great friends with the almighty J.R.R. Tolkien, who told him in rather absolutist terms that you couldn't write about a fantasy world and put a lamppost in it. To which Lewis replied—I'm paraphrasing here—'Oh yeah, homes? Watch me'—and created this delightful world of Narnia, with that lamppost as a signature feature. True story. If nothing else, you have to admire his saucy rebel spirit.”

“I fail to see how that translates into a viable, inexhaustible fuel supply.”

“Aw, Logan!” Patton chirped. “It's a magic lamp in a magic forest! That's all it needs to glow forever!”

“See? Patton gets it!”

“Ease up a little on the noise, guys,” said Virgil. “Anything could be stalking us in this place. Roman, where are we even going?”

“It's not so much where we're going as what we're going to encounter. I condensed this part of the story somewhat and—”

“SHH!” Virgil hissed emphatically, pulling up short and throwing his arms out to the sides to stop the others as well. “I heard something in the bushes,” he muttered. “I told you we were being followed. Nobody move until we know what we're dealing with.”

There came a short whistling sound from a patch of shubbery, and a low, dark shape darted out, heading away from them through the brush, muttering in an almost human fashion as it went. Patton's eyes grew enormous. “Talking animal!” he cooed, and immediately gave chase. “Wait up, critter! We won't hurt you!”

“Patton, no!” Virgil called. He spun about and thrust a finger in Roman's face, eyes glittering with barely suppressed fury. “If anything happens to him, I will end you.” Then he followed, vaulting over low-growing bushes, somehow not slipping in the snow.

“I didn't make Patton run off,” Roman grumbled as he and Logan brought up the rear.

“Was this part of your plan?” asked Logan.

“The animal, yes, Patton's impulsiveness, no. Virgil's hostility...definitely no. This is supposed to be a fun excursion!”

“I am afraid I have no advice for you.”

They caught up to find Patton inching around and poking at a dense thicket, Virgil staying close but not interfering. “It's in here somewhere,” Patton said as a repeat of the whistle from earlier confirmed his claim, “but I can't find a spot for us to get through.”

“I keep telling him this is a bad idea,” Virgil said.

“Virgil, it's fine,” said Roman. “This is how the story is supposed to go. That's our guide in there.”

“You said these stories could, and I quote, 'take on a life of their own.' How do you know—”

“Aha!” Patton exclaimed with a touch of giggle. “Here we go!” He pulled aside a swath of branches, making an opening easily big enough for them to pass through if they stooped.

It was spacious inside the thicket, with a “roof” of branches low enough that a few twigs brushed the Sides' heads, and a “floor” of earth and dead leaves—the tangle overhead was thick enough to keep out the snow, which meant it also kept out most of the daylight. They could barely make out the form of the creature that had led them there, seeing only that it was stout and dark-furred, with a hunched posture and beady eyes that twinkled in the meager light.

“Aw, it's a beaver!” Patton said. “Heeeere, beaver, beaver, beaver!”

“Hush!” the beaver said, bounding across the space. “I brought you here for secrecy's sake, but if you start shouting you'll attract the wrong sort of attention anyway.”

“See, guys?” said Virgil. “We need to be more careful.”

“How are you able to speak?” asked Logan, bemused. “You appear to have completely normal morphology for a member of genus Castor. Your vocal tract should not be capable of forming such complex sounds, to say nothing of your brain structure.”

“Logan, you're doing it again,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth.

Mr. Beaver, for his part, ignored the nosy questions in favor of counting the Sides. “Four,” he said with deep satisfaction. “Four Sons of Adam. At last. Narnia has been waiting for you for a long time. I have so much to tell you...but not here. There's only so much privacy we can manage out-of-doors. Her spies are everywhere.”

“Her who?” Virgil said with a hint of a growl.

“Who else?” replied Mr. Beaver. He beckoned them all to lean in close, which in the Sides' case meant leaning over quite a bit. “The White Witch.”

“Oohhh yeeaahhh, I remember now,” said Patton. “She is one scary lady.”

“Understatement of the year,” Roman muttered.

“The White Witch has kept Narnia in thrall for a hundred years,” the beaver continued, “but now that you four have come, we shall finally see the end of her wicked reign. It has been prophesied.”

“Hang on, hang on,” said Virgil. “Is that the thing where four humans show up, kick the White Witch to the curb, and all settle down as kings of Narnia? Guys…are we actually down for that? I mean, I know Roman is, but…”

“If it’s part of the story, then I say we go for it,” Patton stated firmly.

“We did agree to follow through with the adventure,” said Logan.

“There is much to tell you,” said Mr. Beaver, as if the interruption hadn’t occurred, “but not here. I’ll take you to my place and fill you in on all the details. Now let’s hurry…it’ll be dark soon and you do not want to be caught in these woods after dark.”

They left the shelter of the thicket, and although the sky was overcast, it was indeed evident that the daylight was waning. The trip to the Beavers’ house was undertaken in near-silence, which gave Roman plenty of time to take stock of how the adventure was progressing.

His first thought was that it was going really well, actually. His fellow Sides were settling into their roles as fantasy protagonists, plus or minus a little snark (which was only to be expected). The scenery looked great, Mr. Beaver was following the loose “script” Roman had assigned him without any need for corrective nudging, and the adventure was shaping up just how he had imagined it.

As he thought more about the other Sides' reactions, he realized that they were even taking on rough approximations of the roles of the Pevensie children. Patton accepted everything with wide-eyed wonder, just like Lucy. Logan was being typically skeptical and sensible, much like Susan. And Virgil, in his drive to protect them all from danger, was acting almost like an eldest brother, a la Peter. That just left...

Roman stopped dead in his tracks as a chill that had nothing to do with the snow shot up and down his spine and forked down all his limbs.

I thought I was your hero...

Stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own...

He forced his legs to start working again before the rest of the party could notice anything was wrong, and pulled up the hood on his silver mink coat in order to hide the expression of dread that he could feel forming (and to potentially play it off as a sudden bout of chill if anyone did notice).

Anyway, he was destined to be far colder before the night was over.

He should have known. How could he have overlooked something so simple?

On their final approach to the Beavers' house, Roman turned his eyes northward, toward the twin hills where the story obviously wanted him to go. Could he already spot a hint of an icy spire?

He barely tasted the trout dinner the Beavers served the four of them, barely heard the conversation that ensued. He already knew how it went, after all. His only role in all of it was to duck out early (quack?) and take the relevant news to their enemy.

He had only wanted to be the hero, but someone had to be the villain, and the story had picked Roman. How could he refuse?

[corasbunker]

Emotions

Jack Kline x Female!Reader

Warnings: a gross fact about people, fluff.

Words: 1,281

Note: Any feedback is very much appreciated. I’m new at this!

You held your warm tea mug against your chest as you crossed over the threshold, and into your room. The moment your toes touched the crunchy carpet, your eyes spotted a familiar mop of blonde stands bouncing on top of your bed. You smiled as you watched Jack flip though the book you had left at the edge of your bed.

Jack had developed quite a thirst for reading since he had been hanging out with you more often. He loved anything science fiction or fantasy, but also enjoyed a saucy teen novel every once in a while. He usually had questions after finishing one of your recommendations, but he was always willing to give anything a try.

“Are you enjoying the oh-so-thrilling pages of my old Biology textbook?” you teased as you lowered yourself onto the side of your bed. Jack peered up at you and smiled.

“Anatomy is very interesting, actually. Did you know that the average person sheds about fifty pounds of skin in their life time?” Jack’s sparking blue eyes peered over at you in pure awe.

Now you remember why you switched majors.

“Yeah, I remember reading something like that. The human body can do some crazy things.” You scrunched your nose as you tried to focus less on dead skin, and more on your lavender black tea.

Jack nodded, then flipped the page. “And the fact that we are capable of such extreme emotions is incredible. He can feel hatred, happiness, love. It’s amazing that a being could be capable of all of that.” He flipped another page. “Humans are so interesting.” The innocence in his voice made your heart flutter. He was so adorable, especially when he was talking about something new.

“Yeah, we sure are.” You took a sip of your tea, then smiled. “You’re welcome to borrow that as long as you’d like. I was just looking something up. Honestly, until today, that book was buried deep in the bowels of my closet.” You chuckled. “It cost me almost eighty dollars over five years ago. Maybe it can go to good use.”

Jack tilted his head at the book, then turned to you. “Did you pass the class?”

You nodded. “Yeah, with a B. It was the last biological science class I ever took.” Jack’s attention was instantly on you, making you blush.

“What did you end up majoring in?” He furrowed his brow. “Is that the right term?” You laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, Jack. I majored in Anthropology, which is what I got my degree in. I had to take a certain amount of classes in each subject in order to get my degree. Sciences, Math, Literature. For elective sciences, I had the choice between Geology and Biology. But, since I needed to take Geology for my major, so I ended up taking both classes.”

Jack smiled, listening intently as he always did. He peered down at the book again. “Do you have any other textbooks? On—” He squinted as he thought, “Anthropology?” You nodded.

“Well, if I come across a few of my textbooks, I’ll let you know.” You scooted a little closer to Jack, smiling. “I might even have some in the trunk of my car from years ago. I’d be happy to teach you a little bit, if you want.” Your heart pounded as you realized how close the two of you were sitting. Jack beamed at your words.

“Okay!” Then, he suddenly frowned. “I don’t know much about Anthropology. I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“You know more than you think, Jack. Anthropology is the study of cultures, modern and ancient. You know how Sam and Dean mention mythology and rituals? That all falls under Anthropology.” Jack nodded as you explained. He seemed genuinely interested, but you weren’t nearly as interested in the current topic. The only thing your mind could focus on was, well, Jack.

And something about that scared you.

Just as you felt your expression change, Jack seemed to notice a turn. “Y/N, is something wrong?” You sighed, then shook your head.

“No, Jack. Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t help but feel bad that you didn’t get a normal life, a childhood or adolescence. You were just thrown into this world without getting to live one of the best parts. Adulthood isn’t nearly as fun.” You reached out and rested your hand on his. He stared at your hand for a moment before lacing his fingers awkwardly with yours.

“I know I never got to be a child, but that doesn’t mean life is going to be awful from here.” He smiled sweetly at you, holding his face a little closer, obviously oblivious to just how close he was. “Like I said before, humans experience a lot of complex emotions that make life so much more interesting.”

“Like what?” you asked softly. “What are you feeling right now?” You flinched as Jack pulled his legs in front of him, crossing them. He leaned forward a little, locking on your gaze.

“Well, I feel happy. I’m happy whenever I’m around you.” He squeezed your hand, reminding you that he was still holding it. “And I’m in awe of all of the information I have yet to learn, and excited to start learning it.” He let out a long breath and smiled. “And I think I’m starting to feel what it’s like to be in love.”

That last sentence caught you completely off guard. Love?He must have been talking about you. After all, you were the one Jack seemed to be around the most lately.

“Love?” Your face immediately heated. “What does love feel like to you?”

“Well, I feel happy and nervous at the same time, but in the best way. My stomach feels like it’s wiggling on the inside, and my heart starts beating really fast whenever I see you.” You didn’t really know how to react. It was like you got punched in the gut by the softest, fluffiest fist in existence.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed Jack getting more and more attached to you. But, you thought it was because you were nice and patient with him. You thought he may have had a little crush that would subside eventually. You never figured he would ever claim to be in lovewith you.

“Y/N, would it be okay if I kissed you?” Jack asked, catching you even more off guard. You studied him for a moment, taken back by his sincerity. You simply nodded.

Jack leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It only lasted a few seconds, but the gently contact set your whole body ablaze. It was almost like kissing Jack is what you were meant to do.

When he pulled away, his eyes fluttered back open and locked on yours. His lips were curled into an ecstatic smile, as if life couldn’t get any better than that.

“I hope that’s not the last time I get to do that,” Jack muttered hopefully. You giggled.

“No, Jack. You’re welcome to do that again. But, for tight now, I’d like to just sit here with you.” Jack nodded and stared down at your tea.

“I’m sorry your tea went cold.” He lifted his other hand and pressed a finger lightly to the side of your mug. A gold hue formed like a halo around his finger, and like that, your tea was back to the perfect temperature. You grinned at the sweet Nephilim.

“Thank you, Jack.” You leaned over again and stole another quick kiss. He smiled as he watched you enjoy your warm drink for a few minutes, enjoying the silence and simply being together.

[goodfortune-au]

Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 13: Gone

Once Angel wakes up and finds him gone, she’s met with such sinking sadness that all she can do is hug her pillow and blink back the stinging tears in her eyes. Suddenly, all of it comes flooding back to her. All she can think about is how he felt last night, pressed up against her for hours; all the sweet things he said, just how at ease she had felt, like all her problems simply didn’t exist so long as she was in his arms. The revelation of who he was is still shocking to her, but she’d be lying if she said no part of her had known that Pennywise was connected to her guardian angel. The dreams were the most damning evidence of that, and Angel, while fairly oblivious most of the time, was by no means stupid. It had been a gut feeling, and she couldn’t just ignore a gut feeling; it was something she’d come to trust over years of bad experiences. Eventually, once she’d started to rely on that feeling in her stomach, the pits or the butterflies brewing within, things had become less painful with time. She simply couldn’t ignore the strength of that instinct, the sweeping warmth that always coursed through her when she found his gifts, and how she’d feel the very same watching him on the TV or finding him within her dreams. How she’d felt such comfort and protection from the both of them, the only meaningful bastions to her in such times of turbulence and unrest. There were the children, and of course she was blessed to be in their company, but they were, in the end, just children. They had lives of their own and she respected that. She wanted something of her own to bring her purpose, and it looked as though she might have finally found it. As she nuzzles sadly in her pillow, she remembers that one word, and the way it had made her feel. Mate. It makes her feel just a little bit better.

There was simply nothing left to do now except continue in her life. Angel couldn’t just wait around for her knight in shining armor or, rather, her knight in silken clownsuit. She had obligations to attend to. She gets ready for work, all the while entertaining thoughts of him, possibly watching over her. While she’s getting dressed, something saucy sweeps over her like a fever and, engrossed in her fantasy, she puts on a show for him, dropping her panties to the ground and dipping over sensually as she plucks a new pair out of her clean laundry hamper. She wiggles her hips as she puts them on and cups her breasts when she clasps her bra closed. She runs her hands down the length of her body seductively and, though she might have just imagined it, she feels something of a light but telling tremor beneath her feet. She puts her hair in a ponytail and tightens it, and then she finishes getting dressed. Mayor Jello is aloof when she fills his bowl with food, and seems to be avoiding her for some reason, hiding behind a chair leg whenever she draws near. She doesn’t think much of it; he could be extremely fickle in mood sometimes. While he was a very affectionate cat, there were sometimes days he didn’t want to be touched at all and she was inclined to respect it. After all, even cats have boundaries.

She bids him goodbye and then she sets out. The world, for some reason, seems a little brighter as she walks her commute, and for some reason, she’s standing just a little bit taller. Her life was still the same as it ever was, and all her problems hadn’t simply disappeared, but right now they didn’t seem to be the fate worse than death that they had been just less than a night ago when she was weeping disconsolately into her pillow and pining so painfully for something she thought she might never be able to indulge. She had spent some time recently living in such fear of the evil within the town, fearing that her guardian angel had abandoned her, fearing that she was now a moving target for whatever had attacked Patrick on that fateful Halloween night. But now that fear had been properly assuaged with her protector’s reappearance, and she no longer needed to stew in such dread and apprehension. Well, not about that, anyway. As she works her shift, her mind wanders on all kinds of things. Most notably, she wonders if what she experienced was really just a dream or if it was actually real. To tell the truth, it could honestly go either way with how offbeat and unusual this town was, especially in regards to what she had experienced personally. Something about Derry was simply not right, and she couldn’t shake that no matter how hard she tried. That’s why she had clung so hard to the notion of a guardian angel, why she had accepted their affections so readily and invested so much love and trust in them. Though she hadn’t really understood at the time why they had picked her to fixate on, she couldn’t spurn the protection of something that clearly had her best interests at heart. She would be simply foolish to do such a thing.

But had it all been a dream? He’d said it wasn’t, had even said he wouldn’t leave her again, but all the same, he’d been gone when she’d woken up in the morning. Was he still here? Was he simply referring to having left her completely in those weeks following up to Valentine’s Day? Why had he even done such a thing? Was he caught up in something else? He seemed enigmatic and otherworldly. Maybe there was simply more to him outside of her and she just didn’t understand what that was. She didn’t know whether or not she could rightly ask him about such things either, or not yet at least. If what he’d been saying was true, she would be seeing a lot more of him in the future, and he might even share intimate details of himself with her as time progressed. After all, they were… They were… Her face flushes scarlet at the thought, and all the implications it made. He’d said she was made for him, was destined for him, and she wondered what all of that might mean. It seemed as though destiny definitely played a role in all of this, she couldn’t rightly deny that at this point. Just who was she? She starts to come of the assumption that perhaps it all really was a dream, simply one more vivid than all the ones of before. It didn’t seem impossible, and was in fact the more realistic of all the various scenarios.

As she assists with checkout, she starts to wonder if the gifts might still play a role in their relationship. Surely there was no reason for the correspondence to continue if it was, in fact, not a dream? Had it all been an attempt to woo her, a way to court her, and now there was simply no reason now that they were properly introduced to each other? It all really was perplexing, and her mind simply cannot grasp the infinite questions she wished she could ask. She truly wished she could see him again, even if only on the Derry Children’s Hour. Maybe she would look for it when she got home. Although… There was the distinct possibility that all of that was over, too, if that was simply another way to reach out to her. There was also the possibility that he would continue in his attentions, simply in an attempt to keep contact with her when he wasn’t able to be there in person. After all, she assumed he must surely have other obligations to attend to outside of her. Perhaps he was busy keeping the evil of the town at bay, a cause worthy enough for her to be understanding of his absence. She couldn’t rightly fault him for having other things to do; she refused to be that person, who was so possessive that she wanted him to be at her every beck and call. It was enough that he was there in the first place. She tried to keep that in mind.

Work passes rather quietly and without much incident. Though she’s antsy and on the lookout for any strange sightings, Angel isn’t plagued by bad thoughts. Rather, she’s still reliving last night through a rose-colored lens, can’t so much as summon a single shred of suspicion or distrust in her guardian angel. After all, what reason would she have to have such feelings now, when he had been nothing but kind and considerate to her, caring and protective and gallant? She couldn’t ignore those feelings inside of her, the sheer safety she’d felt within the strength of his embrace, and some part of her was assured of that safety. Try though she might, she couldn’t shake the idea, the instinct that he meant only the best for her, that she would remain safe under his watchful eye.

“I’ll always protect you, my sweet.”

And she’d gotten the feeling he’d meant it, when she woke up that morning after Halloween. The dreams seemed prophetic in a sense, building up to something in time that was bigger than anything she truly could have imagined. Life in Derry was incredibly simple, and she hadn’t thought in a million years that the unusual would seek her out like this, grab her hand and whisk her off into the unknown. Even as a girl who revelled in the strange and the peculiar, she had to admit that it was all very perplexing, that she quite frankly wasn’t prepared for it, for any of it. But oh, how delightful it was, to share his touch, to hear him speak those words to her; soft, lilting prose that made her insides dance with exhilaration, unbound and unabated and unceasing. How her blood had sung for him, had begged for him, how she was little more than a slave to her physical longing as she felt the silk of his suit in her fingers. And he’d clearly meant something to her if her reaction to his disappearance was any indication. Angel was rather an emotional girl, had tended to wear her heart on her sleeve, quite frankly another trait that should have rightly gotten her killed by now in a town like this, and yet still she made it through her entire adolescence relatively unscathed. Well, unscathed of mortal harm anyway. She was a girl prone to outbursts, a girl prone to crying and weeping and caterwauling over the dumbest things. She was a girl who felt things very strongly, and it very often made her look like a sentimental fool but she couldn’t stop being this way any more than she could stop breathing.

She missed him. It was stupid and yes, sentimental, but it was true all the same. She knew she needed to be patient; it was only a single morning after he’d left, after all, and she’s surely gone longer periods of time without seeing him before. But this… This was different. This was different from all the other times. Even if it had been a dream, it was the most vivid one she’d ever had. It had lasted so long, she had felt things she’d never felt before… He’d felt more real than ever before… She didn’t even want to admit it, but some part of her craved his touch. Was addicted to it in a sense. Once she’d gotten a taste, she’d wanted more. And she knew she would surely get more, but that didn’t change the fact that she wanted him, wanted him now. Her face is still red as she thinks about it, thinks about the way that gloved hand had felt so divine against the screaming heat of her skin, the cooling silk working with his kisses to bring her back from overheating completely and she has to stop herself from shortcircuiting right there at the front counter. She couldn’t keep thinking about this while she was working, it was clear it was too much of a distraction. But she still finds him lingering in the depths of her mind, ever-present and indomitable, demanding her attention like a needy child. And she could do nothing else but oblige, finding his presence in her subconscious comforting in so many ways that she couldn’t stand to ignore. Customers find her spacing out at the front counter and she has to snap out of it before continuing in her duties.

The walk home is easy and she feels reassured, no longer ill at ease about the evils of the town in this moment, no longer so needled by the niggling sense that something was after her that she was fearful and apprehensive of even the sound of rustling leaves. Though she didn’t feel that telltale warmth now, some instinctive part of her knew that he was watching over her, even if he wasn’t physically present. With each passing day she was becoming more in tune with his aura, accepting it readily like the notes of a heady perfume and letting it wash over her like pleasant waves on a sandy shore. In each step she takes she imagines him there with her, accompanying her, escorting her on her walk home and she smiles at the thought. The idea of being in a relationship with something… It was new, it was exhilarating. Her mind is swimming with hypotheticals, hypotheticals of what was to come should he return to her. She delights in the prospect of more cozy, comfort-filled nights, him at her side, lulling her to sleep, holding her until her eyes grow too heavy to keep open. She thinks of him coming to visit her at work, flustering her while she tries to focus on her job, teasing her mercilessly as she sorts through the returns… Cornering her down in the archives where no one could see the two of them, moving in on her where she couldn’t be any more vulnerable... She thinks of him joining her on the couch during TV time, idly passing the hours with her, and she thinks of him telling her more about himself, thinks of herself gradually learning more about him until she understood him just as much as he seemed to understand her.

She comes upon Witcham and starts to make her way down the path toward her neighborhood, casting an indifferent glance at the Grace Baptist Church, Derry Elementary and other such dull landmarks as she passes them. To tell the truth, she really hadn’t known why she had chosen to stick around Derry so long; besides all the rampant crime and grisly happenings it was such a painfully plain place to live, and for someone like her that created very little incentive to stick around. When the day had come however and her parents had announced their plans to move to Haven, she’d felt some kind of a sinking feeling, something downcast and a little bit crestfallen. For all its faults she rather liked living here; she’d grown up in it all, and Derry had a certainly undeniable small town charm to it. And really, were all her bad experiences really so bad, bad enough to justify leaving it all behind? She’d ruminated on it, had thought on it night after night after night, and had eventually come upon the decision in the end to stay while the rest of her family moved on. After all, she surely couldn’t shirk the opportunity to try making it on her own, even if it was hard. She was a grown adult, it was time for her to start acting like one. She’d grown up rather dependent on her parents for just about everything, and while she didn’t mind it growing up it was slightly less free of guilt now when she was fully grown and had so many resources for independence readily available at her fingertips. If she was cut off from them she would have the opportunity to spread her wings and fly, as it were, no longer beholden to the confining security of the nest in which she was raised. Maybe that’s why she’d chosen to stay behind. That was the more rational reasoning. The other was less so, though she couldn’t deny it was growing more and more plausible by the day. The idea of destiny, the idea of something bigger than herself that was keeping her here, that had created the conclusion in her mind not to forsake the place in which she was raised. It was slowly but surely making itself more apparent in her thoughts. It had seemed that destiny was now calling to her in some fashion, if the manifestation of Pennywise in her life was any indication. All the gifts, all the days, the months she spent pining after him on the Derry Children’s Hour, it was all building towards something, and it seemed as though that something had finally arrived, culminating in them finally coming together like two puzzle pieces, separated for the longest time by a force she couldn’t possibly comprehend.

It was so romantic, she thinks, positively enchanted. She’d never had the pleasure of experiencing such bliss. The feeling of him pressed up against her, when just moments before she’d been so shattered and heartbroken that she wanted to scream, was so relieving that it truly defied words. How all her dejection seemed to melt away with a single brush of his hand against her thigh, those gentle words whispered in her ear from behind, how she’d known it was him simply by the sound of his voice alone.

“I’m here now, my darling.”

And how speechless she was. It had taken everything she’d had in that moment to stay composed, and when she’d turned inward towards his chest she truly couldn’t take it anymore, the floodgates had opened and she couldn’t hold back her joy any longer. She was simply so relieved by his presence that she couldn’t possibly think to deny his embrace, not then, not in her most desperate time of need. She had cried into his chest, every heaving breath she had taken bringing her more healing and comfort, feeling herself lifted every time she gasped air into her starving lungs. She’d taken in his scent, so deliciously indulgent, something like caramel apples and cotton candy and funnel cake all coming together to create the sensory image of a carnival in her mind. It was so pleasant that she couldn’t deny its captivation, how hypnotizing and bewitching it all was; nostalgic in a sense, evocative of the past, of happy memories and wistful reverie.

When she comes upon the walkway of her house she’s still ruminating on it, all of it, hadn’t stopped since she’d woken that morning. She was almost in a trance of some kind, and she couldn’t for the life of her break it, couldn’t stop thinking of all the joy of last night, thoughts of sensations so unfamiliar that they were addicting. Angel was and always had been a touchstarved girl, deprived of anything physically affectionate beyond that of which her family offered her on occasion. That was simply the package deal that came with being lonely and unwanted, and over time she had grown to accept it, had remedied it only with mounds of pillows and sentimental, unrealistic thoughts. The fact that he had touched her… The fact that he wanted to, had seemed so happy to, it drove her wild. She’d never been wanted by someone before. She’d even wondered for the longest time if it were even possible for someone to like her that way; she’d had such stunning lack of fortune in that regard that she honestly wondered if she repelled people rather than attracted them, and her track record in the town as she’d grown up could certainly attest to that. That she’d seemed to attract this beautiful thing, this breathtaking force of nature; it was ineffable to her. Simply unfathomable.

She steps inside and puts down her things, still entertaining these thoughts even as she sets her sketchbook down on the dining room table. She kicks off her shoes, making her lunch for the next day. She cuts the crusts off her sandwich before bagging it up and depositing it into the waiting tin, and then drops a small assortment of pre-packaged things in with it. She puts her lunchbox away in the fridge. She sighs and gets undressed as she walks down the hallway to her room, and she briefly thinks about taking a nap, perhaps in a somewhat fruitless effort to see him again. She was rather tired, after all. Even with all the excitement, perhaps in service of it, she had gotten all worn out, and the walk home was a relief to her, the aftermath of a day well spent working for her living wage. When she walks through the doorway of her bedroom, her eyes fall on the bed and her breath catches in her throat.

There is a friendship bracelet worn like a necklace around Pepper’s neck, and a note is waiting at her plush heels. When she opens up the note, she simply smiles and hugs it to her chest. “Miss me?”, it says, and it’s accented with the obligatory heart. The bracelet is in glittery beads of red and black, her favorite colors, and it reads “I ♥ Derry” in whimsical uppercase block letters. The gifts had officially returned. She immediately dons the bracelet and holds her arm out to marvel at the way it sits on her wrist, delighted with the gesture and positively elated that he had started to continue his correspondence. The afternoon only improves when she makes her way over to the couch, and after a few minutes of sifting through the available channels she inevitably comes upon Channel 27. She’s met with a couple minutes of disheartening static but, emboldened by the discovery of the bracelet, she lets it burr like white noise in her ears while she passes the time rendering loose sketches in her notebook. Her face snaps up to regard the TV screen with glee when she can hear the ever-familiar jingle of the Derry Children’s Hour. He wastes no time with preambles, it seems; when the set filters onto the screen the hostess is already speaking, like the episode had already started some time ago. Pennywise is present already, and her heart flutters at the sight of him, just waiting for him to speak, wanting so badly to hear his voice that she can hardly breathe. The hostess goes on about some humdrum topic of the day but Angel hardly pays any attention; she’s simply fixated on him, waiting for him to talk, waiting for him to do anything except listen intently to the words of the hostess. When he remains silent she starts to let her eyes fall back down onto her sketchbook again, and as she passes the time listening to the TV she starts to get lost in the process of what she’s drawing. Her stomach stirs with something unfathomably pleasant as she details the figures in her sketchbook, and she lets a smile creep vacantly across her face as she continues. There, alive on the page, is a lively scene of Pennywise and herself, engaged in romantic dance, staring intently into one another’s eyes as they sweep tastefully about the paper. She starts to see it come alive in her mind, and she can see them both, so completely consumed in each other that the rest of the world simply doesn’t matter to them. Her eyes linger intently on the details of the sketch as she leans back to admire her work and-

“Angel.”

She freezes. She pauses, and slowly turns toward the screen. He’s staring intently into the center now, out of the glass and directly into her eyes, leaving no doubt in her mind that he was most certainly talking to her. The hostess continues on as though he hadn’t interrupted, the entire show continues on unperturbed but he’s there regardless, speaking to her through the screen. She knows, in this moment, that none of it had been a dream after all. Not unless she was hallucinating.

“You’re supposed to be watching, silly girl.” He wags a finger at her patronizingly. “You should be paying attention- shouldn’t spurn your precious guardian angel, pretty thing. After all, he’s here just for you.”

“S-sorry…” She mumbles, almost to herself, but she assumes he can hear her. "I'll, uh…" She clears her throat, setting her sketchbook down. She readjusts herself on the couch and he smiles.

“Good. Good girl. Now… Keep your eyes on me, hmm?”

She flushes red and he looses a fit of impish giggles. He continues on, now taking charge of the conversation on the screen as the kids listen intently to his words. The topic of the day seems to be art, and he goes on and on about how much fun, how fulfilling it is, how you can even make a career out of it if you’re so inclined. He turns toward the screen again, regarding Angel with a knowing grin and a wink.

“And that is a lovely sketch, my sweet. I think it could use some ink though, don’t you?”

She makes a distinctly fragile “eep” noise and he continues on unfazed. “Give it some detail, really bring it to life. Pennywise would really like to see it, you know. Wouldn't you all like to see it, kids?"

The kids all unanimously agree with cheerful laughter.

She looks down at her sketchbook again and they really are dancing right in front of her eyes. She’s breathless as she watches, the way they sway and spin and dip in each other’s arms. The dizzy, lovesick look on her stylized face, and the steady movements of Pennywise as he guides her around the paper are so vivid, the details so crisp and tangible on the page. It’s magical, it’s enchanting. It’s… Real.

“I’ll uh… I’ll do my best.” She manages weakly. She’s starting to grow fainter by the minute and he can see it, can see the way her lip quivers with want for him and the way she clenches her thighs together on the sofa. Can hear her little whimpers as she watches him speak, and the fragile breaths she takes as she rubs her legs together. Despite herself she’s growing… Wet, down there. Her mind starts wandering to lewd places, eventually falling on that neglected toy waiting in her bedside table drawer. He seems knowing, he seems aware of her thoughts, seems to read them as they come into her head. His grin is sly now, sly and mischievous.

“Dirty, dirty girl…” He purrs, his voice almost a growl. “How naughty you are. I can see the thoughts in your head. Can’t even wait until the program is over, can you?”

She’s caught off guard and she gasps.

“I-I-”

“You should wait for me, pretty thing. Wait, and be patient… Good things come to those that wait, don’t they?”

She’s silent.

“...Mmm… Answer me, precious.”

“Yuh-yes.” She agrees, her face all aflame with embarrassment and shameless desire.

“Yes… Good girl…” His stare lingers on her for a while longer, one eye almost seeming to trail down, lower, between her legs. His eyes turn back to the children and he continues the conversation until the hostess finally comes in to wrap up the show.

“That’s unfortunately all the time we have kids. Say goodbye to our special guest!”

The kids all make their scattered goodbyes. “I’ll be seeing you all again very, very soon.” Pennywise says with a gracefully theatrical bow.

“...Promise promise?” She says, breathless, to herself.

His eyes flicker towards the center of the screen again, and he winks, blowing Angel a kiss.

“Promise promise.”

~~~~

It had only gone uphill from there. If Angel had considered herself wooed by her guardian angel in the past, it was nothing compared to now. Now that Pennywise had officially introduced himself into her life, he saw fit to accompany her on a day to day basis in as many ways as he could, saw fit to make his presence very undeniable now. It was no longer limited to warm auras and vague feelings. There was no longer guesswork in the equation. Pennywise knew he had more than gotten the greenlight, as it were, and he would waste no time continuing to enrich the bond that he had already established with her, would waste no more time with mere implications or other such frippery. They were past that juncture at this point. She liked him, that was plainly clear, and she wanted to see more of him, so really, what harm was there in indulging her desires? He’s still giddy at the thought of it all, of having all his hard work pay off after months of patience, months spent biding his time. It had all worked out so beautifully in his favor and now it seemed his persistence was finally bearing such delectable fruit.

Ever since the night he visited and the day that followed after, Pennywise would do his best on a day to day basis to remind her of his presence, looked for any possible way to be with her, at least in spirit, as he conducted his hunts and preyed upon the fear of the town. She would sometimes wake to the sound of him singing ever so delicately in her ear. Sometimes, when she walked to work, he was in her head, whispering to her hushed encouragements, telling her that she needed to get through today, needed to be strong and keep a smile on her face for him. Knowing full well that she had self esteem issues aided him spectacularly, as it made her so innocently trusting of his words and flatteries. His support didn’t by any means fix Angel’s problems or qualms with her job, and it certainly didn’t keep her from a downcast mood but it was a far cry better than relying on her own feigned spirit to get through the grit. He would still cheer her up when she was down, although this was less in the form of gifts now as it was often his own soothing voice in her ear, his own invisible hand sometimes clutching hers in a comforting vice, running smooth silk over her oft-shivering thumb.

“It’s okay, my pet… Only a few hours left now… You can do it, you can. Pennywise knows it.”

On some better days, he would spend less time coaching her through adversity and more time following her around, commenting on how cute she looked. He’d kept his comments mostly innocent, but there were days when he could sense the yearning in her head, could smell it coming off her like a deliciously delicate perfume, and he would say something lecherous, something just naughty enough to have her squirming at the front desk. On one particular afternoon at the library, he’d gotten Angel so hot and bothered with just his words alone that she left right in the middle of assisting with checkout so she could run to the bathroom and splash cold water on her face. It didn’t help at all that Angel couldn’t exactly talk back to him in public without looking like a complete and utter loon, so she was left defenseless and vulnerable to any and all of his comments, all of his subtle little pushes and pokes and prods. He liked that. Liked to get her all flustered, because that meant that his manipulations were working. Liked to have her on the edge of her seat, the poor dear, because in the end it only made her want more. Liked to make her whimper and whine with exasperation, knowing she couldn’t possibly respond to him without making a complete fool of herself in front of God and everyone. Pennywise did sympathize with her frustration of course; he knew it was cruel to put her through such teasing when she had never been the target of anyone’s interest prior to this. He knew it to be wicked and certainly devilish of him to plant such seeds of hope in her fragile and battered mind, but he could justify it since he fully intended on nurturing those seeds. He fully intended to let them grow and harvest them when the time was right. In time, he would give her everything she had ever wanted, but only when she was ready for it. Only when she couldn’t take it anymore. Only when she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

[the-witch-and-her-husbands]

Day Twenty-Two: Trick

Jilomena put down her copy of Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts and turned to look at her husband with a smile.

‘Yes?’ Severus looked over the copy of the Daily Prophet he was holding to raise an eyebrow at her. That mischievous look on her face had to mean something, after all.

She got up from her seat to cross over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she deposited herself into his lap. Once settled, she began to rub her cheek against his as if she were a Kneazle kitten.

‘Is there something in particular you wanted?’ He smirked at her attempt at affection, but made no move to discourage her or remove her from his lap.

‘I’m tired of reading.’ She gave him a sly grin.

‘Oh?’ He put down the paper so he could wrap his arms around her and give her his full attention. One of his hands came to rest on her hip. ‘And what has that got to do with me, hmm?’ He gave her hip a heavy pat.

‘Welllll,’ she drawled. ‘I thought that maybe...we could try something.’ There was a slight hint of colour creeping into her cheeks as she spoke.

‘And what did you have in mind, Dearest Heart?’ He brought his face close to hers, brushing her lips with his in a light and teasing fashion.

She shivered. Desperately, she tried to get herself back on track to tell him her idea before it was gone completely. ‘I thought we could...try something different, maybe....’ She paused, slightly lost for words. This man was her husband and her soulmate, who in the month since they had gotten married had explored every inch of her with his hands and his mouth, and yet she still felt shy around him at times. Especially when trying to express her sexual desires and fantasies aloud.

‘Like what? Flower arranging? Baking cakes? Degnoming the garden?’ He had an inkling what she might be getting at, but it was far more amusing to make her squirm.

‘Sev!’ She groaned, burying her face against him for a moment while she shook her head in exasperation. He certainly wasn’t going to make this easy for her, was he? ‘I meant, something different...in the bedroom.’ She was now blushing scarlet, trying to avoid his eyes.

‘Oh. I see. And was there something specific that you wish to try...in the bedroom?’ His eyes were glittering with unabashed glee.

‘I thought maybe we could...play something. Like, roleplay. Pretend to be different people. Characters.’ She was still studying the carpet intently.

He put his fingers on her chin and pulled her head up gently so she had no choice but to look at him. ‘Sounds...interesting. Who might we pretend to be?’ He had a few ideas himself of things that they might try, but making her articulate the things she wanted was much more fun. In fact, he was beginning to find it positively arousing.

‘I thought...maybe we could...maybe I could...’ She paused, taking a deep breath. Hopefully, he wouldn’t laugh at her even if he was against the idea. ‘I thought I might pretend to be a prostitute. And sell you my services.’

‘Aha. Planning to extort money from me, were you?’ He gave her sides a little tickle, just to show that he was teasing. A little roleplay might be entertaining, after all. Spice things up a bit. He was all in favour of experimentation between the sheets. ‘Okay, Madame. Go to your boudoir and get ready. Prepare your list of tricks. I will come up in ten minutes to see what’s on the menu.’ He smirked at her as he gave her bottom a pat to encourage her on her way.

She smiled happily, pausing to give him a quick kiss before hurrying off to their bedroom.

As promised, exactly ten minutes later he rapped lightly on their bedroom door.

‘Come in.’ She was standing near the bed, resting a hand lightly on the bed-frame. Her pale skin was shown off to perfection in a black lace teddy. Stockings and garters completed the look, along with high heeled shoes that were referred to in some circles as ‘fuck-me pumps.’

‘Very nice.’ He let out a low whistle of admiration, crossing the room so that he could walk round her and admire her from all angles. ‘I’m glad I brought some extra Galleons. You look like you might be very expensive, my dear.’

A small shiver racked her body at his words. Damnation, but he was seductive when he wanted to be. She tried hard to stay in character, even though when he said those sorts of things in his honeyed voice she wanted to beg him to fuck her.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him. ‘What’s your pleasure tonight, Sir?’

He pretended to consider for a moment. ‘Hmm. With such a banquet before me, I hardly know where to begin. What’s on the menu, dear?’

She took a deep breath. All or nothing. ‘Most customers only want to pay for standard sex. Oral and...and anal are extra. Ten Galleons is the standard price.’

‘Do I hire you by the hour, or by the trick?’ He looked as if he might be discussing the purchase of a new set of phials, from his outward calm demeanour.

‘By the trick.’ She cleared her throat.

‘In that case.’ He paused to consider. ‘I think I will pay you for one standard trick. If you are to my liking, I might purchase another. Money up front, or afterwards?’ He began to unbutton his frock coat.

‘Up front. Of course.’ Outwardly, she was trying to act as if she did this sort of thing every day. She walked around him to get onto the bed, and lay down with her legs spread.

To her great surprise, he actually fished a stack of Galleons out of his pocket and placed them onto the bedside table on her side of the bed. ‘Very eager.’ A smirk crossed his face as he came to join her on the bed, crawling so that he was between her legs. ‘May I touch you? Or does that cost extra as well?’ His hand hovered above the space at the top of her legs.

‘You may touch me.’ Her voice was husky with need.

He did so, but only to pull the strip of material covering her out of the way so that her slit was exposed. Trying not to laugh at her huff of disappointment, he undid his trousers and removed himself, stroking his length a few times while she watched him with hungry eyes.

Severus lined himself up at her entrance, pushing inside of her slowly. Merlin, she was still so impossibly tight! He couldn’t help but groan at how good she felt surrounding him.

Her hands wrapped around his back and she pulled him close, wanting every inch of him inside of her.

‘May I kiss you?’ Their faces were mere millimetres apart as he thrust inside her with languid movements.

She nodded.

He kissed her passionately. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue in between them, entering her mouth even as he was inside her at that moment, causing them both to moan.

The intention had been for him to take his time and enjoy every second, but it was proving to be too much stimulation already. The game, her outfit, her willingness to please him, all of it. He began to thrust harder, fucking her with a nearly feral intensity.

Jilomena cried out, holding onto him tightly as if she would never let go. It was almost impossible to say who climaxed first, so in sync were they with one another at that particular moment in time, moaning declarations of love as they reached the peak of their ecstasy.

Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms, neither one of them wanting to move.

Severus chuckled. ‘That was the best ten Galleons I’ve ever spent.’

[yandere-oppai]

Tied Down

Yandere! Kirishima x fem! Reader

Words count: 2.4k

First Post, yeet!

—

Being the girlfriend of a hero had its perks. It made getting to the front of lines (no matter how you protested) easier and gave you a sort of security. Kirishima is a loving man who wouldn’t hesitate to wait on you hand and foot for any reason. If you asked this man to jump, he’d ask “how high”. Though there was some weird backlash when it came to you being a foreigner.

Being an American made many think that you were some kind of golddigger or mail order bride after citizenship. Though after a year, going on two, the rumors seemed to die down after some time. It still ticked the redhead off though, when any of these offhand remarks were made either in person or via the media. Each time ended with you having to tell him that things like this didn’t faze you.

“But they shouldn’t be saying anything like that! Let me go show him not to disrespect Red Riot’s girl,” he steamed while you held onto his arm. Pulling him away from a restaurant was no easy task, especially when he was like this.

“Just leave it Eijiro. Let’s not have that ruin our night. I just want to continue with our date. Please,” you gave him a desperate pout and continued to tug on his arm. He hesitated to turn fully around to you but inevitably gave in.

“Fine, but you’ll have to do me a few favors when we get home,” he leaned in for a kiss that you reciprocated. You picked up on the saucy tone that he used and raised an eyebrow with a sly smirk.

“I think that I can arrange that,” you pecked his lips once more before gently taking his arm and leading him in the direction of your apartment.

“Kiri, stop teasing. I need you now,” you gasped in a breathless manner has he nipped at your neck. This was supposed to just be you two watching a movie before getting to the good bits. Until the light kisses and cuddling turned into heavy petting. Everyone knows that it only leads to trouble and seat wetting.

“Don’t worry babe, your manly boyfriend’s got ya,” he groaned out before he halted his gyrations against both of your clothed nether regions. You chuckled at his self proclaimed nickname.

After a good hour or two of going at it, you and your red prince laid so that he was the big spoon. You’d been in between being awake and asleep from Eijiro gently stroking your hair. Nothing could be heard except the light background noise of the almost quiet city and both of your breathing. Just as you were about to pass the threshold of sleep he decided to start a conversation.

“You know I’ve been thinking about something,” he mumbled into your hair. Too tired to properly reply you gave a low hum to show that you were listening. “I think it’s about time we move in together. It doesn’t necessarily have to be mine or your apartment. We can start something new and I’ll buy us a new one”.

“Eijiro, you know how I feel about that. I’m just not ready right now,” you flipped over to face him. His small, almost permanent smile, was replaced with a saddened frown. It almost made you feel guilty.

“Yeah I know but we’ve been together for almost two years now. I live here compared to my own apartment. We’re practically already living together. The only difference would be that we’re co-owning it,” he pouted further and nuzzled his cheek against your head. “Don’t you want more with me?”

“Look, can we talk about this in the morning? I’m really tired and have work in the morning,” You sighed and flipped back around, no longer facing him. You got no further reply and tried to slip back into a dreamless sleep.

“You wouldn’t have to work if you’d agree to marry me,” He mumbled before flipping back over as well.

It was about five months into your budding relationship where Kirishima first brought up the topic of marriage. He’d talked up his dream of a white picket fence with a few kids and a lovely home to go with it. However, you’d gotten a little freaked out when he hinted that you’d be the wife to go with this fantasy.

“…how many kids would you want to have?” He’d asked you while you explored the nearest amusement part. Only choosing to bring up the subject after seeing a nuclear family pass by who seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“Hmmm. Maybe at least three in the future. Maybe two boys and one girl. Grew up with only sisters so I know the nightmare that comes with them,” you both chuckled at that. Kirishima nodded in agreement and looked to be in a bit of a daydream.

“Yup, one little (y/n) and two Red Riots to protect her,” he drunkenly smiled not noticing how your eyes bulged a little.

It wasn’t that Kirishima didn’t seem like a loyal partner and provider. It was just that you two were both still young adults and the thought of being tied down so soon scared you. It made you feel trapped. Which is also why you preferred to stay in a rented apartment while in Japan. If anything serious were to arise, you could pack up and go home. An easy escape route.

Since then he’d sporadically bring up the topic of marriage and you officially living in this country with him. Away from your family and many of your childhood friends. Like clockwork, you’d change the subject and he’d throw a bit of a hissy fit for you not reciprocating his feelings. This did not take away from the fact that you truly cared for the man, you do, but he’s making it increasingly hard. The more he backed you into a corner, the more likely it was that you’d try to run.

The night went by with you two not facing each other while you slept. It was the sex beforehand that caused future issues. That night it seemed like you were stuck with your mind on lust. It was like you’d had fire in your veins that needed to somehow be satiated. The only way you could see to fix this was by getting lost in the heat of each other’s bodies. And Eijiro seemed to be all too willing to satisfy your needs for that night. You didn’t really look back on this event until about a month later when you’d started to feel ill.

A trip to the doctor’s office for your mild nausea and being continuously lethargic had given you a reason to look back. When the doctor announced that you were indeed pregnant it was like your world had come crashing down. You left the office in a panic and when you got home you could do nothing but curl into a ball on the couch and cry. You’d hoped to have kids when you got around the age of 30. Not when you were only just getting out of college. Not when you still wanted a few more years of freedom.

For that day you did nothing but cry and mope around the apartment. You’d silenced your phone a while ago, especially after Kirishima had repeatedly tried to contact you. He wouldn’t get off of work after sunset anyway. It gave you time to think about your next steps. All of your thoughts lead back to one course of action though. RUN.

He’s a hero, he couldn’t have you dragging him down at the most important part of his career. You didn’t want to be tied down or have others tied to you for reasons out of their control. As you packed some overnight bags and cash for a hotel you couldn’t help but let a few more tears slide down your face. You feel as though you can’t face him with what your next course of planning is.

Japan doesn’t offer abortions unless approved by officials or in cases of the inability to care for such a child. So the only other choice was to fly back home where they’re a bit more lenient and get the procedure done. In the end, you’d have to leave Kirishima behind. Something you knew had to be done to save both of your futures.

You jumped when there was a sudden pounding on your door. It was only around six o’clock right now. He shouldn’t have been off for at least three more hours. You quietly tiptoed your way away from your luggage and to the living room to look through your front door’s peephole. There he was, pounding on the door and looking stressed to all hell.

“(y/n), open the door! I know you’re in there! Why haven’t you been responding to my messages?” He yelled from the other side. You covered your mouth to hide the hiccups and sniffles coming from your mouth. But he seems to have still heard you. “(Y/n), are you crying?! Come on babe let me in! Please!” He sounded more desperate and started jiggling the door. If your neighbor wasn’t a drunk and at bars most of the time, he surely would’ve come out to see what was happening.

“Go away Kirishima! I don’t want you here!” You yelled through the door hoping to get him to leave. It went quiet for half of a second before one loud bang was heard on the other side.

“What do you mean babe? What are you trying to say? Open this door, we need to talk,” he growled. No doubt pressing his face as close to the door as close as possible. This was a tone you’d never heard come from him and in all seriousness, it scared you.

“No, it’s over! I don’t want to see you ever again. Please, just leave me alone!” You called one last time stepping away from the door. It was quiet yet again before he spoke up again.

“I’m giving you till the count of three. If you don’t open this door by the time I get to one, I’m kicking it in,” he threatened. Surely he wasn’t really going to. Not the sweet and docile Kirishima that I know.

“Three…” you stepped further from the door. “Two…” your breath stopped. “one!” He yelled before with one swift kick your door was thrown open. You yelped and flinched at the loud noise of the door hitting the wall. He stood in the entryway puffing from the stress of the situation. He wasted no time in entering the home and pushing the broken door so that it was semi-closed. You tried to escape back to your room before he grabbed you by the back of your shoulder and spinning you around. Tear reddened eyes met angry red orbs.

“Why did you try to keep me out babe? I try to get into contact with you all day, only to have you tell me that you don’t want to see me anymore. Only to have you refuse me love and affection,” His nails began to dig more into your shoulders. It looked like he was on the brink of his quirk activating.

“Please,” you paused and swallowed thickly. “Please just let me go. I want to leave,” you whimpered. He growled once more, glaring into your eyes. You’d thought his sharp teeth gave him a charming before, however, now all they did was fill you with dread.

“No, I’ll never let you leave me,” he pulled you closer to his body. Caging you in a smothering hug. “Now I want you to be honest with me. Or at this point, I don’t know what I’ll do. Who made you want to leave me? Who’s been filling your head with doubt about our love?” He tried to give you his usual encouraging grin but failed. His eyes were far too wide open and his mouth too crooked to properly give you comfort.

“No one Kirishima. I…I’m doing this on my own. I don’t want to be tied down and I can’t do that to you. Not with your reputation on the line. I just think…we should go our separate ways,” your eyes were downturned by the time you finished the shakey statement.

All was quiet for a few moments. Until you felt fingers under your chin coaxing you to look back up at him. His hold and smile both softened when you were able to look at him. You couldn’t help but think this is the real Kirishima. Not the lunatic who kicked in your door.

“You’re finally pregnant, aren’t you?”

Your blood went cold.

“Wh…What do you mean?” You questioned. Your body begins to shake without you meaning to.

“You’re pregnant. I knew it was only a matter of time,” he grinned again. “For a while, I thought those sedatives I gave you were making you infertile.” He began to give you small pecks on the face. Like it would comfort you somehow.

“Sedatives? What sedatives? Kirishima, I don’t understand,” yet again the quiver to your voice was present. In your mind, things began to click together. The nights were you were too tired to do anything with the hero, you’d still wake up sore down below. Though, not to the point where you’d suspect anything. You’d felt safe when you were with him, but now he’s your biggest nightmare. He shushes you and begins to explain a little bit more.

“I know you’re scared that I’ll stop loving you. That’s why you say you’re not ready to settle down. So I gave you a reason to. I won’t stop loving you and I hope you feel the same about me,” you feel him squeeze you a little harder at this. “But it never hurts to have something to cement that in a little”. More like trap you.

Your sobbing had started up again after he admitted to this his deeds. All you could do was think about how he’d planned all of this just to keep you right where he wanted you. How all that you’d wanted for the future would be taken for another’s selfish desires. The redhead continued to stroke your head, waiting for your little fit to come to an end. What was worse, was that you couldn’t do anything but sit there and take it. He’s a pro hero, and you were simply a civilian. He’s stronger and had more connections in Japan compared to you.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you decide if you want to get married before or after the baby comes. But I think the sooner the better.”

You ignored him, too caught up in your own demise.

“Come nine months and you’ll be used to all of this. Until then, let’s see about fitting a nice length chain in our new place.”

—

Want to support me without giving me money? I’m in a scholarship competition and need your votes! Go to: ( https://woobox.com/h8cvme/gallery/zz7R0nd2gwo ) to give me a chance! It’ll really help me with college expenses and motivate me to work on my writing!!!

[im-robins-bitch]

Kiss me again | c.h

masterlist

I was gonna post this tomorrow but i just hit 400 followers so thanks, that's kinda insane 💖

You feel more than you should for your best friend, maybe it’s time to admit it. 

warnings: swearing, sorta a sex scene?

word count: 9k+

“He sounds lame” Calum commented, laying back on your arm-chair with a yawn. You crossed your arms, hitting the top of his head as you walked past carrying the large pizza box. “Just saying,” He mumbled, grabbing a slice. He noticed the sweetcorn on top and scrunched his nose.

“Switch?” You questioned, holding out your plate with a matching pizza on it only with a lot less sweet-corn and a lot more tomatoes. He nodded, taking the plate with him making you grumble as he placed the slice of pizza sloppily in your hand, you could already feel the cheese sticking to your thumb. “He was just being a gentleman.” You explained, getting back to the topic at hand, your recent date. “the food was really-”

“shit.” Calum finished, making you open your mouth to protest but Calum beat you to it “You ordered pizza as soon as you got back in,”

“Fine, ok, he took me that new fancy place.” You said, although you didn’t really need to explain, the satin dress on your body was more than confirmation. “I did tell him I didn’t like places like that, but I don’t know I guess he just wanted to impress me.” You sighed.

Calum snorted, watching as you curved your pizza, shovelling it into your mouth, your hand cupped underneath to catch the rouge toppings trying to escape. “If only he could see you now.”

“Are you saying I don’t look hot as fuck covered into tomato sauce?” You joked, wiggling your red saucy digits at him. “Oh you look absolutely divine” He laughed, putting his plate back down on the table, “Some might even say you look delicious!” He moved from his position on the armchair and sat down in front of you on the floor, hooking one of your fingers with his and bringing it to his mouth to lick the sauce off.

“Ew Calum gross!” You laughed, shoving him away, making him knock back into the coffee table, the thud from his crash covering up the thudding of your cheat.

“I was just helping you clean up, and what do i get from the trouble? a concussion!” He said dramatically rubbing his hand against his head, which didn’t even hit the table.

“God, you are such a drama queen!” You groaned, trying to hide the smile on your face by stuffing it with more pizza.

“Are you going on another date?” Calum asked, his voice taut as he leaned forward, pulling his legs up to his chest, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Hmm?” You stuttered between bites, moving your hand to cover your mouth. “Oh you mean with-h-” You stopped, choking on a bit of chicken, “w-with William?”

“William, god even his name is pretentious,” Calum huffed under his breath, settling his head on his hands.

“Yeah I think so, he asked me, I hope its more...fun next time.” You pulled Calums plate your direction, putting down the pizza crust that you knew Calum was going to eat whether you offered it to him or not. “What about you? Didn’t you have a date with-”

“Oh yeah...” Calum said, feebly reaching to scratch the back of his head. “I broke up with her...”

“What?” You stuttered, “Why didn’t you tell me? you’re supposed to tell me these things before they happen! Those are the best friend privileges!” You rambled, “God I don’t even think I have any ice cream left.”

“It's ok,” Calum laughed, “It’s not really a big deal, she was more of a distraction really.” You raised your eyebrows, encouraging him to keep going. “Well, I was sorta...am sorta in love with this girl.”

Your eyes snapped wide, your heart both beating out of its chest and ripping apart at the same time. Never in your life did you expect Calum to tell you he was in love with someone and the fact that he felt that way made your heart leap with joy, your best friend was in love. Though you felt a sting, as if you had just been stung by a scorpion, because there you sat in love with you’re best friend always hoping maybe he felt the same, but now it was clear that was only a fantasy. 

 A few seconds past without you saying anything and you noticed Calum was growing anxious, you realised you had to say something “BEST FRIEND PRIVILEGES!” You yelled, sliding off the sofa to sit down on the floor with him making Calum giggle and move to sit with his legs crisscrossed, mirroring you.

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you sooner but...” He gazed down at his lap,

“So are you not going to tell the girl how you feel?” You questioned, biting down hard on your lip trying to prepare yourself for the reply.

“I-I want to I really really want to but I just can’t.” He reached his hands out for yours and you gladly gave them to him, watching as his fingers traced circles into your palm. “She doesn't feel that way about me”

“How do you know?”

“Huh...” He hummed focusing his attention on following the ridges of your palm with his pointer finger.

“How do you know she doesn't like you,” You asked again, trying to catch his eye. “No offence cal but you’re not that great at picking up when people are into each other.” He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you instead, “Do you remember when you thought-”

“that you were in love with Mikey because you were giving him ‘the eyes’“ He mocked. “You flirt with everyone all the time, you’re difficult to read.”

“Yeah well I’m assuming if she caught your attention she’d not such an easy catch” You joked, closing your hand around his giving it a squeeze “Trust me cal, if she isn’t into you now its because she probably didn’t even think you were an option, as soon as you confess your gonna be all she thinks about.”

“Do you think so?” He said quietly, hating to admit he needed this much comforting over something as stupid as love.

“I know so” You confirmed, giving his hand a warm squeeze.

Calum squeezed it back, looking at your hands thoughtfully. He let out a big breath “Actually, Y/N, the thing is-”

“AH, one second,” You said, pulling yourself up from the floor with a groan, to pick up the house phone. “Hello?” You mumbled into the cream block, you’re phone looked like it had come from the 80′s and it was very unusual for people to be calling it. “William,” You greeted with glee, turning to Calum to give him a soft smile and a wink, “hmm, oh no I’m fine my phone’s just on silent...”

You continued to chat to William on the phone, trying to steer the conversation towards hanging up as you looked at Calum regretfully, but you didn’t want to seem rude considering you had only been on one date, was in rude to invite someone over for pizza as soon as you finished a date? You didn’t think so, but you didn’t want to give William the wrong idea, especially now that it looked like Calum was definitely not an option anymore, as much as your heart wished he was.

After 5 minutes you finally managed to say your goodbyes and jumped back down onto the plush carpet with Calum. “Can you believe that he looked through the entire phone book just to find me so he could wish me goodnight, I told you he was sweet” You giggled. “Oh, you wanted to tell me something?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side, trying to ignore the how plush Calums lips looked as he pulled on it with his teeth.

“Uhm, yeah...I wanted to tell you I....I need help with packing? Can you help me?”

“You haven't packed yet?” You questioned, staring in disbelief when he nodded his head “you're leaving in like two days?”

“Some of us don’t start packing a week before there holidays,” Calum joked, laughing half-heartedly as he picked at the fibres of your carpet.

“I think going on tour requires a bit more planning than a trip to Florida “ You laughed. 

For the first time in a long time, an uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you. You squirmed on the floor, leaning back against the sofa trying to picture the girl that managed to make your best friend fall for her. 

A couple of weeks later you lay in a cush four-poster bed staring up at the ceiling noticing the brush marks from when it had been painted. You felt something drip down onto your shoulder and you’re eyes focused again on William who was floundering on top of you. Sweat was dripping from his every-pore, although you didn’t understand how because he wasn’t doing much. 

His hands lay either side of you like a cage you couldn’t escape from. His body thrust into yours and your eyes furrowed. He looked down at you, his face was so concentrated, you tried to smile up at him but from the way he looked away and picked up his pace it was clear it looked like more of a grimace.  

Your mind trailed to Calum, walking in on all the girls he’d fucked on your couch just because Ash couldn’t stand the noise anymore. Even when you went upstairs you could hear the sounds they would make, his name slipping from their lips like a mantra. 

Fuck, it’s not like you hated missionary all the time, but this was really like torture, the worst part was you just didn’t want to have to ruin your first time together by telling him he was just rubbing his cock in between your thighs, you wondered if he even knew what a vagina was, or if he had even watched any porn..  

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, trying to picture yourself somewhere far away. You’d tell him next time, but for now you just sat in bed wondering how no one else had mentioned this to him and cursed that the responsibility laid on your shoulders. 

You sat on your porcelain throne wrapped up in your fluffy towel watching as steam raised from your skin. You didn’t particularly feel like getting up and drying yourself off, the hot water draining you of energy. Instead, you scrolled through your phone waiting for the air you dry you off a bit more. Only a couple of seconds and you already saw three posts of the same photo of Calum coming out of a bar in Paris walking next to (probably not even with) a tall beautiful brunette. Usually, you wouldn’t give these photos a second thought, but now they just made you wonder about his mystery girl, he hadn’t had much time to text you while he was off and you hadn’t wanted to bring up the girl he was in love with again, not sure you could deal with too much disappointment at once. 

You leaned back against the toilet seat, your thumb flicking the screen up and down just seeing the two photos again and again. It was dumb, really dumb to be thinking of your best friend this way, for the longest time you were just happy with this, the two of you were insanely close and knowing that he hadn't been interested in love always gave you this weird sense of security, that you could take your time, that nothing was going to get in between the two of you. 

He’d always called you his favourite girl (apart from his mother and sister) you had always corrected and he would nod with a smile “apart from them. Your eyes started to water, realising that soon enough maybe that wouldn’t be the case. He would have a new favourite. 

You scrolled up, deciding not to torture yourself any longer, refreshing the page you were filled with relief when that photo was replaced by an advertisement for plane tickets for Paris. 

For Paris. 

Your fingers were working before you even knew what you were doing, your mind didn’t even register the very high price-tag as you dropped your towel running around your flat to find your card, spotting it laying on your coffee table, spilling out of your purse. You clutched it in your hands, typing in each digit with a shaking hand, cursing that phone wasn't going fast enough. 

When you had managed to get the detail correct (it took 3 times because of your shaking hands and pruney fingers) You flopped onto the sofa with a sigh, staring at the screen. 

You’re going to Paris!

YOU WERE GOING TO PARIS. You had no idea what you were doing when you ran to your wardrobe, throwing clothes into an oversized backpack. When you drove down to William’s and knocked on his door until he came out, leaving him with a fleeting sorry and “it's not you, it's me”. 

You’re brain wasn’t even working when you went to the airport, needing to ask for help every second of the way, your brain to frazzled to even understand what each person was saying.

You spent the whole flight pushing the nerves out of your mind, pushing out every thought in your mind. Your legs were bouncing and you just wanted to sleep until you arrived but you didn’t want unwanted dreams slowing down whatever the fuck it was that was motivating you to do this. 

You clutched your fist, in your hand and stared out the window listening to mindless music to escape your mind.

The plane landed and you called Calum, but you were immediately sent to voicemail, you tried everyone but only got voicemail or no answer at all. You gave up, instead looking at twitter, they had a concert somewhere and you were going to go and find it. 

“Yoyo!” You mumbled after spending a good portion of time standing on the pavement, tourist threading through you as you scrolled through the 5 seconds of summer hashtag. You tracked down a taxi and asked them to drive you there. The drive felt like it was lasting a life-time, the taxi drivers small talk about what brought you to the city and love was to much for your brain to comprehend at that moment, once he got to the venue you dashed throwing money at him before you dashed out the car. You could hear the faint sound of fans screaming and the hum of music, not quite able to make out whether or not it was who you were hoping for. 

You looked for some kind of back door, a fire exit, even a window but couldn’t find anything. Your heart was plummeting every second, what the hell were you doing. You were in the middle of France, no idea where you were, you had just given most of your money to a taxi driver and had no way to get to Calum at all. Then you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, pulling it out you saw Ashton and answered it as fast as you could.

“ASHTON YOU ARE MY SAVIOUR!” You sang through the phone. 

“Y/N whats wrong? are you ok? you’ve called so many times is something wrong? we’re in France we cant help remember” Ashton’s voice was filled with nerves, and you could hear the hustle and bustle behind him. 

“Yeah, so am i!” You exclaimed, “It’s a really long story but i’m here like outside so please come let me in, I really need to talk to Calum.” 

“have you hit your head? Y/n do you need some kind of ambulance?” 

You sighed, you really didn’t have time for this, and every second you stayed on the phone another inch of doubt crept into your mind. “Yeah I really do need an ambulance, because I’ve gone insane, insane on love so please Ashton let me in because Calum is the cure!” You blurted. getting antsier by the second. 

“Huh..are you about too.”

“Tell Calum I’m in love with him, yeah! So if you could let me in before i change my mind” You needed to keep talking, to keep moving, every time you stopped to think the only thing you felt was your brain telling you how bad of an idea this was. 

“No stay there ok, someones on their way. I’ve got to go, only came to pee” No sooner than Ashton hung up did a large man in a black shirt open a door, you had been certain was welded shut moments ago. 

You were ushered down cream corridors, it felt like they stretched on forever, you could hear the echo of the crowd and the music, your heart racing whenever you heard Calums voice “Sorry guys when you gotta go-” You heard Ashton say slightly muffled through the walls. The wind was knocked out of you, how long were they going to be on stage for, you didn’t know how much longer you could keep up this act. “You’re going to need to wait here.” The man said, finally leading you to a small dressing room. 

You sighed, plopping yourself on one of the wooden stools as the man left and closed the door. The room was covered in posters for events that were going on, some brand new and some so old they were peeling at the sides. Your eyes flicked to the brand new poster of 5 seconds of summer, your fingers trailing over the photo of Calum. 

Were you really about to do this, did you really fly all the way to France just to get rejected? You knew Calum, he wouldn’t stop talking to you because of this, but he sure as hell wouldn’t talk to you as much as he did now. 

Then he came in, sweat dripping from his chest, his tattoos peeking out of his black wife-beater, his face squished in a smile clearly excited but exhausted from his performance. He was looking at the boys behind him, laughing at something luke said, furrowing his brows in confusion when they stopped walking and slammed the door shut locking him in the small room.

He was about to spin around, thinking this was some dumb prank again when he spotted you, a smile instantly appearing his face, his eyes filled with disbelief. “Y/N? Is that actually you or did i fall asleep during the set?” 

You walked towards him, grabbing his hands in yours, twisting at the rings that adorned each finger. You took a deep breath, before looking into his twinkling eyes. 

“I love you, no. I’m completely enamoured by you Calum Thomas Hood and I flew all the way to fucking France just to tell you and even if you’re about to reject me please can you just wait for a second and kiss me first”

Your grip on his hands grew tighter, squeezing down hard enough to turn them white. His eyes scanned your face looking for any sign of doubt or joke. Your eyes began to water, your sudden surge of courage suddenly wearing off. “or you could just...reject me if you want” You mumbled meekly. 

Calums hands wiggled out of your grip and you moved away, bracing yourself when he pinched himself, “ouch” he exclaimed, before doing it again, looking to you and back at his sore arm again.  “I really must be awake.” he panted breathily

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, but his hands quickly cupped your cheeks and rubbed them away. “I love you too.” He confessed, bringing your face to his in a soft kiss. 

His lips brushed against your cupids-bow before they met yours more firmly. His hands moved to your jaw squeezing slightly as you moved your lips in sync with his. You could taste the salt from both of your tears, dripping down your faces with relief and happiness. “I love you,” You mumbled against his lips.

“I love you .” He whispered, his breath panting against yours. 

“I love you,” You said, nudging his nose with yours.

“I- hey wait.” He pouted, pulling his face back. “best friend privileges! You’re supposed to tell me when you’re in love with someone.” Calum said, his hand falling from your jaw to your neck giving it a soft squeeze

“fuck best friend privileges, I want girlfriend privileges.” 

“Yeah...like what?” He inquired with a teasing smirk. 

“Kiss me again” 

So he did.

[romera-rp]

Come one, come all to the glorious days o’ pumpkins! To continue the joviality of the end of summer, the unofficial period of silliness and merrymaking across Hegaehend has been dubbed “The Pumpkin Days.” Throughout the country there will be Autumnal themed activities for you to participate in to your hearts desire. Do you like pumpkins? Fire colored nature? Long nights sitting by a campfire? Cinnamon? Alcoholic and non-alcoholic apple juice? How about woolen sweaters? If not, then this will be an aggravating time for you. 

IN CHARACTER DETAILS

This event will take place from 1st October to 12th October and your threads may take place anywhere and anytime during those dates. Like the Autumn Equinox festival, this is a time of calm and happiness when the war seems like a far-off dream and no danger could possibly be lurking around the corner. Below there are activities in which your character can participate in, witness, or completely scorn and ignore. 

ACTIVITIES

Pumpkin Boat Racing

Head over to Pineridge for their annual pumpkin boat racing. Join an existing armada (the Hegaehend archers, knights, and clerics all have their own teams) or form your own in an attempt to carve and decorate the best giant pumpkin boat the country has ever seen! Perhaps you just want to watch and cheer on your favourites in which case apple cider, honey mead, and pumpkin-themed foods will be served throughout the vicinity. Midday, many times throughout the month, when the sun is highest, all those who have entered in the race will row their pumpkin boat down the river just north of Pineridge to the finish line. The first there wins 25gp and a handknit sweater with a pumpkin on it. 

Zombie Kitten Curing

No kittens were harmed in the making of the zombie kittens. Instead there has been an overabundance in new kitten litters in Khaggon and in an effort to redistribute the population of felines, many shops owners, farmers, and citizens who do not want twelve cats have come together to offer this adoption event. You are put in a small arena near Tarjtier Farmer’s Market full of lively kittens who have been colored green. Some, like the white kittens and tabbies, are remarkably green while the black and grey kittens are more murky. If you manage to catch a kitten (three animal handling rolls above 18) you have the option to adopt the kitten. Please note, it not advisable for those without a permanent residence to adopt. 

Tommen Haus’ Haunted House

Someplace intriguing and odd in Khaggon there is an old house. It is a fancy house. It’s an agéd house. And for this month only, it’s a haunted house! Step right up, step right up to Tommen Haus’ Haunted House. Inside you will find aberrations (stuffed), ghouls (fake), nightmares beyond your very own nightmares (rented), and all manner of goo and gore and grit and also glitter (available for purchase at the gift shop at the end). So brave adventurer, will you step foot into Tommen Haus’ horror mansion? Entrance is 15cp and at the end of the month the house will be put up for purchase (decorations not included).

Ghost Hunting

Have you ever noticed bloodied movement out of the corner of your eye in Khaggon’s fight club? Movement too smooth or too stilted to truly be alive? Or perhaps deep in the archives of the Academy of the Arcane… sometimes the library stacks become oddly cold, don’t you think? No one can prove that ghosts aren’t voyeurs and the spooks of La Roche Moussue, the Runswick bathhouse, definitely are. Maybe they’re disgruntled patrons? Perhaps they slipped on the bubbles. The Blackmore Lady, an abandoned ship in Arx’s Whale Water port, creaks and shrieks and howls with the best of them! If there are ghosts to be found anywhere, it’d be that loud, obnoxious boat. Oh, and the entirety of Myrefall is just… well, you know. 

Lord Horcryn’s Autumnal Bonanza

If you luck out and receive an invitation, head over to join the spooky, saucy, severely salacious parties of Lord Horcryn at the Heartfire Quarter in Runswick. Parties will take place all night 5th October and 12th October. All the alcohol possible will be served alongside phenomenal and amazing delicacies. The company will be sparkling, the booze spilling, and anything that can be pumpkin shaped will be pumpkin shaped. Spare bedrooms are in abundance in the large manor for anyone with desire to get more private during the evening. Unfortunately, these private rooms are not pumpkin shaped. 

Lord Horcryn is also looking for a new host. His normal host, Mapel Simsees, hasn’t shown up for work in several days. He’s reported her missing, and prays she’ll return, but in the meantime needs help.

OOC DETAILS FOR ACTIVITIES

While this event will in canon take place between 1st October to 12th October, but you do not need to end your threads come 12th October. 

There will be a second event dropping on that day and that event will run until 9th November. 

You’re welcome to continue your Pumpkin Days threads until then as well. 

Feel free to continue your storylines throughout this event, however, if you plan on having event-independent threads taking place, but wish to participate in the second event, don’t have them take place after October 12th. This will become clear later, but any threads will be in conflict with the event if you take part. 

Make sure you tag your posts with romevent as well as “Pumpkin Days.” 

CONTESTS

Here’s a fun chance to win something from Periwinkleton’s Keep of Shops regardless of your accumulated points! Head on over to Isla’s favourite place anytime during the month of October for a chance to win something fantabulous, miraculous, funky, ridiculous, maybe helpful, and random! 

Isla Periwinkleton’s First Annual Pumpkin Carving Contest

Note: Carved squash are also permissible. Free candy to all that participate. Enter your carved pumpkin masterpiece for a chance to win a random item (except for real estate) from Periwinkleton’s Keep of Shops!

No need to get an actual pumpkin or squash unless you want to. This can be a doodle of a Jack o’ Lantern on a sticky note, a full blown portrait of a pumpkin, a pixel art rendition of a seasonal squash, or really anything squash-like and also “carved.” The goal is for the dash to be covered in mismatched pumpkin art. 

You may make as many as you like, but only the first submission will be counted towards the contest. 

To keep it totally mysterious, the item is not currently in stock.

Suri Schneider’s Costume Contest

Come garbed in your loveliest lace, your cookiest couture, and you’re most likeable lingerie—wait, no, don’t do that… Unless it’s halloween themed in which case by all means. Enter for a chance to win a breathtakingly constructed mystery item from Suri Schneider’s garment shop Fine Fineries & Great Garments. (Written by Felipe at the behest of Suri.)

Post what your character would wear for Halloween! This can be what they would be in Romera, meaning more fantasy and medieval based costumes, and/or can be a more modern rendition.

These posts are like the outfit posts we did for the Masyarakat Ball. 

To keep it totally mysterious, the item is not currently in stock.

Felipe’s Fantabulous Flambé Trick Bounty: Open to all.

Play a lovely little tricksy-wicksy on a friend, foe, or fiend and write-in to Felipe’s shop with the glorious and gloomy details for a chance to win a mystery item from Felipe’s joke shop.

This entry can be a drabble/self-para about your character playing a prank or trick on someone or a thread between two or more people playing a prank/pranking one another. 

Everyone involved in a thread will have a submission counted towards the contest.

To keep it totally mysterious, the item is not currently in stock.

Please note that nothing is flambed unless you make it so, Felipe just ran out of ‘F’ words for the title.

OOC DETAILS FOR CONTESTS

You can participate in each contest as many times as you like, but only your first submission will be counted. 

You may also enter in all of the contests, but cannot win more than one of them. 

You have until 31st October to enter and at the end of the month all of the entries will be counted and the winner shall be announced on the Keep of Shop’s page by the respective shop owner.

In order to enter, please submit to the Keep blog with a link to your submission post just like you would your weekly points. These don’t need to be in character, but feel free to do so in character.

Remember to tag your submissions with the appropriate contest name. As an example, if Efrain enters the costume contest, his entry post will be tagged with: “romevent,” and “Suri Schneider’s Costume Contest.”

EXTRA WAYS TO EARN POINTS THIS OCTOBER

10gp - Participate in any or all of the contests. Receive the reward for each one you enter.

20 gp - Write a self-para about your character getting frightened, either through true trauma or a from spider appearing next to them and giving them the willies. 

20gp -Write a self-para or do a thread involving the Missing Persons Warnings.

30 gp - Go ghost hunting! Or… get ghost hunted.

15gp - Participate in the kitten competition or the pumpkin boat races either in a self-para or in a thread with someone also participating. 

30gp - Attend one of Lord Horcryn’s parties either as a guest or an employee. (Runswick)

20gp - Take a wander through Tommen Haus’ Haunted House with a friend or several. (Khaggon)