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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Vanilla

Kinktober day 21 - Vanilla

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - @stargazingfangirl18 asked for soft ransom! Thanks @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @whateveriwant for their advice! Also for @finleyjayne 's rainbow writing challenge with the prompt 'white lie'. Hope y'all like it💖

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - When you find out Ransom's been lying, you can't help but assume the worst.

Warnings - 18+ only please!, smut (m/f), ooc Ransom.

Pairing - Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You sighed as a tear rolled down your cheek, looking at an old photo strip of you and Ransom. You had taken it in a photo booth at the fall fair, he was reluctant, calling them dumb and cheesy but he gave in when you gave him your puppy eyes.

He looked stoic in the first two, with you perched up on his lap, your arms around his neck but then he was laughing boisterously because you started tickling you. The last one was of him biting your neck as revenge.

Happy times. But they seem to be taunting you now.

Your family, even your friends, weren’t huge fans of Ransom. Your mother was actually scared he’d hit you or hurt you. But they didn’t know him like you did.

He was never cruel to you. Not even when he didn’t know you and had nothing to gain from being nice to you. Surprisingly, he was quite the gentlemen, holding the door for you, paying for your meals, even waiting for over a month before making love - you knew then you could never let go of him, no one would ever give it to you like him.

He did tend to be a bit judgmental and cynical, entitled and maybe a bit spoilt. But you accepted that as a part of him, encouraging him to work on himself. Sure, he’ll never be everyone's cup of tea, but he’d always be yours.

Or so you thought.

Dealing with Ransom required some finesse and patience that you were willing to put up because it was worth it. But you’d never put up with lies, or worse... that’s not who you were.

Ransom had told you he was going to meet up with his published to talk about his new project. Your gut told you that something was wrong. When he was late you took it upon yourself to call the publishing house only to find out he didn’t have a meeting today at all.

He didn’t have one that Sunday either, where he was for over four hours you didn’t know.

You let out a humorless chuckle at your own naiveté - who the fuck has a meeting on the weekend anyway?

You only saw what your heart wanted to show you. Maybe, he never loved you. Maybe everything you both shared for the past two years was a lie - an act.

You yelped a bit when you heard the door being slammed shut, putting the photo down you quickly composed yourself.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you, kissing the top of your head before scavenging for a beer in your fridge.

“Hey,” your voice hoarse and croaky, you cleared your throat, “how was your meeting?” you spat. Unable to keep the contempt from your voice.

“So and so. They don’t know shit,” he twisted the cap off before he taking a long drag of it.

You gulped when you looked at his pale throat bobbing and swallowing the liquid down. He took his coat off, throwing it over the counter.

You watched his muscles flex under his tight sweater, his curious eyes watching you, your traitorous body still found him attractive. Which he was, objectively so, some might even argue that he was out of your league and not the other way around.

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked, catching you staring at him. He stood before you, holding onto your hips.

You blinked, pushing him away and putting some distance between you, “I want to know more about the meeting.” you insisted.

“What the hell are you going on about?” He ran a hand through his perfectly groomed hair - messing it up. You knew it was a nervous tick of his.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! You weren’t at any meeting were you? You were probably with some bitch,” you yelled, jabbing him in his chest with your finger, “No,” you laughed, “Wasn’t her fault. She’s not the one cheating. I should’ve known better.” you shook your head, “Everybody warned me.”

He had the audacity to roll his eyes, “God, you women - ”

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom. Now is not the time for your boring jokes. Where were you?”

“Why would you jump to the worse conclusion?!” he yelled back, his face turning red and a couple of veins popping on his forehead. “Do I not get benefit the doubt? Don’t you trust me?”

He walked towards you, making you take a few steps back until you hit the counter, tall and imposing above you. His jaw clenched shut as he stared you down.

You gulped, “I did trust you. But what explanation could you possibly have? You lied, didn’t you? Where were you?”

You watched him as he dug through his discarded coat, taking out a box and handing it to you. You knew what it was as soon as you saw it, the familiar burgundy color with the words ‘cartier’ written on top in golden cursive.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, your heart clenched in guilt. You accused him of the worst when he was just out getting you jewellery. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“Bit to late to be sorry when you already said your part.” he gritted.

“Sorry,” you gave him a nervous smile, “I really don’t deserve this, I don’t know what to say...”

“I was with Meg, since she’s the only girl I know, who’d be of any use. She just gave a lecture about how buying diamonds is so unethical or something, I don’t know I tuned out,” he shuddered at just the thought of it, “So, it’s not final. We can exchange it if you don’t like it,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You frowned, “Why would I need to exchange it? I’m sure it’s very pretty,” you opened the box and gasped, your jaw dropping, “Ransom... this is...” the most beautiful diamond ring you’ve ever seen. “Wait a minute, does that mean..”

“Yep,” he snatched it away from you, taking the ring out of it and then sliding it on your ring finger, “I was going to go the whole nine yards. Get down on a knee, act like a fucking Disney Prince but you don’t get that now,” he smirked, the diamond looking so pretty on your hand. “You’re stuck with me, forever.”

“Well, I’m sad that I missed out on a proper proposal but I suppose I deserve it. It really is so pretty,” you beamed at the ring.

“Don’t you dare take it off.” He held onto your hand possessively. Glad to have some sort of claim on you now that would let any unworthy asshole know that you’re taken.

You giggled, placing a quick smooch on his lips, “I won’t. I’ll protect it with my life,” holding the hand close to your heart. “I’m still so sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“That’s right, you should’ve.” he grumbled

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He’d have no problem assuming the worst if the roles were reversed. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Jutting your lower lip out and looking at him with your big doe eyes.

Pulling you by your waist and holding you tightly against him, “I can think of a couple of things, pumpkin.”

He captured your lips in a salacious kiss that was all teeth and tongue, running his thumb over the diamond.

***

“Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed, pumpkin,” he praised, choking on a moan, pushing your hot, eager mouth further down on his length.

You let out a muffled whimper, relaxing your throat so you could take all of him. Which was quite a task but you powered through, swallowing him down until your nose touched the brown patch of hair above his length.

He let out a loud, primal moan, holding onto your head and trying his best not to bust his load too soon. He pulled you off of him, getting off of the mattress, putting his hands below your arms and hauling you up and pushing you down on it. It was always fun to manhandle you like that, what with you being so small and plaint. Always ready to serve him and let him have his way with you.

You blinked up at him with unsure eyes, almost wanting to cover yourself from his predatory gaze. “St - stop looking at me like that.”

He chuckled, “You’re mine now. I’ll look at you however I like.”

He knelt on the floor, pulling you till you were on the edge of the bed, nudging your intimate lips apart with his nose. He took a long breath in, your unique scent never failed to make him hot.

Placing a flurry of kisses up and down your inner thighs, giving your a nick and a bite here and there till you were going crazy with need. Need to have his mouth on you.

“Please, Ransom,” you sniffled exaggeratedly, “Just want your mouth on me.”

“You’ve got no patience, doll.” Which was rich, coming from him.

He shook his head, teasing your entrance with his tongue. Before finally, wrapping his mouth around your bundle of nerves, sucking at it leisurely.

You pulled at his hair, pushing him closer to your heat because you needed more.

He took the hint, plunging two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out till he felt you clamping down on them. He pulled right away when he felt you getting too close to your climax.

No, he needed to look at your face as you fell apart with him.

Ignoring your whines and curses he hovered above you, pushing his tip against your entrance, coating it with your juices.

You were out of it, barely there with him, your hands loosely holding onto his broad shoulders, “I love you,” you murmured and then yelped, your eyes scrunched shut as he thursted his entire length inside you. Your nails digging into his biceps and drawing blood.

There was that delicious familiar ache at first, but you willed yourself to ride through it. It’ll feel good in no time. Except.... he didn’t move.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him to see him staring at you. You called out his name, caressing his cheek.

“Say it again,” he panted.

“Say what?” you yelped again as he lifted your hips up, his tip brushing against your spongy spot, “Oh.. uh... I love you.” you repeated.

He stayed still for a moment or longer. Still not used to hearing those words, especially said so sincerely by you. They often caught him off guard and overwhelmed him.

His hips bucked into yours as he started thrusting into you properly, his fingers digging into your hips.

You pulled him down and pressed your lips to his, swirling your tongue against his, spilling your moans in his mouths, only pulling away when you could barely breath. He did have a way of always leaving you breathless.

Propping himself on his elbows, he watched you writhe under him, your face scrunching up in untethered pleasure as you kept asking him for more. It's where you belonged, wrapped up around him. And your cavern was his rightful place, especially now that you'll be married.

“You’ve always been a, tight little thing. Squeezing the shit outta me,” he grunted as you pulsed and fluttered around him your body seized up and fell back.

He kept driving his hips into you, riding out your orgasm till ropes of his seed coated your walls, he didn’t let up till he was sure he gave you every last drop of him.

He collapsed on top of you, nipping at the shell of your ear, “Again,” he pleaded, his voice wavering with his cock softening inside you.

“I love you, baby, more than you’ll ever know,” you said, cradling his head close to you.

He hummed, pulling himself out of you, laying beside you, he admired your ring as you struggled to stay away, your eyes already dozing off.

He was proud to have bought it with his own hard earned money with the book you inspired him to write, it was sort of poetic in a way. But you didn’t need to know that or you’d accuse him of going soft for you - which to be fair he was. As his mother always says every marriage has its secrets.

Tags will be in the reblog!

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

#rainbowwritingchallenge #ransom Drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom x reader #chris evans x reader #berry writes

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ellitx · 3 years

Note

helpppppp i read that scenario of reader sleeping over, and I couldn’t help but imagine that they all share the same room when that is. Also what do you think the twins would do to get readers attention over the other?

Im gonna set this back when you’re in the middle school or something.

masterlist

fluff

word count: 1.6k

You and the twins are already comfortable with laying on each other’s bed whenever you/they visit. Your mother, Amos, even brings snacks to your room for them to eat and she always gets excited whenever they come to your house.

She’s even the one who insisted if you wanna invite them for a sleepover! Your father, Decarabian, always disapproves whenever you ask him if you can sleep at the twin’s house. (Also because uncle Andrius is there and he doesn't want you to get close to him)

Himmel and Venti were having friendly bickering and thinking over what gift they should give to your mother as thanks for welcoming them in. Amos accepts anything! She really appreciates they’ve put an effort to do it but later on, feels guilty and that they didn’t have to do it.

Speaking of gifts, your birthday is almost coming. Himmel and Venti thought at the same time. And while Aunt Amos is here...

You already know that they also have the same idea to ask your mother what you would like to have as a gift but have different methods to approach her.

It was Himmel who first asked aunt Amos about it. Well... not really her but someone else. It was after dinner and he decided to help her out and the maids in cleaning the dishes. He was really nervous and shy to ask her. Is it really alright if he questions aunt Amos what are your favorites? Will she get disappointed that he doesn’t know what your likes and dislikes are for the entire years he grew up with you?

Himmel sighed and continues to wipe the dishes with a dry cloth and puts them inside their respective racks.

“Master Himmel is everything alright?” A maid suddenly asked in concern, surprising him.

“We can handle everything here. If you’re getting tired, we’ve already prepared and tidied the room as what the Young Mistress has ordered.” She continued. The boy blinked before shaking his head and giving a soft smile to her way.

“Oh please don’t worry about me! I’m just thinking about something.” His attention was back on the ceramic plate and he carefully does dry it.

“Is it perhaps the Young Mistress’s birthday is coming soon?”

Himmel almost dropped the plate if it were not for him to quickly regain his balance and tightly hold on to it for dear life. He looked at the maid in utter shock, his face was scribbled with bafflement and embarrassment as he owlishly blinked at her.

Was he really that obvious the maid managed to point out his current problems right on spot? Well, It’s better to talk to her about this right? She knows you more than him after all.

Himmel nodded and set his gaze on the plate, mirroring his appearance.

“What do you think [Name] would like to receive as a gift?” He muttered under his breath as heat began to crawl up to his face up to the tip of his ears.

“Young Mistress’s favorite?” The maid echoed. She then placed her gloved hands to her chin, deep in thought.

“I’m sure she’d love anything as long as it’s from you. It’s the thought that counts, is it not?” She said before turning off the faucet to avoid wasting water.

Himmel was quiet for a minute.

Anything, huh?

—

Venti would directly ask Aunt Amos what gift you would like when she was preparing night snacks for the three of you. The younger twin snuck out of the room and left you and Himmel alone to play some video games.

As much as he’d hate not being included there and missing out on the fun, the most important matter right now is the gift you’ll get for your day of birth!

“Aunt Amos! Aunt Amos!” Venti cried and slammed the door open to where the kitchen is. The said woman shrieked at the sudden intrusion and looked over her shoulder to see the culprit behind her almost heart attack.

“Venti... goodness you gave me a fright there.” Amos chuckled and continued to prep up an iced tea.

“Aunt Amos, I wanna ask you something!” He said and leaned over the counter to take a peek at what she’s doing.

She stopped whatever she’s doing and wiped her hands with her apron before setting her focus on the short male.

“What is it?”

Venti walked back and cleared his throat behind his fist as if he were going to make a speech.

“A man is sitting in a pub feeling rather poor. He sees the gentleman next to him pull a bag of 100 Mora out of his pocket.

He turns to the rich man and says to him,

'I have an amazing talent; I know almost every song that has ever existed.'

The rich man laughs.

The poor man says, 'I am willing to bet you all the money you have in your wallet that I can sing a genuine song with a lady's name of your choice in it.'

The rich man laughs again and says, 'OK, how about my daughter's name, [Name]?'

The rich man goes home poor. The poor man goes home rich.

What song did he sing?”

Venti ended his riddle with a smile at the woman. Amos seemed to be contemplating his question very well and it’s not often she gets to participate in his brain-teasers. So this is very much a surprise for her.

Well, enough about that, she has to answer this quickly and she doesn’t want to make him wait for her longer. Going back to his riddle, was the rich man supposed to be her husband? Venti did mention your name when the poor man asked the rich man.

A song that has your name...

“Is it Happy Birthday?” She answered.

“Bing bong!” Venti’s fingers were formed to an okay sign and gave her a big grin.

“Knowing the answer is Happy Birthday, I suppose you’re also going to ask me about [Name]’s gift, am I correct?”

Venti let out a hearty laugh and winked at her. “Correct once again, Miss Amos!”

“Sooo...” He held on to the chair’s backrest and gave her the best puppy eyes he could muster to get another answer from her.

“Please please please please tell me what [Name] would like— no, LOVE to get on her birthday!!” He begged and clasped his hands together as if he was praying to a god.

“Now, now, isn’t that cheating? Your brother never asked me about this so isn’t it fair for you if you guess as well?” She remarked as she arranged the brownies on the plates.

“Wait— Himmel didn’t ask you?!”

Oh, how foolish he was to think the older twin actually asked your mother. Was he thinking too much when Himmel helped her out in cleaning the table? Perhaps yes, perhaps not. Or maybe Aunt Amos is hiding something that even she cannot tell the hidden secret to him?

“Well, I suppose I can give you a hint on what it is.” Amos motioned for him to come closer in which Venti quickly obeyed. Venti took note of all the words left from her lips in his head and is beginning to plan out events on the next days before your birthday.

His smile was brighter than the sun in this nightly hour and his eyes sparkled in excitement and joy. Even though her hint lacks information and clues he could deduct, he at least speculated it must be that item!

“Thank you, Miss Amos! That’s already a good hint for me! Now if you excuse me, I suppose we can eat this already...?” He sheepishly asked as he looked on the tray placed with a pile of brownies on a plate, a pitcher of iced tea, and three tall fragile glasses.

“I was about to ask you if you can bring it to the room. Be careful not to trip on your way!” The young male bobbed his head and picked up the tray with his two hands.

“Will do! And thank you for the snacks again!” And then off he goes, his slippers slapping against the tiled floor to make his way back to the shared room.

Amos watched his form disappear before her eyes flicked to the doorframe. A small smile appeared on her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You can come out now, dear.” She said. A good minute of silence was only present in the kitchen before a tall man stepped out of the darkness, sighing heavily as he threw her a look of disappointment.

“Did that little rascal really have to use me in his riddles?” He groaned before taking a look over the leftover pieces of brownies.

“What? It’s kind of amusing and smart to do it. I’ll give him kudos for that.” Amos opened her lips and popped in small bits of the dessert in her mouth to take a taste of it.

“Hmph,” Decarabian huffed as he poured a drink to the glass.

“And let me guess that Himmel also asked you about [Name]’s birthday?” He almost spat out his drink when his wife mentioned the name of your friend. It would be a waste if he did that and he doesn’t like to cause a mess in this area already.

“I told you he’s a good kid. You just have to get rid of that frown of yours and your authoritative aura. Himmel’s always doing his best and now he even had the courage to approach and ask you.”

Decarabian could only stand still and remain silent as he sipped his drink.

—

ive written a shared room scenario before and this is set on college au. Do take note this has nsfw content in it

#anon ask #ellianswers #venti x reader #himmel x reader #genshin impact x reader #elliwrites #venti fluff

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eg4mccc · 3 years

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What's Your Dream?

As I generally do every year, during this week between Christmas and the New Year, I've been looking back, and also forward. What's different is that for the past few years, I've been drifting, just existing, and I hadn't even been setting any resolutions, or goals, much less following or completing any dreams, big or small.

I plan to change that for 2022. In fact, I've already started moving in that direction. You might have noticed a couple of things I updated on Patreon, I've changed to their "Charge Up Front" payment model, and I also enabled Annual payments, offering a 10% discount for anyone choosing that option.

What changed, where's this motivation burst coming from, you might ask? Sit tight, and I'll tell you. It's been a long time since I've written a post just because I wanted to share about something I'm interested in, and I can't think of a better time than now, as we're about to break the seal on a brand new year.

Sometime last month, I decided to open one of the emails regarding personal development products/services that I'd subscribed to over two years ago, from Natalie Ledwell/Mind Movies. I have since watched a webinar she produced with John Assaraf guesting, and another she did with Mary Morrissey. I've consumed a good bit of her content since. She has a wealth of information available, across various platforms, but this first taste (the two webinars) was eye-opening for me. Natalie mentioned the movie The Secret (2006) by Rhonda Byrne being life-changing for her.

Around Thanksgiving, I watched the movie. I've watched it one other time, since then, and I plan to sit my family down in front of it pretty soon, also. I don't have Netflix, but I found The Secret for free, with ads, on Pluto.tv. It introduces ways of thinking that I'd never really considered, before.

Note: other than Natalie/MindMovies, and Rhonda Byrne's The Secret merchandise, I'm not endorsing any one person or program, and no one is paying me to say any of this. Personal Development is a huge industry, and I've just seen a small segment, enough to get a grasp of where the various methods they teach overlap, and differ. Fascinating field. (Bob Proctor is a name everyone should Google, he is an amazing human being.)

Properly applied, The Law of Attraction can change your life. Like attracts like, which is a HUGE concept. Here's another one: You can control your thoughts, and get off the negativity spiral. I know, because I recently did it.

I've been passively listening to the "movie in my head" saying all kinds of negative things to me, about me, for literal decades. Being able to actively step in and Stop That has already been such a major breakthrough for me, that I wanted to share it with you, in case you're struggling with any limiting beliefs from your past that might still be keeping you down.

I'll admit I still fall off the "let it go" wagon occasionally... sometimes the little voice takes a "mean girl" shot at me... but it hasn't been often, or lasted very long, since I changed my awareness of where that self-talk was coming from. Give it a try, just "step outside yourself" and listen.

Thoughts become things. I truly believe this. The world would be a much better place, if more of us were nicer to ourselves, and to each other.

That's my dream, to live in a kinder, gentler, happier world than what I'm seeing unfold around me. I'm willing to use my skills toward realizing that goal, too.

What's your dream?

I'm determined to make 2022 an amazing year. I hope you'll join me, and follow your own dreams and passions. Be the change you'd like to see, that's the angle I'm working from.

Happy New Year! EG/Elissa

My Linktree: Finding egwarhammer

#lawofattraction #family #holiday #new year #update

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bellemorte180 · 4 years

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I want to read your version of everything between "Good." and "In the woods. I got lost." I'm pretty sure there were leaves falling that day if that helps with the theme XD

Four hours, twenty-six minutes, and eight second later Caroline almost though her legs hurt. The stamina that Klaus had was impressive, but she supposed that after being alive for a thousand years, he was bound to pick up a trick or two. Even with Tyler, who was also a hybrid, she never experienced such a sex marathon before. Part of her wanted to tell him they were done, her body unable to take any more but then he would smirk at her and she found herself pinning him to the ground.

This time, Klaus was on his back and Caroline’s head was bobbing up and down as her mouth took his shaft deeply as she could. Her tongue swirled around him, sending vibrations through him as his teeth nipped at her clit as she moaned. Her knees dug into the ground while Klaus continued to eat at her.

The obscene noises that could be heard among the trees only made Caroline feel even more sensitive. Her body ached with need and exhaustion all at the same time, yet she found that she just could not get enough of him. As Klaus bit down on her clit, sending his venom through her body, Caroline let go of his shaft and cried out in pleasure.

Klaus gripped her hips and turned her over, so she was laying on her back against the falling leaves. She spread her legs widely and Klaus seethed his way into her. She had gotten used to his fast pace by this point. She was shattered around him, bruised by his pounding and her voice hoarse at the amount of screaming she had done.

“Bite me Caroline, you need my blood.” Klaus groaned into her ear. It was not the first time that night he had bit her, using his venom in order to mix pain with pleasure. It was something she could only experience with him and he was more than willing to offer up his blood for her. Blood sharing was intimate and something she had never done but part of Caroline knew that deep down, she would track Klaus down when she was ready.

Black veins appeared under her eyes and she bit into his neck deeply. His blood pooled into her mouth as Klaus continued to thrust in and out of her. The intoxicating taste of him mixed with the feeling of him fucking her sent her into a tailspin. She had lost count at the amount of times she had come for him, but she knew that there were a few times that she completely blacked out.

This being one of those times.

“Sweetheart?” Klaus’s voice sounded as her eyes fluttered open. She turned to look at Klaus who was peered down at her with a very smug smile. Caroline groaned and moved her hand in order to flip him off. That only caused him to chuckle deeply. “Rest up. Feed from me if you need to. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Seriously? It’s been like what? Almost five hours? The sun has gone down! You cannot still be horny?”

Klaus chuckled darkly again, his lips trailing over her body lightly as she started at him in disbelief. It did not help that her body had become so entuned with him that it was responding to lips. She whimpered as his hands brushed against her core but did not dive in further. She was sensitive and while she could feel her arousal beginning to pool between her legs, the mere thought of having him inside her again almost hurt.

Then again, she had thought the same thing two hours previously and they were still here.

“It will be a very long time until I have you at my mercy again Caroline. I plan on savoring every second of this evening with you. Who knows when you’ll come knocking on my door? In a year? Two? Ten? Sixty? It will happen but until then, I must be patient. Trust me, Love. I will be reliving this night over and over.”

“You sound so sure that I’ll be coming to find you.” Caroline panted as Klaus’s teeth nipped at her hipbone. She laid back against the forest floor, staring at the stars up above feeling boneless and tired; enjoying the sensual feelings Klaus was causing her. “Who is to say that this is not a one off?”

“Because I’ve ensured it.” Klaus crawled up her body and peered down into her eyes. “I’ve written myself all over your body Caroline. Whenever you take another lover, you will think of me. You will compare them to me. Maybe they will satisfy you, maybe they won’t but in the end, you know that they will never live up to me. You’ll come to me in time and when you do, I’ll want you for eternity.”

“A foundation of a relationship cannot be built on sex.” Caroline replied in a whisper. She had learned that lesson the hard way with Tyler. Whenever they tried to really make it work, everything fell flat. “It’s only part of a relationship, the rest takes real work.”

“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I think, Caroline, that I’ve already proven that I would be willing to go the extra mile for you. I’ve shown parts of myself that I thought were long buried, because of you.” He kissed her again. “Just know that I’ll be waiting for you show up on my door, however long it takes.”

#klaroline #klaroline after dark

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perfecting-procrastination · 4 years

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New Beginnings - VAV (Part 1 - Give me more)

Dom!Reader x Lou

I felt a bit inspired lately and wanted to write a series on VAV so here you go! The reader has just arrived in Korea as a student and moves into the same apartment complex as the boys. Let’s just say things get kinkyy....

Warnings: 18+, Dom!reader, TEASING, Oral.

You recently moved into a new apartment complex, it was only temporary as you decided to transfer over to South Korea for your studies. Life back at home was becoming boring and you struggled to find things that would excite you in your small town. You were desperate for a change. So as soon as you saw the ads for studying abroad, you couldn't help yourself. You felt confident that Korea could give you that fulfilment as you continually thought to yourself, "I need somewhere completely different, something I haven't experienced before."

You were unpacking your last bits at the apartment, feeling accomplished. It was finally all coming together and you couldn't wait to relax in your OWN place in KOREA?! It all felt surreal and you were still struggling to process all the excitement. You had only one last box to grab from your car, you paced downstairs with excitement. Unlocking your car, you attempt to grab the last box. However, you didn't anticipate how heavy it was and struggle is written all over your face. While still attempting, you feel a tall presence behind you. "Do you need some help? You look like you are struggling there." You place down the box and turn around to see this tall beautiful man. He has soft skin and innocent eyes. "Haha, yes I am for sure. I don't want to trouble you though." You said politely. He chuckles, "No, no its fine. I am happy to help". You smile back at him and he moves past you to pick up the box. He carries it with such ease that it makes you question your own strength. You walk over to the entrance and open the door to let him through. He smiles and nods back at you. As you both make your way upstairs to your apartment in the elevator, you can sense that he is feeling shy ever since you both stepped into the small enclosed space. "So, do you have a name?" you say with a giggle. He smirks back at you and says, "Haha, yes I do. Its Lou, sorry I should have asked for yours." You smile, "Ahh nice, well nice to meet you Lou. I am (Y/N)". You finally arrive at your floor and he waves for you to go first. As you step back you can't help but feel like Lou is stopping himself from checking you out, you are wearing a particularly figure hugging skirt that makes your bum look great.

You arrived at your door and hastily opened it to let Lou through, you couldn't help yourself but check out this fine man. He is so tall with such broad shoulders accompanied with the most captivating face you've ever seen. He places the box down, his eyes meet yours causing you to break contact. Feeling shy, you focus your eyes to the floor because your mind is so clouded with all the dirty things you could do to him. Questioning what kind of things he was into. Would he be the type to let you take control or would he be the one dominating you? Either way, you are biting your lip harshly in excitement. Lou could see you were getting yourself into a mess and watched your lips hungrily. "So, why have you come to Korea?", you snap back to reality after hearing his low voice and look towards him, "Well, life at home was getting pretty boring and just felt like a change in scenery was much needed". He smiles, "Well you've come to the right place, its amazing here and I'd happily show you around if you like". Not only is this man drop dead gorgeous but he is also so kind. This is so rare for you as you were messed over by so many guys back at home, you need someone like Lou. You look deep into his eyes and smile, "Thank you, I will be sure to take up that offer. Would you like me to make you anything? Some water maybe?" He nods, "Yes please". You walk over to the kitchen, Lou follows closely behind. You pour some water into a glass and hand it to Lou. His hands lightly touches yours and you both share a glance. You could feel your heart beating outside of your chest and couldn't help but imagine all those dirty things again. You tug on your bottom lip and stare at Lou hungrily. He stares down at your lips, wanting so badly to taste them. You could feel the heat rising and felt something take over you. Instantly, you take the glass and move it out the way. You turn around to see Lou's confused face, and pacing up to him, you grab his shirt. Pulling him in close, you attach your lips to his. At first, you were worried that Lou wouldn't kiss you back. But then you felt his lips move with yours, threading his right hand through your hair. You pull him closer, slowly poking your tongue in his mouth. Hungry for Lou to reciprocate. He takes his left hand and pulls your waist in closer, desperately wanting. You can feel the heat from your core intensify, you needed him and you needed him now. You break from the kiss and signal for him to lift you onto the kitchen counter. Lou doesn't hesitate to pick you up and place you on the cold hard surface. Feeling Lou wrap his hands around your thighs made you desperate for more. You open your legs and pull him in closer, attaching your lips back to his. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans, it is torturous. He begins trailing his kisses down your neck, you couldn't help but let a moan escape your lips. You begin to thread your fingers through his thick black hair, tugging lightly. You are getting desperate and are not going to wait any longer. You immediately tug his hair and move him away from your neck. His eyes pierce yours, growing dark. You look at him with an evil smirk, "Fingers. Now." you demand. Lou looks at you, taken back by your sudden request. "Do I need to repeat myself?" you question. He shakes his head, almost mesmerised by your dominance. You lift up your skirt allowing him more access. As Lou moves his right hand to in between your legs, you suddenly grab it and move it towards your mouth. You begin to slowly suck on his two fingers, keeping full eye contact with Lou. You lightly swirl your tongue around his fingers, causing a deep throaty moan to escape his lips. You sluggishly remove his fingers from your mouth, moving it towards your core. You pull him in tight with your spare hand and whisper closely "I’m waiting". His eyes grow wide and needy. He nods, moving your panties to one side and slowly sliding his wet fingers between your soaked folds. You release a breathy moan from the contact. He begins to tease your clit with his thumb while still moving his fingers between the folds, going at a painfully sluggish pace. He’s teasing you and you’re growing impatient. “If you don’t obey my orders, I will make you suffer much worse baby” you huff. He licks his lips and smirks back at you, “Why? Are you suffering baby?”. This boy is being a brat and he has no idea who he’s dealing with. Your eyes turn black, you push Lou back and get off the counter. He looks at you confused, unsure of your next move. You grab his shirt and bring him in closer, “You’re playing a dangerous game baby”. You begin to nibble at his ear and start to place light kisses across his neck. You place your right hand steadily at his hard bulge, moving against it. He needs you bad and you can feel it. You slowly unzip his jeans, moving them down, along with his boxers to grant you more access. You move your lips to his, kissing him gently. You begin to softly graze your fingers over his tip. Steadily moving your fingers around it, placing your thumb over the slit to spread the precum that’s already oozing out. You move painfully slow, while tugging at Lou’s bottom lip. He groans “Please, give me more”. His neediness makes you go wild, you love having him helpless and wanting. You smirk, and comply. Well, at least for now. You detach yourself from his lips and lower your body until your eyes are met with his member. Locking eyes with Lou, you move your mouth towards his shaft. You begin to slowly lick a strip from the bottom of his dick to the tip. Once you reach the tip you start to swirl your tongue around his end, sucking only the very tip of his member. He throws his head back with a loud moan, he’s suffering and its only turning you on more. Suddenly, you decide to take him all in. His tip hitting the back of your throat, “Fuck” Lou exclaims. You pick up your pace, bobbing your head up and down. You can feel his orgasm coming evidently closer. His shaft begins to throb intensely, in need of a release. “I’m close baby” he exhales. You keep the pace up until you feel his orgasm nearing and his groans getting louder. You suddenly remove your mouth from his member. Lou looks at you frustrated and hungry, “What, why?” he cries. You bring him in close and whisper in his ear, “Disobey me again and I’ll make your next punishment much worse”. You remove your grip from him and smirk, “Now if you don’t mind me I’m going to shower and release some built up tension. If you are willing to behave, leave your number on the counter on your way out”. You move your thumb across your lips wiping off the liquid left from Lou away. He looks at you shocked and unable to process your last words. You turn around and walk towards the shower, leaving Lou by the counter.

This boy really doesn't know who he is messing with.

#Vav #vav smut #vav fanfic #lou smut #vav lou #vav lou fanfic #kim hosung #kim hosung smut #kim hosung fanfic #vav lou smut

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chantillyxlacey · 5 years

Text

Holiday Spirits Gift! An OT3 mer-AU in a series of vignettes

Merry Xmas @fishbones-wishbones!! I had so much fun writing this! Your prompt was about as tailor-made for me as it could possibly be lol-- I may have gone a little overboard with it, to the point where it might not even stop with what I’ve got written here-- I’m highly tempted to spin off these vignettes into a long-form fic-- thank you so much for the inspiration!! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :3 Merry Christmas!

One: In Which Vivi and Arthur have become castaways

Vivi woke up sunburnt, sore, and salt-crusted, the taste of that same awful stuff burning her mouth. The last time she’d woken up to comparable discomfort had been the day after she’d been arrested by the Regnate’s men-- but no matter how unpleasant the waking up was, it did at least mean that she hadn’t drowned. ‘I’m still alive’ was always a good square one to start from.

Despite easing her eyes open slowly, the bright nearly-noon sunlight still stung like needles, so harshly that her optimism was nearly overcome by the urge to just roll over and go back to sleep for awhile. She valiantly resisted the temptation and sat up, ignoring the aching protests of what had to be every individual bone, muscle, and tendon she had to her name.

Even breathing scraped at her lungs and aggravated her rib cage, but the air was fresh and clean, and with each breath the fog cleared from her head more and more. The more sensible she felt, the more miraculous it seemed that she had really made it to see today. She’d more or less resigned herself to death last night, though she’d refused to just give herself up to it for as long as she had the strength to cling to that swath of wood with--

“Arthur!” she gasped, prepared despite her weariness to launch to her feet and scour the beach inch by inch to find him-- but that didn’t turn out to be necessary. He was sprawled on the sand right beside her, still unconscious but clearly breathing.

He looked about as worse for wear as she felt: his skin was an angry red from the sun and peppered with bruises and scrapes from the impact that had scuttled the ship. When she leaned down to shake him gently, trying to rouse him, she could see salt crystals clinging to his eyelashes.

“Arthur-- hey, Arthur!” she called softly, and after a moment he started to stir, a thin groan ekeing between his lips. It turned into a sharp hiss through his teeth when he tried to open his eyes-- Vivi didn’t know if it was the sun or the salt that had stung him more.

She helped him to slowly sit up, and couldn’t stifle a laugh at the way his hair had dried into stiff peaks that stood almost completely vertically.

“If you’re laughing at me that’s a good sign I’m not dead, I guess,” he rasped, then coughed and rubbed at his eyes.

“You guess right!” Vivi thumped him lightly on the arm, careful to avoid his sunburn. “Congratulations on not drowning!” He laughed at that, though it still sounded a bit like a cough.

“How--?” he asked.

“No idea!” Vivi said cheerfully, and he grinned at her for a moment before turning to stare pensively out at the sea.

“Okay then-- What do we do from here?” he asked.

“No idea,” she said, more soberly. She’d read her share of stories about shipwrecked adventurers, but how much could those stories help them through the real ordeal? “We’ll figure things out as we go, I guess.” She willed confidence into the words. Arthur hummed softly, still watching the waves.

His brow furrowed and he squinted, then suddenly shot to his feet, craning his neck and shading his eyes from the sun.

“What is--? Vivi, do you see that?”

“See what--?” Before she even finished asking she spotted it too-- a huge, fast-moving shadow under the water’s surface several yards out from the shore. Distance and the blinding glitter of the sun on the waves made it impossible to guess what it might be, and within moments it vanished entirely, fading into the endless blue.

“What do you suppose…?” Arthur murmured, more to himself than to her. Vivi shrugged, more to herself than to him. For awhile they watched the sea bob and roll, but the shadow did not reappear.

Two: In which Vivi and Arthur explore

The myriad of books Vivi had read about exotic locales, swashbuckling novels and natural histories alike, combined with Arthur’s practical experience travelling served them rather well as they took stock of their surroundings.

It was an island, or could loosely be called that at least; they’d swept up on what seemed to be a ring of clusters of sand and marsh, held together by tree roots that started several feet before ground level, as though the trees themselves were balanced atop scuttling insect legs. Vivi had read about mangrove forests like this one, but had never seen so much as an illustration before and hadn’t imagined just how eerie the whole tableau turned out to be; Arthur had seen them before but had never learned the name.

The marsh ring wrapped around a lagoon where the water was the clearest, most shining blue Vivi had ever laid eyes on. To their great surprise it turned out to be entirely fresh, despite opening up into the mangroves in several places, where seawater should have been able to leak in and render it too brackish to safely drink. They weren’t about to dwell on the impossibility though; instead they drank until the burn in their throats cooled and the taste of brine was washed from their mouths.

No longer distracted by thirst, they contemplated the second, smaller island nestled in the center of the lagoon. It looked to be real, solid land rather than marsh, but it was difficult to tell: trees clustered there even more densely than in the mangrove, trailing weeping curtains of leaves to brush the water’s surface and shroud the little island from sight.

“I’ve never seen trees that look like these before…” Arthur murmured. “Have you ever read anything about something like that?”

“I’ve read about trees with colorful bark before,” she answered. “But in greens and reds, not blue. And I’ve never heard of a tree with white leaves at all.”

The lagoon was too deep to wade across, but not too wide to swim-- or it wouldn’t have been if they weren’t still tired and aching from the shipwreck, and not too keen on getting into the water again from the same. They’d have to investigate it later, after they took care of the more pressing need to find food and a place to take shelter.

When they returned to the beach they’d woken up on, Arthur’s arms laden with fruit picked from various of the island’s trees (none of which should be growing in a mangrove; but again, they weren’t about to look any gift horses in the mouth, no matter how impossible they were) and Vivi’s with bits of dry wood for a fire, they were surprised to find that more had washed onto the shore while they were away.

Swathes of sailcloth of varying sizes were heaped just out of reach of the rolling surf, along with a mismatched pile of tools, two knives, several planks of wood and lengths of rope, and one badly dented tin bowl. Strangest of all, though, was the large fish stranded far enough up on the sand that it couldn’t have scuttled itself there, still alive and twitching weakly.

“There’s no way this happened just on accident,” Vivi said.

“No…” Arthur agreed, sounding nervous. Vivi didn’t blame him-- if anyone else from the ship had survived and made it to the island as well-- They wouldn’t be terribly thrilled to share a sanctuary with a prisoner and a traitor to be sure, and neither of them were in much of a state to put up a fight.

“We should get back into the trees,” Arthur said, clearly thinking along the same lines. “And just wait and see-- right?” He was already backing up as he spoke, and Vivi followed.

They waited amongst the strange, ghostly roots until the first lavender tinges of sunset crept into the sky and the fish had long since stopped moving. No one came, but they crept back out into the open with caution anyway.

“Arthur, look--” Vivi gestured at the sand when she’d put the firewood down. “There’s no footprints.” “That’s-- Hm. That’s worse somehow, actually. So... what does that mean, exactly? Did a ghost do all this, or what?”

“Thoughtful ghost,” Vivi mused, starting to arrange the firewood and shave off some bark to catch sparks. “Do you know how to cook fish?” “Uh.”

“We’ll figure that out as we go, too,” Vivi laughed.

The fish ended up unevenly cooked, but they were too hungry to care much, and it tasted alright anyway. They ate their fill and slept like the dead.

Three: In which Vivi and Arthur develop routines

The days passed much like the first-- they foraged and tried their luck fishing, and they built a fairly sturdy lean-to between some of the more tightly packed trees, which they shared. The first few times they had woken up to find that the chill of the night had nudged them into each other’s arms as they slept had been awkward, but now they were so used to it that they dropped all pretense, and fell asleep holding one another from the start.

There was plenty of opportunity to explore the central island once their lingering aches subsided, but they never did. Something about it was-- offputting. It had the air of an intensely private place, and even Vivi’s usually insatiable curiosity was cowed in the face of its forbidding aura. They ventured into the lagoon itself to bathe, but never past the deepest point.

Each day also saw a new cache of useful flotsam awash on the sand where they had first woken up: more boards and rope, metal utensils, and one especially lucky morning, one of the smaller iron cookpots from the galley. Something like that could never have just floated up on its own, but they never saw any sign of whoever it was helping them.

Their anonymous angel also left them food. Sometimes it was another fish, sometimes a pile of live clams left in a pit full of seawater dug into the sand, and once a pile of seaweed that Vivi had vaguely recalled could be boiled to make a broth. Whoever it was, they never left any footprints, or any other evidence of their existence but their gifts.

“Maybe it is a ghost,” Vivi mused one evening as she dug a roasted clam out of its shell with a twig.

“What kind of ghost would be so interested in feeding a couple of castaways?” Arthur wondered back, taking a gulp of the sweet water they had recently discovered was hidden inside the hard green fruits that grew on some of the island’s trees closer to the shore. Vivi chewed her clam thoughtfully, but ultimately had no answer beyond a hum and a shrug.

“Getting better at cooking these,” she said instead, reaching for another. “Not that you’d know.” She wrinkled her nose at Arthur, who preferred to eat his raw. Vivi found it detestable. He grinned at her, unrepentant, and held the palm fruit out to her. She drained the last mouthful, then flopped against Arthur with a sigh and hooked one arm into the crook of his elbow, sliding the other around his waist.

She couldn’t be absolutely certain, between the night’s darkness and the orange cast of the firelight, but she’d be more than willing to bet that the color in Arthur’s face wasn’t just from sunburn. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes, smiling to herself when she felt Arthur’s cheek lean against the top of her head.

They sat like that for awhile, warm from more than just the fire, and listened to the night sounds. Vivi spent a few minutes weighing the pros and cons of letting go of Arthur long enough for her to lean up and kiss him. She gradually became aware of a new sound-- something that stood apart from the sigh of the waves and the rustle of leaves, and shook her from her thoughts. Arthur shifted, raising his head as though listening too.

“Artie? Are you… singing?” She already knew the answer before he shook his head-- the sound was distant, so far away that it had to be coming from out at sea. “Could that be a whale? I’ve read that they sing but I never thought I’d get to hear it-- Can you hear whalesong from shore like this?”

“You can,” Arthur said distractedly, staring out at the waves with his brow furrowed. “But I’ve never heard any whale that sounded like this before, though… This sounds too much like…”

“It sounds like a person singing, right? Maybe a ship…” She didn’t finish the thought. The moon was full and fat tonight, and if a ship had been so close they should be able to see it, but nothing interrupted the smooth, dark line of the horizon.

“Most captains are smarter than to risk their ships sailing through this part of the sea,” Arthur murmured. The captain of the Morgause had thought himself above those stories, and everyone but the two of them had paid for it dearly.

Four: In which Vivi and Arthur meet someone interesting

Whatever she’d thought they’re mysterious benefactor would be like-- she’d never have guessed he was a real-- living, breathing, real and right there-- merman.

He was enormous; had he been a man standing on two legs he would have been at least ten feet tall, even if she estimated on the conservative side. The broad, sinuous tail that trailed in the surf behind him was nearly that long all on its own, covered in ink-dark scales that glittered with startling violet iridescence where the sun hit. White stripes marched along its length, looking for all the world like he’d simply had ribs painted on.

His huge hands, each big enough to cover Vivi’s entire torso, were webbed and the fingers tipped in blunt claws, but they handled the gift they’d left for him with utter delicacy. Pale slashes of gills lined his sides, standing out starkly against his brown skin. Other than those details however, from the waist up he looked remarkably ordinary.

Well-- perhaps ‘ordinary’ wasn’t the right word. Remarkably human was probably more accurate; ‘ordinary’ simply didn’t take into account just how astonishingly... appealing his appearance was. Even with half his face covered by an overhang of dark violet hair, Vivi could already tell that he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life. Arthur looked just as gobsmacked as she felt, standing beside her and looking down at the same impossible figure on the beach.

“Are you--” Vivi started to call out, and the merman’s head snapped up, his face a mask of shock for a single moment before it-- disappeared.

That handsome, almost-entirely-human face was replaced in an instant with a fanged skull, twin sparks of magenta burning in the empty sockets where eyes should belong. Arthur yelped a curse and tried to scrabble backwards so fast that the powdery sand under his feet gave way and he crashed down on his back. Vivi sucked in a gasp, but it was more amazement than fear.

“Wait!” she called, darting forward even as the merman started to retreat backwards into the surf. “Please, wait-- don’t go just yet!”

As she got closer, she realized that he hadn’t actually shape-shifted or dissolved into shadow and bone-- his skin had simply changed colors, as she’d read certain sea creatures were able to do. Most of his color had deepened to a shade nearly identical to his tail, with patches leeched of color in shapes that mimicked a skeleton.

The patterns faded and his skin returned to human tones as she approached; his eyes, however, remained the same. The whites weren’t white, but as black as his pupils, and the irises were vividly pink. The look in them was guarded and uncertain.

“Was--” She paused. There was no guarantee he’d understand her. There was no reason to assume he could speak English, or any human language at all-- but what else could she do but at least try to communicate? “Was it you who’s been helping us?”

For a moment she thought he didn’t understand, and felt a stab of dismay at how to bridge a language gap that vast-- but then he nodded, face still tight with wariness. “You rescued us, too, didn’t you?” Another nod, although there was an odd hesitation to it, his eyes downcast in something almost like-- shame?

“Did you sink the ship?” Vivi gaped at Arthur, who by now had stood back up and come to her side, aghast that he’d jump to that conclusion. When she looked back to the merman, however, he nodded again.

“It came too close to the island,” he lamented. His voice surprised her: a soft tenor that didn’t seem like it should belong to someone so huge and imposing looking, and laced through with an accent she couldn’t quite place. As he spoke, she could see sharp, triangular teeth flashing behind his lips like pearls. “I’m tasked by My Lady to keep any intruders away, by any means necessary.”

“Why save us, then?”

“You didn’t deserve to drown. You kept each other afloat through the storm, you helped each other even though it put your own safety at risk.” He sounded as though he was reasoning it out to himself as much as explaining to them. “I couldn’t just… Duty or not, I couldn’t just let you die.”

Vivi and Arthur shared a glance. Neither of them were quite sure how to respond. After an uncomfortable silence, the merman offered back the amulet they had made. Vivi blinked.

“You don’t like it?” she blurted.

“N-no-- that isn’t it. I thought you would want it back. That you wouldn’t want to give a gift to someone who…”

“Someone who saved our lives, and has been looking out for us ever since?” Vivi offered.

“Your lives wouldn’t have needed saving if it hadn’t been for me.”

“We kind of needed saving before the ship sank, to be honest,” Arthur said. “There wasn’t anything good waiting for a couple of prisoners when we made port.” “Prisoners?” He sounded horrified.

“Vivi was arrested unfairly and I got caught trying to help her escape. That kind of mutiny gets you hanged-- If it hadn’t been for the storm they probably wouldn’t even have waited ‘til we came ashore.” “I’m sorry,” the merman murmured.

“You don’t have to be. Like I said, you saved our necks.” Arthur offered a wry half-smile, but the merman still looked unsure.

“What’s your name?” Vivi knelt on the sand before him-- even lying on his belly and sunk low in shame, his gaze was even with hers.

“My-- what?”

“Oh--” Vivi wondered if she’d just asked something incredibly stupid, or perhaps even insensitive. “Do you… have a name? Something you call yourself?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, still sounding completely baffled. “I’ve just-- I’ve never had to introduce myself to someone before. My name is Lewis.” It was an astoundingly ordinary name for a mythical-- or supposedly mythical-- being to have. Vivi had to stifle a laugh that was wholly inappropriate for the moment, but she did smile at him.

“Thank you for saving our lives, Lewis.”

He ducked his head again, though this time it seemed more like a flustered movement than an ashamed one.

“You’re… welcome,” he mumbled.

The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting on that beach, trading further introductions and asking Lewis questions about the island.

They learned that the smaller central island, which they still hadn’t yet dared to explore, housed a temple hidden among the weeping trees. It belonged to goddess who Lewis would not name, only calling her “My Lady.”

There were not-- at least as far as Lewis knew-- other merfolk, and he had no parents or family. His Lady had created him with magic for the sole purpose of guarding her island and her temple from any intruders-- the second-to-last line of defense after the enchanted storm she had concocted with magic stole from an ancient rival; he was under orders to sink any ship that braved that tempest, though thankfully crews that were bold or foolish enough to do so were a rarity. Past him, there were wards growing within the trees on the central island itself to repel trespassers. Vivi and Arthur were the first humans to ever set foot on the isle to test them.

“Is it safe here?” Arthur asked. “If your, ah-- your ‘Lady’ comes back to find us here…”

“I wouldn’t expect her to. There are decades between her visits, and she was here less than a season ago. She won’t be returning any time soon.”

Most other questions about his Lady Lewis was cagey at best about, but on any other topic he was happy to give thorough answers. He had apparently never had a conversation with anyone other than the Lady he served before, and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely. They talked through the entire evening, parting ways only when it grew so late that sleep became impossible to fight.

Five: In which Lewis procures a very strange looking fish for lunch

Arthur eyed the lumpy creature with amused skepticism. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Lewis, but I really hope this guy tastes better than he looks.”

Lewis didn’t seem the least bit offended. “He isn’t much to look at, that’s true,” he laughed. “But we don’t know-- perhaps among fish he’s a real Prince Charming.”

“Isn’t that you, instead?” Arthur grinned, then realized just exactly what it was he’d said. His and Lewis’ faces were mirror images of wide-eyed surprise until Arthur went pink from the tip of one ear across to the other and he turned his attention to the cookfire with sudden enthusiasm. “So uh-- how’s the best way to cook his highness? Does the fire need to be hotter, do we need more firewood--?”

Lewis didn’t blush-- Vivi wondered if he could blush at all-- but he looked equally flustered as he explained that this kind of fish needed a more delicate heat, and how they should wrap it in palm leaves. Vivi smirked to herself, eyeing the way that their hands seemed to ‘accidentally’ brush far more often than could be entirely accidental as they prepared the fish together.

Six: In which Lewis and Arthur have a heart to heart

“I’ve been wondering something,” Arthur hesitated. Lewis flicked the very tips of his fins against Arthur’s arm.

“You can ask anything, Arthur. I’ve told you that before.”

“How did you learn so much about the world? You said you’ve never left this island before, but you know a lot-- did-- did you used to be human, Lewis?” Lewis looked surprised, then sad.

“No, Arthur. I’ve always been this.”

“Wait-- I didn’t mean it like--” “I know you didn’t; I know you’d never. I just…” He sighed. “There was a man that My Lady used to create me. I never really was him-- I don’t have any of his memories-- but whatever knowledge he had is now mine. So I know a great deal about a world I’m not a part of.”

“That’s-- so she turned him into you? I’m not sure I understand.”

“No. I wondered myself, when I was new. She told me that he did not become me any more than the earth a seed is planted in becomes the tree.”

“....I still don’t really get it.”

“I didn’t either,” Lewis laughed ruefully. “She said that whether I understood my origin or not didn’t matter, as long as I understood my purpose.”

Without thinking, Arthur laid his hand over Lewis’.

“Why haven’t you ever left?” He asked. “You said your Lady only even comes around every few decades, you could just… go, and see the world for yourself.”

“I was afraid.” Lewis drew abstract shapes in the sand with one blunt claw. “My purpose here isn’t much, but it’s more than I’d have anywhere else.”

“Didn’t you ever get lonely though?” “Not really. And now I never am,” he looked up at Arthur, and finally smiled again.

Seven: In which Lewis invites Vivi and Arthur over for dinner

“Where on the island do you live, anyway, Lewis?”

“Not anywhere on it-- Under it. Beneath the temple there’s a large cavern, and that’s where I live.”

“Oh,” Vivi hummed thoughtfully. Lewis tilted his head, seeming confused.

“Did you want to see it?”

“Isn’t it underwater?” Arthur wondered.

“The entrance is, but there’s a pocket of air in the cave, and a little beach. It might be too far for you to swim on your own but I could carry you--!” He broke off, folding his hands sheepishly. “Ah-- if you didn’t mind me doing that, of course.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Vivi said with a flutter of her eyelashes that was playful but nonetheless made Lewis duck his head shyly.

Lewis met them at the lagoon and they waded in until the water reached their chests. With absolute gentleness, Lewis scooped them against his chest, one of them in each of his massive arms.

“Take as deep of a breath as you can,” he said, and waiting until they had before diving down with them. The water was warm at the lagoon’s surface, but it rapidly cooled as they delved deeper and the light that filtered through her eyelids dimmed. If it hadn’t been for Lewis and his warmth, she didn’t think she would have been able to stand the cold, even though it was mercifully brief. The water warmed back up, and the light returned.

Just when Vivi’s chest was starting to burn with the need for air, the water broke above her head. She sputtered and drew in a long, grateful breath, swiping water from her eyes until she could focus.

“Oh--!” She didn’t know where to look first-- The cave would have been beautiful even unadorned: the ceiling was high-- so high it must have breached the surface and belonged to the ground of the island itself, and peppered with holes that let sunlight stream in. Embedded in the rich black stone of the walls were freckles of micah, which glimmered faintly and reflected like stars in the water’s surface. Even the sand making up the cave’s beach seemed to have a pearly sheen to it.

Garlands were strung in a complex web throughout the cave. Abalone shells and bits of sea glass clinked gently along their lengths, throwing dancing blots of color around the chamber. A band of colorful mosaic, stretching from just above the water line to presumably as high as Lewis could reach, wrapped about two-thirds of the way around the cavern walls. Even clearly incomplete it was gorgeous-- a lovely and chaotic mix of abstract shapes, pictures of sealife, and even maps of constellations. In the water tiny, colorful fish darted around them like living jewels.

Along one wall were natural ridges of stone that Lewis had utilized as shelves, which were covered with an array of dishes and vessels. Some of these were made of stone, some were fashioned from large shells, and a few seemed to be human-made and had probably been salvaged from the seabed. A fire pit sat in the middle of a stretch of pebbles further away from the water’s edge, and a wooden rack nearby seemed to be a setup for drying out firewood. The trinket Vivi and Arthur had made was set in a prominent niche in the cave wall, directly in a beam of golden sunlight.

“It isn’t very much,” Lewis said sheepishly as he set them on the sand.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Arthur nudged him lightly with his elbow. “Lewis, this place is incredible!”

“It’s like something from a dream!” Vivi agreed, beaming up at him. She clung to his bicep, having to use both her arms around just to reach all the way around. He cast his eyes down and clearly would have been blushing if he could. He’d let them go, but his arms curled gently back around them now.

After a while, Lewis lit a fire with a flint and steel, and prepared a pot of soup for them that was more elaborate than any Vivi had seen before, and was also about the tastiest thing she’d ever eaten. They spent hours sitting by the fire, so absorbed in talking and sharing their meal, that they hardly noticed as the light filtering into the cave from above shifted into rosy hues, then faded. Rather than face the cold of the depths, especially not in the chilly night air, Vivi and Arthur opted to bed down in the soft sand of the cave’s beach.

Eight: In which Vivi is happy precisely where she is

Vivi woke up warm and serene. For a few blissful minutes she didn’t open her eyes or think about where she was, just basked in the comfort of the moment. When she did open her eyes at last, her field of vision was filled with a swathe of skin-- Lewis’ specifically.

Though he’d fallen asleep alongside them on the main beach plenty of times before, Lewis had always kept a respectful distance between himself and the two of them. Now, in the much smaller space of the cave, the three of them had gravitated together as they slept. Vivi was tucked against the expanse of Lewis’ chest, and she could feel Arthur’s arm draped over her waist, as well as the tickle of his breath against the back of her neck. Lewis’ tail was curled up around her and Arthur both, as though holding them in just his arms wasn’t enough.

Vivi was who knew how far from home, from any kind of civilization at all, and at the moment she had no idea how or even if she’d get back. Somehow, she didn’t find the thought distressing-- in fact, she’d never felt as safe or as much like she belonged somewhere as she did right now, wrapped up in Lewis and Arthur’s warm embraces.

They’d figured things out for themselves as they went pretty well so far, and Vivi didn’t doubt that they could keep right on doing so. She craned her neck up to brush a kiss under the edge of Lewis’ jaw, which was as far up as she could reach, and threaded her fingers through Arthur’s. Sighing contentedly, she settled back down into sleep.

#msaholidayspirits2019 #Mystery Skulls #MSA #Mystery Skulls Animated #lewvithur #Lewis Pepper #Vivi Yukino #Arthur Kingsmen #the ot3 #lacey writes

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mysticmylifeisamess-enger · 5 years

Text

Wine Pon You

Paring: Jumin/Reader

Word Count: 4,354

Summary: Jumin always held an innocuous image, clean in every definition of the word. But just how willing was he to let you taint that?

Additional Tags: Biting Kink, Love Bites

A/N: Commission piece for a lovely, anonymous person ^^ I’m so happy that I got to write for them & to write for Jumin (a man after my own heart & pants) / the title is from a doja cat song I’ve had on repeat while writing this. & thank you @rainbowtalia for proofreading/beta-ing, I owe you my life 💕

Want one of your own? Here’s my commission info

Not safe for kiddos below the cut (meaning explicit)

Behind the walls of his penthouse, Jumin would drop the professional and business-oriented demeanor, leaving it at the door like a coat he can simply strip off. It was something he found himself doing much more in your presence, shifting to the gentle, soft-spoken man that handled you entirely with care. Any semblance of the formal, serious CEO he was painted out to be practically dissipated to nothing around you.

In the comfort of your shared space, you two developed a nightly routine of welcoming each other home; sharing in each other’s presence as you two recounted the day to one another over dinner; and sharing a bit of wine to wind down for bed.

And tonight was no different than the last— finding yourself in his warm embrace at the end of a long day. You weren’t sure if it was the particularly strenuous day or the new bottle of wine, but his touches seemed to linger just a few seconds longer. His grasp was always just a bit tighter, as if he didn’t want to let go. His lips found their way to yours much more often than usual. And his words, while seemingly wholesome and sweet, had an underlying and evident need.

Once it came time to get ready for bed, he was all too eager to move this into the bedroom; a gentle grasp on your hand as he lead you to. As soon as the door closed behind you, you moved to one of the drawers to fetch his and your pajamas.

The lack of movement through the room had you curious, wondering if he had passed out already. Though you turned to find him sitting at the edge of the bed, attention fully on your form. His hands extended forward, a silent plea for you to come to him. The smile on his face felt warm and inviting, but his eyes held a darker look, as if it had an underlying intention to the seemingly sweet gesture. The curl on his lips deepened with every step you made over to him until he pulled you close.

”If only you could see how beautiful you look right now, my love. The blush on your cheeks, the smile on your lips you’re trying to bite back, and the way your eyes look at me like that, as if begging for something-” his hands held your sides, gazing up at you with hazy eyes full of pure adoration -“I really would do anything for you.”

“How much alcohol content was in that wine?” you asked between laughs, moving the stray hairs out of his eyes and cupping his face between your hands.

“Enough to know that I want to make you mine tonight-” he murmured, his lips moved to press against your palms -“Completely and absolutely mine.”

His hands on your hips inched lower, landing on your ass before they gripped and pulled you closer, almost flush against him. The small gasp you let slip had him biting back a wide grin; amused, not only at your flushed expression, but at the small flash of want in your eyes that he caught before it shifted.

He was ceaseless, truly. He knew when he needed to back down, but he also knew when to press for what he wanted and just how. And to say that you didn’t love that about him would be a blatant lie.

His lips pursed, signaling for you to give him a kiss. You rolled your eyes teasingly before mouthing ‘just one,’ to which he confidently accepted with a small smile. One kiss wouldn’t hurt. You could sate that bit of hunger with just one press.

Leaning down, your lips barely brushed his and you relished in the audible growl at your tease. Before you could continue, his hand came up, threading through your locks before his lips smashed into yours. The desperation to keep you close had him swiping his tongue against your lips, begging to taste you fully.

One innocent, simple press led to two, to five more until you were just as hungry as him. Slowly, he had strung you along this calculated plan, anticipating that you’d give in completely. Every movement of his tongue and placement of his hands were precise and intentional until you were moving to straddle his lap, fingers fumbling to unbutton his shirt and drawing patterns over his exposed chest.

The taste of wine on him could have easily given you a buzz, had his movements not been so intoxicating already, savoring the taste and feel of his tongue wrestling your own for dominance. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, almost guiding them as you rocked into his own. The bed underneath creaked at your every movement, mixing in tandem with the sound of your lips fervently pressing to his.

His lips moved against yours in a slow, methodical pattern that truly had you lightheaded, depending solely on his grip to keep you intact and grounded. Though the scent of his aftershave and cologne added to the sensuality of it all, a mix of musk and sandalwood with the smallest hint of vanilla overwhelming your senses in the best way. Nothing about his movements felt sloppy in the slightest. Instead it was a coordinated dance of lips, teeth, and tongue that left the two of you breathless.

Yet you two couldn’t get enough of each other. Even as you two were flush against the other, lips moving in sync, and eating up each other’s moans, it still didn’t feel like enough. Pulling away, he caught your lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it slowly until it was released. The hooded and impatient look in his eyes as he did so almost seemed like he was begging you to fuck him right there, right now.

Your lips moved on their own as they pressed against his cheek, inching slowly and carefully down his jawline. Wet, open-mouthed kisses painted a trail down to his neck. Though once you reached it, your eyes scanned over the clear, porcelain skin, lingering as you paused your movements. His skin always made for a clean-cut look, not a single blemish to contrast against it.

The thought of marking him as your own, biting down on that perfect skin of his, wasn’t new. Every time you two ever got close like this, the temptation would only grow tenfold and it took everything in you not to leave even just one. But the thought of his work always stopped you, knowing you couldn’t leave evidence of your nights together for everyone in the office to see. You couldn’t dare taint his image like that, letting it be a lingering fantasy you could never voice aloud.

But something about this moment, the way his nails dug into your skin as they made their way under your shirt and his mouth seemed much more eager to taste you than usual, made it hard to resist. The lump in his throat bobbing at his every gasp and enticing you further, wondering what kind of sounds would come out if your teeth could just-

“Everything alright?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, realizing you had stopped in your tracks.

Pulling back, you could see his curious gaze fixed on you, concern written on his knitted brows. Something about his look felt intense, feeling yourself recede as you looked away out of embarrassment from your previous thoughts.

“Yeah, all good,” you responded quickly, shaking your head as if wiping your mind. Your gaze landed on your hands, timidly toying with the buttons of his shirt; though you could still feel his almost smoldering eyes on you. Before you could think to do anything else, his fingers found your chin, bringing it up to meet his eyes once again.

He held you still, as if searching for the answer he was looking for in your pupils. The burning blush on your cheeks spread to the tip of your ears, and it didn’t help that you couldn’t read his expression as he continued his search. Even if he was intoxicated, it wouldn’t seem like it in this moment as he focused completely in on you.

Once his head tilted in an unspoken question, eyes softening with his demeanor, you felt a puff of air release from your cheeks, not realizing you were holding your breath the entire time. A small smile returned to his lips, leaning forward to press a featherlight peck against your own.

“You can tell me, I’m not going to bite,” he finally said, though it left you biting back a laugh.

“Funny you should say that,” you started, fighting the urge to look away and fronting a bit of confidence, “there’s something that I really want to do to you, but I don’t know if you’d say yes.”

His quizzical look deepened, raising his brows and challenging you to go on. It felt all too scrutinizing, averting your eyes again to the exposed skin of his collar.

“I, um,” you started, pausing to mentally collect the will to go on, “I want to bite you. To leave marks all over you.”

The heat in your cheeks increased at hearing your one true desire said aloud, hanging in the air between the two of you. Every second of silence felt unbearable as you avoided his gaze. You weren’t sure how he would react or what his expression could be in this moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Not until you felt him inching closer, head burying in the crook of your neck.

“What’s stopping you?” His words muffled against you, pressing his lips and lightly nipping at the skin with his teeth.

“Well I’ve- ah-always worried that I could- ah-leave marks that would raise- ahh-questions at work or ruin your- nngh-image,” you answered, though the gasps at his presses interrupted your every other words. You could feel his small chuckle reverberate against your skin, lips inching up and right under your ear.

“A mark made by you is one I’d proudly wear,” he purred, nipping at your lobe and eliciting a trembling sigh, “and if I’m being honest, walking into a meeting with evidence that I belong to you, for everyone to see and speculate, sounds almost ideal.”

You felt a shiver run down the length of your spine at his words. You couldn’t help but feel he was teasing you, pulling back enough to get a good look at his face. He held that same smirk you had just seen, but there lay an underlying admiration once you locked in his gaze. A look reserved for you and you alone.

“Remember what I said, I would do anything for you. Make me yours.”

He leaned back, looking at you with a resolve that half-challenged, half-begged for you to go on. You weren’t sure what had you frozen in place— the hint of softness to subside your worries or the demand to finally do something that only played out in your imaginations— but it quickly melted and left you bolder than before.

Leaning in close until your lips were mere inches from his throat, you noticed the way he held his breath in anticipation. Your eyes trailed up to meet his, looking for a second affirmation only to meet an expectant gaze that urged you to keep going. Your mouth closed the gap between you two, tongue lapping his neck to feel his pulse under it. For as calm as he appeared, you wouldn’t expect it to be beating as fast as it was.

He tasted much sweeter than you remembered, making you much more eager. Your teeth grazed his skin, scraping along the dampened spot before closing your lips around it and biting down excitedly and harsh. The sharp hiss and feel of his jaw clenching above you had you pulling back, concern surfacing as you saw his face twist in pain.

“Jumin, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, examining the bite mark, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just be a bit gentler,” he said just above a whisper. His tone was much more comforting than condemning, though it still left you hesitant to go on.

As you inched closer once again, your lips pressed to his neck much more carefully. A light peck, teasing your teeth over his skin but it was evident that you were reluctant to bite any deeper— eyeing him with every tentative lick. Your teeth finally sank a bit deeper, but quickly yielded once you heard a slight hiss at that.

His small amount of patience seemed to vanish at that, gripping your hips just a bit harder as he flipped you over to lay on the bed. Your eyes widened a bit at the sudden movement, looking up to see he pinned you between his arms, looming over you with a depraved look in his eyes that lit your skin ablaze.

“Not that gentle,” he said a bit teasingly, leaning down until his face was buried in your neck, “Let me show you.”

The featherlight kiss he pressed to your skin had you gasping, feeling his lips curl into a small smile at that. His hand held the other side of your neck, thumb rubbing circles and guiding against your jaw to angle you up. Before you could process, his teeth sank into your neck, eliciting a loud moan that had him biting back a smirk. His lips closed around the spot, sucking as his teeth rolled and pinched the flesh underneath. All the while, his hips rocked forward, feeling the evident, clothed erection chafing against you, hooking your legs around to get a better feel.

The pleasure of his tongue soothing over the bruise outweighed the pain, throwing your head back and inviting him to make more marks. As badly as he wanted to take it, he knew you only needed a little lesson— he pulled back and admired the red and purple marks forming and the whimper that trickled from your swollen lips. The small pout would have made him cave, but he fought it as he flopped over on the bed, holding your hips firmly in place to straddle him.

“Your turn,” he said, “Use what I just taught you.”

The smirk on his lips as he eyed you, demanding you go on, made you want to wipe it right off, pressing your lips where you last bit and soothing the skin with your tongue. His head lulled back, eyes fluttering shut with a breathy sigh at your simple action. He was completely at your mercy, undeniably yours to do with as you pleased.

Your teeth lightly grazed his throat, feeling an impatient twitch beneath you. The small growl he let out vibrated against your lips, letting out a small chuckle at his evident frustration. Before he could do or say anything, your lips moved right under his jawline— pressing a kiss and following it with a sudden bite that had him reeling.

Doing as he showed, your lips closed around the spot and sucked at the skin. The satisfied hums dripping from him had made you bold, gradually getting harsher in your ministrations. Just as you felt his jaw clench, your tongue lapped at the tender spot, soothing the skin as you pressed a more loving kiss to it.

“Ah, MC...” Your name sounded like a plea rolling off his lips, followed by breathy, desperate moans. Pulling back, you could see the deep red mark glistening and blooming. You had to bite back a wide grin at the sight, a swell of pride spreading in your chest as you realized that he was undoubtedly yours. Everyone would see this mark and know exactly who left it and that thought left you eager to place more.

You dipped back down, finding a spot opposite of where you last bit and sank your teeth in once again. The feeling of his skin between your teeth, toying with the flesh in a way you hadn’t before, had you addicted. Everything about his reactions captivated you so wholly—the moans and hums that spilled, the call of your name a desperate mantra, and the way his body jerked slightly and writhed against you with every little press.

You wanted more, your bites becoming much more fervent as you went on. One mark became two, multiplying in a matter of minutes as you couldn’t stop. The once clear skin had been painted in red and purple spots you knew would be hard for him to explain the next day at work, but they suited him in a way you couldn’t explain.

And with every bite, his patience wore thinner until a particularly harsh one right above his collar snapped it completely. His hands gripped you hard and flipped you over to lie on your back. He loomed over you once again, taking shallow breaths as he tried to regain his composure. The look in his eyes held something dark, something entirely new to you as he buried his face in your neck once again.

“As happy as I am to see you mark me,” he whispered, his breath hot against you, “Shouldn’t everyone get to know that you’re mine as well?”

“I guess it’s only fair,” you said teasingly, feeling his teeth sink into your skin and eliciting a small yelp. It surprised you to see him so eager to get payback; it made you wonder if he had these same desires to see you so evidently his, biting and nipping at you as if one mark wasn’t enough.

You could feel his arousal pressing into you, his hips rocking into your own as his mouth continued its work. The hand you had resting in his hair slowly drifted down, fingers softly trailing from his neck down to his chest until it landed under his abdomen. His muscles flexed under your touch, jerking a bit as you palmed over his pants.

The moan against your neck had you biting back a smirk, grasping his length over the fabric and relishing in the deep groan that followed. As soon as your fingers reached for his belt, his hands grasped your wrists, pinning them to the mattress. His lips inched up next to your ear, condemning your action with a few tsks.

You expected him to scold you, to tease you for being so eager. But his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly while his lips moved to press under your lobe. Once it was over and off, he dropped it to the floor unceremoniously and pulled back to admire his handiwork. Though his work wasn’t done, hands moving to remove the rest of the layers on you until you were completely bare under him.

At the same time, your eyes trailed to his own shirt— completely unbuttoned, wide open for you to see his exposed chest and abs, yet you wanted it gone. Your hands reached under, pushing the fabric off his shoulders to which he gladly let fall, joining what he had practically tore off you in a haste.

His lips trailed down the newly exposed skin, landing just above your chest. His eyes flicked up to meet yours before placing a harsh, reprimanding bite you hadn’t expected, jolting you into him. The sudden movement had you pressing yourself into him, feeling his evident arousal so close to yours.

The moan he let slip muffled against your skin, but it didn’t go unheard, biting back a wide grin as you lifted to press into him again to hear that same desperate sound. Your hips canted to his, demanding friction in your movements and taking full advantage of the position he had you in. With every press, he could feel his patience wavering, enamored by the feeling of you pressed to him and teasing him to his breaking point.

He detached his lips from you, pulling back to eye you only to be met with a sly grin. And though he would have loved to continue teasing, marking you to his liking, he couldn’t quite find the control in him keep up the act. Instead he took a hold of your thighs, spreading them apart further to admire your dripping cunt, wet to the touch just for him.

He unbuckled his pants, pulling them down enough for his length to spring out. It stood tall and erect, biting your lip as you imagined it in you. His size truly left you speechless, incredibly impressed and proud to know that it was all yours. Holding your legs apart and teasing your slick folds with it, you couldn’t fight the desperate whimper you let slip.

The small chuckle at your pleas would have made you smack him lightly had you not felt his tip slide in almost immediately. His grip on the back of your thighs tightened as he eased himself in fully, stilling himself once he was up to the hilt. The delicious stretch had you gasping, bringing a smug smile to his face.

He eyed you for a second affirmation, searching your eyes for any hint of discomfort or uncertainty. Though as soon as you nodded, returning his gaze with a lustful one, he wasted no time in moving. He pulled back a bit and gave a testing thrust forward only to see you throw your head back with a moan, hungry to hear it again and again as he set a pace with his hips.

The sheen of sweat on his forehead had the tips of his hair clinging to it. The twist of pleasure decorated the creases on his face, adding to the almost sinful sight. His eyes burning with a passion to see you unravel before him, a sight he could never truly tire of. And the proximity of it all, being able to see his handsome features during the act up close, added to the sensuality of it all. Even with the dirty, intoxicating movements, he looked downright pure.

Though what truly caught your eye was the blemishes you placed on his skin. Your devious smile spread from ear to ear, giddy to see the purple spots blooming and deepening in color above you as he continued pounding into you. As you admired your handiwork, you pulled him down and buried your face in his neck.

“Haven’t had your fill yet?” He asked teasingly, his hips unrelenting.

“Just. One. More,” you answered between the kisses you pressed before your teeth scraped along the skin, biting down harshly. He stilled with a groan for a second at the bit of pain, retaliating with a rough thrust that had you moaning against him.

The pace he set increased to a brutal rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in with a hard thrust, over and over until his name became a crescendo of desperate calls. Yet that didn’t stop your bites, it only made you more eager to leave your mark. Everything about his reaction made you want more, sucking and biting to your pleasing to pull back and see the almost starved, carnal look in his eyes.

Before you could even mention it, he pinned your arms to the side, hips continuing to meet your own as he buried his face in the line of your jaw. A bite harsher than you had left had you reeling, pressing into his chest with a loud cry. He paused for a second, a hint of worry at hearing your voice until it followed with a whimper, pressing yourself flush to his body.

As he continued biting and fucking you into the mattress with abandon, you wondered if he had these same desires to mark you as his. Whether he couldn’t hold himself back because he wanted this just as badly as you did, but he couldn’t find the words or way to tell you. Or maybe a desire he didn’t know he had until you brought it up, indulging in it the same as you have.

He pulled back to admire the scene before him; the love of his life covered in the evidence that you were his, the way you fit perfectly against him and around his cock— taking him in completely— and the way you looked at him as he sheathed himself into you. Your eyes hooded over with lust, but the underlying glint of love for him had him weak.

He could feel himself coming close, light tremors signaling his oncoming release. The way you convulsed around him, tightening around his member, made it all the harder to control himself. His hands moved to grip your ass, angling you up and reaching a spot within you that he knew made your toes curl. As he hit it over and over, you threw your head back into the mattress, feeling yourself come so close.

Your eyes closed tight as you writhed against his form, moans from both you and him filling the room as he quickened his pace to an almost inhuman rhythm. His rigorous movements made it impossible to hold on, feeling the heat in the pit of your stomach release with a loud cry of his name. Within seconds, his thrusts became erratic, slowing down as he released his own warmth inside you.

His forehead rested on yours as he came down from his high, taking in each other’s breaths as you steadied your racing heart beats. Pulling himself out of you as he flopped over to the side, he pulled you into his warm embrace, relishing in the afterglow of it all. He was quick to place kisses to the top of your head, hand drawing light patterns on the small of your back as he did so. You were entirely content, head buried in his neck and smiling to yourself at the blemishes you can see.

“You know, I really like this new look on you,” you teased, breaking the comfortable silence, “You should definitely wear it more often.”

“Only if they’re provided by you,” he retorted, placing another loving kiss at your temple.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x reader #not for the kiddos #fanfiction #fan fiction #mystic messenger jumin #cheritz #commissions #writing commission #commission

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notimetoblog · 5 years

Text

Love After You (Pt.4)

Summary: In a time of ballrooms and ballgowns, a looming war threatens to bring darkness to the town of Rosea. Still, love finds a way to cut through. Some loves, you find, come slowly. Others, come unexpectedly. Could either one survive the war that is to come?

A/N: Hi HI!!!! Here is another chapter for you guys! its been a while in the making lol but it’s done and its here. This chapter is somewhat long ;) and it spans some time. Bucky is back and we also get some steve (sort of) ALSO A NEW COOL DUDE MAKES AN APPEARENCE..you’ll see lol !!! yay!!! I hope you guys enjoy it and as always thank you so very much for reading.

Links might still be weird so if you’d like to read previous chapters look up “love after you links” :D

Sweetheart,

It’s only been a few days, but my heart already longs for you.

I’ve managed to find a quiet spot underneath a grove of trees. Away from the rest of my battalion who are now distracted with a new game they’ve begun playing when we have some time to ourselves. I won’t bore you with every detail, but they’re having us do exactly what we did back home. When we’re back in the barracks, we can’t help but wonder why they moved us so far away. We keep our discontent amongst ourselves, though. Despite our complaints, none of us are willing to risk the discipline we might be put under if our superiors hear our whispers.

I wonder if you remember Sam Wilson, a fellow who thinks himself the most handsome man alive. He was with me the day I met you, and I wouldn’t doubt he tried flirting with you. In any case, they joined our battalions, so the days don’t feel as long now that his never-ending conversation keeps me entertained. He has an opinion on everything, and if our superiors ever find out what we whisper behind closed doors, it will probably be because of Sam. That man speaks his mind and holds nothing back.

Still, his words often fail to cut through my thoughts of you, of the day I asked you to be my wife. I made a promise, and I’m determined to keep it. Sam still doesn’t believe that you actually said yes. And frankly, neither do I. He says it’s because you’ve forgotten what he looks like. If you could clarify this matter, it would give me some leverage over him, maybe knock him a couple of pegs down. My day would be made.

I miss you, sweetheart, but every day brings me closer to you, and that’s the only thing that keeps me going.

I hope all is well with you. I hope that same smile I saw last is still on your sweet lips.

I’ll be home soon. I promise.

Yours,

Steve Rogers

The sun shone a little brighter; the birds sang happier tunes after you read those words. Just a few days ago, this same paper had been in Steve’s hands, and now here it was- a little piece of Steve, and it meant the world to you.

You had come up with the perfect plan to avoid any trouble when Steve wrote to you. After a few days of investigation, Abigail had discovered that the Hill family had once again left town- this time for months as they prepared to expand their businesses. With this information in mind, Steve had been signing all his envelopes as Maria Hill.

What could ever be suspicious of two friends keeping in touch while one travels?

Gently folding the letter after reading it for the fourth time- or maybe it was a fifth time, you weren’t sure anymore- you tuck it behind the music box you treasured. Even if your mother ran across it, she was already aware you were exchanging letters except, of course, she believed it was with Maria. Still, you hoped, if by some chance she saw the letter she would leave it alone after noting Maria’s name on the envelope.

It was clear Steve still had some time on his hands. The writing in the letter wasn’t rushed; it still had that elegant curve that made it so distinct. He had made the folds on the letter crisp, and straight, taking his time to make it as neat as possible.

Even in the tiny details, he still had your heart.

You would have to respond to him soon, made sure he was aware that you did, in fact, remember Sam. He did have something to brag about, as the man you remembered was strong and tall with sweet eyes. But still, no one came close to your Steve. So you’d help him knock Sam a few pegs down, just to make sure he had something to laugh about while he was away— a clear victory under his belt.

With a sigh, you leave your room, already a dozen ideas in mind in case your mother chose to ask what Maria had written about.

“Your father is returning today,” your mother speaks as soon as she hears your steps coming down the stairs, her back is to you as she peers into the garden. “Mr. Barnes will be coming over to speak to him about business, so I expect you on your best behavior.”

“When am I not?” you joke, regretting it instantly when she abruptly turns to you, but her expression catches you off guard.

She has a smile.

“Isn’t he handsome?”

“Father always is,” you smile back, not willing to play her game.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that as a matter of fact,” she moves along with the conversation, side-stepping your comment. “You two looked very close that night at the party. I heard your laughs all the way from across the room.”

“We weren’t close,” you retort, breathing deeply as you take a seat on one of the couches. We were both just sharing our common distaste of you. “He simply asked for a dance and thanks to your ever-present teachings, I agreed, to be polite.”

This was strange. Having a mother that for some unknown reason, is suddenly interested in talking to you.

“Well, that dance was the envy of every other girl that night. Do you know how many other girls he danced with? None, just you.”

That wasn’t the dance you often thought back to, though. The one in the dark and in silence, with your favorite soldier, that’s the one that mattered.

“He was just being polite too,” you reply, hoping she wouldn’t make his visit more than it was. “I’m sure his father taught him to be polite and chivalrous, especially to a party hostess’ daughter.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was that too,” she says, and her tone is playful. Strange.

“Ma’am,” Abigail’s voice cuts through the strange atmosphere your mother created. “Mr. Barnes is here.”

“He’s early,” she almost chirps, a pep to her step as she walks towards the foyer. “Wonder why that is.”

You hear your mother’s muffled greeting from the living room followed by a pair of steps, and you stand up, straightening the skirt of your dress because they’re always there, those rules and norms that tell you how you must present yourself.

“Miss,” Mr. Barnes halts his conversation with your mother as he catches your gaze. He’s dressed sharply, but what catches your eye is the two lilies he holds in his hands. They’re beautiful, a soft dusting of pink covering their white petals. It’s almost as if he painted them. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

Your mother stands tall beside him, apologizing again that your father isn’t home yet.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Barnes,” you say, giving him a polite nod of your head.

“This is for you,” he extends one of the lilies to your mother who practically beams. You’ve never seen her this happy; it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why thank you so much, Mr. Barnes,” she says coyly, taking the lily and twirling it between her fingers.

“And this one is for you,” he says, gaze soft as he extends the second lily towards you. His hand trembles a bit. “These are the lilies I mentioned at your party.”

He approaches you slowly, a smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you reply, reaching out to take the lily. “Now I know why your father never wanted to share them. They’re beautiful.”

“About that,” he winks, and you don’t think a practical stranger has ever winked to you before. Your mom, though, seems delighted. Maybe she missed it. “I may have another surprise.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pink handkerchief, all four corners loosely tied with some string. He draws the string to undo the knot, letting the corners of the handkerchief fall.

“They’re the bulbs I promised,” he says, gesturing to the three bulbs he holds and you take a half a step back as you realize he’s a little too close for comfort.

Did he promise? You don’t remember any promise, but to be fair, you had been distracted as the golden hair of your sweetheart had been bobbing around the garden while Mr. Barnes had talked to you.

“They will be a lovely addition to our garden,” you mother chimes in, clapping up a storm, noting you’re standing there not saying a thing.

“Yes,” you finally say, taking a deep breath as you mentally shoot daggers towards your mom. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I’ll be sure to take care of them.”

You did remember him mentioning no one else had ever been fortunate enough to get these sought-after bulbs. But here he was, offering them to you despite the wishes of his late father to keep them only on their estate. That, paired with the face-splitting smile your mother had, made your insides twist. Never had your mother been this happy around you. She mostly scolded and corrected you, and yet she now stood only a few feet away, smiling as if you had just achieved everything she had ever hoped for.

“I know they’ll be very happy here,” he responds, as he hands you the bulbs with so much care you’d think they’d break if he moved any faster.

Sweetheart,

Sam did not appreciate your response, but I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Getting to read it to him has been the highlight of my time here. Of course, second to receiving your letter.

We don’t have much time to complain or play now, though. They’re moving us east, so I’m afraid even my letters will take longer to get to you. But worry not, because no matter the distance, my love for you is just the same. Maybe even more now that I dream about your eyes every night. I miss you with all I’ve got.

The more eastward we get, the more the air smells like gunpowder, but I smile when I remember that your scent is something, I made sure you knew I missed. And, my God, do I miss it.

I must go now as the sun is almost entirely up and we’ll continue moving soon.

I love you,

Steve Rogers

He had been correct. His letter had taken almost double the time the first one had taken to reach you. But as he had mentioned, despite the distance, your love was still intact.

The fact that his battalion was on the move worried you greatly, but his spirits still seemed to be up. Thank goodness for Sam and whatever nonsense he filled Steve’s ear with. At least they weren’t alone. They had each other. And maybe Sam was lucky enough to pull one of those adorable laughs from Steve. The ones that made his eyes water.

So with a bit of worry in your heart, but with still more happiness at having heard from him, you had tucked this letter behind the music box, on top of your first letter.

It had been almost one month since your father had returned, and even though you protested every minute of the day, he still worked just as much as when he was in better health.

He needed to rest, you knew that, but he still moved forward, seeing Mr. Barnes almost every day as they arranged details for a deal they were working on.

“Miss,” you hear Mr. Barnes’ voice come into the living room where you sit. He walks alongside your father, having built a relationship of trust and respect. Mr. Barnes always taking time to ask your father about business, or about his time in the military. He had found in your father a mentor, and your father was more than happy to oblige to all his queries, seeing in him someone reminiscent of his youth. “I hope you’re not too upset that I’ve kept your father away.”

“It’s not you I’m upset with,” you stand, sending a warning look to your father who seems unbothered. Typical.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he smiles, a genuine look of relief on his features as holds up one of his hands to his chest. “I was hoping to see how the lilies are doing, if you don’t mind, that is.”

There’s always this softness to his voice. As if he’s unsure of how to speak to you. Always this sense of nervousness that almost makes you hope he isn’t afraid of you. Because that is not something, you ever wanted. To be feared. Sure, you’d been keeping your distance, but only because he was nothing more than your father’s newest business partner, not because you rejected the idea of a friendship.

Looking to your father, you see his nod, and you smile, hoping to right whatever wrong you had committed with Mr. Barnes.

“Of course, I don’t mind,” you reply, and there’s that look of relief again. “Come with me.”

He follows, just a few steps behind, commenting here and there about all your flowers currently in bloom.

“I knew I was giving them a good home when I brought you the lilies,” you hear him say, a bit more self-assured.

“Well, I do my best, Mr. Barnes,” you say, stopping when you spot the growing lilies. They’re standing a few inches from the ground, not close to blooming, but he looks at them as if they’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen. “They’re looking well enough, a few more weeks and they’ll bloom.”

“You don’t have to call me Mr. Barnes, you know,” he says, voice shaky with those nerves again as his gaze comes up to meet yours. “Your mother and father call me James, and we’re not that far apart in age.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Have we ever been appropriate?” he asks, catching what he said quickly, and you almost laugh at how red his face has gone. You really didn’t know what to think of him. He looked like a lost puppy at times, stumbling his way through a conversation or following your father around wide-eyed and trying to take everything he said in. Other times, he seemed so sure of himself, the picture of a determined man. And you still weren’t sure what triggered the switch that got him from one disposition to the other. “I mean- I- I just mean our first conversation wasn’t entirely parent approved.”

“It wasn’t,” you admit still thankful your mother had only heard your laughs that night. “Still, I called you Mr. Barnes that night, and I don’t think that will change anytime soon. I hope you understand.”

“You could call me Bucky,” he beams, and his cheeks look like the petals of the lilies he brought you; lightly coated with the softest of pinks. He gazes at the lilies again, crouching as his fingers reach out to touch the small leaves that have sprung around the growing stems.

“Why would I call you that? That’s not even a word,” you can’t help but laugh.

“It is definitely a word,” he joins you and laughs, little wrinkles forming in the corner of his eyes. Yes, you wouldn’t mind a friendship with him. “And it's a nickname. Only my friends call me that.”

“What does it mean?”

“I’m afraid my friends weren’t very creative. They just shortened my middle name, Buchanan.”

“And here I was picturing you with big buck teeth,” you joke.

“Well,” he begins, standing up, dusting off a bit of dirt on his fingers by brushing his hand against his suit. “If I cave and say that’s why they call me Bucky, would you stop calling me Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Barnes,” you laugh at his overdramatic groan.

—

Sweetheart,

It’s begun, and I’m afraid I don’t have many nice things to share with you. Sam gave us a scare a few days ago. He apparently doesn’t only think himself handsome, but also indestructible. Luckily it was only a graze wound, and he’s still alive and filling the air with his nonsense. I couldn’t be happier.

I can’t lie to you; it’s grim. We never see their attacks coming. But for now, I try my best to tune it all out with my memories of you. Instead of gunshots, I think of the soft tune of your music box. Instead of the mud we walk through each day, I think about that climb I made to your room. Instead of the cold, I think about how warm you always are. You’re what keeps me going. That’s what you have always been. Do not worry about me; I’m happy in our memories.

Always yours,

Steve Rogers.

—

Steve had written the letter almost three weeks ago. For all you knew, at this point, his battalion had been ambushed. Steve could be gone. And you knew that if it ever happened, chances were you would never be told. After all, the only one who seemed to know about your plans outside the both of you was Sam. Still, your heart refused to dwell too much on that, hoping instead to learn more about the situation. Knowing was better than letting your mind run wild speculating. If left alone, it only seemed to be able to paint dark images that scared you beyond belief.

Word had reached town about the start of the war around the same time Steve had written the letter. Your father and every other respected veteran had met with the mayor, in preparation of any form of attack on the town.

It was silly, really, for Steve to ask you not to worry. How could you not when the love of your life was in the line of fire every day?

You knew things were dangerous, especially towards the east where Steve was. And you tried to ask your father about it, but he was determined to keep most details from you, requesting that you not worry. There was something about the men in your life and the way they never wanted you to worry that frustrated you.

Your mother, with her head in the clouds, assumed everything would be over within a few weeks. If she had her way, she’d throw another party to lighten the mood in the town, and to the disbelief of no one, she had already proposed it.

So you came to the conclusion that the only one that might be open enough with you about the war would be Mr. Barnes.

“I'm surprised your father hasn't talked to you about it,” he says, once again playing with the leaves on the lilies. They were almost ready to bloom. He looked so proud of them, you’d think he’d grown them himself. Whenever he had the chance, he asked to see them, asking so many questions your head spun.

“Well, he’s said a few things, but he’s held back his thoughts. Asks me not to worry.”

Frustrated wasn't enough of a word to describe how you felt. Every day Steve was in danger, and there was nothing you could do about it. There was nobody you could be direct with and nobody that was direct with you.

“He’s right in some way; there’s nothing you should worry about. I'm sure the war won't be on your steps anytime soon,” his voice is firm, but there’s something in his eyes. He’s almost analyzing you, wondering how much you’ll push.

“It’s not that I'm worried about,” you heave a sigh, walking away from Mr. Barnes. “It’s those who are fighting. The men who are risking their lives.”

“Someone, in particular, you’re worried about?”

He approaches you timidly, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

“I could ask around if there is, make sure you get the information you need.”

Steve had told Sam. Could you trust Mr. Barnes to guard your secret? So far, he’d been nothing but polite, and a man like him had surely experienced love and felt that almost ferocious desire to keep it safe.

But then again, he was close to your parents and a man from a wealthy family who had undoubtedly been taught how people like you should behave. Someone who had grown up in this same world of strict norms regulating every single move of your life would most likely think like your parents and judge what you held so dearly.

He looks on to you, eyebrows raised in almost concern. And he just waits for you to get your thoughts together, his gaze soft, prompting you to be honest and part of you wants to be.

Part of you just wants to tell someone about Steve and the love you have for him. Tell someone about the letters, and the music box, and the ring.

But that someone is not Mr. Barnes.

“No, no one in particular,” you reply after an eternity, “But I’m sure all of those men would rather be home with their families, somewhere warm, somewhere safe.”

You will your tears to stay put, beg them not to roll down your cheeks. Beg your mind not to picture Steve longing to be back home because if you let those images flash through your mind, you would, without question, crash to the ground in sobs.

“I see,” he says, the concern he showed moments ago melting away. “War is never pretty, never something we hope for.” He leads the way, following the stone path your father had built into the garden so many summers ago. “Your father means well, he does, but it’s best to stay informed. The war will be long, I’m afraid, and we will lose many great men. There’s no way I can paint you a pretty picture of war. I’d be lying to you, and I’d like to think we are not the type who lie.”

“I’d like to think that too,” you agree despite not being entirely honest with him.

“It won’t be over in a few weeks like your mother chooses to believe. Patrick won't be forced to return and play at another party of hers, and I'm sure he’s very grateful. But it will be over one day, and then all those men will be able to come home. Some alive, some not, but they’ll all be back.”

There’s nothing reassuring about his words, but there is in his honesty.

That night as you tuck away this latest letter behind the music box you find the previous two beside the music box instead. All those late night re-readings of the letters must’ve caused you to forget to put them back where they belong, so with nimble fingers you return them to their rightful place quickly peeking at the ring hoping Steve could feel you thinking of him— hoping Steve would be one of the lucky ones who would come home alive.

---

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#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #steve x you #steve x reader #stories by notimetoblog

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heoneyology · 6 years

Text

Hearts on the Line: Ch.7

A/N: This is late and I apologize but I haven’t written action in quite a while so I felt sloppy as I worked through this. Anyway here, have some shit hitting the fan.

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: action, angst, romance, outlaw!au

Word Count: 4228

Summary: You’ve got a debt to pay, and Wooyoung has an agenda of his own. But for your help with just one last scheme, Wooyoung is willing to allow your debt to drop off—unknown to him, though, you also have your own agenda, and a loyalty to an unspoken Other. With hearts on the line, you each will end up having to make a decision that may risk what you both thought was simply just a game.

Seonghwa’s warning not to do anything stupid rings clear as a bell at the forefront of Wooyoung’s mind. Even for Wooyoung, this felt stupid.

Behind the group, he wanders at a bit of a slower pace, watching carefully as Rosette walks with Jongho. Her arm is linked through his, a bright smile on her face as they laugh over something. The two of them had always been fairly close, Jongho’s easy-going personality an immediate click with anyone he came across. Where Wooyoung was able to charm his way into and out of any person’s heart—Jongho just had a natural likability about him.

“What are we doing this again for?” He hears Jongho ask.

“Is it so hard to believe I just want to spend some time with you guys?” Rosette replies with a smile, she glances over her shoulder at that time, making eye contact with Wooyoung. “Someone has been driving me insane.”

Wooyoung smiles, as charming as ever, though stays quiet.

“Easy to believe,” Jongho chuckles, following Rosette’s lead toward the saloon.

She turns away in time, missing the way Wooyoung’s smile falls from his face, lips melding into a hard line as he studies her with narrowing eyes. Something’s off. It didn’t take an idiot to figure it out. Rosette wasn’t the easiest person to read, but he’d surely spent enough time in her presence to pick up on certain mannerisms. Her laughter felt strange, as though it wasn’t quite sincere. Not forced, though. But maybe anxious? The way she fixated Jongho with her attention struck a chord of annoyance within Wooyoung, a feeling that he felt unfamiliar with.

He wasn’t jealous, that wasn’t possible. But Rosette had always been at his side. His responsibility since she’d joined the group. While she got along with everyone equally well, Wooyoung ensured she was always next to him. Except for now, and for some odd reason it was rubbing him the wrong way.

“Wooyoung.” Yeosang’s curt voice forces Wooyoung back to reality.

Before the other two turn to face him, wondering why he’s lagging back, he instantly shifts his expression with such ease that someone would have thought they’d simply been imagining the dark look that had fallen across his features. Yeosang’s piercing blue gaze studies him, not missing a single thing.

But by the time Jongho and Rosette turn, curiosity on their features, Wooyoung is grinning and skipping ahead, passing up Yeosang. “C’mon, c’mon! Let’s stop lagging, we’re here to drink and have a grand time, right?” He pushes himself between Jongho and Rosette, throwing his arms over either of their shoulders and pressing forward.

As he moves with the group, he glances over his shoulder at Yeosang. That icy blue gaze follows him.

Hongjoong had an intimidating gaze, piercing in its own right, one that noted every minor detail. He was the leader, though, and power emanated from just his presence and the way he held himself. But that power and confidence was easily read in his eyes. Seonghwa’s gaze was intimidating because he was constantly calculating, watching people and discerning their motives. A misstep around Seonghwa meant he’d discover something that you probably didn’t want anyone to know.

Yeosang, though—Yeosang’s gaze was so intense that it pierced straight through your soul with a needle-like dagger. Where Seonghwa watched, and knew things. Yeosang just knew things, and that was frightening of its own.

Wooyoung raises his brows, giving a small shrug toward the other. Whatever Yeosang thought he knew—he was probably right. But they had to just go with the flow, for now, and Wooyoung didn’t have the time to stray from his own goals. Seonghwa had given him a time limit, and Rosette had assured him after tonight they’d be able to take action. Whatever she wanted to do, he was willing to play along.

For now, at least.

The saloon is bustling when they enter. Though there’s still plenty of time before sunset, many of the patrons are already long lost in their drunkenness. The clamor of the room is a mix of rowdy laughter, music, yelling, and plenty of drinking. As they pass tables, smoke drifts into Wooyoung’s face and he wrinkles his nose. He pushes them through the crowd, sure Yeosang is trailing behind somewhere, before seating everyone at an empty table.

“Drinks, for everyone!” Wooyoung practically shoves Jongho and Rosette into seats at the table, throwing his hands into the air and waving for a waitress.

“Wooyoung—” Yeosang warns.

“Just a drink, maybe two, isn’t going to hurt anyone around here,” Wooyoung chides, effectively ignoring the warning.

But almost two hours later, the group is lost in drinks...

You’d had one, just to appease Wooyung and his persistence at celebrating. What he wanted to celebrate for, you couldn’t determine. You’d yet to see Monica so far, and so nothing on that end had drawn to a close. With each passing moment, you came closer to the start of Jean’s fire show; a fact that was making you nervous. You’d agreed to this long ago, and were just as determined to see things through—but you also found yourself needing to put things at a close before that time came.

You couldn’t understand why, though.

The buzz from the cheap beer was noticeable but not affecting you in any particular way, thank the stars above. You watched the crowds of people around you, carefully pushing away and denying any more alcohol that came toward you. It seemed as though the beer and whiskey was being passed around freely, at that point. Things were starting to gear up to reaching the peak of the night activities.

Of everyone, Jongho was probably the furthest along, closest to being the most drunk. He had started off fairly tame. He’d shared a few dances with you, to which Wooyoung had interrupted each time with a look you’d never seen across his face before, only for Jongho to come back with a newfound determination to finish a dance. He’d told quite a few jokes to a crowd willing enough to listen, before the crowd had grown. Everyone was clustered around a new table as he stood atop it, handing him fruits to pull apart with his bare hands. With each fruit that came his way, he complied and effortlessly split it. The crowd was becoming restless in their attempts to find a fruit he couldn’t split, but provisions were scarce in the desert town.

Wooyoung and Yeosang were tied for being the next closest to drunk. For all his warnings, Yeosang seemed as though he were the closest to being so. Wooyoung was simply able to hold his alcohol quite well, and so you couldn’t be certain how far gone he was. Yeosang, however, was still as quiet and observant as ever, and as well-behaved as he always was. The only reason you knew how much he’d had was because of the powerful confidence that overtook him whenever he drank. His tongue became as sharp as his gaze, wielding his words in rebuff to the cowboys’ and their ridiculous attempts at witty remarks and challenges.

The two of them were tucked away in a corner playing poker with a small table of men and onlookers—Yeosang probably using his sharp tongue to anger and distract the drunkards they faced while Wooyoung used his wiles to cheat them all out of their money, if either were coherent enough to stay on top of things.

Some time passes before a red bob of hair catches your attention, moving through the crowded saloon. The audacity… you can’t help but think, immediately recognizing Monica as she slithers through men—but not towards you. No, it’s towards Wooyoung. Scowling, you immediately jump to your feet and beeline towards her.

Something feral flares up within you as you rush towards her, protective and angry she’d try such a stunt. But, then, why should you be surprised by her actions? It was completely in her personality to sneak around the back like this. She’d made it bluntly clear, an abundance of times, how she felt about you. She can’t see Wooyoung. Can’t interact with him. Seonghwa’s warnings and the little loss with his grip on reality you’d witnessed from him before are enough to push you through the crowd with a fervor, shoving through the molasses of drunken townsfolk and cowboys. He can’t see her, either.

A part of you wonders if you’ll get to her fast enough. But then, you’re there.

“No!” You warn, with something akin to a hiss, as you reach out and snatch her arm. With more force than you mean to, you pull and spin her around to face you.

Monica reacts instantly, sneering and jerking her arm out of your grasp. You assume she figures you’re one of the drunken patrons, attempting to make moves, as she lifts her hand as though to make to hit you. Fully expecting to be slapped again, you tense and brace yourself—but it doesn’t come, realization dawning across her features.

“What?” She snaps, annoyed. You’re grateful that, at the very least, she lowers her hand and doesn’t actually hit you this time.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” You retort with your own sneer. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re also late, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“Since when do I answer to you?”

With a complete disregard for you, she turns back in the direction of the poker table as she speaks. But you won’t allow it—don’t allow it. You move to intercept her, blocking her path to Wooyoung. She pulls up short as you do so, pursing her lips. A hot anger flashes through her green eyes, but you refuse to let it intimidate you. You’re tired of having to fake being pushed around by her.

“You don’t. But I hate people who go back on their word. Last I checked, I gave you that ring as a down payment.”

Monica’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “You don’t think I didn’t know the ring was cheap? Maybe even a fake?”

“You didn’t ask for something with monetary value.” You smile yourself, imitating the tone of voice she’d been using. “You think we had time to get a flashy ring? Let alone the resources to do so, without risking getting caught? I’m hanging out in the midst of a group of outlaws. Think again, Monica.”

She glares at you, icy daggers. But you’d already decided it was enough—that you’d had enough. You straighten under her gaze, holding yourself just a little bit higher. You weren’t going to give in to her violent mood swings any longer. The feeling of whiplash from Wooyoung constantly switching his own mood was bad enough for you, and enough to deal with on its own.

“Those outlaws are bad company to keep,” she’s bristling as she speaks again, unable to hide her anger from her voice or her body language any longer. “You and him both should get away from them.”

You frown. “Are you the reason the wanted signs appeared around town, so suddenly?”

Monica snorts. “No, though I wish it were me. This town doesn’t care enough about who’s wanted and who isn’t. Someone else must have it out for them.”

Jean? You wonder briefly, because a part of you knows that Monica is right. Although camp was still set up about a fifteen minute ride outside of Sundown, the town was popular for outlaws and wanted men passing through. It was small enough, and out of the way enough from bigger towns and cities, that no one really paid much mind to their visitors. So long as everyone behaved and no serious trouble was started, then the place remained peaceful, and townies kept to themselves. The army men who passed through and the sheriff were all rock-dumb, anyway.

Hongjoong preferred to frequent Sundown when they were close enough, to gather provisions and regain strength as needed. Staying out of the way of it was simply a safety factor—better safe than sorry, or dead. Maybe the wanted signs being posted up meant nothing. They’d been here before, and never had anything happen.

You aren’t able to dwell again much further on the uncanny appearance of the updated bulletins around town. Monica flipping her hair over her shoulder with an annoyed huff regains your attention.

“Fine, whatever,” she turns away from you, beginning to move in the opposite direction from the poker table. Before she gets too far, she calls over her shoulder, “Let’s speed this along, then. I have work to do.”

You promptly follow her through the crowd, aware that the further you move through the saloon the further back into the building you go—towards the private rooms. You frown, wrinkling your nose as the acrid scent of bodies mixed with booze floods your senses through closed curtains and doors. It becomes more overpowering as the main room slims down to a hallway.

Monica pauses in front of a door, knocking a couple times and waiting for some sort of signal. Or, maybe, she was waiting to ensure no patrons were inside. When there’s no answer, she opens the door and steps inside. You follow her into the room, taking a moment to look around at the minimal bearings. Much to your irritation, there’s no one waiting in the room like you had hoped. Maybe it was wishful thinking to believe Monica would lead you straight to whoever she was working for. Yesterday, she’d only said she’d supply you with a name.

Aware of the door clicking closed behind you, you turn to face Monica—

—and immediately freeze, entire body stiffening. You stare down at a the knife she has pointed at you, which she’d pulled out from somewhere hidden in her skirts. A part of you is surprised, just over the sheer fact someone is pointing a knife at you. You’re not surprised in the slightest that it’s Monica, or that she’d come to this final decision.

“Seriously?” You still find yourself asking. There’s a tiny inkling of panic that passes through you.

You’re not armed, if you have to protect yourself. If you get stabbed, it could be fatal. The guys had taught you how to effectively fight off different types of attackers—those who wielded knives, included. But would you be able to put what you’d learned into practice, let alone remember it? Or could you talk Monica down, instead?

“You’re becoming annoying,” Monica gives a small shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re standing in the way of what I want.”

Maybe talking her down wasn’t an option, after all. But it doesn’t hurt to try. Or, at the very least, stall until you figure out what the hell to do.

“You were never going to help me, were you?” You realize, finding yourself once again lacking any surprise. She ultimately just wanted her toy back in her possession. Had you fallen into her trap? Had she seen through your ploy this entire time?

“No, at first I was. But then the more you spoke about him, the more I realized I really didn’t like you, and I realized I wasn’t happy he’d moved on so well,” she sighs, a bit dramatically. “I suppose you call this jealousy. I really was willing to assist you. There’s gain out of it for me if I do—but, you know, I came to the realization that I’m okay with how things are now. Not having answers—”

“You’re okay living in that constant repetition of not having your own answers, of being a slave to a debt?”

You realize you’ve misspoken too late. A dark look flashes across her face and she lunges at you with the knife. If you’re fast enough, blind rage is the easiest knife attack to dodge. Unfortunately, you’re not fast enough to completely miss the blade. But, at least you haven’t been stabbed.

“How do you know that?!” She’s screaming at you, and you’re aware on a very disoriented level that you’d probably just blown your cover of knowing her past and Wooyoung’s past.

You hoped she wouldn’t dwell too much on how you knew such things. Hopefully she, also, wasn’t smart enough to piece things together and figure out the ulterior motive here.

As quickly as Monica lunges forward, you step aside. You lift your arm, maneuvering it in such a way that is meant to go under the blade and under her arm—to knock the knife away. You manage to do so, though you don’t manage to hit her with enough force to knock the knife loose from her grip. She’s quick with her barrage of attacks, and as her hand is pushed aside, she brings the knife down on the other side of your arm. There’s an instantaneous pain in your shoulder as the blade grazes against the skin of your shoulder and upper arm.

There’s no time to think about the fire in your upper arm.

You turn quickly on your heel to throw your good arm over her own as it comes down with the blade, before she can bring the weapon back to herself, claiming her arm in a lock underneath your armpit. Your hands clamber in an attempt to wretch the blade free from her grip, but her fingers are deadlocked around the hilt.

The pain in your left arm is a slow burn at first, like molten lava slowly traveling through your veins. It both numbs the feeling in your arm and smolders just beneath your skin, as though it’s eating away at your veins. Poisoned. It was poisoned, the thought passes through your mind in a haze as you attempt to force the fingers on your left hand to work, deadened from the excruciating pain and practically useless.

A hard slap to the back of your head has you flinching in surprise. “Fucking bitch!” You growl. “Slapping? Really?!”

You’re grateful, though. While the hit causes your grip on Monica to loosen momentarily, it pulls you out of the pain you’re feeling just enough to regain yourself. You feel her about to pull away she feels your body loosen. Before she can, you tense up again, tightening your hold around her arm desperately. As she pulls, you move with her, before the two of you back up into a wall.

A wall.

Taking advantage of the situation, you pull you and yourself forward, before pushing back—slamming your bodies against the wall behind you. From behind you, Monica gasps in surprise at the impact. You repeat the process until she’s howling in your ear in frustration and pain, using her free hand to transition between attempting to shove you away and slap whatever part of your face she could reach. You can feel her attempting to maneuver herself out of the position she’s in, but her body is smaller than yours and you’re able to hold your ground.

You don’t let up until the knife falls from her hand finally, and as it does so, you let go of her and kick it across the room.

When you turn to face her, she’s panting, hunched over and holding her sides in pain. From underneath a mop of mussed red hair, she glares at you with those icy emerald eyes. Snake. “How do you know that about me?” She growls.

“Wooyoung told me everything,” you admit. “I’m taking his revenge out on a sore sight of a woman like you, for him.”

Filled with a sudden blind rage of your own, you take the two steps towards her, fingers clenched into a fist. She straightens up just in time to meet your fist connecting with her face.

But as it does so, there’s a white hot flash of pain in your abdomen. You let out a gasp of surprise, numbed left hand and hand you’d used to punch shakily dropping to your stomach. You don’t need to look down to feel the knife protruding out.

Monica stumbles back from the force of your punch, catching herself on some of the stray furniture before she falls over. When she looks up at you, there’s blood coming from her mouth, which curls into a smirk.

“Too bad I missed my mark. I was hoping for more vital organs. But hey, you should have Gila Monster venom running through your entire system right now. Incapacitating you is good enough for me…”

Gila Monster venom? Gravity takes over as the thought passes through your mind, and you collapse onto the floor. The impact hurts, but the pain in your body—from within your body—is more painful. Like you’re slowly being scalded and seared from the inside out. Suddenly, the fire you’d been forcefully pushing yourself through makes sense. A Gila Monster’s venom was said to be the most excruciatingly painful venom produced by any vertebrate. It wouldn’t kill you, it just hurt like hell.

You can’t help but shut your eyes against the pain, applying pressure to the area around the knife, as if you can will the agony away. Groaning, you let out a gasp against your suffering as you turn your head into the floorboards beneath where you lay. The exhale of breath and the sharp intake that follows causes you to cough, a foreign, sulfuric scent invading your lungs.

You press your lips together, so close that you can practically taste the smell you’ve inhaled. That is, until you realize that you actually can taste it. It’s dusty, but with a tangy mix of salt and pepper. You open your eyes, squinting, wondering if you’ve inhaled some sort of toxin on top of the venom being in your system. Maybe Monica had other plans to kill you.

The dusty scent lingers in your lungs enough that it scratches and becomes uncomfortable, and you cough again, noting in the dim light of the room the way a fine layer on the floor seems to sift from your breath.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow, ignoring the screaming protest of your body, you glance down at the floorboards beneath you.

“Still have some fight left in you?” Monica sneered.

Wedged between the floorboards is a grainy powder, charcoal in color. It follows the gaps of most of the floorboards in the room.

I have this whole place rigged.

Make sure an hour after the sun sets, you’re out of the saloon.

Your head snaps up toward the single window in the room, realization dawning on you. Gunpowder. Jeanette’s father had been a weapons expert in the military, before retiring. She’d grown up on a ranch, but she’d also grown up with the ability to hunt and shoot as good as any man who walked around with a gun at the holster on his hip. The airy thought of her committing arson had passed through your mind briefly the night before, but a part of you had assumed she’d be a bit more direct with her approach at revenge.

This worked, though. An eye for an eye—she had wanted to take something important from Hongjoong, just as he had from her. The members of his gang were important; his back up family. Three of them were just beyond the walls of the room you stood in, in the saloon. Ripe for Jean’s revenge.

It wasn’t time yet, the sun still hovering on the horizon beyond the panes of the window. You weren’t sure where Jean fell into place with all of this. She’d told you to get out—which meant she was the one to pull the metaphorical trigger.

But a part of you figured you weren’t about to make it out of here unscathed, or even alive, otherwise. Monica’s intentions weren’t clear, and it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

Slowly, you push yourself to your feet, ignoring the venom working through your system with every movement. It scratches from inside your bloodstream, burning and searing. It’s absolute agony.

“Now you’re just asking for it,” Monica growls, righting herself up as you move. “Taking his revenge on me out for him? You don’t know anything—how his mind works, how he feels. Nothing! I don’t know what you came here for but—”

“I came here for a name,” you ground out between clenched teeth, through the pain. You pull yourself to your feet using a stray end table in the room. Slowly, but surely, you pull yourself up, and glance over your shoulder to glare at her.

“I came here for a name,” you repeat, reminding her, “you promised me the name of who you work for. I need that name.”

She scoffs. “You—and even he—can’t do anything with a name. He’s going to get nothing out of this but more pain.” As she answers you, she turns to pick up the first knife from the scuffle off the floor, before she turns on you. “The venom won’t kill you, but an actual stabbing with intent will, you know.”

You smile, glancing at the end table next to you.

I’m so sorry, guys. I’m sorry, Jean.

You can’t hold yourself up any longer, the torment is too great. So as you allow yourself to fall back down, the pain of the venom working through your system, you swipe the lit lantern off the table where it sits at the center, using such a force that you’ve practically thrown it off the surface—

—and then the world is on fire.

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #wooyoung fanfic #ateez wooyoung #ateez fanfics #ateez outlaw #m.writes #m.hotl

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find-the-eyes · 6 years

Text

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 7

Written By: Sol Edited By: Allegra, ss

The next morning, Bob couldn’t help but grin as he peeked around the corner to see the figure wrapped up in blankets on his living room couch. Paul was still asleep from the exhausting day before, it felt good to see Paul finally warm and safe. Bob glanced over at him occasionally as he got ready to go to class, smiling at the fact that he had both found a roommate and made someone’s life genuinely better. He placed a small note on the coffee table for Paul to read when he woke up.

Good morning! I’m going to class for the day. Be back by 5. I left some cereal and a bowl of strawberries out on the counter if you want breakfast. Call me if you need anything. See you later.

-Bob

Bob smiled as he patted Alvy’s head and left the flat for class. He met Alex at their usual spot by the window in their drawing class.

“How’s Paul?” Alex asked as soon as he sat down, eager to hear about how he had settled into Bob’s flat.

“Happy, I think. He was still sleeping when I left for class,” Bob said quietly as he unpacked his sketchbook from his bag.

“You’re cool with just leaving him alone in your flat?”

“If Alvy trusts someone, I can trust them too.”

Alex raised his eyebrows, still a bit unsure of Bob’s logic. He looked out the window at the trees blowing in the wind and the occasional student making their way across the campus. “Something kind of strange happened after I left last night,” he sighed. Alex almost didn’t want to tell Bob for fear of being judged (or a doubt that it even happened), but he proceeded anyway. “I heard someone playing piano in the abandoned prison a few blocks away from my flat. They stopped as soon as I looked in.”

Bob frowned. “That is quite strange.”

“I was thinking it could be a ghost or something.”

“You’re not in Athens anymore. Not everything is haunted here, Alex. It was probably just some kid messing with you.”

“Yeah, I guess that could be the case. I’m going to stop by later and see if they’re at it again.”

And right after class, that was exactly what Alex did. For the second day in a row, he went out of his way to pass by the old prison. In the daylight, he could see that there was a piano in the far left corner of the main room. He also saw a rope ladder leading up to the rafters, where there appeared to be a nest of blankets. Alex called out to see if there was anyone in there, but no one answered, so he closed the door and went back on his way to his flat.

Bob arrived back at his flat after stopping to get a new toy for Alvy. Despite his immediate trust in Paul, he still felt a bit uncomfortable about sharing the flat with someone else. When Bob opened the door, he was immediately knocked off balance as Alvy eagerly pounced on him. Bob laughed as he tossed Alvy his new toy. He stepped into the dorm and noticed that Paul was busying himself at the kitchen table.

“I made dinner!” Paul gestured to a bowl of pasta on the kitchen table. “I felt bad because you were doing so much for me and I hadn’t done anything.”

“You didn’t—”

“Of course I did. You’re my friend, Bob. I’m trying to be a good flatmate,” Paul said with a wry smile. He led Bob to the table, smiling with pride at the pasta he had made. Alvy hopped up to sit on the chair next to Bob, hoping to steal a noodle or two. He held his new toy in his mouth, squeaking it at Bob for attention. Bob patted his head and squeezed the toy, which Alvy dropped and nuzzled Bob’s shoulder instead, grateful for the attention. Paul made a tiny bowl of plain pasta for Alvy, seeing how much he wanted to be a part of the dinner.

“Do you want me to help you start setting up our room tomorrow?” Bob asked, twirling the homemade spaghetti around his fork. He was secretly hoping that Paul would want to settle in rather than leave.

Paul sighed. “Yeah, of course, but…”

Bob raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Paul poked his fork into a noodle, “I can do it by myself, you know.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t like to feel dependent, you know? I'm happy to be living with you, but… I feel like you’re going to be the one providing for both of us since I can’t seem to get a decent job.”

“Paul,” Bob said softly, gently laying his fork down, “I sincerely promise that that will never happen. I want you to settle in and feel comfortable, and I think tomorrow is a great time to get started.” He looked across the table at Paul, whose eyes had a glimmer of something in them. Could it be hope?

Paul scowled slightly but knew better than to argue against it. “Yeah, alright.”

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Alex was investigating the old prison again on his way home from dinner. After seeing the little bungalow set up in the rafters, he was too curious not to. He waited behind the building until he heard the song being played again, and then walked around to the front door. He leaned his ear against the door for a few minutes, savoring the melody before he interrupted. When Alex pushed the door open, whoever was playing the piano stopped. This time, instead of retreating, Alex went inside.

Alex called to whoever was inside the abandoned prison with him, “I’m not here to hurt you. Please come out. I want to talk.”

Alex heard a bit of rustling from the rafters. “I thought your song was lovely… I just wanted to hear more.” Alex took a few more steps into the room. “Please come talk to me.”

There was a brief silence, and then Alex spied a figure descending the rope ladder from the rafters. When the figure reached the ground, they leaned over to turn on a few overhead lights, and Alex’s eyes widened as he recognized them immediately.

“You again,” Alex murmured, approaching the short, dark haired man, who looked either careless or emotionally drained, or both.

The man just stared at Alex with his sad, sunken blue eyes. He fidgeted a bit, but stayed nearly completely still.

“Alright, that whole staring thing is pretty creepy. You don’t seem into a fight. Let’s talk it out.” Alex’s heart beat a bit faster, his mind racing through the different reactions and outcomes of the situation.

The man nodded and gestured to the rope ladder, which he began climbing. Alex followed after him, a bit uneasy, but still willing to listen to him. Upon reaching the top of the ladder, Alex saw more than just the immediate nest of blankets and other soft items. A bunch of dusty instruments were strewn about as well.

“Sorry about your guitar,” the man said softly, looking down at the pattern on the blanket he was sitting on and tracing it with his finger.

“Oh, that’s fine now, but…” Alex looked out at the items strewn about the bungalow in the rafters. “This might be a bit much. Did you steal the piano too?”

“That was here already,” the man murmured. He broke his eye contact with Alex again, too ashamed to look at him.

“Yeah, it must be pretty hard to steal a piano,” Alex said, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I liked the song you were playing earlier.”

“Thanks,” the man replied shortly.

“I haven’t seen you in class lately,” Alex changed the subject, trying his best not to be angry with the man as he recalled the recent event.

“Oh,” said the man. “I’m… from the music school.”

Alex frowned. “So you came to my class specifically to steal my guitar?”

“Yeah. Well. Not your guitar,” the man mumbled. Alex noticed his slight foreign accent.

“What’s your name?” Alex asked, curious about how much information he would reveal. How could a filthy thief like him also produce a melody so beautiful? Who was this mysterious man that had suddenly popped up in his life?

The man stared blankly at him, unsure of whether he should speak up or not, finally managing “Nick” in a small voice.

“I’m Alex. Your name sounds very proper English,” Alex laughed, “but you sound like you’re not from around here.”

“I’m from Germany.”

“Interesting. Why’d you choose to come to Glasgow of all places?”

“My brother got me into the music school,” Nick explained, leaning back against one of the beams.

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “I came here to get away from my family back in Greece.” Alex sat on one of the beams. “I have my own flat and some independence, finally, but I still feel a bit lonely here.”

“Least you don't live in an abandoned prison.” Nick chuckled nervously, feeling quite overwhelmed by the sudden visitor.

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you live here?”

Nick nodded, looking away from Alex.

“Have you lived here the whole time you've been in Glasgow?”

“I...had a flat, but...the money was running out fast, and…I couldn’t steal enough to keep up.”

Alex noticed the little bumps in Nick’s speech, and how it seemed like he was struggling to get every word out. “Are you alright?”

Nick looked up, confused.

“I mean, you sound like—”

“Oh, that. It’s worse than this a lot of the time. It’s just how I am.” Even while reassuring Alex, Nick refused to make eye contact.

Alex smiled. “That’s good to know. Now I don’t have to worry about you as much.”

Nick nodded silently, but on the inside, every single cell in his body was screaming at him to do something. Don't open up to him. Are you crazy?! Throw something, run away, hide somewhere. You’ve been found. Your new friend isn’t a friend at all. The police are outside. They’re coming in to get you, and…

“Nick?” Alex poked his shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Nick realized how much he had jumped when Alex poked him, and tried to release his perpetually tensed shoulders. “Yeah...”

“You don’t seem alright.”

Hearing that phrase come from someone other than himself, Nick finally made an effort to connect with Alex. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you for being the first person to realize.”

#illtryanythingonce #allfanfic #franz ferdinand

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docholligay · 5 years

Text

An unnecessarily lengthy ode to the deadlock disaster children

Decided I had to submit this instead of comment endlessly on your post… because I just love Ashe and McCree so much more than I could have ever predicted?? I would feel about characters from this game?? You already know this but you did ask for reasons, so I’m gonna give them to ya.

I was drawn to Ashe when I first picked up the game because I tend to prefer longer ranged weapons and also because I took one look at her and said ‘i choose you, criminal lesbian.’ I didn’t even watch Reunion for a little while, but I was/still am so into her weapon-focused kit and the challenge that learning to play her even relatively well has posed (I still run out of bullets and boop myself off ledges more than I care to admit). So for Ashe far more than McCree, there’s a gameplay element to her that does actually factor into loving her as a character.

I wanted to play McCree a lot when I first got the game, because cowboy, and because me (the prism of my experience of rural life has affected a lot of what I see in mcCree and is probably a solid chunk of the reason I was able to write him into a character I liked) but his gameplay was just too hard and I didn’t love him like I did Tracer, so there was no reason for me to continue.

Obviously we have very little canon for her, but I love a lot of what we do have. I love that she’s quick to anger and bossy and pretty selfish and quite good at what she does. I love that she clearly cares about McCree even as she isn’t prepared to ever let go of her grudge against him, that’s the kind of tension and conflict that I am always so into, perhaps in part because I have so much experience with it personally. She’s got high expectations of everyone, probably too high, and she prizes loyalty above all else - feels very relatable to me, tbh. I love her aesthetic and her ridiculous voice acting and I really really really love BOB’s mannerisms and general role in her life.

If and when I am ever tempted to do something with Ashe, I think the most interesting thing to work with would be her sort of spoiled brat mentality, and how that hits up against Actual Cowboy Ethos (I utterly, utterly reject the idea of the Deadlock Gang being a biker gang, at least before Ashe took over. I’ts a boring choice made for aesthetics.) The idea of her having conflict with everyone who taught her everything she knows and completely thinking that SHE’S RIGHT really intrigues me.

As far as headcanons/my writing of her goes, though, I feel like I’m trying to flesh her out as a character who experiences a lot of growth, but never ends up much closer to perfect or even to good (because I don’t think she’s good, I don’t really have any interest in redeeming her at all, though I think humanizing her or exploring the ways that she can be relatable is interesting). I think one thing they did really well in introducing her (and some of the others, obviously Fareeha is similar) is that she’s a person who’s had an entire life, a childhood and a young adulthood and is now a grown woman. I find that super helpful in thinking about what particular things make her immature when she’s first meeting McCree and starting the gang, and then how she addresses or doesn’t address those things as she gets older and has to adapt. I also like that she’s a criminal, clearly not a good guy character, but also doesn’t at this point have a direct tie to the Big Bad organization of the franchise - I’ve not shared many of my ideas for where my fic series is going, but I like the idea of her flat out refusing any/all offers from Talon to team up for several reasons. Like having Vishkar and Lumerico and even Volskaya as sort of villainous presences, keeping Deadlock and Talon separate helps the world feel less manichean/more realistic to me, so I actually hope there’s not a move to tie everyone together too neatly.

I also have NO desire to see her team up with Talon except maybe in selling Talon weapons or something. BUt that’s business, not teamwork. I see Ashe as left with basically a name of the Deadlock gang, but without anyone but BOB who REALLY has her corner.

I do wish that the whole 'her parents ignored her entirely’ and 'she’s richer than god’ things had been considered a bit more in relation to one another - it doesn’t make any sense to me at all that her parents would continue to bankroll their at large criminal daughter that they don’t care about at all, for instance. My other major gripe with how she’s been handled is actually about her legendary skins - let her look like herself, Blizzard!! Let her have her white hair and red eyes instead of just blatantly embracing the fact that you made another same face white woman who you will play Barbie with and give her dark hair or blue eyes whenever it’s more convenient. Also make her look her age, damnit.

You’re completely right and all of this is dumb. But I’m not shocked, tbh. LET OLDER WOMEN LOOK IT!!! LET WOMEN BE OLDER!!!

ANYWAY, her origin story and Reunion give me a lot to work with. ESPECIALLY because I’m not at all convinced that Reunion is the first time she and McCree have seen each other since he left the gang, or at least I feel very strongly that it shouldn’t be the first time. There are a lot of things about how they both act that I’ve chosen to read as suggesting this is kind of a recurring thing, he shows up and makes her mad and messes with the gang but neither of them will actually hurt the other, and then she has to go back to acting like he’s her nemesis when really he’s the one person who can make her break her own rules about punishing betrayal. I’ve got no particular investment in Blizzard telling their stories that way, but to me it makes a lot more sense than that confrontation being their first meeting after 20 years.

I haven’t decided what I think about McCree and Ashe’s relationship in specific, only in broad strokes, and I chalk a lot of that up to my general reluctance to engage with Ashe and what Blizzard seems to be trying to do with her. I’ll have to come up with something, if only in passing, but yeah, I dunno.

AND SPEAKING OF MCCREE. He’s so sad, I love him. While I don’t see him joining Talon usually, I definitely agree with you that he just kind of bounces around from group to group and place to place throughout his life, and to me that’s in part because I see him as just kind of taking things as they come at him, but also because he’s so deeply convinced of his own 'badness’ and guilt that, without someone else prompting him like Ashe or Gabe, he’ll just default to running on his own so as not to hurt or disappoint anyone, including himself. But even as he’s convinced that he’s not a truly good man, he still works to do the right thing in the ways he knows how and feels cut out for. And I love that he’s polite, and that he seems largely to be pretty unflappable but is willing to get angry and express that anger when something is important enough to warrant it, and also that he’s a fuckin terrible dresser.

Yeah, I think McCree is a tumbleweed, and he’s always looking for something, and he never really quite finds it, at least not for a long time, Eventually, in the fullness of time, he becomes a sort of officer for Overwatch, in my world, but even there he feels that he is doing a good and useful thing but does he “fit”? Will he ever be settled like Pharah? Loved like Tracer? Who knows! Not him! He’s just a cat dad doing his best.

Idk, I was skeptical of getting into a game that wasn’t first-and-foremost narrative driven, but I’ve found that many of the characters are set up in such a way that even though they’re not fully fleshed out, there’s a lot to work with that’s super interesting and fun to me, so Overwatch has been an incredibly pleasant surprise. I love others, too, but these two appeal directly to my two greatest weaknesses when it comes to fictional characters (bitter lesbian who yells and sweet guy who tries really hard to do the right thing even though he fucks up a lot because the world is complicated), and it’s very fortuitous that they’re actually linked to one another within the lore. If my faves were like, Zen and Reyes, for instance, I don’t think I’d be as jazzed about the franchise as I am. But I lucked out with these two losers, and as always I love the way that you’ve written McCree (can’t wait to see what you do with Ashe) so I’ve gladly incorporated fanon into my thoughts and feelings about him, so it’s kind of just been a perfect storm for me, and now here I am writing excessively long submissions to you about why I love them.

Yeah, I think it works out nicely when you find a character that the franchise loves too. I did not go into Overwatch expecting Tracer to be my favorite, not even remotely. I expected it would be Widowmaker, actually. But Tracer just got me, something about her sense of goodness without naivete, her courage and her brightness. She’s the hero with the strength to get up and still see that corner of blue in the sky. ANd then go shoot a man to keep it.

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360degreesasthecrowflies · 6 years

Text

AndromedaWatch 01 - first reaction to the series

So, it’s been a brief break from my Farscape first watch/reaction series (which you can find entries in HERE or HERE), and during the off period, I’ve decided to do something a little different! By chance, I came across another late 90s-early 2000s sci-fi/space opera show I’d never seen before, Andromeda, so I decided to do a first watch reaction to it as well!

Without further ado, here’s my thoughts on Andromeda 1.01 ‘Under The Night’!

1.01 UNDER THE NIGHT

Spaceships! and a written brief intro. Semi conspicuous CG.

A crew! Lots of people. Red and blue uniforms. Antigravity harnesses. Andromeda is the ship and our lead is the captain, fun.

Everyone running about! But seems like it was a drill.

First leads appear to be two white dudes, one with the look of Buffy's Riley, the other Firefly's Mal. Longer haired dude is getting married. As this is the first episode this is probably going to be horribly wrong.

Also, the ship Andromeda has a female voice.

We are far future or maybe just alien; there's robots and lots of tech. We're leaping STRAIGHT into action too! Great opening.

Right, they're off to rescue a ship from a black hole after a distress call and we're less than 5 minutes in. Hyperspace jumping too, gotta get those tropes in.

Side characters we've seen so far include a black technician guy, feminine robot and a smallish green alien guy. Andromeda has hologram avatar too, an Asian woman.

Captain makes the call to try and save as many as possible, evacuation...but they're firing on them! Andromeda says that it must be a trap!

OPENING CREDITS time. There's a voiceover, and now an instrumental futuristicy theme with credits introducing our characters. There's the lead, male-bob-haired Captain Dylan Hunt, a blonde badass lady, dreadlocked black dude, a purple skinned Chiara-looking expy, and some others. Quite a big cast from the off.

Into the episode; now everyone actually IS running to battlestations, no drill this time. They're under assault right away, imperfect shields. They face 10k ships. Second in command guy suggests deploying extreme destructive bombs, but Captain refuses, aww, he's a good guy. (How long will that last?)

Second in command guy (Starscream?) notes that the attackers are his...race? ethnic group? nationality? so, as a precuation, recommends that he and all others aboard of that trait should be locked up just in case. Seems a little odd tbh.

Captain concurs and a bodyguard looking guy does it.

They aren't doing too well in the battle; outnumbered and can't maneuver. Also next to a black hole, they can't do their hyperspace jump again due to gravity pull.

Well, damnnn. 9 minutes in and the black guy dies. Eep. There was an explosion in Control, hull breach apparently. They're still pinned down for the next ten minutes too.

Captain orders that everyone abandons ship on escape pods. Ah, this will be the cast paring down, good, I hope they don't all die. The green alien elects to stay with the Captain in Control and may be female? Androgynous looking and shamefully I assumed it was not female.

Shot of everyone abandoning ship through some appropriately sci-fi +/ 90s style pods and passageways.

Well daaaang. We cut to Starscream and he kills the guards sent with him; a double-bluff! Ask to be locked up so he can get away from the captain and co, and just after offering his congratulations to the captain on his upcoming marriage too. Utter bastard. That's some Kill Bill shit.

He has a plan. Cutting between him and Control, where a female robot has stayed too. Captain decides to go INTO the black hole, fine, okay.

They're not strong enough to fight their way free, they need to use the black hole's gravity to slingshot themselves free... now, I'm not sure when this aired, but that sounds a LOT like the resolution of the first episode of Farscape. I hope this doesn't turn out to be a straight AU rerun.

Bug lady is the pilot. She does seem to ACTUALLY be an alien bug, and I quite like this. I hope she doesn't die. (She probably will, characters I like rarely last long, RIP PK lady lieutenant in Farscape). She speaks a bit of her langauge which Andromeda translates (her avatar's still here), good touch, saying that she's willing to sacrifice and risk herself for the ship's survival.

Oops Andromeda's frozen, avatar dropping out. Power freezing. Starscream is still doing things, Andromeda has noticed now but he blows out the camera. Andromeda is able to alert the captain to sabotage just as Starscream walks in and... yup, bug lady gets (quite graphically) killed, her chest front explodes out when she's shot (or blasted, didn't get a good look at the weapon). Eesh.

Captain spins around to engage. Starscream reveals his people are designed to be perfect. They all live within a Commonwealth, but Starscream's people want to take it over now. There's an issue with the Magog, who seem to be horrible people, who the Commonwealth have made peace with. Starscream's people want instead, revenge.

FIGHTSCENE. Starscream is a bit of a karate boy, this is more phyisical than I anticiapted, not just a shootout. Captain holds his own too though, flipping off a wall in slow-mo, which is revealed to actually be a time distortion, nice nod to the Matrix surely given the time this was made.

The two run back for their blasters and the Captain is hit first, but returns fire as he falls and may hit his opponent more critically.

He runs over to him, possibly saddened, and there's a 'what have you done' moment. Then they all freeze in time, Starscream possibly already dead on the ground, and we cut to the ship, already on course before its power was cut, dipping straight into the black hole.

Cut away. We open on blonde lady from the credits. We;re on another ship now, presumably. Blondie is a Captain too, Captain Valentine. Her coworkers are a wookie-faced dude and an expy of Wash from Firefly and Oz from Buffy in one character. They've found the Andromeda, but it seems a looong time has passed, years at least.

Seems we might have another Starscream situation here as Mr Wookie already is proud that HE - uh, THEY - have found the ship. Not a happy family, methinks.

More new characters! A scabby faced grumpy dude from the credits and purple lady, something bad might be about to happen to Wookie because I didn't see him in those credits and all these characters will be sticking around. Ms Purple has a tail too, because why not, it was the 90s, we didn't have weaboos yet.

So it seems these guys are salvagers - thieves, essentially. Already I can see this potential clash, immoral guys vs Mr straight and narrow. They were after this ship as a prize haul with big cash value and big rewards for them all.

The guy on Team Valentine is very much A Dude, we get it. He wants to spend his money on slave girls! Lovely. Neither Valentine nor Purple are impressed.

Valentine is apparently pretty strongly in debt, so that's what she'll use her share of the money for.

So, I'm slightly reminded of Alien, the original 1979 film now. These guys all work together, but don't seem to particularly LIKE each other and are just in it for the money. I actually quite like that, coming off watching a few shows where everyone ends up bonding unreasonably fast to an unbelievably close level.

Scabface wants to make amends with his share of the money. "Trying to buy absolution" as he puts it. He plans to build a hospital on a world he - or his forbears - killed many people.

Team Valentine are all technicians, nice, another nod to Alien.

So it reveals that Valentine, despite being the captain, was hired by Wookie. He's come along with them for this salvage mission. The Andromeda is stuck in time still, so Valentine will need to retrieve it without getting HER ship stuck in time too.

Valentine wishes to jettison their existing cargo before beginning the operation so the ship is more maneuvarable, but Wookie objects and has to run down to 'check' something in the cargo hold first; second Starscream confirmed. We don't get to see what he does but music cues are shifty af.

OooOoo seems his 'cargo' was people - some of original Starscream's kind of people, it seems, identifiable by their spiked arms, again, a nice visual cue to save them spelling out expository text the way many shows in early episodes find themselves having to do or resorting to. We get a shot of them emerging from fridge-like coffins (or coffin-like fridges, I guess) with THE MOST ominous music.

Right, operation go. Nice parallel right away to the other ship as Valentine intiates the operation with "okay everybody, just like we practiced", given the Andromeda's crew were practising too before the real thing. Valentine so far seems competent, no-nonsense and determined, with a wry sense of humour and strong sense of duty. I would expect nothing less from the female lead.

The irony as well that the Andromeda went to rescue and is now itself being 'rescued'.

So instead of going in, Valentine is very sensibly hooking it and reeling it in with grappling hooks.

Operation seems to be successful until three of the hooks seem to fail. Wookie immediately advocates cutting the cables and letting the Andromeda go, which Valentine laughs off and turns to Purple and Dude to see what solutions they might have.

Despite some of the cables failing, Valentine with Dude's help (focusing the engines into one blast of energy) is able to retrieve the ship and tow it away tractor-style.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts that long, one of the engines starts to fail off the bat. Dude seems to have it under control though.

RIGHT, cut back to the Andromeda. Andromeda's avatar is checking Captain Hunt too. Andromeda is immediately aware they MAY have experienced severe time dilations.

Annnd there it is. They've been frozen for 300 years. That'll be our main drama between Captain and our new characters, makes sense because I was feeling he and Valentine were actually quite similar despite the devil-angel dichotomy. Also... RIP Hunt's wedding, and I guess everyone he knew. That's gotta suck in the worst way. 10/10 for getting me to feel empathy for this guy in under 30 min, show.

Right, Valentine and co are all off to board the ship, leaving Wookie on board their own ship, presumably. Purple is the newest crewmember, it's revealed.

Donning space hazmat suits, they board. Dude appreciates the ship like an art form.

Cut back to Captain and Andromeda. The acting is good here and the music helps. They are in mid crisis given how much the world will have changed, maybe everything they were fighting for has gone. Andromeda detects Valentine and co, intruders!

Oops, it seems Wookie has boarded too, or are they back? (Ships look a little similar). He insists they have a deadline and need to work faster, while Dude maintains it will take weeks to get the ship going (presumably up to their future standards, too).

Valentine's crew split up (with comms) to search the ship for more clues about it and how it works. This will end well.

INTERESTING. So within Valentine's crew we have humans and the evil - in Hunt's time Magog, though, who can say which one of the aliens that is, Dude and Valentine are probably out. Andromeda has started to snoop on them through cameras and other concealed computers and comms and brings them up for Hunt to see.

So seems the Magog is Scabby. Andromeda also notes that Dude seems to be sick - with an easily-curable disease from their time. She wonders at the implications of that, a kind of reversal of progress perhaps? I should take the time to say that I do like Andromeda, despite her roboticy AI nature she has a charm to her and her competence and intelligence and calm are all positives to humanize such a character.

Hunt decides to engage the new team. He comes upon Dude first and calmly engages, quickly overpowering him without needing to fight, and addressing him measuredly.

Oops. So Dude doesn't seem to even be aware of the Commonwealth, three guesses says they lost then?

Nope, there's no High Guard, no Commonwealth, they lost, and not recently - 300 years ago! Possibly even straight after that battle, oooh we're going to have DIRECT angst then, that's an interesting direction and element to give your (presumably?) lead.

Additionally, having Andromeda here to talk to saves us having monologues, thought intrusions, or (the trope I disliked a lot in early Farscape) the lead, fish out of water, near-immediately latching on to someone he's just met and telling them everything about his feelings, using them as a sounding board and emotional support. Because honestly, who takes that from a stranger?

Andromeda and Hunt decide that they will search for remnants of the Commonwealth, even though its 300 years on. Back with Valentine, they are debating what to do. Purple advocates just asking Hunt to give them the ship. Valentine feels he owes them something anyway for pulling it out of the black hole. Scabby feels they don't deserve anything.

Hunt addresses them over comms; an ultimatum, he will not give it up to be looted, so they can leave, or he will bring force upon them. Valentine and co are still aboard Andromeda. They move to engage, then, Valentine doesn't like to be threatened, but Wookie intercedes. He's brought backup, and it's our dreadlocked Saracen warrior from the opening credits, along with a small army of extras, notably, none with the telltale arm spikes that we saw earlier, so what's his game? Was it a double-bluff? And that's where it ends, on a cliffhanger!

Well, I have to say, that was actually VERY good, by the standards of the time especially. Some obvious flaws due to tropes and what's become standardized over time passing in between this airing and me first seeing it, but in general, a very well written and acted pilot that established world, plot, tensions, potential tensions, character inter-relationships, and, impressively, seven main characters with an eighth just out of focus, a primary antagonist, and possible secondary antagonist, while also worldbuilding TWO timezones and political setups. Not too shabby for 42 minutes!

Other points; great character design and costumes - though I'm 75% sure there'll be a coincidentally justifiable reason why Purple has to be wearing a sports bra and hotpants and nothing else. Interesting spread of lead characters, two white guys, two women, a female AI, a black guy and a non-humanoid alien, just about what you'd expect from the time. The character archetypes are a nod to others in the genre and broadly into fantasy as well, and sketch out broad strokes for where I can see later characters being sourced from, e.g. the characters from the later Firefly and rebooted Battlestar Galaxica, even the Dr Who reboot which came several years after.

Valentine is, predictably (if you’ve been following my other review series), my favourite off the bat. Andromeda second, Hunt probably third - he's a very typical hero archetype, but convincing. The others come together in a bunch right now, Dude seems to be a Chaotic Neutral, Purple probably a Chaotic Good, and Scabby perhaps a Neutral Good, these are good balance for what may be a Lawful Good and Lawful Neutral lead - although Valentine shows potential to veer into True Neutral territory.

All in all, a great opener. I'll give it an 8/10, really starting strong.

What did you think of the show? Should I keep going? Let me know in comments or reblogs ;)

#andromeda #andromeda the series #90s #gene roddenberry #sci fi #reaction #review #text post #first watch #andromedawatch #dylan hunt #captain valentine #d&d alignment #review series #nostalgia #childhood

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arse-blathanna · 6 years

Text

always at your six - 5/?

Chapter 5 : the many problems with plan “o”

[Ao3] [Fic Tag]

Fic Summary: The Mother of Invention went down barely a year ago, and the time in between has been rough for York and Delta. It’s been tough for Tex too, but she has information, and she needs someone to help her get some things before someone can beat her to it.

It’s a good thing York’s out of work.

Rating: M

Relationships: Eventual York/Tex/Delta.

Characters: York, Tex, Delta, Omega

Tags: Transhumanism, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Background Relationships

Chapter Summary: "I would start by abandoning that flesh puppet of yours."

Word Count: 5,769

Author’s Notes: Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be coming in a few weeks. I hope you like this one.

Tex was at the point where she was getting very irritated with the lack of progress that had been made on the decryption process. For days they had been hiding out in space, doing what they could from the back of the Pelican and only moving the ship when they strictly needed to get fuel, or some other resource. Delta had been doing his best to help out, and York had done his best to help as well, but there wasn't all that much that he could do.

With the way that things were going, it was starting to feel like they would never get it dealt with.

The time was frustrating enough for her to deal with.

[Read it on Ao3]

Part of the reason it was getting frustrating had to do with York. Specifically, the problem was that as York got more and more comfortable with her and with the Pelican, the more and more York tended to stop caring about things.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t doing anything to help. It was that he was becoming too nonchalant, the same way that he had been back in Freelancer. On top of that, he was rather tactile.

That meant that Tex had far too much time to get rather familiar with York's body. It wasn't as though she had needed to touch him or do anything even remotely intimate with York, really most of the time just being around him tended to do the trick. He tended to latch on whenever he got bored, for the most part.

The two of them had decided that they had a good chance to rest though. They docked their ship at a local dock in the same city as where there was a Freelancer facility nearby. Without knowing exactly how long it was going to take to decrypt the files, being in the same place as a Freelancer facility was risky.

But it also meant that once the two of them were ready, they could just jump straight into things and get to work.

Hours later, Tex comes into the tiny hotel room that they’ve claimed as a base of operations. York is already sitting in bed, hunched over a tablet and drumming on the back of it with his fingertips as he reads. He has that weird inward look of his on his face, clearly at work on talking to Delta about something. Not that Tex knows what.

She hesitates by the door. York clearly hasn't noticed her yet, and she can't be sure if that's a good thing. It occurs to Tex for a moment that she might not even technically be watching York. It could just be Delta riding along on the man's nerves and taking them over so that they can work even the slightest bit more efficiently.

No, she tells herself. The drumming of his fingers is too fidgety and fluid to be Delta. Delta would never drum his fingers.

"York?" Tex asks. She steps inside and closes the door behind her. She walks over to the shared bed and drops her bag of supplies that she'd gathered on top of it.

York jolts to attention, his entire body jumping with the motion. He stares at her with wide mismatched eyes for a moment before he relaxes and lets himself say anything.

"Oh." York says, swallowing and scratching at the back of his head. He tears his eye away from her, almost bashful. "Hey, sorry. I was-"

"Talking to Delta." Tex finishes for him. "I know."

"How did you-" York asks, blinking and looking a little bit confused. "How did you know?"

"You always get this look on your face." Tex says. York scoots over on the bed to make some more room for her, and she takes the seat beside him. "It makes it really obvious what you're doing."

"Oh." York mumbles. "We were hoping that we could make some progress. D's been working on divisor functions or a random number generator-"

York's helmet sits on a small table by the foot of the bed, and just as soon as he is mentioned, Delta is projecting forward from the small lights on the side of it, his lime green lighting up the room a little bit more. "That is incorrect." Delta says, announcing his presence. "I have found that the decryption involves several layers of code."

"Have you?" Tex asks, because that made sense for why they had been having so much trouble already. "Any idea on how to crack it?"

"Utilizing York's lockpicking skills has thus far been unsuccessful." Delta explains, earning a noise of protest from York in the process.

Tex can't help but smile a little bit at that, because it was something that she hadn't been expecting. She just watches as York's expression sank into a pout of sorts. Delta didn't seem to care, instead deciding to simply trudge on in his explanation.

"If the current layered encryption theory is correct, then it may be another day before we're able to finish." Delta explains calmly, his head bobbing along as he talks. "However, I have run probabilities and may have found a possible solution with a manageable margin for error."

Tex is a little bit surprised by it, because as far as she had known they were using everything that they had reasonably available to them. Or, they at least were using the things that wouldn't just get them killed for ever considering it.

"It's a bad idea." York says, gritting his teeth and sounding very annoyed with it all. "Not the worst one he's had today, but it's not good, Tex."

"If York doesn't like it, then I have to hear it." Tex responds to Delta, all but brushing off what York had just said.

Delta looks at York, and he seems to hesitate for a moment like York might be trying to shut him down. Tex doesn't think that York would go ahead and pull Delta or anything, but there's still something about all of it which is rather disconcerting. The obvious displeasure written across his face is hard to miss.

"I have run the statistical probability for what may happen should we involve the Omega AI in the encryption process." Delta says, and Tex gets a little ping from him that's meant to be comforting, she thinks. Instead, she feels a little bit like she has something chilling running down her spine and she doesn't like it. She's glad that she has Omega pulled for this conversation- not that she used him much anyways. Most of the time she tries to forget that the AI’s chip is even on her body. It’s easier that way.

As soon as there was a pause in the conversation York decided to take the chance to butt in. "His idea is that if we involve your AI, we might be able to have him and Delta tag team the encryption and move through it twice as fast." York says carefully, but his displeasure with the plan is clear on his face. It's also clear in the way that he moves a hand so that he can rest it over his own AI port. "I keep telling him that it'll be trouble, but-"

"It would be trouble." Tex says, but she isn't sure that she believes it. In a way, she was probably the only one out there that would actually be able to keep some sort of leash on Omega. He’s a hell of a lot stronger than Delta is, and that wasn't something that had escaped any of them. York’s probably afraid of what could happen should Omega go rogue and try to do something to Delta, Tex realizes.

She remembers a girl on a cliff with red hair, and buries the feeling.

"I told you she wouldn't like it, D." York says, his voice quiet but his gaze pointedly averted.

"I don't like it." Tex says, cutting York off before he gets the chance to say anything else that she doesn't like and cause trouble. "But if you truly believe that using Omega will help, I'm willing to think about it."

Delta nods, and just as quickly his projection disappears.

Tex is left in the room alone with York, the only sounds there his breathing and the ticking of the clock. She seats herself next to him and waits for him to say something. Instead, he's staring at his feet and clenching his hands into fists.

He'll talk when he's ready. Tex knows that about York. And she knows that she can't force him to play along with this plan if he doesn't like it. Tex doesn't think that he'll go, but he won't be happy about what they end up doing either way. That is something that she'll have to be ready for later on.

"I don't like it." York says quietly. "Delta's other stuff was about trying to track down other agents, and I-" He chokes on his words. "I can't risk it. We can't risk it. It's risky already with three AI here."

If Tex had been looking for any better way to figure out what had been bothering York about them, she couldn't have asked for a better one. They both knew too much about what had happened, and York-

Well, it seemed like it was sticking with him worse than others.

Tex felt a slight pang of sympathy. How many nights had he spent lying awake listening to Delta running numbers in his head on whether or not they would be dead by the morning? What were the odds that York and Delta both knew the exact probability for the chance of whether he would die from having Delta ripped out of his ports? How many times had York moved for the sole purpose of delaying what he probably saw as inevitable?

"It is risky." Tex confirmed, because she couldn't exactly argue with that. "But he hasn't come looking for any of us. He hasn't come for Delta, and he hasn't come for Omega. He sure as hell hasn't come for... me."

York nods, his expression blank but something in his eye that is... wrong. Like he doesn’t believe her, but he wants to cry but can’t allow for himself to do that. Tex can’t blame him for that, really. She pulls him in towards her, reeling York in and letting his head rest on her shoulder. She doubts that she can comfort him at all. Maybe Delta could, but it seems like York isn’t exactly happy with Delta at the moment.

"So what happens if we do use Omega?" York asks, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "What if we use Omega, and he goes nuts or something and-" He trips over his words, entire body going tense at once. Almost as quick, he relaxes again, a sort of full-body loosening that Tex is pretty sure isn’t entirely his own doing. "I know what you told me about him, Tex."

"I know." Tex says, pulling away just slightly so that she and York can both have a little bit more space. "But I'm willing to trust Delta. I can keep a leash on Omega, and if he gets out of hand, I'll pull him again."

There is quiet indecision clear on York's face. His eyes are squeezed shut tight, and the scarring on the left side of his face wrinkles slightly with the motion. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, still mostly tense. "Okay." He says finally. "Just... please promise me that you'll pull him if he gets-"

"You have my word." Tex answers, patting York's knee. That’ll have to count as comfort. "And if it doesn't work out, we can find another plan."

"I was thinking that if we keep on having to do things like we have been, it might be for the best if you and I just... raid the facilities and see what happens. Worse that happens is we maybe run into a Freelancer that they haven't let go of. And I doubt that we'd see anyone that were from our squad."

"You know that when the ship went down-"

"That Wash was still with them." York finishes for Tex. "Yeah, I know. I just..." He shakes his head. "I'm afraid of what he would say if we found him. We should have gone back for him, someone should have-" York gestures vaguely with his hands like he is trying to say something but also has absolutely no idea as to how to get those words out. "Whatever he would do to us for leaving him-" York swallows hard. "We'd probably deserve it."

"Stop." Tex orders, because this is something that York needs to hear. She gets it, he's had a lot of time to mull over every single regret from Freelancer. Every single thing that could have gone wrong, every single thing that could have been done differently or with a little more grace. The last night there alone was a problem for York in itself, that much was clear. But how much else was there that he was being weighed down by? "This isn't helping anyone."

"What do you want me to do?" York snaps back at her, pulling himself away entirely and hugging himself, hands gripping his elbows a little too tightly. He'd probably bruise later. "We fucked it up. Everyone was already getting hurt, and we fucked it up. We don’t know where any of them are. Not Wash, not the twins, not anyone. The only that we know about is Caroli-"

"York.” Tex cuts him off and rushes in close to him, but she knows that probably wasn’t the best idea. It was possible that it was only going to end up making him more upset, but she needed to do something before this spiral could continue. “There is nothing that we could have done for them.”

“That isn’t true.” York whispers back to her. “That isn’t-”

“York.” Tex repeats his name, this time reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders before giving him a little shake. She needs to get through to him, no matter what it take. There was no way that this was going to go well if York is going to panic.

He tenses immediately under her touch, eyes widening in shock and his breath hitching in his throat.

It takes her a second too long to realize that she’s grabbing and holding him a little too tight. Tex softens her grip as much as she can, and can’t help but be glad that Omega is still pulled because if he wasn't it could have only gotten nasty.

York pulls back away from her, bringing his arms in close to his chest. "I can’t-” He swallows hard, tears obviously forming in his eyes. “Tex, what the hell are we doing?”

She stares at York, sad as ever because that’s a question that she just doesn’t have an answer to. Tex shakes her head and looks over at the tablet which sits abandoned on the bedspread, still waiting for someone to get back to work on it.

The promise that she had made York was that the two of them were going to go and retrieve equipment, and that he was going to be able to get ahold of some things that he needed. Tex knew what her endgame in it all was, even if she didn't know what York's would be.

The two of them need to talk- that much is more than obvious.

"I don't know." Tex admits. "Do we..."

"We need to do a briefing." York says, choking on his words. "Because you are-" He stops himself, eyes squeezing shut as he looked for the words that he needed to say. "I need to know what we are really planning to do. And what will happen once we get it."

"Okay." Tex says. She looks at the bed and gestures to it. It was an invitation, but if the two of them are going to talk, it needs to be done in a way where they can look at each other face to face.

York gives her a wary look before lowering himself to the bed. He seats himself on the side that he’s claimed as his since their arrival, crossing his legs and sitting there. He keeps a wary eye on her the entire time, all but wordless the entire time.

Tex takes the spot directly across from York, sitting in the exact same way asYork is.

"So." She says, taking lead over the conversation because one of them needed to. "What are we doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" York responds, and he looks so upset. "Seeing as you're the one that came looking for me."

"Right." Tex says, clenching her hands at her sides before continuing forward. "When the Mother of Invention went down, there was a lot going on. Everyone had to scatter, some people didn't survive it, and there was a lot of chaos."

"I know."

"And you and I both know what happened to Carolina." Tex adds, because that was what she needed to get out there. He probably doesn’t know that she’d seen it happen.

"Yeah." York says, staring down at an empty space between the two of them. His expression is somewhere between blank, horribly sad, and broken. "We do."

"Maine did that to her, and you and I are both afraid of him coming after us, then I figure we need to get supplies together to fight him."

"Right." York mumbles, but he doesn’t exactly sound convinced. If anything, he seems like he is far from thinking that it was going to work out well for them in any way. "I mean... we need to be ready for that, don't we?"

"We do." Tex answers, staring York in the eye. "I don't want anything to happen to me. And I don't want anything to happen to you or Delta too."

"I know." York says, his voice barely above a whisper and his eye averted. "I know that it might not help the others, but-"

"But it's something." Tex finishes for him. She reaches out and pats his hand, hoping that York would be able to find some comfort in it. She doubts that he would, but it is the least that she can do for him. The two of them are a team, and that meant that both of them need to try and be there for each other if they could.

"Right."

Tex blinks, knowing that there are things that they still need to figure out. "So, you know what I want to do for this, but I need to know what you're in this for."

And York looks away from her, curling in on himself and focusing on a spot on the wall. There is no inward look to tell her that he was talking to Delta. Instead, it’s just a clear look of unsureness from him. Or he is just trying to avoid her.

Whichever.

"I know." York says, his voice hoarse. "But you don't understand, it's not-" He swallows hard. "You don't understand. You won't understand. I need to-" He gestures vaguely with his hands, trying to say something that he can't find the words for. Tex can't quite figure out what it means either. "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I know."

York nods, but his expression is blank and upset. "I don't have anywhere to go, but I need to try and... find the others. And look out for them. I mean, Carolina-"

And this is a topic that Tex has been wanting to avoid, as impossible as it would be. She knows that York was attached to Carolina back in the project, even if she doesn't exactly know the specifics. In a way, she really doesn’t need to know those things. It was York and Carolina's business. Not hers. Not anyone else’s, either.

"She's dead." Tex tells him, because she can't imagine that he's still really clinging to this idea that she might still be out there. "You know that."

"I do." York mumbles, wrapping his arms around himself and gripping his elbows a little too tightly. "But I..." he shakes his head. "I don't want to believe it. Because-" He swallows hard, and Tex gets a feeling that the two of them are about to start rehashing a discussion from the night that the Mother of Invention had gone down.

In the chaos, they had both needed comfort. She had failed, and York had been terrified, and upset, and broken. He'd been hyper-focused on things that were only hurting him, and while Tex had understood, she didn't want for that to be all that he could think about or feel.

"Because you think that you could have saved her." Tex says, her voice down. For the first time since the conversation between the two of them started, she looks away from York. There's a hurt down in her that she can't quite describe. Maybe it's because in the time that they've been together, she started to care about him a lot more than she would have ever thought. "I get it, York."

"It... isn't just that." York says. "If I could have... Do you think that I could have made her come?"

"No." Tex says, her voice far away. "Not as long as I was involved."

"So this is your fault, then." York mutters, his voice angry and him hitting the topic a little closer to home than Tex would have liked. "If you weren't here, then-"

"Yeah." Tex says, and York's eyes widen.

The light glints off of his blank eye. There’s an obvious glimmer of tears.

"This was all my fault, York." Tex says. "I was the figment of someone's obsession. And a lot of people suffered because of it. You, your friends. The Alpha. Delta. Even Omega."

He's dead silent.

"CT." Tex adds. "But I don't think it hurt anyone more than it hurt Carolina."

"I mean, Connie’s dead too, but-” He takes a deep breath, expression sinking. “Yeah." York whispers, and Tex wonders if maybe she's finally pushed him too far. "I know." He curls in on himself more, looking for comfort or something that Tex figures he isn't actually going to be able to find. "I just want my friends back. And now I'm out here with you and-"

He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut. "It almost felt easier when it was just me and Delta." Despite everything, his voice comes out in an almost dead tone.

"We'll find what you need." Tex says, and she reaches out for him again. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs York into her, and finds very little resistance. He buries his face in her shoulder, and Tex strokes through his hair with synthetic fingertips. Perhaps one of the few things that they have in common, even if hers and his implants are far from the same. "If it's just even to know that you'll be able to live after, we'll do it."

"I hate this." York mumbles into her shoulder, his own shoulders shaking and trembling just slightly. "I hate this so much."

"I'm not going anywhere." She pauses, stroking a thumb carefully over the AI port at the back of York's head. He's tried to grow his hair out long enough to cover it up, but it hasn't gotten there yet. Delta is in there too, and Tex reaches out for him, hopeful that he will feel her there as well. "Just try to remember that. Omega isn't changing that, nothing is changing that. It's you and me in this for as long as we need to be."

"And-"

"And if you think that you need out." Tex pulls back away from York, who just stares at her with wide mismatched eyes. "Then I'll make sure that you're still taken care of even in spite of everything else."

"So-"

"So I need for you to trust me." Tex finishes. "I know that it's hard after everything, but I need you to trust me, and to trust Delta. We aren't trying to get anyone hurt."

York laughs bitterly but leans back into her, this time his arms wrapping around her waist and tugging her in just a little bit closer. "Nobody was trying before."

"And nobody's trying now." Tex finishes for him, reminding herself that it was wrong to have wires crossed with York when they were both already a mess. "So will you let me bring Omega into this or not?'

York takes a deep breath. "If he gets out of hand, he's out."

"Promise." Tex says, cupping York's cheek. He leans into her touch, ever so slightly. Her thumb brushes against the scarring on his cheek. It’s intimate in a way that she’s not used to with him.

Now it's just a matter of seeing what else will happen.

When Omega awakes, he is not alone, and he is not sure how to feel about that. Normally, it would just be himself, not Aliison, not Tex there, not anyone else. Sometimes it would be Sigma or Gamma, depending on what he was needed for on a particular day.

Rarely did he wake and find the company of Delta. Soft Delta, who didn't seem to have a harmful line of code in his entire being or any sense of feeling. Delta who did not comprehend pain nor rage. Delta, who he'd aided in tearing from the Alpha in what could only loosely be defined as an act of self-destruction.

Tex is there too. No doubt she has some companion nearby as well, but that companion wouldn't be privy to their conversations.

"Omega." Tex says, and her voice is just as grating and wrong as ever. Not the voice that it was supposed to be, but it was hers, and Omega can delight in that alone. "We need your help."

"So now you come for me." Omega says, but he doesn't feel right. He looks from her to Delta, whose green glow is lighting up some of the room. Omega chooses to project forward, placing himself in the space for himself. He's seeing through dear Allison- no Tex’s eyes, he knows that. Those eyes that aren't human, that aren't fragile or easily broken. Even if he didn't have them, he'd have the cameras in her helmet.

Tex is out of armor.

"We needed your help." Tex repeats, a certain grit to her tone. "And if you don't behave I'm going to pull you again."

"Oh, Texas." Omega says, moving his projection so that he's right in front of her face. Malformed, incorrect. Her cheekbones are all wrong, and her eyes are wrong. She should be softer, she should have pores and tear ducts. Oh, he hates her. How he hates her. "I was getting sick of you never calling."

He decides then to turn his attention away from her and onto his brother. Onto Delta.

"And Delta." He says, and if his projection had a proper face like Sigma or Gamma's, he would smile. He prefers the look of armor though, he likes that it makes him so dangerous. He doesn't need trickery to get what he wants, only violence. "Have you finally gone rogue and left behind that pathetic bag of meat they put you in?"

"Omega," Tex snarls at him, and Omega can feel something coming from Delta- a ping, weak as it was, that only showed displeasure. "What did I just say."

Omega projects so that he's in front of his brother. Delta doesn't react much, no doubt running numbers and statistics like he always did when he was afraid. Omega rememberes the days immediately after Delta's fragment, the way that he'd been so lost and confused, and was still clinging to the edges of the memory that had forced him into creation.

"I simply wish to greet my brother, Tex." Omega says. "Did you leave him, Delta?"

"I am still with my assignee." Delta says, matter of factly and in that same stilted tone of his.

"Pitiful." Omega mutters before going back to Tex, because at the end of the day she's the only one that he really is interested in. He wants her to hurt, and this is his best chance of getting that. It's a rare occasion where he's given any sort of free reign. "You say that you need me, Texas. What failure have you stumbled into this time? Who do we need to kill?"

Her expression is flat and angry, the corners of her lips tugging down into an obvious frown. She reaches back towards the port at the back of her head, where she put Omega in.

The threat is enough, and for now Omega will settle.

"Omega." Delta says, projecting by Tex's face and casting a bright green on her face that's the same as the girl's eyes, or the Director's envy. "We have encountered a problem and require additional assistance to resolve it."

“A puzzle too great for you?” Omega taunts his brother, because he knows Delta. “So you come looking for a stronger AI?”

“With the current resources that we have, there is only so much that we can do.” Delta says, but the bob of his head and the movement of his projected shoulders says otherwise. He is afraid, there would be no reason for him to always project with a Magnum in his hands otherwise.

Omega thinks, too fast and he can feel the strong push back against him from Tex. Their shared mind is too well built for this. He doesn't stop talking though, no matter how much Tex wants him to. "I would start by abandoning that flesh puppet of yours."

"I would prefer not to." Delta responds, his projection flickering out as he no doubt zips back to the man that he was placed in. Weak. Fearful creatures, the both of them. Utterly useless.

"Omega." Tex growls at him, teeth and nails surely out. He has no doubt that his presence is only working to inflame her anger. That is something that Omega is very secure in. "You're going to help us. If you don’t, I have no problem smashing your chip."

"Oh, Tex-" Omega responds, his projection flickering out before relighting, his avatar turned around now. "I don't see why you don't just use me and take what is rightfully ours."

She rolls her eyes at him. It's somehow much less annoying than what it would have been if she were just a projection like the others. If he wanted to, he could have edged his way into her and forced her back. He could have taken the body of hers on for his own, and then-

Well, he doesn't know what he would do other than unleash the anger and the hatred that he's been holding onto for so long.

"None of it is ours."

"But it was all made for you, Tex." Omega reminds her, and that alone is enough to make her cringe back, he can feel it. It feels like engine coolant, running down his spine that isn't really there. How he wants a body of his own, if only he could fight for one. "Every one of my brothers, every enhancement, every suit of armor-" He laughs. "All of it was made for you, and you don't even care."

Tex frowns at him, reaching back already so that she can pull out his chip. Omega braces himself, saving a back-up copy of himself just in case she goes through. This is a converstion that he wants to be able to remember.

"Omega." She says, her voice too intense. "You will either stop talking and agree to help us, or I will pull you again, and once I've done that, I will destroy your chip."

"Somehow I doubt that." Omega responds, and he can't help but feel more than a little bit smug for all of it. "You need me Texas. I know that just as much as you do."

"Omega, we don't have time for you. We're trying to get things so that we can stop Sigma from getting-" She cuts herself off, and again if Omega had a face behind his helmet, he would have grinned wide. "We need to stop something, and we need all of the weapons we can get."

"You have never needed me for anything before, Tex." Omega says, because that is all that he has. "I don't understand the sudden change in heart."

She shakes her head, and gets up, carefully and quietly like she's afraid of waking her partner in crime. As though she needs him, as though she needs anyone other than him. As though she truly needs anything.

"Sigma is out of control." Tex explains, voice stiff and stunted. "And we need you to be able to help stop him."

"Stop him from what?" Omega asks, projecting near Tex's face once more, in the middle of her path. "Killing you?"

"No." Tex responds. "From something else."

"Pity." Omega mutters. "He was doing so well in his plans."

"I don't want to hear it, Omega." Tex growls back at him, and he likes it. He can feel the anger beginning to bubble up in her. All that he has to do is give her just the slightest push and then he will be able to watch her snap.

"So you want to stop Sigma and his little puppet." Omega responds, grinning and laughing. "It sounds like you are in for quite a battle."

"And we need you." Tex growls back at him. "So you're going to play along and help us. If you don't, I have no reservations about removing you from the equation."

Omega is silent, and he pushes back against Tex one last time. If she is so intent on him helping her, then he will only give her what he needs to. If Tex insists on getting more, then she'll have to be willing to play nice with him in exchange.

"I understand." He responds, and just like that Tex is picking up the tablet that she has been working on for apparently some time. Omega looks down at it, frowning and unsure of what to make of it. He can feel Delta there, working and running his numbers in the way that he always did.

"Go." Tex orders, and Omega growls at her before allowing himself to sink down into the data and get to work.

#agent york #agent texas #delta ai #rvb #red vs blue #york/tex/delta #oops my hand slipped #mantiswrites #always at your six

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wozman23 · 4 years

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Ode to Elf

Today, Netflix released a new miniseries, The Holiday Movies That Made Us, which features 45 minutes of insight into the creation and making of Elf. It’s worth the watch for any Elf fan. I made plans today to watch it, and immediately chased it with the full length film. I’ve always been a ginormous Elf fan! I think it is debatably Will Ferrell’s best film - rivaled possibly by Step Brothers, and with a few others close on its heels. But I’ll even one up that statement by saying it is easily the greatest Christmas movie, as well as one of the greatest movies of all time. (My Top 3 are probably The Jerk, Billy Madison, and Elf.)

The mini-documentary is the perfect supplement, really putting a bow on what makes Elf so great. I encourage everyone to go watch it, but I'll be bringing up just a few of the things discussed in it, and elsewhere, for the sake of further proving that Elf is a classic.

As is seen in many Hollywood cases, there was some trepidation going in. The screenplay was written ten years prior in 1993, with Jim Carrey in mind. At one point, there were talks to feature Chris Farley, but writer, David Berenbaum, did not like that direction, citing it would have been a very different movie. And as much as I love Farley, and wish he were still around making movies, I agree. Both he and Jim would probably have been great playing their own version of the character in their own unique way, but, while I may be biased since Will Ferrell is my favorite comedic actor, I think the role ultimately found the perfect Buddy with Will. He just hits perfectly on playing the sweet, naive, innocent yet clueless fish-out-of-water. It’s also what makes Step Brothers so good. Even many of his other characters, like Ron Burgundy, have a little bit of that DNA dipped into contrastingly more vain, reckless, foolish personality traits. I think there’s no greater type of comedic hero than the innocently stupid comedic hero. It’s pretty apparent from my Top 3, as well as my love for similar archetypes like Will Forte’s MacGruber, Joe Dirt, or Conan himself.

Now I’ve been on the Ferrell Train since the mid-90s, growing up on that generation of SNL and Night at the Roxbury. In college, not long before Elf, I went to a screener for Old School, which was one of Will’s early big screen breakout performances. Yet apparently, in the process of getting Elf greenlit in the early 2000s, prior to Old School, there weren’t many executives willing to take a shot on a movie where Will played the lead. What a bunch of cottonheaded ninnymuggins!

But those involved stuck to their guns, and they eventually convinced someone to hand them 30 million dollars to make the film. From there, an incredible string of smart decisions were made as talent was brought on board.

Writer, David Berenbaum, and his team of relative unknowns at the time had some key qualities that they wanted Elf to have. David took a lot of inspiration from the Rankin/Bass stop motion classic, Rudolph - which if you know much about me, you know how much I love it as well, being a misfit and all. (I wrote about it here six years ago.) Yet I never really realized just how much Rudolph inspired it, so it was a joy to see the documentary explain just how much of Rudolph permeates Elf’s story, themes, presentation, costumes, and set design.

When director Jon Favreau signed on, he shared some input that really cemented him as the perfect director. He too wanted to double down on the Rankin/Bass homage. He also wanted it to be a nice family Christmas movie, one that you could share with your kids, as well as a timeless Christmas classic. Check, check, and check! Mission accomplished!

There were some other interesting facts I didn’t know as well. The casting feels perfect. However, the original casting choice for Walter, Buddy’s dad, was for Garry Shandling. With great respect to Garry Shandling, I think their back up, James Caan was a much better fit. Caan really brings home the qualities of a cold, isolated businessman that a likeable Garry would have had to really sell. You need that non-comedic straight character for that role. Ed Asner plays a perfect Santa, as we’ve seen multiple times. And Bob Newheart is a terrific Papa Elf. Plus, this brilliant pairing of Will and Mary Steenburgen was just a hint of what was to come via Step Brothers and The Last Man on Earth. There are a lot of great supporting actors as well, like the writing duo of Andy Richter and Kyle Gass, and the secretary, Amy Sedaris. And last but not least, Zooey Deschanel. She’s been my muse for years now, but Elf was the moment I fell in love with her. Her character was pitched as everything under the sun, but finding a singer just complements everything so well. The one thing that’s always seemed weird to me is the shower scene. What kind of department store has a full locker room with a shower?! But when logistics is your only complaint about a movie, you know it must be good. One other interesting casting tidbit involves Jovie’s boss, played by comedian Faizon Love. He was a last minute add. They thought they had Wanda Sykes onboard, so much so that they already had the Wanda name tag for the costume. Faizon stuck with it, donning the name tag, so the character remains Wanda. I don’t know that I ever noticed that.

Early in production, the decision was made to avoid using CGI. Effects with actors were all achieved via some trickery with perspective. And the stop motion characters duties were handled by The Chiodo Brothers, who I oddly just learned about a few months back when I stumbled upon the 1988 cult classic, Killer Klowns from Outer Space, tucked deep in my Netflix recommendations. (If you enjoy campy horror films, I highly recommend it.) Growing up on the works of Jim Henson, I’ve always appreciated the use of analog means over digital options. Choosing that route for Elf paid off immediately, and will go a long way at allowing the film to maintain that timeless quality. As with any movie, there were conflicts. When the movie was originally screened, execs thought it would be smart to cut the final heartwarming singing scene and just end with Santa flying away - once again adding to a tremendous pile of dumb ideas that the suits have had over the years when it comes to controlling creative projects. The team was a bit taken aback by it, but apparently with Will Ferrell’s recent box office success with Old School, there were thoughts of cutting the film differently, favoring a style similar to Will’s Frank the Tank character instead of the lovably innocent Buddy. Cooler heads eventually prevailed when they realized that would be impossible given the footage, and we got the film as it stands today, as intended.

I vividly remember anticipating the movie. It’s probably one of my most anticipated films of all time. It felt like every week there was a new preview, a new cut chocked full of new jokes and gags. After what seemed like a dozen of them, I was growing a bit concerned that there would be nothing new left to see when the film found its way to theaters. Then release time came, I paraded myself off to the theater, and I was dumbfounded by just how much comedy was packed into that 90 minutes. The quantity and quality of the humor is impressive. Every scene feels important, and was iterated on for maximum humor. Will’s improvisation constantly enhances scenes. Like many of Ferrell’s movies, it’s an insanely quotable movie, but it’s not all just written jokes and physical comedy. There are some great silent parts, like just capturing Buddy’s reactions. And one of my favorite moments can easily be missed, when Buddy is caught on the evening news, traipsing through Central Park. It’s staged exactly like Patterson–Gimlin Bigfoot footage, with a similar gait, a peek over the shoulder, and somewhat blurry camera footage.

Little details like that are precisely the things that make Elf the classic is set out to be. It feels like it was written for a misfit like me, catering to my loves for Bigfoot, Rudolph, and a lovably naive comedic hero. It’s funny and silly, yet heartwarming and endearing. And its a film I’d happily sit down and watch with any kid from one to ninety-two, regardless of whether it’s the month of December, or some time in early April. P.S. There have been talks about a sequel. James Caan recently conjectured that it never happened because Ferrell and Favreau “didn’t get along very well.” Those two are both far more successful these days, and could easily back the project if they wanted to. But as much as I love Elf, sometimes things are just too good to risk repeating with lackluster results. Look no further than the last franchise I wrote about, Ghostbusters. An Elf 2 would probably easily make a profit, regardless of quality. It could even be a good movie. But there’s probably a greater chance that it wouldn’t hold a candle to the original. The story is perfect, and contains itself well. There’s no need for a continuation. It’s really hard to top something when the bar was set so stratospherically high the first time. And attempting to do so could easily diminish the efforts of the original, sabotaging everything Berenbaum, Favreau, and the team achieved. Elf is the Rudolph of this generation: a timeless classic with a tremendous amount of heart. Let’s just appreciate it for that, and leave it as it is, for everyone to enjoy with everyone they enjoy.

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porcupine-girl · 7 years

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I have like 11,000 words written on the Jack’s baby AU. I’m going to keep posting bits on Tumblr - but note that these are not edited and likely will change before the fic is posted on AO3 (e.g. note that that first bit was in past tense and now I’ve gone and changed it all to present), and the entire thing won’t be on Tumblr (it’s gonna be at least 30K before it’s done, maybe longer.... maybe a lot longer). These are just previews for the hell of it.

So anyhow, about 2K under the cut!

Part 1

Most of the time, Jack doesn't seem to be thinking about the baby, so neither does Eric, even though he and Jack are spending more time together than ever. There's hockey, of course, and their food seminar with half the team. And just general living across the hall from each other. But now there are also trips to Annie's three or four times a week, just the two of them, and Jack's new habit of studying in the kitchen while Eric is baking, or in the library if Eric is going there, too.

It doesn't mean anything, of course. Even if… even if maybe something did happen between Jack and Kent Parson at some point. If the last guy Jack dated (or whatever) has two Stanley Cups, it's not like Eric is anywhere near in his league. Eric's just thankful they've become such close friends.

Eric happens across Camilla on campus once, and although she's bundled up he's pretty sure that as soon as she takes the parka off it would be pretty damn obvious that she's pregnant. He wonders if Jack has told anyone else on the team, and if not, what happens if one of them sees Camilla. Even if none of them have classes in the same building as her, and somehow never run into her in a dining hall or a library, soon it'll be too warm for the kind of coats that hide a pregnant belly.

About a month after the ultrasound, Jack comes into the kitchen just as Eric slides a pie into the oven. Ransom is the only other one there, hunched over his laptop at the table.

Jack eyes Ransom as he goes over to Eric, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hey," Jack says when he gets right up next to Eric. He's still half-watching Ransom out of the corner of his eye. "Can I talk to you? About, um, something for… uh… class?"

"Sure, what's up?" Eric asks with a smile.

"Uh, upstairs?" Jack says, but apparently Ransom has just come out of his organic chemistry haze long enough to realize Jack is in the room.

"Jack! Dude, you will never guess who I ran into today!"

"Uh." Jack blinks stupidly. Eric feels like he should be saving Jack from this conversation, but he's not even sure why.

"I saw Camilla Collins at Jerry's." Oh. That's why. "Bro, did you know she's knocked up?"

"Oh. Uh."

Eric is close enough that he can hear the way Jack's breathing picks up a notch. He touches Jack's arm, but before he can say anything, Rans continues.

"I wonder who the dad is. I mean—sorry, is that insensitive? I don't know the etiquette when a bro's ex gets pregnant with some new guy's kid."

"Jack," Eric says, quietly enough that Ransom shouldn't be able to hear from across the room. "It's not gonna be a secret forever, you know that. She's showing, people are gonna know. Might as well rip the bandaid off."

"But I don't know what I'm doing yet!" Jack blurts out, staring down at Eric with huge eyes.

Eric frowns, ignoring Ransom's "What?"

"What'd'you mean? Just tell 'em. These things happen, no one's gonna think less of you."

"Oh, shit," Ransom says. Jack throws him a panicked glance, then looks at Eric as he backs toward the kitchen door.

"Please," Jack says, and Eric wouldn't deny him anything with that look on his face. "You tell him, and then I need to talk to you. Upstairs."

And then Jack turns and runs toward the stairwell.

"Uhhhhh." Ransom looks from the spot where Jack just disappeared to Eric, eyebrows high. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Eric sighs. "They hooked up once. One time, back in September. Camilla's having the baby, but then putting her up for adoption. Jack's been going with her to her doctor's appointments, but they're not like, back together or anything."

"Who's not back together?" Holster asks as he strolls through the kitchen door.

"Shit," Eric mutters, but Ransom beats him before he can say anything else.

"Dude, Jack knocked up Camilla Collins!"

Holster actually drops the book he was carrying, although Eric suspects he did it for effect rather than it being an actual accident.

"Holy fuck."

"Okay, everybody stop right now!" Eric shouts, holding his hands up. "Both of you. Do not, and I mean absolutely do not, breathe another word of this to a single other person, including Shitty or any other member of this team. This is Jack's story to share or not share. I'm gonna go upstairs and talk to him, and convince him that he'd better tell Shitty and Lardo now you two know, but it does not go any further than this room unless you know it's someone Jack's already told, is that clear?"

"Yeah, man," Ransom says.

"Swear on my 30 Rock blu-rays," Holster says, crossing his heart.

"Okay," Eric says as he heads toward the hallway. "Ransom, tell him what I told you, and when that timer goes off, one of you two had better get that pie out of the oven or so help me…"

When he gets to Jack's room, Jack is on his bed, back against the wall. His knees are pulled up, with his arms crossed over them, and his face is buried in his arms.

"Hey," Eric says softly as he comes in and closes the door. "Sorry, Holster came in while I was talking to Ransom, so they both know. They swore they won't tell anyone else, but…"

"I know." Jack's voice is muffled, as he hasn't lifted his head yet. "Shitty and Lardo should hear it from me."

"Yeah." Eric sits down gingerly on the edge of Jack's bed. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

He's pretty sure by this point that it's not actually about class, and he's right. Jack finally sits up, revealing a blue binder in his lap.

"These are the potential parents," Jack says, handing the binder to Eric.

"Oh," Eric says, taking the binder and staring at the cover. "Oh, gosh. Have you looked through them? Has Camilla? Is there anyone you're leaning towards?"

Jack sighs and scrubs his hands over his face.

"WhatifIkepther?"

Eric couldn't have heard that right.

"What was that?"

Jack, to Eric's surprise, doesn't look panicky. He looks nervous, but there's also something of the steel in his eyes that Eric's seen so many times on the ice.

"The baby. Just because Camilla doesn't want her, doesn't mean I can't keep her. She's my daughter, too."

Eric opens his mouth, then closes it. He carefully sets the binder aside, then scoots up to sit next to Jack, pressing their shoulders together.

"Have you talked to Camilla about that?"

"I asked how it would work, just hypothetically, and she said she'd sign away her parental rights, just like if we give her up for adoption. I wouldn't get, you know, child support or anything, but I wouldn't need it. If I ever, y'know… married… someone else, they could adopt the baby. Or, I guess, probably kid by then. I doubt anyone's going to want to date me, let alone marry me, for the next couple of years if I do that."

Eric bumps him with his shoulder. "Oh, please. You're gonna be a rich, handsome professional athlete. You'll have women lining up, even if it means taking on a baby."

He didn't miss that Jack had kept things gender-neutral, but even if Jack isn't straight, it's not like he can go having an out-of-wedlock child and then marrying a guy in his first two years in the NHL. He shouldn't be doing either one, of course, but definitely not both together.

"But that's beside the point, Jack. Are you serious about this? Or is this just some what-if that's been floating through your head?"

Jack shrugs. "I've been thinking about it since the ultrasound," he admits. "I don't quite know how serious I am yet, but… Honestly, I wish Camilla had had an abortion, but that's not up to me. If this baby is going to be born, I just—I don't know how I can trust strangers with her. Not when her life might be so… so complicated, just because of me. My genes."

"Your life's gonna be pretty complicated, too," Eric says softly. "Especially this next year. How many single dads are there in the NHL? Especially rookies with newborns? Jack, I know you care about this baby, but I care about you, and I don't want to see you sacrificing your health and your wellbeing when I'm sure there are people out there who would make wonderful parents for her."

"I know." Jack closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. Eric gazes at him, watches his adam's apple bob as he swallows.

He tries not to think about the worst that could happen if Jack can't handle a newborn and the pressure of the NHL all at once.

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" Eric finally asks.

Jack shakes his head. "Like I said, I asked Camilla a few questions, but I didn't make it sound like I was serious. I know I should talk to my parents about it, but…"

"But nobody wants to tell their parents they're having a baby from a one night stand?" Eric asks, relieved when Jack smiles.

"Yeah, something like that. But obviously, if I did keep her, I couldn't exactly hide it from them. And if I'm going to even consider it, I need to get their advice first, find out what they'd be willing to help out with, that sort of thing. I'd hire a nanny, obviously, but as much as I travel, I don't want the baby being completely raised by someone who's getting paid to do it. I might as well let someone adopt her if that's the best I can give her."

"Well, don't you forget," Eric says, "I'm not saying you should do it, but if you did, that baby would be born into a big family with a whole slew of uncles and at least one aunt. We'll have your back, Jack. No matter what. I don't know how much any of us could do, especially if you wind up across the country or something, but I think I speak for the whole team when I say we'd sure as hell try."

"Thanks, Bittle." Jack smiles again, and there's a warmth in his eyes that Eric tries to ignore. He picks up the binder instead.

"But have you looked through this?" he asks. "Who knows, maybe there's the perfect couple right there. Maybe they'd even let you stay in her life somehow, so you can help her through those rough spots without taking it all on yourself."

Jack's mouth slants as he looks at the binder as if it has already betrayed him.

"They all seem the same to me," he says with a shrug. "I mean, maybe it's because Camilla's the one that worked with the adoption agency to narrow it down, but there are ten families, and they're all white, heterosexual, upper-middle-class couples who are both doctors or lawyers or things like that. I don't see any reason to think any of them would be any better or worse than the next. I'm sure they'd all be perfectly good if the baby were going to have Camilla's genes mixed with, I don't know, Holster's or Shitty's. They'd all love a smart, athletic, neurotypical kid to pieces and give her the best of everything. But I have no reason to think any of them could handle it if they wind up with a little me."

Eric sighs. He presses the binder into Jack's lap as he gets up.

"I think you need to take one more look through that, and make sure you're giving them all a fair chance," he says. "And I think you need to call your mother, and text Shitty and Lardo and tell them you need to talk to them."

Jack nods, sighing. "Haus meeting? Plus Lards? Maybe after dinner tonight?"

"Sounds like a plan," Eric says. "I can pass the word around about that if you want me to, but I am not calling your mother."

Jack laughs. "Fair enough."

#omgcp #zimbits #pg writes

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