#but that's not quite the same as having handheld | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shallyouobeyme · 11 months

Text

Rise

Obey Me - Yandere!Brothers x Reader (GN); Yandere!Diavolo x Reader (GN)

Summary: Your death had not been an unexpected one - at least for the seven reasons behind it - what had been unexpected was what happened afterwards. How far are the residents of hell willing to go to get you back?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Major Character Death, Death of a relative (mentioned), Yandere!brothers can be interpreted either as platonic or romantic, poison, murder, Manipulation, blackmailing, non-consensual kissing, angst generally, I do not condone this - this is all just fiction

Everything about your death had been planned prior, not a single detail was unaccounted for. At least for the ones behind it. You yourself had no idea that you were eating your last meal one Friday evening - it had been Lucifer's turn to cook and he made one of your favourites - and you were enjoying dinner with all the brothers. Quite honestly, you should have known something was afoot simply by the fact that all of them were on their best behaviour, no fighting, no cursing - the literal and the magical kind - and even Levi was acting sociable, without a handheld console anywhere in sight. Belphegor was wide awake (at least for his standards), Beelzebub was eating with relative moderation, Mammon wasn't bragging about any of his new purchases, Satan was calm as he could be, and Asmodeus had his complete attention on you, but not in his typical flirty way. It was like they were all trying to savour the moment.

Lucifer seemed to be the same as always, but you knew him too well and knew how to look beyond his shell. He was sad, somehow, and you would have guessed this sense of self-loathing that his pride usually didn't allow, but that always was just below the surface was bubbling up. Why, you didn't know, but you figured you'd ask him after dinner when you had some alone time. When you were finished eating, Mammon jumped up exclaiming that he'd do the cleaning today and you knew one of the brothers would ask what he was trying to even out now, which scheme of his he needed to repent for before it had actually come out. Not a word was said though. That was the moment when you became slightly suspicious, but sadly not suspicious enough - not that there was anything for you to change at that point. The deed had already been done.

A yawn straight out of your mouth pulled you away from your suspicions. You were really tired all of a sudden. The day must have been more exhausting than you had thought. 'Oh well', you thought as your eyelids slowly became heavier, 'you had time to ask Lucifer about what was going on tomorrow, after all, it was the weekend and you had had all the time in the world'. 'All the time in the world', oh how silly that phrase now sounded. You said goodbye to the brothers, giving each of them a small kiss on their cheek as it had established itself in your routine before you turned to leave for your room. 'MC', Lucifer had called after you as if wanting you to stop, but when you turned around to him, he seemingly had discarded whatever it was he had wanted, instead telling you to sleep well.

And you did sleep well, for about two hours and twenty-seven minutes. Two hours and twenty-seven minutes later, your heart beat for the last time, and then your body grew cold and stiff and lifeless. Death had come for you at last. A peaceful death, that the brothers knew for sure because as they all sat waiting in the dimly lit living room, they only felt a slight ache and a sense of finality as their bonds broke apart. It was regretful that they had to these measures and they were well aware that for the rest of their eternal lives, they'd mourn their actions - but what had to be done was done, this was the only way. The one way that would mean that you would spend eternity with them.

Their plan had first started being formulated when you had gotten news of a relative of yours dying - they had been old and sick and their death had not been an unexpected one. The brothers had decided they'd be there to help you mourn and cheer you up, but they found that while you felt the pain of your loss you were actually relieved, knowing that your relative now didn't have to suffer anymore, especially since they had made peace with their end already. It was what you said when Levi had wondered how you could be so nonchalant about death that kickstarted it all. 'We all die at the end, some sooner, some later - death is a part of life and I find that fleeing from it is impossible so I might as well embrace life for the short time it blesses me.'

They had always known that you'd die one day - they knew you were mortal, but still, knowing that you knew that you would, made this more real. It meant that it was something that would happen in the near future (for them at least) and after they had a long talk where all of them agreed that they could not, would not, live without you anymore they decided that the only way for you to be with them forever was to make you like them, to have you be a demon. That way you'd be safe in the Devildom - not that they'd stop protecting you - and you'd be bound to them for eternity, just like the pacts had bound them to you. But for a mortal to become a human, they had to die first.

Lucifer had cleared things with Diavolo - made him promise that once you died and came to hell, he'd make you into a demon (decidedly not mentioning that your death might happen sooner than the prince might expect) - and Satan took care of a poison that would make you die peacefully and painlessly in your sleep. From then on everything would be simple, your soul would come down to hell, that much was sure, you had made pacts with not one, not two, but all seven of the lords of hell, so there wasn't a way in the world that you'd end up in heaven.

That's what they had been so very sure of, but they didn't realize just how pure you were, how you had been able to keep your soul shining and clean even while surrounded by the worst of the worst, how you hadn't indulged in sin even while being surrounded by it. It might have been your celestial heritage or just your heart of goodness, but it seems the great father had his eyes on you and decided to give you another chance after your death. A new life as an angel - the same soul just elevated into a high, celestial position, and without memories about your mortal life. The brothers had no idea of your new angelic self, just mulling over the fact of how long it was taking you to make the track to hell, worrying that you might have been trapped in the mortal realm with unfinished business. It was Simeon who cleared it up for them, he had been in Celestia with Luke while they had ended your life, so when he appeared in the mansion, face white as a sheet and eyes filled with sadness, exclaiming that you were in Celestia now, that you had no memories, asking the brothers what had happened to you, why they hadn't been informed of your untimely demise. They improvised, exclaiming that you had died of some natural causes that unsuspectedly came with a mortal like you spending so much time in the Devildom, that they were in deep mourning and hadn't even gotten to contact your family yet. Simeon - too goodhearted for his own good - believed them, telling them that he'd mourn with them, but it was what he said before he left again that stuck in their mind: He'd take good care of your soul in Celestia.

No, they wouldn't let this happen. They'd do whatever they had to, whatever it took, to have you back in their midst again. A new plan formed, this one more destructive and with much more dire consequences, but they did not care anymore. Lucifer was again the one to get Diavolo's help but this time he was straightforward about it - he knew that he'd act on it with or without the prince's help. It was a surprise how quickly Diavolo agreed and how eager he was to help, it was a sign of his own ulterior motives, but having Diavolo on their side was the biggest trump card they could gain so Lucifer decided to keep that to himself.

Their plan would surely lead to another century, if not more, of animosities between the realms. It might even lead to another Celestial war, but the brothers were more than prepared to fight their former brethren if it was just to have you in their reach again. And so it was enacted ruthlessly and without hesitation. The seven of them along with Diavolo could easily summon an angel, even one as protected and new as you, and so when you arrived in the middle of their circle they were all too ready to embrace you tight enough to make sure you could never escape, the would have clipped your beautiful white wings - the same that Lillith had sprouted out of her back when she was alive and celestial - and would have buried your halo below the deepest ditch in the deepest sea, but they knew that that was not the end goal of their plan. Instead, Diavolo made you an offer. To join him. To become one of the rulers of hell, the eighth lord/lady of hell, and get a power beyond a simple angel's imagination. Of course, you declined, no self-respecting angel without any reason would agree to that, after all, angels were made, born, with the knowledge that the inhabitants of the Devildom were evil, the enemy.

Again, the brothers had expected you to decline, but they wanted to have at least offered it to you under these circumstances. They would get what they wanted one way or another though and so after a simple snap of Diavolo's fingers, Barbatos entered the room, carrying in his hand a small angel. He was holding him with his hand around his neck from behind and Luke was either unconscious or... you didn't want to think about what the or was. Of course, he was just sleeping from a potion in the cookies he had made with Barbatos earlier, during the baking session they had used to lure him down to the Devildom to work as their blackmail.

The ultimatum was clear. Agree, become one of them, and Luke would go free, or decline, go back to Celestia with the knowledge that the young angel, one of Michaels's very own pupils, had died while you could have stopped it. Had you retained your memories from your mortal life, you might have believed that they wouldn't have dared to hurt Luke, but even then you would have been wrong because there was nothing that was too far in their attempt to regain you by their side.

The goodness that had brought you into this situation in the first place was now also the reason for your decision. No way could you live with yourself knowing that you could've stopped Luke's death. And so you held out to shake Diavolo's hand, only for him to pull you towards him and kiss you deeply. The kiss was unexpected, but it turned out to be a welcomed distraction from the burning that started in your midst and widened out until it had reached every single part of your body. Your wings felt like they were made of pure fire as the feathers that were white as snow before turned into an ashen grey. The pain was almost as bad as the one in your temples where horns came out and curled backwards until they were horizontal to your head with a slight angle.

When the kiss - and the transformation - had ended the complete morph of your body took its toll as you fell right into Diavolo's arms. At that point Diavolo saw himself faced with a choice, he was so tempted to just take you with him - make you his partner like he knew you would one day be the moment he had given you your first kiss, now was the perfect chance, you were a demon like him now - but the brothers would surely wreak havoc up him and his kingdom if he did and he had more than enough time after all. People didn't expect him to be a patient man given his childish demeanour, but for you he was willing to wait decades, if not centuries, knowing that once he had you, he'd have you forever by his side. For now, he'd let the brothers take you home, coddle and care for you while they searched for ways to bring your memories back. They'd surely have their work cut out for them, after all - as Barbatos had explained after your transformation - as a result of a mix of celestial blood and the pacts you had with them during your time as a mortal, you were now the ultimate sin, an amalgamation of all of them: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, hunger and sloth.

A/N: My thirteenth entry into Yandere Writetober - based on the result of a poll I held - I hope you all liked this slightly longer and more experimentally written Friday the 13 'special'. If you did, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Look forward to tomorrow's entry 'castle'

523 notes · View notes

poly-alt-partner · 4 months

Text

Hide and Seek - Colby Brock X Fem!Reader - Part 2

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You join Sam, Colby, and The Boys on an investigation of Geelong Gaol in Australia. After the intro of the video, Sam and Colby set up their first 'challenge' of the night - Hide and Seek! What happens when Colby finds you first?

Info: The rest of the Hide and Seek challenge AND being alone with Colby! Poor guy is getting antsy to have you to himself ;)

Warnings: Cussing, unexplained noises, kissing, making out, fondling

______________________________________________________________

Suddenly Colby rounds the corner. "Hello?"

You nearly jump out of your skin and scream as you see him walk into the tiny room. Colby laughs a little as you pout and huff in disappointment, knowing you were found first.

"Well looky here, I found (y/n)," He boasts to the camera before turning it back around. You carefully stand up and dust yourself off with your free hand. He turns off his camera momentarily so you do the same with your little handheld.

"What's up?" You ask, glancing at the camera in his hand. Colby doesn't respond and instead moves in closer, a playful smile on his lips.

"I was hoping I would find you first, actually." He whispered as if someone would hear him. You feel your face heat up a little and bite your lip anxiously.

"And why is that, Brock? Is it just fun to watch me lose?"

"What? No.... I just wanted to have the chance to get you alone."

You giggle a bit and roll your eyes. Colby had been a lot more flirty since before the trip to Australia. Of course you didn't mind at all seeing as you had quite the crush on him.

"Now why would you want me all by my lonesome?" You ask, carefully wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer. You watch as Colby glances down at your lips and meets your eyes once more.

"Not sure if you've noticed but it has been hard to get some alone time. Especially to do this."

Colby leans down and kisses you gently while resting a hand on your waist. Both of you try to be mindful of the equipment as you hold onto each other. Before long the kiss deepens and Colby has your back against the wall behind you. You can feel the coldness of the bricks through your shirt.

You break away for a moment to take both of the cameras and set them on the floor away from you. Colby doesn't object and eagerly pulls you into him again to continue making out. This time he gently cups your cheek in his hand and snakes an arm around your waist. You sigh and sink into him as your surroundings seem to melt away.

A sudden sound outside of the cell catches your attention and you reluctantly pull away. Colby sighs and rests his forehead against yours.

"Fuck. I'm sorry for doing this here. I was getting impatient."

You smile and plant a small kiss on his nose. "It's fine, I get it. Maybe later."

Colby nods and lets go of you to pick up the cameras, handing you the handheld from earlier. You smile at him before turning on your cameras and continuing to film.

"There was a sound outside just now but we didn't catch it."

You nod in agreement and glance past Colby through the door way. "It sounded like a footstep, I think."

"Alright, we still need to find everyone. Help me find people," Colby says as he turns around. You follow him with your handheld looking every which way to illuminate the hallways and cells. Eventually you both find Narrator standing in the corner of a room behind the door.

"You were found first, (y/n)," Narrator asks as you both follow behind Colby.

You shrug and give a small laugh. "I didn't get very far, honestly. I was hoping he would run past me to find you guys." Of course you don't mention what happened while the cameras were off. You can't help but smile a little and touch your lips with your fingers. Now you had to find a way to make time for Colby while on this trip.

Once the three of you had gone upstairs you managed to find Juicy and Eddie back to back. You heard Eddie accuse Juicy of betrayal and you remember seeing them earlier before hiding.

"Maybe you two shouldn't have hid in the rooms right beside each other," you point out jokingly.

"Why did you hide in the room next to me?"

Eddie just shook his head as the five of you continued your search for the last three group members. Taking a moment to recoup you all discussed where the other guys might be in the Gaol. Narrator mentioned seeing Sam early on but wasn't sure where you went from there. The only information you had concerned Eddie and Juicy who you already found.

Everyone agreed to split up to look in different spots and of course you chose to go with Colby. Narrator and Eddie looked at you and exchanged glances before going to the first floor. I guess we're more obvious than I thought.

The two of you continued to look into the cells and rooms on the second floor, leaving Juicy to look in the kitchen. Having no luck on finding anyone you all reconvened by the main stairs.

"I checked the kitchen," Juicy told you and Colby. "No one was there."

"Okay so then third floor has to be where they are."

Eddie led Colby and you to the third floor while Narrator and Juicy went back towards the kitchen to reinvestigate. Before long they rejoined and talked about strange sounds like feet shuffling.

It took a little longer to find Josh and Mully but then Sam was the last one still hiding. You and the rest of the group returned to the circle as Colby yelled out for Sam. With no response, Mully and Josh asked Colby if this was a part of the plan. You couldn't be sure yourself considering you didn't even know about this hide and seek challenge to begin with.

Suddenly you all heard a whistle ring out and everyone started looking around to pinpoint where it came from.

"Sam, whistle again."

Another whistle but no one was sure where it came from. Everything was echoey in this place. Eventually Mully spotted Sam upstairs on the second floor.

"We didn't check the other side, he was over here!" Colby explained. It seemed pretty dumb to have missed a whole section of the prison while seeking.

Finally everyone was back together and ready for the tour before the full investigation.

*-*-*

You were exhausted and ready to head to the hotel once filming was done and equipment was gathered for the night. The adrenaline had worn off when each person was being saged to prevent any form of attachments from Geelong Gaol. You were glad to have a few days to relax before the next investigation with The Boys.

"That was really fun," you said before yawning. Colby smiled at you gently and kissed your temple before loading some things in the back of the rental vehicle.

"I had fun, too. Although it seemed like things were amping up when I was under."

"Yeah. There was a lot of activity before we called it a night. You'll have to watch the footage to see what you missed out on."

"That can wait until we get back to the states." Colby closed the trunk and walked towards the driver's side. "In the meantime, let's get back so we can rest up."

After the three of you loaded into the car, Colby drove to the hotel you guys were staying at. You had your own room while the boys shared a room a little further down the hall. Although you three were close you preferred your own sleeping space, especially on longer trips like this one.

You had changed into your pajamas and set out your outfit for the next day when there was a knock at your door. Considering how late it was you know it could only be Colby. Your heart fluttered a bit as you quickly moved across the room to open your door.

Colby was wearing pajama pants and an old band shirt. "Hey."

"Hey," you greeted, feeling a little shy. "Were you coming to say good night?"

"Something like that." Colby smiled and stepped closer, causing you to step back and let go of the door. Before it even latched Colby had pulled you flush against him, not breaking eye contact. You quickly inhaled from being caught a little off guard.

There was a short pause as his eyes glanced between your lips and your eyes. You couldn't stand to wait any longer so you pulled him closer by his shirt and kissed him. Colby groaned and held onto you tighter. Both of you were tired of waiting for this moment and it showed in how you clung to one another during the kiss.

Colby gently held the side of your head and tilted his own to kiss you deeper, gaining a small whimper from you. That was all it took for him to lose his cool. Colby grabbed your ass and lifted you up, carrying you over to the hotel bed. You laughed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck for stability before he set you down.

He looked down at you with a hungry look in his eyes and you felt a shiver run up your spine in a good way. All you could do was smile and pull him back into you as you laid back. Colby happily obliged and careful hovered with his hand on the bed to keep himself up.

"I should have done this sooner," he whispers against your lips before kissing you gently a few times. "Fuck, why did I wait so long?"

"We've been busy, Colby," you assure him, returning his kisses. "I'm surprised you held out this long. You were being pretty obvious with your flirting."

"Yeah? I thought I was being subtle."

"Considering some of The Boys could tell, I wouldn't say you were subtle."

Colby chuckles and continues to kiss you, not wanting to waste time talking anymore. His free hand begins to slide up your thigh slowly, making way under your shirt. You shiver from the cold feeling of his rings but only pull him closer, wanting to be held. Eventually his knee is positioned by your hip to help Colby balance a little better.

He pulls away so his lips are just barely touching yours, his blue eyes looking down at you. You meet his gaze and smile as you brush some hair out of his eyes.

"You'll be mine, won't you (y/n)?" Colby's breath tickles your lips as he whispers to you.

"A little late to ask, don't ya think?"

He rolls his eyes and smiles, giving you a few more kisses before standing up. Offering his hand, he helps you sit up on the bed.

"I should get back before Sam locks the door on me."

"You didn't bring your hotel key?"

"Well," Colby chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just kind of going with the flow. You know, since I couldn't wait to kiss you again."

You shake your head and laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Good night, Colby."

He walks to the door, turning back to smile at you and wink. "Good night, (y/n)."

______________________________________________________________

This was a lot longer than part 1 but I HAD to make the end worth it! I hope you enjoy! I'll try working on the Sam version of this soon when I have time (I've been writing a fanfic recently so that's been my main focus with writing.)

#colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock fanfic #sam and colby

144 notes · View notes

therentyoupay · 1 month

Note

How would you write Elsa falling first? I absolutely adore your loser Jack pining after put together Elsa, but how would you reverse their roles?

i promise i promise i did not mean to write a one-shot for this. and i SWEAR it is ACTUALLY a one-shot. it is the OLD-SCHOOL definition of a one-shot, because i opened this ask and thought, aw, wouldn't it be cute if i just wrote a little tiny ficlet to illustrate an example of this scenario instead? and then out came 5,297 words. in one sitting. in ONE SHOT.

i would also like the record to show that i LOVED this challenge, i love trying out new scenarios or styles that subvert all the habits i've gotten myself into over the past decade or so!! thank you for this ask!! and, also, let the record show, that even as i wrote a full 5k+ of fic leading up to a "she falls first, he falls harder" scenario, i still couldn't quite hit the mark... in this case, i think it's open to interpretation as to whether she falls first, or they fall at the same time. 🤣 ENJOY. p.s. LOSER JACK?? LMAO WHAT IS THIS

“Watch your head—“

She ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the churning of what appeared to be a factory conveyor belt gone awry. A tiny creature smaller than even a Norwegian Mountain Troll cried out in dismay as a cascade of nutcrackers fell into a sorting bin meant for what appeared to be that latest handheld gaming device—the Swap, or something.

Elsa grinned at the chaos surrounding her—little elves scolding one another, scurrying about—and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to see the Pooka—Bunnymund—grinning in delight at her delight.

(I told you, his eyes seemed to say, as he gestured for her to continue ahead of him through the vast workshop chamber toward the office tucked away in the back. You wouldn’t regret it, if you came with me.)

Without giving him the satisfaction—yet—Elsa merely took in all the productivity around them, and let her gaze sparkle with the Wonder she knew was in them; dryly, she marveled, “It’s July.”

“Christmas doesn’t take holidays, mate,” Bunny winked. “Especially not here.”

Elsa stuck her courage to the sticking place as they approached the office—the door was slightly ajar. No matter what happens, Elsa inhaled and exhaled; you can always go back to Ahtohallan, to Antarctica.

You don’t have to stay here—with them.

Strengthened by this truth, Elsa squared her shoulders and softened her face into something curious and approachable as Bunny opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“OI.” Bunny stepped through the office, holding the door wide, which allowed Elsa to wait at the threshold—suspended between two worlds, two moments, two paths… perhaps two different lives.

“WHAT—Bunny, how many times I say, KNOCK, this program, it is DELICATE—“

“I got a delivery,” Bunny interrupted, and his whole body flinched at the look she gave him, “Er. I mean. I got someone here who you might wanna meet.”

And if Elsa had known then what she knew now, she would have realized in that moment (when North laid eyes on her that July evening in the middle of his work on the newest rollout of the popular role-playing video game—the Sums, or something) that, truly, the future was always in motion, her path already treaded, and—despite all her beliefs, her past, her heartbroken memories—her heart was already preparing to have two homes.

Elsa had visited plenty of warm—tropical, arid, sweltering—and chaotic, sprawling places in her travels, but none quite compared to the utter bustle of the Workshop.

Over the next three weeks of her stay, Elsa grew accustomed to the factory’s noises, to the bickering between the elves and their strange adoration for her, to the yeti’s curious questions about her years at the south pole. They asked relentless questions about the melting ice caps, the fierce predators, and the tiny human-made stations; she answered them as best she could, having wandered Antarctica for only half a decade before Bunnymund happened to find her at the tip of Cape Adare. When she tried to explain that she was much more familiar with the Arctic, they listened politely, but they were clearly much less interested in land so close to home. They also had the strangest custom of bringing her icicles when they returned from their perimeter patrols; she was growing quite a large collection of them in the guest room in the Main House.

The others—called Guardians, she learned—flitted in and out of this headquarters at seemingly all times of day.

Sandy was shocked and delighted to see her again; they’d run into each other just once during the late 1940s, and only when Elsa was passing through a city—Barcelona, if Memory served—to familiarize herself with the changing of the times as quickly as possible.

Sandy made no delay in giving her a much more insightful tour of the Workshop than North’s exuberant one had been, which had focused rather on not-so-subtle hints at how wonderful a life it was to be a Guardian, and such wonderful news it was to hear that Elsa was intrigued by Bunnymund’s offer to meet them, and so wonderful that Elsa had been spending all these years doing all that she could to explore the wonders of the world.

(North was lovely, and welcoming, and fierce—and so boisterous!

And not subtle at all.)

After a few days of visiting the Workshop, Elsa grew comfortable enough to truly relax as she roamed its halls, visited the various stages of production, and occasionally caught up with Bunny as he flitted in and out of the Shop (“Easter is on Holiday!” he’d said, with another wink). She dined with North and his team of merry workers, often with Bunny, who, she learned, was rather too fond of eggnog, and sometimes with Sandy as well.

After only a few hours into Sandy’s first visit, Elsa allowed herself to laugh with her whole chest at the ridiculous antics, the absurdity of it all, the bickering among Sandy, and North, and Bunny—and allowed herself to be endeared by the clear respect they held for one another, by the lightness in the air, the distinct sensation of family. That night, Elsa didn’t immediately retreat to her room after dinner, as she normally would have.

The Memories were not so painful, here.

And their stories!

They regaled her each night over (and after) dessert—about this horrid creature named Pitch Black, about the Moon, about the Battle of Burgess—they all sounded like fairytales to Elsa, even if she, herself, had practically been living in one for nearly two hundred odd years.

The others told her of two other coalition members who fought beside them—both of whom were exceptionally busy, and who would not be journeying to the North Pole again until it was time to celebrate the Equinox.

Elsa was curious about Toothiana—and anxious, about the Memories she protected—and especially curious about the Guardian named Jack…

Frost.

She did not shy away from asking more about him—Elsa had far too little time to worry about such silly fears like embarrassment; immortality was funny like that—and her curiosity grew with each tale she heard. The Guardians spoke of Jack with a mix of fondness and exasperation—his mischievous nature, his loyalty, how bloody annoying he is, I tell ya, that’s what I say.

Elsa could not help but laugh at Bunny’s pervasive frustration with his teammate; his respect for Jack was clear, even if his patience was not.

Still… she had been wandering the world for over 200 years, and in all that time, she had never encountered any others like her, and certainly not anyone especially like her.

The thought of meeting someone who might understand, who might have powers like hers, stirred something deep within her— something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She caught Bunny staring at her in the midst of a reverie by the fire during an after-dinner coffee, so she crisply declared, “Don’t say it.”

“What’s that, Ice-pop? Sorry, couldn’t quite hear you over all of that Hope in your heart.”

Bunny, Elsa learned, was used to ducking snowballs.

Later that evening, as she stood by one of the desperately-tall windows in the corridor leading to her guest quarters—watching the snowflakes drift lazily from the sky—Elsa couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually meet him.

The thought of Jack—a potential ally? a friend? a teammate?—occupied her mind more and more as the days passed, and with each story the Guardians told, Elsa found herself hoping that this Jack Frost—a teacher? a guide? a confidant?—would be looking forward to meeting her, too.

Sometimes, late at night, she would lie awake and wonder what it would be like to have someone in her life who understood her powers as deeply as she did. She imagined his face, always in motion, always just out of reach, and felt a strange sense of—Hope? Elsa rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Anticipation? Perhaps.

Fear?

In these quiet moments, she found her spirit reaching out, as if she could almost call to him—but of course, he was completely out of reach, never having met her before, and likely, perhaps, not even knowing that she existed until only recently... But her heart would quicken at the idea of meeting this person like her, of seeing his eyes—what color?—filled with the same understanding, the same longing for connection that she felt.

What would he think of her? Would he see the strength she had built over centuries? Or would he only see the loneliness that still clung to her, despite all her efforts to cast it aside?

The questions swirled in her mind, mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration that made her feel both alive and vulnerable.

She could almost hear the laughter they might share, the way their powers could dance together in the air, creating something beautiful, something new.

And in those moments, she couldn’t help but smile, imagining a world where she wasn’t alone, where someone else could stand beside her in the snow, not as an adversary—

But as an equal.

“And did he wield ice magic as a human, as well?” Elsa pressed over after-dinner coffee in the drawing room, leaning forward in her chair near the fireplace. North’s giant hands were absurdly large compared to his delicate teacup. “Before he became a Guardian?”

“As a matter of fact—no. The power came later, AFTER Turning.”

Elsa considered his words carefully. Something about his expression seemed rather cagey; centuries of reading strangers’ faces had only honed her political prowess, which had been born out of survival as much as any sense of duty.

“North, tell me: why do you want me to join the Guardians?”

“I—ah! ELSA—

“Because ya’d be mighty good at it!” Bunny blurted, calling over from his newspaper reading on the other side of the drawing room, to North’s indignant sputtering, “if you wisened up and stopped hiding all Hope and Wonder!” And then, as an afterthought, “And it’ll keep Jack humble, I reckon!”

“ASTER!” North scolded fiercely, but he set the tiniest teacup down with the tiniest clink and placed the saucer on the coffee table with such deliberate care, even in his fit of anger, that Elsa couldn’t hold back a small, genuine smile.

“Dont’cha worry, Ice-Pop,” Bunny told her later, as they stood in the wide, cold corridor leading into the main entry chamber of the Workshop, where Bunny preferred to open his portals. Elsa quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled. “We’re not here to actually convince ya. We just want you to see that there’s another option. This Choice… well. Guardians gotta make it for themselves.”

She still had too many questions. How is it that I had never crossed paths with any of you but Sandy, before?

How is it that I have managed to avoid Pitch for all these years?

Why me? What can I really offer—when you already have someone who can already do what I do?

“You still have time before you have to decide. And you need to meet the rest, anyway. Just think about it, is all,” he said, all his wisdom seeping into the very air around them. He cracked open a portal and, a moment later, he was gone.

“Oh!” said an utterly beautiful creature, her wings fluttering with so much excitement and delight that she was practically vibrating. “You must be Elsa!”

Elsa and Toothiana took to one another with surprising ease; time had steadied Elsa’s heart, had taught her the patience and endurance and the strength of a glacier; time had energized Toothiana, who took charge of the world with her vast army and a wide smile. But it had been so long since Elsa had even felt anything remotely similar to the feel of holding onto her sister—and Toothiana understood, completely.

Toothiana shared stories of her own—a whirlwind of adventures collecting memories and moments, each one a treasure she held dear.

(Toothiana's eyes softened as she took Elsa's hands in her own, her understanding gentle yet firm. "I know what it’s like to carry the weight of Memories, Elsa," Toothiana whispered, her voice a comforting balm. "But here, with us, you don’t have to carry them alone. We’re all in this together, and we’ll help you find your way.”)

And Elsa found herself starting to believe her.

To Believe in them.

When the Guardians gathered around the fire—taking time, they said, to ensure that past mistakes were never repeated, that they carved out time for themselves the way they never used to—the conversation inevitably turned to their adventures, to answering Elsa's questions. Somehow, Jack always seemed to be at the center of their tales.

She was rather alarmed to realize the extent to which she had begun to wait for these moments, eager to hear more about Jack, piecing together an image of him in her mind that was as elusive as snowflakes on the wind. Why on earth does not a single Guardian commission a portrait, for goodness’ sake? But Elsa dared not ask for a Memory; apparently, there were still some things left worth being too embarrassed to ask for, after all.

So she contented herself with the way Sandy would add details to the story that the others had forgotten, conjuring up glowing scenes of Jack’s playful antics in vague, golden sand—flurries of snowflakes, intricate frost patterns on windows, and the gleeful laughter of children echoing through the air.

She would find all their efforts rather suspicious… if they weren’t all being so utterly obvious about their Hopes.

Thus, one evening, as they were all gathered around the fire, Elsa couldn’t help but ask, “How did Jack become a Guardian?”

Bunny’s keen eye sharpened upon her cheek; she withstood the scrutiny, allowing him no further entry to her mind, as he added, “Jack was chosen by the Moon, like the rest of us.”

“But Jack…” Toothiana’s voice was soft and somber and unusually serious; the atmosphere in the room shifted, its axis tilting ever so slightly. “He had a harder time accepting it. At first! That is.”

“Took him a while to figure out, is all,” Bunny held his boomerang up to the light, checking the polish. “He came around, eventually.”

“Why?” Elsa asked, genuinely curious.

Sandy floated closer, his golden sand forming an image of a young boy standing alone in the snow, his face a mixture of confusion and sorrow. The image flickered, and the boy’s expression shifted to one of determination and hope.

“Not easy for Jack, his Turning was,” North said, his voice softening. “Not easy for any of us… But Jack had no Memories of his past, no knowledge why he was Chosen. It wasn’t until centuries after his Turning that he found his center.”

“His center?” Elsa echoed, intrigued.

“FUN!” North boomed, smiling, and sending teacups clattering everywhere. Elsa clutched her saucer with both hands. “But not just ANY fun—bringing joy and wonder to children, making them BELIEVE in magic and in themselves. THAT is Jack’s true power!”

Elsa considered this as Bunny complained about dropping his boomerang polish and spilling it all over the carpet. Toothiana was laughing at him and offering to help in equal turns, as Elsa’s mind turned over the implications of centers—and Jack’s in particular. She had spent so long searching for her own purpose, her own… center? Do I have one? As well? Is that why Bunny had found her, out alone at the edge of the iceberg, at the exact moment when she had let it all go, had accepted that she may never find her purpose, that perhaps she did not have one—was that the moment that they had been waiting for?

And now, here in this team, Elsa might soon meet someone who had also once struggled with the same questions, who had found his answers in the most unexpected ways… It makes me, dare I say it… Wonder...

She glanced at the Guardians, each of them so sure of their place, their role in the world, with all their quirks and their trust and their happiness. They had found their centers, their reasons for being. And Jack—this mysterious figure who was off wreaking havoc in some apparently historic winter season in New England—had somehow found the same. She wanted to know more about this spirit who had lived in solitude for so long, who had found a family among these remarkable beings, and who wielded the same icy power she did, yet in a way so different from her own—or, at least, so they thought. Nobody could quite seem to explain to her the exact mechanics of it all.

The more she heard about him, the more she felt a growing need to meet him. She caught herself imagining what their first meeting might be like—whether he would be as mischievous as they said, or if they would take a liking to one another right away, bonded by their similar powers, their similar stories… Perhaps he might help her make sense of… all this? Maybe there was something in him that could help her understand herself better. Maybe he could be… another friend? An ally. A partner. Elsa did not care about the name; what mattered was only that they could learn from each other.

But still. She could not quite deny that her excitement at the chance of meeting him was, perhaps, a bit more complicated than all that.

“I still don't understand. You already have someone whose powers are like mine,” Elsa pointed out reasonably, just when the others had started to turn the conversation to simpler matters. “How could I possibly contribute?”

Bunny barked with laughter from the other side of the circle, over the recipe book he was now reading, preparing for their grand dinner to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox. Sandy giggled in golden, sparkling shimmers. North’s laughter was as reassuring as it was alarming.

“ELSIE, my dear,” North boomed as he strode closer to the wing-backed chairs that Toothiana and Elsa were hoarding by the fire, just under the wide window of the central tower, which overlooked the northern tundra. “It is not about powers alone! It is CENTERS.”

“And besides!” Bunny called out over his recipe book, adjusting his reading glasses over the bridge of his twitching nose. She could feel his cheekiness from the other side of the room, but Elsa was particularly amused by the way Toothiana’s whole body tensed up in preparation for Bunny’s antics. “You’re the better deal on both fronts, anyway!”

Toothiana scolded him for the next five minutes but hardly put any real fire into it, and North’s voice echoed throughout the study (“Now, now, Bunny—Jack has only been with us for two years now—and he has done SPLENDID job—“), and Sandy had already fallen asleep in his preferred winged-back chair by the fire, lulled into a nap by the comforting sound of his fellow Guardians arguing over something utterly ridiculous.

Late that night, as Toothiana hastily prepared for departure and her return to her endless work, she caught Elsa by surprise.

“We’ll understand if you would rather return,” Toothiana was gracious, so considerate in her efforts to not step on painful Memories, to not push Elsa too hard or too fast, too soon. “We recognize that this choice, this Oath, is not for everyone. But we hope you’ll consider it.”

Elsa nodded, appreciating the understanding in Tooth's eyes, though she couldn’t quite find the words to express it. The kindness and patience offered—by all of them—made her feel both comforted and conflicted; this was a choice she had to make for herself, but knowing she wouldn’t be judged either way brought a small measure of peace.

Toothiana let out a knowing smile that Elsa didn’t quite understand.

Two days before the Autumnal Equinox, the North Pole was strangely quiet; all others were out and about and attending to their centers, preparing their final tasks before they would all meet for the celebration, here in North’s home.

She thus found herself wandering the hallways alone, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, thinking of the word home, and how it had changed for her over the years—first, her kingdom; then, her sister; then, the secrets that lay in the depths of Ahtohallan, and then nowhere at all.

What was home?

She paused in front of a large, intricately carved door she hadn’t noticed before. There was something inviting about it, something that called to her curiosity. Without thinking, she reached out and pushed it open, stepping into a room bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

The room was a gallery of sorts, filled with shelves upon shelves of intricate snow globes, each one containing a different scene—some of them cheerful, others serene, and a few that looked like they were mid-snowstorm. Elsa moved closer, her breath catching as she realized what she was seeing. Each snow globe was a memory—not one of Toothiana’s collections of course, but rather, a moving picture—a small clip of some film, captured in glass and suspended in time.

She reached out to touch one that was particularly beautiful—a snow globe depicting a small village blanketed in fresh snow, children playing and laughing as they built snowmen and threw snowballs. The scene was so vivid, so real, that she could almost hear their laughter.

“Beautiful, no?” a voice said softly from behind her.

Elsa turned to see North standing in the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he watched her.

“They’re not Memories,” Elsa whispered, more to herself than to him. “They’re… Reminders.”

“Yes. They help with the Wonder, of course.”

Elsa couldn’t move her gaze away from the glass again. “Whose are they?”

North stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with genuine warmth, with joy. “They belong to all of us. The children, the Guardians… and a few others.”

He gestured to a shelf on the far wall, where a single snow globe sat, slightly larger than the others. It depicted a lone figure standing in the middle of a frozen lake, surrounded by a dense forest. Snowflakes danced around him, but there was a sadness to the scene, a loneliness that tugged at Elsa’s heart. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the glass.

“That one,” North said softly, “also belongs to Jack.”

Elsa’s breath caught. She had heard so much about him, yet she still knew so little. The thought of him, alone in this beautiful but desolate scene, stirred something deep within her.

Are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?

“Yes, he’s been through much,” North continued, his voice gentle, washing over Elsa’s rapidly-blinking thoughts, through the strange swell of sadness that swam through her chest. “But he IS strong, and has found his place among us. Still, there are parts of him that are… sometimes, difficult to reach. Things that… perhaps… someone may help… heal?”

Elsa side-eyed him, beneath her lashes. “You are growing less subtle each day, I fear.”

His boisterous laugh told her he wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Elsa, when few more centuries you have, you too shall learn when to drop SUBTLETY. No?”

Haven’t I already? But she humored him with a smile instead.

“Whatever you decide—we will support you, your Majesty.”

Elsa’s smile slipped, without her meaning to. Throat thick, she whispered, “No one has called me by that title for a very long time.”

Her eyes pricked with tears as North stepped closer to her, looking down at her—the way her father used to. The way her father might have, had he lived long enough to see her step into her own power, at last.

“I do not call you Majesty because you were Queen, or Snow Queen; I say because I remind you that what you have, and what you are, at your center, is FULL of that which makes living so majestic. It is my sincere wish that—“ and Elsa inhaled at the strange expression that passed his face, the soft mix of hope and resignation all at once— “You will choose the Oath with your full heart.”

Elsa wanted to thank him, but she didn’t want to lie; before she could settle on the perfect breath of diplomacy, North patted her shoulder in reassurance, and left the gallery, leaving Elsa with all the Reminders that were not hers, but insisted she be strong, anyway.

She gazed into the large snow globe, at the figure standing alone on the frozen lake in the deep forest, and Wondered, truly, for the first time, This was also my past…

Will I also find my future here, too?

The Equinox arrived, at last. Elsa had fashioned herself a dress for the occasion, and the excitement buzzing through the Workshop was palpable—everywhere she turned, there were smiles and knowing glances exchanged between the elves and the yetis, as if they all shared a secret that she was just on the cusp of understanding, but not quite privy to.

Elsa did not startle at Bunny’s sudden entrance behind her, but it was a near thing.

“Stop twitching,” Bunny muttered as he sidled up beside her, at the window, where she was watching the horizon and waiting for the other Guardians to arrive. When she glanced up at him, she found his nose twitching in nervous anticipation. “Don’t overthink it, Ice-pop. Jack’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Oh? No further jabs at your friendly foe?”

“Nah,” Bunny grinned. “Today, I’m on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

“You mean ‘Toothy’s honor’.”

“Aye, that too.”

She considered pointing out that his nose was equally twitchy, but she let it slide.

Elsa understood.

And that understanding grew as some of the Guardians started to all trickle in at once; Toothiana sent wide glances about and around the room upon her arrival, and later, as she fussed with the elves’ itineraries, kept catching Bunny’s eye when they thought Elsa was not looking; Sandy checked his watch repeatedly after greeting them all with warm, sandy hugs; perhaps he was conscientious of the time… and yet… North’s laughter was too loud to be completely genuine. Elsa was beginning to understand the true purpose of tonight, swiftly and deeply; this night was no mere dinner, and no simple introduction. Tonight was an audition. An interview.

A trial.

At this point, Elsa didn’t even mind the inquisition; she just wanted it to start.

The storm outside had been raging for over an hour, and yet there was still no sign of Jack. The wind howled, whipping snow into frenzied swirls that danced and spun against the windows of North’s Workshop. The Guardians stood by the large bay window, watching the tempest with a mixture of awe and concern. Elsa had seen far fiercer storms before… but seeing this storm here, now…?

Elsa didn’t know what to think.

“Where do you suppose he is?” Toothiana murmured, her wings fluttering nervously as she peered out at the swirling snow. “When I got off the globe with him a few hours ago, he’d been in a good mood! Do you think he got distracted along the way?”

Sandy nodded, his golden sand forming an image of a snowflake, delicate and intricate, before it dispersed into the air. North stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving the storm.

“Such a nuisance,” Bunny agreed, his ears twitching as he squinted into the whiteout. “But he’ll wear himself out soon enough. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Perhaps we might,” North rumbled, his voice filled with a deep, resonant certainty. “Jack may wish to make GRAND entrance—”

Elsa stood slightly apart from the others while they discussed, her eyes fixed on the tempest outside. The storm’s power called to something deep within her, something she recognized and understood. She had created countless storms like this, back in her darker days, when her emotions had been a force she couldn’t control. Here, she’d wanted to be a good guest, so it had been a month since she’d truly put her powers to proper use, out in the relative safety of the deep Antarctic deserts. But this…

There was a wildness to it, a reckless abandon. This storm wasn’t about emotion. It was—it’s—

He’s playing!

Just as the words passed through her mind, a voice suddenly piped up behind them, casual and completely out of place in the loud, bustling, tense atmosphere.

“What are y’all looking at?”

The Guardians turned as one, startled by the unexpected intrusion. There, leaning against a large shepherd’s crook, was someone who could be none other than Jack Frost—his expression one of casual amusement as he took in the scene before him. He had somehow appeared without a sound.

The room, which had been brimming with anticipation, fell into a moment of stunned silence, then burst back into noise and life in the very next breath.

Elsa blinked, her heart still racing from the intensity of the storm and the weight of her expectations. But now, seeing Jack standing there, looking so nonchalant and distant, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel disappointed. He was lean, with his staff slung over his shoulder, and there was an air of mischief about him, tempered by something darker, something cautious.

North was the first to fully recover, letting out a booming laugh that overpowered the other surprised voices in the room. “Jack, you never fail to surprise us! We were just admiring your WORK outside, no?”

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, that? Yeah, just setting the mood.”

Bunny rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a menace, Frostbite. You know that?”

Jack shrugged, his grin widening. “Just doing my job.”

Elsa felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched the easy banter between Jack and the other Guardians. She realized, perhaps too late, that she had built up this moment in her mind, imagining a dramatic, powerful entrance that would define their first meeting. Instead, she was faced with the reality of Jack Frost: a mischievous, irreverent spirit who seemed to take very little seriously, including the storm he had unleashed.

It was at that moment—in her quiet evaluation, her unexplained disappointment, her curious, lingering hope—that Jack caught her gaze.

Blue.

The playful expression slipped away, just for a flash; his blue eyes met hers, and she saw something there amidst the lingering laughter—something raw and guarded, something that told her that, like her, he was grappling with his own mixed expectations.

For a fleeting moment, Elsa’s breath caught in her throat, not just from the intensity of his gaze, but from the unexpected warmth that spread through her, as if she’d been touched by a sudden gust of spring wind.

“Jack, Jack, my boy, come—meet Elsa! Our dear Elsa—this is Jack, our newest Guardian.”

Elsa’s heart leapt into her throat. The room seemed to hold its breath as Jack hesitated—and then he stepped forward, approaching them at the window; Elsa stood patiently at Bunny’s side, watching Jack’s tousled white hair catch the light of the whiteout outside, watching as his blue eyes deliberately scanned the decorations around the room.

Jack Frost… ?

Elsa waited, patient as a glacier as Jack’s smirking gaze flickered over the gathered Guardians as he reached them, and he saluted North with a deliberately careless air. His smirking gaze lingered on each of them before finally landing on hers.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he replied. His tone was not unkind, but deliberately casual. “New Guardian, right? They’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

There was a hint of something sharp in his voice, and Elsa felt a pang of anxiety, which she pushed down; Bunny was covering his muttering face with his hand, and Toothiana was rolling her eyes to the ceiling in dismay—or perhaps prayer. Elsa quickly assessed the crisp stare and the hard line of his jaw; she’d been hoping for warmth, for understanding, but what she found in Jack’s gaze was something closer to suspicion.

Keeping her gaze on his, trying to ease the tension she could feel coiling between them, she softly corrected, “I’m not a Guardian.”

At least, not yet…

Or so I…

Elsa felt her chin raise; old habits falling back into place; perfect and pretty and polite, all smooth ice underneath; an effective mask for a Queen.

“I’m here on an invitation,” she said softly, and knew that he would not see the ice daggers in her eyes; not yet, although she was certain he was looking for them. “I’m very grateful to North and all of you for hosting me in honor of this autumnal celebration.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

That is suspicion there, isn’t it? And guardedness… He was trying hard to hide something behind a facade of coolness—some debonair indifference. Elsa recognized the act immediately but played along because there was something else there, too, something that made her heart ache with a familiar loneliness. I’m an ally, she tried to impress upon him through nothing more than the thought. Enough of this!

I could be a friend!

But then, Toothiana swooped in, her wings fluttering with a cheerful energy that instantly distracted them—if not immediately lifting the mood.

“Well! Isn’t this just the perfect way to spend the Equinox?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, drawing their attention away from one another; Elsa was grateful for Toothiana’s quick thinking, her impressive tact. “Jack, I’m sure you’re energized and starving for a glass of eggnog after all that storm-making. Let’s not waste any more time!”

“Uh, did Bunny make it?”

“What’s it to ya, you little twerp?” Bunny shot back, narrowing his eyes with mock suspicion.

Jack grinned, the tension easing slightly as he fell into what must have been familiar banter. “Just making sure it’s safe, is all. Wouldn’t want our guest of honor to get sick on her first night here.”

“Actually, she’s been here for over a month now—“

Elsa watched the exchange (Jack was rolling his eyes) with a mixture of amusement and relief and… unease. (Toothiana’s interruption had indeed worked wonders, shifting the focus away from the awkwardness of their initial encounter and giving everyone, including herself, a chance to breathe.)

(And yet… the warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the chill still clinging to her thoughts.)

As they all moved toward the dining room, Elsa fell in step beside Toothiana, grateful for the other Guardians’ subtle (for once!) alliance and support. She marveled at how, even two centuries since her last political summit, Elsa still remembered every step of walking into a political negotiation; Elsa knew how to navigate delicate situations, how to read the subtlest shifts in tone, how to win.

Elsa had always been a fine Reader of the Room; centuries of invisibility had only strengthened her skills.

And so the Trial begins…

This first impression was a test—one she intended to pass.

And although Jack started to relax once they were all seated and well into the evening—his guarded expression giving way to something more genuine as he bantered with Bunny and teased North about his over-the-top decorations—the knots in Elsa’s stomach remained.

How could she make him see that she wasn’t here to replace him—but to find her own place among them?

The Guardians fell into their usual rhythm as they ate and laughed together, the conversation flowing (mostly) easily between them. Elsa, too, had found her own rhythm with the Guardians during her month-long stay, understanding certain inside jokes and the fascinating nuances of their personalities. But even as she joined in their laughter, the tension between her and Jack was palpable, thicker than the winter storm raging outside.

She observed how Jack's eyes flicked between her and the other Guardians, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he noted instances of the easy familiarity she had developed with them over the previous weeks. He joked along with everyone else, but there was a sharpness to his tone, occasionally—and it seemed that all the other Guardians could clearly tell, even if they were choosing to ignore it with varying degrees of patience… and understanding.

Elsa could feel him measuring every word she said, every laugh she shared with the others. It wasn’t just that she was new or unfamiliar—it was that she had quickly become a part of something that Jack had spent years, perhaps centuries, building with them.

All of the Guardians’ assurances and encouragement over the past month had not hinted at the true nature of their concern; Elsa realized quite quickly that this rift wasn’t something that could be resolved with pleasantries or polite conversation.

Winning his trust wouldn’t come easily—it would demand more than just time; it would require something deeper.

Later that night, after everyone had retired to their quarters or gone out for their evenings of work, Elsa found herself wandering the halls of North’s Workshop, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions, as was her wont.

The evening had not exactly gone to plan, but she supposed it could have been worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack still viewed her as a threat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d need to discuss it with Toothiana tomorrow. Perhaps they might lend me a snow globe?

As she rounded a corner, headed toward the snow globe Reminder gallery, she nearly collided with Jack himself—who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was leaning casually against the wall, his staff resting on his shoulder, but there was a tension in his posture that belied his relaxed demeanor.

He’d been waiting for her.

“Jack,” she said, startled but keeping her voice steady; once more, familiar, old-fashioned patterns of politeness resurfaced in her moment of uncertainty. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Could say the same about you. Can’t sleep?”

Elsa hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Just... thinking. It’s been a lot to take in.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “You know, everyone seems pretty excited about you joining us. North, Bunny, even Tooth—they all think you’d be a great addition.”

She could hear the ‘but’ hanging in the air, unspoken but heavy between them; the way addition sounded like replacement.

Elsa squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. There was an intensity in his eyes, a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine, though she quickly attributed it to the cold. “Jack, I’m not here to replace you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and clear. For a moment, Jack’s expression flickered, something vulnerable and upset flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Who said anything about that?”

“No one—listen to me, I know you’re worried,” Elsa continued, refusing to let him deflect. “But you have no need to be. I’m not here to take your place. I’m here because…” Why am I here? “I was invited. I am simply getting to know you all better. I’ve been alone for some time.”

“Spare me the politicking,” Jack huffed, which, indeed, Elsa did take offense to. Especially since she genuinely had not been trying to be diplomatic; just careful.

Perhaps he didn’t believe her story… about being alone?

The idea was more painful than she expected.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed slightly, holding Jack’s gaze. “I’m not here to play games, Jack. I’m just looking for where I might belong—that is all.”

“Will you take the Oath, then? What’s your center?”

Elsa couldn’t explain it, but this struck her as an absurdly personal question. Still. She could recognize a caged animal when she saw one. So, Elsa took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question press down on her. The idea of the Oath, of finding her center, had been something she had pondered endlessly since she’d learned of its existence—perhaps since her arrival, if she was being honest. But to be confronted with it so directly by Jack, someone who still seemed to see her as a rival, made it all the more daunting.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been... trying to understand what it would mean for me to take the Oath, to become a Guardian.” She willed him to understand, at last. “It’s not something I want to rush into without being certain.”

Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her, his blue eyes sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer there—a recognition, perhaps, of the honesty in her words. “And your center?” he pressed. “Do you even know what it is yet?”

Elsa hesitated again, her thoughts swirling. A long time ago, she had known who she was, what she was meant to do. She’d thought so.

But after everything she had been through, all the loss, the isolation, and the rediscovery, she wasn’t sure if her center was what it once had been.

“Perhaps I might have, once,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now... Regardless of whether or not I join you, I’d like to think that there is something at the core of why I am still here.”

“In the Workshop?”

“No, I mean… I mean here.”

Jack tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something told her that she finally got through to him, just a little. Elsa felt herself feeling sympathy for him; even after becoming a Guardian, he was still filled with such…

Fear.

Doubt.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. For a brief, startling moment, she wondered what it would be like to stand by his side, to take the Oath together—as allies, as... something more?

She brushed the thought aside, but the idea lingered, persistent.

Then, finally, he let out a small, almost reluctant sigh. “It’s not easy, you know. Being a Guardian. Finding your center. It’s... it’s not something you just, like, stumble upon.”

“I understand,” Elsa said, her tone sincere. “But if there’s a chance that this is where I’m meant to be—then I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not interested in taking that away from you. You—you haven’t even seen what I can do yet! We don’t even know how much overlap we’d find in our powers, anyway!”

“You impressed Bunny in Antartica,” he practically accused. “That’s enough to say something, isn’t it?”

Elsa was trying her very best to remain steady and calm. “And what about you? What did it take for you to find your center?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw and unguarded in his gaze. “So they didn’t tell you everything, huh?”

She gaped at him. Honestly!

Elsa took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met Jack's gaze. "Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not here to steal anything from you—certainly not your place among the Guardians. I haven’t even decided if—I don’t know if—“

“I already know you’re gonna join us,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if admitting something he hadn’t wanted to face.

“Oh?” Elsa raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, and then, with a passion she hadn’t expected, he replied, “Because there’s nothing better. There’s nothing like it. It’s everything.”

Elsa was stunned by the raw intensity of his words, the conviction in his voice. She could see it in his eyes—this was more than just a responsibility, more than just a role for him. It was his purpose, his identity—his life, or whatever this agelessness was. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with something unspoken, a deep understanding that went beyond words.

She felt her heart skip a beat, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her—curiosity, admiration, and something else, something unfamiliar. Her pulse quickened.

Jack seemed to realize the weight of his words, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wait. I... I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he said, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “I guess I’ve been... on edge, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Still shocked by how deeply his declaration affected her, how his passion stirred something within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, Elsa softened at his apology, nodding slightly. “I… understand. And I accept your apology. I appreciate… you saying that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to come home and see someone new in the middle of it all.”

Elsa thought she heard him laugh under his breath, mouthing the word Home—

Jack nodded, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Yeah... it is. Anyway. I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Elsa watched him start to turn away, a sudden sense of urgency bubbling up inside her. “Jack, wait—”

He paused, glancing back at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. They were so wide, when they weren’t glaring!

“Shouldn’t we start over?” she asked, her voice gentler, almost tentative in her rush. She extended her hand toward him. “My name is Elsa. I happen to wield ice magic. E. Aster Bunnymund found me on an iceberg a few weeks ago as I was in the middle of creating a particularly notable blizzard, and he invited me to meet his friends, whom he loves and respects very much.”

Jack looked at her hand, then back at her face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawled over his face.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack floated closer, and Elsa held steady—stories or no stories, she had not been prepared to see him fly! “I’m Jack. I also happen to ‘wield’ ice and frost magic. Bunny did not find me on an iceberg, but I’m pretty sure he’d love to stick me in one. Nice to meet you, Elsa, who promises not to steal my spot on the A-team. Welcome to the madness,” and he reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

The moment their hands touched, a strange, electric current seemed to pass between them, and Elsa felt her breath hitch in her throat.

Oh—

He’s—he’s rather handsome, she realized with a start.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary, the air between them thick with something she could not, would not name.

Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice a little rougher than before. “Yeah... maybe we should—”

They let go of each other’s hands, but the sensation of his touch lingered, warm and unsettling. Elsa felt a flush creep up her cheeks, unsure of what to make of the emotions swirling inside her.

“Uh—goodnight, Elsa."

“Goodnight, Jack,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Elsa standing alone in the soft glow of the snow globe gallery. She watched him go, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in her chest. The conversation had been difficult, but it had also been a step forward—a tentative, fragile step toward something more. Right?

As she turned back to her quarters, Elsa found herself tracing the line of his smirk in her mind, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his eyes—after weeks of wondering about what he might look like, might be like, she finally had the vision, the Memory of his face.

She rushed with the ornate door handle of her guest room, eager to be inside her room, alone, in the peace and quiet, and finally process the events of the evening, to reflect on all that she'd learned, she'd accomplished, she'd proved.

Exhausted by the sheer weight of so many careful decisions in so short a time, Elsa closed the door behind her with a deep sigh. Exhausted, yes, but also satisfied. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the back of the door and allowed herself a small, tentatively victorious grin, content in the knowledge that when she drifted off to sleep that night, the echoes of their meeting, their tentative truce would fill her mind; this moment gave her, indeed, a sense of Hope that she hadn’t felt in years...

But, in her mind, the Memory that lingered most vividly, as she tossed and turned—was his face.

ao3 ✨

#08192024 update #fixed some typos!!! some missing italics representing thoughts which i think tumblr ate!!!#jelsa #sanfangirl-cynicalromantic #I LOVE YOU LADY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPER THOUGHTFUL ASKS #therentyoupay two homes #therentyoupay fic #therentyoupay fic prompts #therentyoupay ask #ngl it's also so good for me to just write one-offs and ficlets and prompts every once in a while!!#A PALLTETTE CLEANSERRR #also spoiler alert if jack is not pining then ELSA IS THE ONE PINING LMAO

116 notes · View notes

joequinnisgod · 1 year

Text

Caught in the act

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x f!reader

Summary: You wake up from a wet dream, but Joe’s asleep, so you have to take care of yourself. You end up in the shower, where he catches you in the act.

Warnings: smut, f!masturbation, shower sex, squirting

Word count: 2k

Your eyes slowly opened at the buzzing sound of your phone, tearing you from your dreamland. To not wake Joseph, you quickly reached for your phone and turned off the alarm.

After rolling on your back, you noticed something unpleasant that made you frown. You were all sweaty and a particular dull ache sat between your thighs. Pictures from the dream you were living in just a few moments ago started flooding your mind. After you opened your eyes again letting them adjust to the bright room, you turned your head to the side. Joseph was sound asleep. His eyelashes stroking his face, his lips all puffy and slightly open as soft snores escaped his throat every now and then. He had a long, busy day the previous day and he got home quite late so you didn’t want to wake him.

With your eyes closed, you started re-living your dream. Your fingers traced your skin all the way down to your panties and slipped them under the thin, soft fabric. With two fingers of yours you started gathering the wetness and spreading it around before you started playing with your clit. Not having the patience to tease yourself, after a few slow circles your fingers began picking up the pace. Your free hand made its way to beneath your shirt and you started massaging one of your boobs and playing with your nipple.

Soon, you had to realise it wasn't enough. You were used to Joe's heavenly, skilled tongue and fingers and the feeling wasn't the same at all. Suddenly you remembered the pastel pink vibrator you had in your top drawer, purchased a few years ago. You enthusiastically reached for the handle of the drawer, only to meet the sad reality again. The batteries in it died a few weeks ago and each time you visited the grocery store, you forgot to get new ones.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as frustration started to get under your skin. After not being able to come up with any ideas, you decided to just start your day. Glancing at Joe, you saw him still laying there, deep asleep. You walked to the en suite bathroom and washed your face before brushing your teeth. Still feeling sticky and sweaty from your sleep, you decided to take a shower.

You opened the glass door of the walk-in shower and opened the tap. After stripping out of your pyjamas quickly, you walked underneath the big, fixed shower head and enjoyed the hot water pouring down your chest. You stood there for a few minutes, just getting mentally ready for the day but your with your excitement not quieting down, it was a little hard. As your eyes wandered across the water droplets on the wall tiles, your gaze stilled on something. The handheld shower head.

"Back to the good old way." You murmured to yourself after a few seconds of thinking about it as your hand reached for it. You opened the tap for the detachable shower head, adjusting the temperature and pressure of the water. Not knowing any better, you sat down on the floor of the shower, with your back against the wall and your legs spread wide, and aimed the shower head towards your pulsing core. A loud gasp erupted from your throat, already starting to feel a little relieved.

"Oh, yes." You moaned quietly and carefully, not to wake Joseph. Your free hand went to your boob again, as your mind wandered back to the same place.

His lingering touches, his hot kisses, his burning, sweaty skin, his thick, heavy moans, his deep voice...

"You take me so well, baby."

The way his hips slammed into you, along with the unholy sounds filling the bathroom of a fancy place where a long forgotten award show was held.

"Joey, please..don't stop."

"I'm not planning on it, princess. I'm gonna make you cum so hard.. – he said between heavy breaths – the whole building will know what we were doing in here. And they're gonna be so..fuck...so jealous of us."

You looked at the both of you in the mirror. The way his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and concentration while looking at where you connected, then to your reflection was almost enough to make you come undone right away.

"Look at you, baby. Such a pretty thing. Being such a little slut..only for me."

"Only for you, oh." You squeezed his hand. "Joey, I'm so close." You panted.

"C'mon baby, cum for me. I wanna feel you fall apart around me. Show me how naughty you can be for daddy."

"Oh, Joey, fuck."

"Having fun there?" His voice startled you, making you jump and drop the shower head.

"Fuck..are you kidding me? I was so close.." You whimpered in between heavy breaths as a teardrop full of frustration rolled down you cheek as you reached for the dropped head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, doll." He pushed his boxers down as he made his way towards the shower.

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not." He flashed a cheeky grin as he closed the door behind himself.

Just when you thought your problem was finally to be solved, he started spreading the body wash on his chest and stomach, actually taking a shower.

"What are you doing?" You looked him up and down.

"Taking a shower." He gave you a confused, teasing look. "You know..that's what people usually do in here."

"Fuck off." You aimed the shower head at him.

"C'mon, love." He reached his arm towards you to help you up from the floor. "What got my baby so frustrated and whiny?"

"You." You muttered as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Me?" His eyebrows ran up his forehead.

"Yeah."

"What did I do?" He chuckled.

"I had this dream about you. About us."

"Hmm..really? What were we doing?"

"You were doing me, Joe. So well.."

"And that's why you're whining?"

"No..it's because you weren't awake when I woke up, so I had to take care of myself. But that wasn't enough, and the batteries in my vibrator have been dead for weeks now and I aways forget to get new ones, and now you interrupted me right when I was about to cum."

"Oh, my poor baby. What do I do with you now? Hm?"

"Make me cum, Joey, please."

"Fuck..how could I say no when you're asking me so nicely? And how do you want me to do that?" His hand travelled down the curve of your back and caressed your ass before grabbing it firmly, making you moan softly.

"I don't care, just make me cum. Fast, cause we're both gonna be late."

"Okay, I have a photoshoot, but where are you going?"

"I'm going out to have late breakfast with your mum."

"I thought that was tomorrow."

"No, it's today, but please do something with me now. What will I tell your mum when I'm gonna be late? Sorry I'm late, I was busy 'cause your son was fucking me senseless?"

He pressed his lips to yours in a heartbeat to shut you up.

"Jump." He murmured as he tapped the back of your thighs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his lower back, making your aching core touch his hard cock. A gasp left your mouths as he stepped to the wall you previously sat against and pushed you up against it. A small hiss left your lips because of the cold walls, giving Joseph the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You took your hand from the back of his neck and traced it down from his chest to his angry length. You started tracing the veins with your fingertips to rile him up even more before wrapping your hand around it and slowly starting to pump him up and down.

"Fuck..I'm not gonna last if you do that." He swallowed thickly.

You lined him up with your entrance and moaned out loudly as he started to push inside you, filling you up. Your hand went back to his head, tugging on his curls.

"Fuuck.." A breathy, deep moan fell from his lips. You couldn't help but clench around him, making his breath hitch in his throat. "What..what happened in your dream?"

"We were in the bath- oh..in the bathroom..during an award show and..we couldn't wait 'till we got home, so..so we did it in the bathroom...in front of the mirror."

"Shit..we can do it in front of the mirror."

"And we will when we get home..but don't you dare stop now."

"Anything you want, my love." He took a hand from under your thigh and caressed your hot skin from your leg to your breast at first. He gently massaged it, making your eyes close and your head tilt back against the wall. His hand then came up to your throat and his fingers were wrapped around it in a second, squeezing the sides of it gently.

"Joey, I'm gonna.."

"You gonna cum already? I haven’t even been inside you for five minutes. My poor angel, so worked up, so needy, huh? Look at me, baby." When he didn’t get any reaction from you, he let let go of your throat and cupped your cheek. "You with me? I wanna see those pretty eyes."

You were so lost in the feeling of his cock so deliciously deep inside you and his scent filling your nose, that you didn’t even notice him stilling his hips at first.

"No, no, no! Why’d you stop?" You opened your eyes and looked at him with an upset look on your face.

"I said look at me. Keep your eyes open for me, doll. Can you do that for me?" His thumb stroked your cheek lovingly, yet somehow still in a mean, teasing manner. His lips came close to your ear as his voice got quiet and low. "Can you do that for daddy?" He started moving his hips again.

"Oh, fuck. I’m so close Joey.."

"Cum for me, baby. C'mon..soak daddy's cock."

Your hand went to your clit, circling it fast and impatiently. The feeling of Joseph’s hand leaving your cheek to wrap itself around your throat again was only fuel to the flame. Your back arched off the cold, wet tiles and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your frequent, sinful moans bounced off the walls. At the same time you felt his hand choke you harder and suddenly everything became so overwhelming. For the first time in your life you felt liquid gush out of you, right around his cock.

"Thaat's it baby. Good girl..oh, fuckfuckfuck."

You felt Joe's hot seed spill inside you, making your orgasm even more intense. He drove his hips into you at a fast pace, making sure to get the most out of your orgasms. His thrusts slowed down at the end after he rode out his high as well, until he didn’t stop completely.

"Fuck..that was so good" You whispered as you pressed soft kisses along the side of his neck, gently sucking on the skin.

"You fucking squirted." A proud smile sat on his face.

"I’m not surprised..I’ve been edged three times this morning." You whimpered to him before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you." He murmured into the kiss.

"I love you." A content smile spread on your face.

"I really gotta get something we can sit on in here."

"I'm not against it..I had to sit on the fucking floor."

"God..every time I'm gonna look at the shower head, that's the only thing I'm gonna think of." You chuckled as you shared a few more kisses.

"When'd you brush your teeth?"

"When you were a little too busy. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen." He pressed kisses down your chest.

"So you were watching me like a fucking perv?"

"Mm-hmm...can I have that view again when I brush my teeth tonight?"

You slapped his arm as he let you down onto the floor, sighs leaving your lips as he pulled out of you. His hands grabbed your ass again as he pulled you close to kiss you one more time, before starting your actual shower.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Have a beautiful day / night!! <3

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x you #joseph x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn rpf #joe quinn smut #joe quinn x you #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn rpf #joequinnisgod

782 notes · View notes

koguri3108 · 6 months

Text

I doodled the Asters! Rigel seems to be quite a bit out of his element, being disconnected from a computer, and at this size at that, while Vega seems much less bothered, at least on the surface, perhaps he's just enjoying the silence of not having computer diagnostics run through his brains 24/7.

These two are Original Characters by @logicpng and you can also get them on your Desktop as an Ukagaka right >>here<<!

I always fall back to that one scenario with Ukagaka I like, where they kind of fall out of the screen at he size they appear to be on it so they get to run around on my desk all tiny X)))))

I always end up rotating a bunch of scenarios with that premise around in my brain, the Spamton handheld GIFs from a while back where the same thing haha.

And like....

I know Vega meant out of view of the monitors but I immediately read this as him wanting to run around outside of the computer and it jump started this old pattern again XD

#KoguArt #KoguStuff #2024 #Ukagaka #handheld #smol #giant tiny #gt #G/t #giant/tiny #Aster

98 notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 20 days

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Two: Spies/Heist @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 Link

Inspired mostly by Leverage but also White Collar

Will be a mix of being set in the US and with Terrasen being a real place bc I can be more lenient with history and art and such this way. Just go with it.

Summary: She’s a thief with only one thing on her mind: finish the job and move on. When she’s asked to break into Terrasen’s Museum of Art, Celaena has her doubts. Mostly because she’d much rather be grifting her way across Europe. But when she learns what needs stealing? Well…her schedule clears right up. Enter the client, a pain in her ass.

Warnings: None, ~3.6k words

.*.*.*.*.

The Too Far Gone Job (Part One)

There was a subtly to her job that no one quite understood. It wasn’t surprising this day in age, but Celaena was a bit insulted by it all the same. Too often people were so precocious and proud in themselves that they failed to recognize that beauty was in the details. Many things took a great deal of care to be done properly. A brain surgeon didn’t rush in with a scalpel after hardly reading scans. A gymnast would spend hours and years perfecting that one little twist to bring the perfect flip.

And a thief? Well, a thief would take her time with understanding every intimate detail of her target before attempting a break-in. The Mortimer Wyrdlock for example was the best, most secure safe in the world. Built with seismic sensors as well as heat sensors, biometric scans, and thick, metal that no mere handheld saw could touch—it was suicide to even try and get close.

Celaena always put her faith in the underdog.

Concerto No. 4 in F Minor played through the grand halls of Terrasen’s Museum of Art. She’d always preferred this concerto to the others mostly for the violin. For the feeling it evoked for the way it always felt like there was a game afoot, a secret to be held, all with the slow building crescendo. It was beautiful. Once, she’d been able to play it on the piano, rather compellingly if she could say so herself. That was before she’d been ushered into her current lifestyle.

All of the things she loved about the song were only emphasized by the marble and vaulted ceilings of museum. And even though the song was still just an afterthought to cover the chatter and scuffing feet of the party, Celaena could appreciate all the subtle nuances of the song. Glorious and powerful.

She weaved through the many bodies meandering about the hall. Most, if not all, were too consumed with the expensive champagne and caviar floating around them. It was far too easy to pick a target in all the men (and women) surrounding her. Especially the senator that was already drunk with his fancy watch hanging out in the open like that. Of the string of Eyllweian diamonds that another woman wore. So easy.

But she had a plan.

And it only seemed right that this plan be executed here. It had been ages since she’d stolen something from this museum. Twelve years to be exact. She’d been twelve and pressed to execute a flawless grift.

The architecture of the building was flawless, truly. The vaulted ceilings, the tall windows that stretched along the walls to look over the Oakwald Mountains. It created an atmosphere of elegance and finesse. It was one of the oldest buildings in all of Terrasen, one of the last remaining from the war.

Which made it the perfect target.

Celaena fingered her glass of champagne as she moved through the masses of people. She could have spoken to a few of them, that was what she loved most about a job. The grift. The subtle machinations she made to ease a mark into doing what she wanted. It wasn’t lying and it wasn’t stealing, it was merely encouragement. It helped that most of her marks were bastards and the very thing that was wrong with society. Usually. Most of the time she just wanted the shiny things. (Alright so it was lying and it was stealing, but could you really blame her?).

Truth be told, she was just a little distracted by all the beauty surrounding her. There were the vases from Mesopotamia, the old book of King Brannon, the Darcus blades. She really wanted to steal those, but it would almost be too easy. All she needed to do was flirt with the security guard doing a terrible job to blend in with the party. The poor thing was in a cheap suit and poorly done tie…how had he gotten approved for this job? It would almost be mean to target him.

Celaena moved through the party with ease, setting her champagne flute on a passing tray, only acknowledging the server with a small nod, the server barely offered a smile. A strand of Celaena’s red hair fell over her eyes and she flicked it back casually. Her dress clung to her frame, thin as she was. She allowed her own confidence to carry her when she felt weak. Because she was more than capable of this task. In all her years of the grift, her appearance and the way she interacted with those around her proved to be the surest way to get a job done properly.

So, Celaena wore her too thin frame to her advantage and became what everyone expected: daddies little girl slumming her way through a party.

She was invisible when she wanted to be which let her slip down an un-manned hall.

The archived vault of the museum often held the more private items. Those that were not to be displayed without express permissions of certain clients. Celaena’s target for tonight actually was one such item.

It was far too easy to slip down a service staircase. She’d gotten her hands on a universal scanner so she could hack various systems with ease. Usually if she was doing her job right, the mark was opening doors for her. Unfortunately for her, tonight she needed more finesse and isolation.

Holding the skirt of her dress in one fist, Celaena moved down the stairs. Her research on the museum told her that most of the below staff would be dismissed for the Gala above. There would be one historian finishing up cataloging and a security guard to keep them company. The security guard would have a simple enough rotation, likely only venturing on rounds once every thirty minutes. This area was even better secured then upstairs, the guard needn’t worry about a thief like her.

Celaena couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

She wished she could be back upstairs mingling and grifting. It was what she preferred. She liked putting on that mask, liked slipping away into another persona, liked pretending she was anything but herself.

As she turned down a one of the halls, she checked the small signal reader she’d stuffed into her bra. Her comms had remained silent all night, not surprising. But she’d thought there would have been at least something.

Four steps forward to a small alcove where the old diaries of some old white man were held. Two breaths. Duck back out and then left and straight.

The Mortimer Wyrdlock stood before. The chrome fixtures glinted in the overhead lights leaving the safe looking like something out of any thief’s wet dream. Elide was going to kill her for this.

“Hello, beautiful,” she murmured. The safe really was deserving of all sorts of praise.

A soft noise came from the other side of her comms.

“Anything you’d like to add?” she said, keeping her voice low.

Nothing.

Celaena rolled her eyes and approached the safe. The lovely little beastie practically called her name.

She stayed in her little alcove waiting a beat, two. Down one of the other halls she heard the subtle conversation of the historian and security guard in one of the labs. Unsurprising, she’d encouraged a meeting between them last week, prompting a friendship. A small little hack into their lives revealed them both to be bird enthusiasts. A little nudge here and there and they were automatic best friends.

She wished it were that easy for her. Making friends. But what could she do? Tell someone what she really wanted to do was bungee off the Eiffel tower? Break into the Louvre? Steal one of Terrasens national treasures?

No one understood her on that level. Not anymore.

She approached the keypad lock of the safe and set to work.

Elide had worked a system override into the scanner that Celaena smuggled in with her. All she needed to do was hook it up to the safe and let the code do the work. That would take getting a wire into the system. Something that Celaena wasn’t the most comfortable with. Maybe she should have tried the flirting and grifting route…but the client had been clear on the way the job should go. They couldn’t even have a hint of anyone being manipulated and used. Rude, honestly. People were used and coerced every day. Tricking someone into giving her the Ring of Mab didn’t seem so problematic when you really thought about it.

Celaena made contact to the keypad.

Her handheld device ran through a string of numbers and binary as it worked. Gooseflesh rose on her skin, but that was to be expected. Before the Gala, Celaena had made sure the heating system when down to alter the heat sensors readings. It also helped that the sequins of her dress were heat reflective and had been tested to throw off certain sensors.

As she continued to work, Celaena didn’t want to think about how long it had been. Usually she didn’t have to, but in this case, she was on the clock.

Her fingers flew over the screen as she manipulated the numbers just as Elide had taught her. It was simple enough, but if she ran into any walls or blocks, Celaena had no idea what she would do. She knew the basics to get what she needed and wanted on any other job, but the Mortimer?

As her heart pulsed in her throat, Celaena punched in the last sequence she needed.

She couldn’t help but hold her breath as she waited for the system to respond. She was taking too long. She knew she was taking too long. Even with the chill of the room, she could still feel sweat collect along the back of her neck.

And then the cogs began turning.

As the vault swung open on silent hinges, Celaena allowed herself to take a breath. She certainly didn’t get the same charge out of this as Elide. Give her a cocktail and a trust fund baby any day.

She didn’t bother worrying about her fingerprints as she pulled the vault door open further. Those had been burned off as a birthday gift when she was twelve. And consistently afterwards. Eventually most of her prints stopped regenerating and only the pinky finger of her left hand and middle finger of her right were legible. She’d learned to adapt the way she touched and handled things.

Inside, the vault wasn’t as spacious as the movies made scenes like this appear. Even though it was nearly seven feet tall and five feet wide, there were still shelves that lined the walls and smaller casements for various items. Once Celaena entered she felt constricted over the small space. Pushing those sentiments aside, she went straight to the back of the vault where her target was clearly laid out.

The Eye of Elena, to some, was a simple necklace. Easy in design without too many adornments and gems. But the story behind it was what was truly remarkable. Once, it was said to have belonged to an ancient queen who had worn it as a shield of protection and power. This queen lived under many names, many faces, and led to the redemption of her kingdom from invaders. The legends said it was magic and the hand of the gods. Historians said she was a brilliant tactician with skilled generals (while also indicating that there was no way a woman could have accomplished all that she had done). Celaena liked believing in the greater legends.

The glass case of the Eye was what made the Mortimer Wyrdlock so special. It had personalized individual sections for specific items that could be adjusted to various parameters. The sight of the necklace though, sitting on that satin pillow with a gold light shining down on it—it sparked a bit of rage within her. The necklace didn’t belong to the museum and it didn’t even belong to her client.

And here she was stealing it.

The card inside the case indicated the donator it was on loan from. On loan. More like coerced. Everyone felt intitled to something just because it glittered in the light. The original owners had indeed donated it to the museum, with the promise of getting it back. But Celaena had seen the drawn-out documents between lawyers and directors insisting that it belonged to the museum. That the owners had forfeited their rights to the necklace due to the smallest of red tape, coercion. Control. Lies.

The necklace didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Strange to say about a necklace but true none the less.

This case used biometrics to open which was a little tougher to hack, but they’d been prepared for that. It only took a few keystrokes to trick the technology to accept Celaena’s eye scan and the case popped open.

In her comm, Celaena heard a small cough. She rolled her eyes.

“You could have done this yourself, retrieval specialist,” she murmured, knowing the comm could pick up just about any soft-spoken sound she made. “Give me five.”

Nothing on the other line.

Celaena took that as a victory and went to work. Carefully, she opened a small drawstring bag lined with traces of led and dropped it in the necklace. And the card.

She tucked the sachet in a secret pocket along the lining of her dress and replaced the lid. She made her way back out of the vault before pausing at the doorway. She ran her hand along the edge and allowed a little smirk to play on her lips. Her work would run for just a moment longer.

.*.*.

The alarm went off just as Celaena left the archival stairwell. She let the door shut behind her and slipped into the crowd of guests that were being ushered out of the museum. Protocol stated that all guests were subjected to a search before and after leaving. The good thing about being a thief and a grifter? The rules didn’t apply to her.

She ducked into a storage closet just past the Van Goh exhibit to find a duffle bag already waiting for her. Inside was an extra server uniform, pair of black shoes, and a taser. She made the change of clothes quick and smooth, just as she’d practiced. The sachet and necklace went in her bra and the scanner to an ankle holster. Thankfully the uniform dictated flared pants for women and not a skirt.

From there it was easy to blend in with the catering crew and then disappear into the night. Truly, some people were really unobservant.

When she ducked into an alley a few blocks away, it was the first time that Celaena took a breath. A deep breath that filled her lungs. It wasn’t clean or clear, but she was breathing and she was free.

Just thirty yards away waited a plain white van with the decals of a plumbing company. She was about to make her way to it when she heard a scrape come behind her.

Spinning, Celaena’s hand went to the taser in her pocket. She really wanted to tase someone.

“Well done,” a deep voice said from the shadows. “Only took you an hour.”

“You sound surprised,” she replied, fingers still reaching for the taser. “You should know better than to underestimate me.”

It really was insulting when people doubted her…even if most of what anyone knew about her was based on rumor.

The man only hummed in response. He came a few steps closer before stopping. The pale lights of the street lamps barely permeated the night, but it was enough to get a decent look at him. She’d only met him once before, heart rumors of him aside from that. Well, their meeting had been less of a meeting and more of a shower of bullets. She recognized him all the same.

His silver hair, his large build, the sharp angles of his face. Tonight, he wore dress pants and a black shirt rolled to the elbows, leaving powerful forearms on display. He was a force to be reckoned with, a fighter, a killer.

Everything about Rowan Whitethorn screamed danger. Celaena knew better than to trust him. But for this particular job, she wouldn’t regret being selfish.

“Oh, I’m not a fool, Rowan said. He held out a hand. “Which is why I’m here. My necklace?”

Celaena sneered at him. “My payment?”

“Transferred. Don’t you trust me?” He smirked at her, coming just a step closer.

Did he have to be so big? And as much of an asshole as he was?

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“You can check your accounts, it’s all there.” Rowan didn’t look at all worried or concerned over her lack of faith. Instead, he merely waited as she pulled out her phone (which was essentially the scanner she’d used for her thievery) and checked her account as prompted. It was all there. All hundred thousand. She was honestly a little surprised he’d kept his word.

Celaena said nothing as she took the necklace from her bra and walked it toward him.

“Can I know what your plans are for it?” she asked, tone neutral and even.

“No,” he said. He adjusted one of his sleeves, making sure the cuff stayed rolled up properly. “Just know that it’s going to well taken care of. You don’t need to worry.”

Celaena dropped the sachet into Rowan’s hand and he returned the comm she’d given him for the night. “As long as you know about the curse.”

Rowan raised a brow before he opened the bag to peek inside. “Curse?”

“Sure,” she shrugged and took a slow waltz in a circle around him. “The old queen who slaughtered an army who dared try to steal from her? She still haunts that necklace, you know.”

Rowan didn’t bother acknowledging her. He only tucked the necklace in his pocket. “Aren’t you a little old for ghost stories?”

“Nope.”

She stopped in front of him once again and clasped her hands behind her back. “Sleep well, Mr. Whitethorn. I hope your dreams are nightmarish and bloody.”

“Try not to miss me too much,” he said in reply.

Celaena spun on her heel and headed to the van. She didn’t look back until she was already pulling the driver’s door open. When she had settled herself in the driver’s seat and looked through the windshield, the alley was empty.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, certainly smudging any remnants of her make-up, Celaena drew in a deep breath. It had been a long night and was only going to get longer. It didn’t help that she had a massive headache brewing behind her eyes. She waited a few more minutes to make sure the alley was empty before reaching into the other side of her bra, drawing out another black baggie.

Upending the bag, a display card and golden necklace fell into her lap. The necklace she’d given Whitethorn was an exact replica of the original. A damn good replica if her supplier knew what they were doing.

Celaena glanced at the card and made a small promise to herself, and her family. She would get the necklace back to its proper owners. And then maybe she could finally be herself again.

Donated by the Ashryver-Galathynius Family

She ran her nails along her hairline before she tugged the red wig from her head and tossed it to the back of the van just as the passenger door opened.

“Next time I get to break into the fancy safe and do the stealing,” Elide said as she clambered in. She still wore her server’s uniform of white and black, her hair pinned in a tight bun. “I hate people.”

“Sure. Next time.”

“How beautiful was the Mortimer?” Elide asked, a small pout forming on her lips. “Did you see how the wiring connected? How did the scanner do on the hack? Did I program it right?”

“It was big and black and a safe,” Celaena said. She yawned and shook out her blonde hair until it fell around her shoulders. “You took a little longer tripping the alarm then I thought you would.”

Elide pulled a face. “Because I don’t set alarms off. Looks like you tricked the client.”

“For now,” Celaena said. She passed the necklace and her phone to her friend. “Transfer the payment so he can’t take it back when he notices the switch.”

“You think someone can hack an account I set up in the first place?” Elide let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh sweet honey child.”

Celaena rolled her eyes and started the van. “Just do it. Let’s get back to base.”

“Home, it’s your home,” Elide insisted.

Except it wasn’t a home. It hadn’t felt like a home in so long that she wasn’t even sure what the word meant.

“Whatever,” Celaena said.

She pulled out onto the road and began the trek across the city. She made sure they weren’t being tracked or followed, that would put a damper on the evening. She’d rather be across the country before Whitethorn realized she tricked him.

Her plan wasn’t exactly foolproof. Steal a priceless artifact and what? Give it back to the rightful owners? What would they do with it except give it back to the rightful owners who would then be hit with insurance fraud. She’d been impulsive and reckless. Moreso than she usually was.

But she would think about that later. For now, she would just revel in having the necklace in her possession.

*.*.*.*.

Not gonna lie, am really excited about this one! I hope you enjoy it! It'll be three parts total, the other two parts coming on other days during the month. Thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin month #throne of glass #tog #rowan x aelin

47 notes · View notes

gremoria411 · 3 months

Text

My it sure is nice how, because I clearly tag things, tumblr has no problem with finding my old posts, isn’t it?

Sure is great when you want to return to an old topic, you can easily reference an older post, isn’t it?

Anyway, I was thinking about some of my favourite mobile suits recently, and more specifically how they fight.

The Sinanju and Sinanju Stein (strictly speaking that’s unit 2 above, but the Sinanju Stein Unit 1 only shows up physically once anyways, so I tend to conflate the two) from Universal Century, and the Gundams Bael and Zepar from Post Disaster. The Bael and Sinanju’s are thematically and functionally similar, if not so much visually, since they’re piloted by the series resident Char Clones, Full Frontal and Mcgillis Fareed respectively, and thus have a similar fighting style - high mobility and very flashy, typically dodging with minimal effort and taking out scores of foes near-effortlessly. The Sinanju Stein (Unit 2) certainly could fight like that, but its pilot Zoltan Akkanekan is…… not in a great place mentally, and as such he tends to be more brutish, always pushing the attack and closing ranks with his enemy very quickly (we only see him fight once in the Sinanju Stein before it docks with the Neo Zeong II, so it’s possible that his aggression is more due to the enemy being a Gundam, as opposed to any real strategy). The Gundam Zepar we have even less information on, but since we know both that it doesn’t have any ranged weaponry, and that most of the emphasis seems to be on the shield, we can guess it would want to get close fairly quickly, and would be well-prepared for a reprisal.

And this reminded me of something I mentioned previously when discussing non-Gundam Mecha series - I like when we know the “thesis” of the mecha. I like when we know why they were built and what the in-universe theory was in their construction (Or at the very least, we can guess, as with The Big O). It makes the world feel realer to me, and don’t get me wrong, I love giant robots, but it feels wonderfully cohesive when there’s an in-universe justification. I don’t typically forget the out-of-universe justification “to sell toys” but it feels less “Johnson, quarterly earnings aren’t looking good, make a property we can merchandise things out of” and more “Hey, this guy’s got an idea for a cool show about robots, maybe there’ll be a market for cool toys there?”.

Weird tangent on the relationship between entertainment and merchandising aside, I like Universal Century because it’s got a strong “thesis” - mobile suits were designed primarily as an anti-ship weapon that would engage at visual range, due to the effects of Minovsky particles rendering most long-range weapons difficult to aim. They’re fast, and carry handheld weaponry both for ease of use, maintenance and operability and they’re an extension of “armoured space suits”. There’s even the military angle of “a secret weapon to to win us the war against a foe that could beat us conventionally”, and I’d assumed that, with a few exceptions like Wing and G Gundam, most of Gundam followed that same thesis.

However, I realised that’s perhaps not quite true with Iron-Blooded Orphans (or at least it’d be interesting to consider why it might not be true). The above graph is an illustration of the breakdown of forces used in the calamity war, and how they were deployed depending on the field. Quote: The unit formation deployed against the mobile armors depended on where the battlefield was. On Earth and Mars, the Gundam Frames served as the main fighting units, and they destroyed the mobile armors one by one with assistance from other mobile suits and supporting units. In space, the Dáinsleifs were used as the main weapon, and were assisted by mobile suits, including Gundam Frames, and other supporting units. On the Moon, mobile suit teams like the one deployed on Earth and Mars were also used in addition to the aforementioned use of the Dáinsleif.

So I got to wondering if Post Disaster (or I guess Current Disaster) mobile suits had a different development ethos, since they were deployed largely terrestrially.

Mobile suits were only used during the Middle and Late stages of the war, which implies they were developed during it. The above Rodi and Hexa Frames were developed first, with the Gundam And Valkyrja Frames following in the later stages of the War. It’s also stated that, quote: The beginning of the Calamity War was the result of AI-equipped, self-sustaining weapon systems going out of control. Before the outbreak of the Calamity War, automated machinery was a symbol of wealth and abundance, and humans were actively promoting the automation of wars. With the risk of losing valuable soldiers reduced as the weapons were AI operated, and the introduction of the semi-permanent Ahab Reactor as a power source, mobile armors became the ideal weapon that can fight efficiently and persistently. So, it’s possible that after the Mobile Armours were unleashed, there was a rush to adapt previously autonomous weaponry into something human-controlled, with the Rodi and Hexa Frames representing these early steps. Furthermore, it’s stated that Mobile Armours acquired Nanolaminate Armour, so beam weaponry would presumably have been used in the early stages of the war.

So, could Mobile Suits in IBO be autonomous weaponry adapted for human use, as opposed to the Universal Century’s “Armoured Space Suits” line of thinking? We know that Alaya-Vijinana works best with forms closer to the human form - hence the Gundam Frames being constructed as close to the human form as possible. Another angle might be that of upsized Knights, here to slay the mechanical monsters that threaten humanity.

So it’s an interesting angle compared between the series - in one, mobile suits were built for wars in space, fought between nations. In the other, mobile suits were built to be used terrestrially, in response the threat of extinction by mechanical foes humanity unwittingly unleashed upon itself.

(Also, it’s interesting to look at how common mobile armours and automated weaponry were in the pre-post disaster setting, since I just imagine Treize Kushrenada from Gundam Wing being distinctly unhappy)

#gundam #ramblings #gundam ibo #gundam iron blooded orphans #mobile suit gundam #iron blooded orphans #mobile armour #universal century #post disaster #Zaku II Early Type #Sinanju #Sinanju Stein #Gundam Bael #Gundam Zepar #Calamity War #Yes I did partially make this post because I wanted to use the Zaku II early type graphic again #love that thing

35 notes · View notes

mynamesaplant · 8 months

Text

Friendship Smells like Pizza and Laundry Detergent

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

Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

Japanese is not my native language, so if I've made any errors please let me know. Also, I'm sorry for the phonetic spelling for Clay in advance.

Don't like to read on Tumblr? Read it here on AO3.

Enjoy!~

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

Tonight was the night.

Elesa was coming over for a sleep over.

Drayden would have found it amusing that his nephews were running all around his house preparing for their friend’s arrival, but they were quite particular about how they wanted the house to look, and it was turning his house upside down. Already the linen cupboard and beds were ransacked for every sheet, blanket, comforter, and pillow that he owned. All around him, the boys meticulously constructed a pillow fort, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body to ask them not to make such a mess of his living room.

He sucked it up. They were excited their friend was coming over – their only friend.

Listening to Ingo’s meandering request to have their friend over for a sleep over, Drayden could tell this meant a lot to them. Even Emmet, who was hard pressed to pipe up his opinions to him was bobbing his head along in time with his brother’s speech and offered stilted yeps to emphasize his brother’s points, eyes glittering with such hope that it physically pained the Dragon master to say no.

“Verrrrry good!”

Emmet chirped, crawling out by the tv, which also had a sheet over it. They had tried to put a quilt over it and Drayden pointedly told them no. Although not the newest model by a long shot (he hadn’t been able to be as frivolous with his money since his nephews had been dumped come to live with him), he didn’t want to risk the television falling over and breaking, or worse injuring one of the kids. Emmet and Ingo were exceedingly careful with everything in the house, they treated everything like glass with a steady mantra of ‘safety first’ that he was sure would be seared into his brain for the remainder of his days.

With this one exception, the twins frequently kept to themselves and their own possessions, either roaming his property, Anville Town, or in the woods just outside town. This brief and altogether understandable lapse of judgement Drayden could overlook – just this once.

“Ingo, are the snacks secured?”

“Affirmative!”

Ingo moved into his periphery with an armload of bags, ducking beneath the patchwork fort to deposit them, and the other was bouncing on the balls of his feet, working out his excitement through movement. Drayden watched this all go down from his armchair that he had dragged out of the way for them to build, steely eyes glancing over the top of his drooping newspaper every so often. The boys surveyed their work, beaming in their own ways at the admittedly impressive arrangement.

“Please try not to spill anything on to the carpet.”

Their uncle rumbled and they both assured him that that would not happen. They had already planned for any accidents by retrieving a towel and handheld vacuum to clean up any messes that were inadvertently created.

“We shan’t.”

Ingo promised and Drayden grumbled something unintelligible behind the rag, staring at the same article he’d been reading about the delays for the new rail lines out of Nimbasa. Something about permits and a minor scandal with the head of transportation using Pokémon laborers that weren’t native to Unova.

Warm weight settled against his legs and Drayden lowered the paper to his lap, narrowly avoiding Emmet and Ingo as they stared up at him. He braces himself because he knows this look – although it was not presented in this double whammy form – and it usually came with an out of the ordinary request.

“Yes?”

“We would like to request three pizzas tonight because we are not sure if Elesa will like the toppings we like.”

Drayden had to bite his tongue because nobody liked the toppings the twins liked. Most children didn’t like white pizza with broccoli or Alolan style – but Emmet and Ingo did.

“You’re not going to eat three pizzas worth of pizza. It’s bad for you.” Not to mention all the junk food that they bought in preparation for the sleepover. They’re kids Drayden, he told himself, they’re excited and their eyes are literally bigger than their stomachs in this case.

Compromise.

“I’ll get you some personal pizzas. How does that sound?”

They looked positively ecstatic.

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

The bedraggled looking man who escorted his young daughter to his door had a glassy look to his eyes, waving to his daughter as she offered Drayden a polite bow and foreign greeting to Drayden before tearing over to Emmet and Ingo. Her Blitzle tottered in after her cautiously with a red backpack draped over the Pokémon’s back. If Drayden had to guess from the flared nostrils and the darting eyes, the small equine creature could smell the Druddigon lurking in his room on the second floor and was nervous. His Druddigon was too well trained to attack, but smaller Pokémon tended to get nervous around most dragons.

“Thank you for having my daughter over.”

Drayden had almost forgotten the man was there, so small and quiet as to be completely unnoticeable. His voice was flat, almost toneless, which reminded Drayden of Emmet, who had a hard time conveying his emotion through his words unlike his brother. This man sounded exhausted.

“Sure…”

There was an uncomfortable pause as the man blinked at him, Drayden almost thought he wouldn’t supply his name – instead, just pass out in his doorway.

“Rin Kamitsure.”

“Drayden Gray.”

Rin’s torso was already bending forward, clearly a reflex he had developed from a lifetime of practice before he jerked to a stop. His arm lurched up, perfectly straight to the point of looking uncomfortable, holding out his hand and staring expectantly for Drayden to take it.

The handshake was cold, absolutely nothing friendly to the stiff fingers, and went on for far too long, neither of them seemed capable of breaking the shake first.

“さようならお父さん.”

Rin’s daughter’s voice sounded flinty, almost as though she was annoyed that he was still there. If her father noticed the chill to her voice, he didn’t acknowledge it, although Drayden guessed he most certainly did not from the slow way he let go of the Dragon master’s hand.

“Bye Ellie.”

He nodded to Drayden and trudged back up the walkway and down the street. When he turned around to face the children, Emmet and Ingo were thumbing through some books while the girl scribbled feverishly on a whiteboard. With her tongue stuck between her teeth, she was scribbling symbols that were unfamiliar to Drayden with careful strokes of the marker before her hands moved in a flurry before her. That he recognized as sign. The boys had been practicing together. This girl must have been the reason.

The signing was actually helping his nephews a lot, each had their own unique challenges with how they communicated with the world around them, and signing was helping them bring a different option for verbalizing their thoughts and feelings. Emmet in particular was fast to pick it up, his lack of inflection was made up for by his expressive features, which helped emphasis his signing. Ingo’s language was emotional from the word go, but his face was like stone, that’s where his gesticulations and other body language helped him articulate his sign better.

Drayden never could read either unless they told him how they felt. It also didn’t help that the brothers were so in sync with one another that they often left their uncle metaphorically scrambling to catch up to understand them.

“Oh! Elesa, you must meet our uncle.” Ingo insisted, ushering her over to him where she bowed again. Her face scrunched and she glanced toward his nephews, Emmet silently mouthing the words ‘hello sir’ while Ingo announced that this was their goof friend Elesa. “She moved here recently with her father from Sinnoh.”

“Hello… sir?”

She said slowly, watching Emmet mouth the words one more time, before looking up at Drayden. Most children found him intimidating between his stature and inscrutable expression, but this little girl looked him in the eye with nothing short of fierce determination. She refused to be intimidated. That made him smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

Ingo frantically flipped through the pages of the book still in his hand and squinted at the page – dear Reshiram, was Ingo going to need glasses soon? Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things he didn’t sign up for but found himself doing. The text was inches from his nose,

“はじめまして.”

It must have been a translation into Kantonese and Elesa gingerly corrected his pronunciation. Drayden had prepared to get virtually no sleep tonight because the kids would be loud, but it appeared he had nothing to worry about.

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

Their uncle said he would be in his study if they needed anything after ordering their pizzas for the kids and Bouffalant burger for himself. He handed Ingo some money to tip the driver and reiterated to be careful with any food and drinks on the carpet.

Ingo offered him a smile, something that made Drayden’s heart warm a little because that did not always sync up properly with his eyes to make the expression seem so genuine. He truly wished he felt that way more often, but that kernel of resentment he felt for Kaita and Lucielle – especially Kaita. His sister all but dumped her sons on him, their parents too elderly to look after them and Lucielle’s father rendered incapable of care due to dementia.

His burgeoning career nearly came to a screeching halt when Emmet and Ingo were unceremoniously dropped into his life, Drayden was lucky he had such good friends like Clay and Lenora who offered him endless support and advice.

------

“s’not their fault, ye can’t blame ‘em fer what their mas did.”

Clay had told him, taking a long pull on his cigar just as Drayden stamped out his half-smoked cigarette. A habit he had only recently picked up and was not trying too hard to quit. The clove scented smoke soothed his nerves like nothing else could these days.

“Be patient. Kids like them can have a hard time expressing themselves.”

Lenora advised when Drayden came to her with the twins’ charts, panicked because he wasn’t sure he would be able to sufficiently take care of children like Emmet and Ingo. Audiobook and podcast recommendations always arrived in his emails when he felt the weight of the situation suffocating him.

------

He was glad he listened to her because they had bloomed into such wonderful boys.

Although that bitterness was still rooted in his heart, he did his very best to never expose it to Emmet and Ingo, because they had done nothing to earn his ire. It shamed Drayden to no end that sometimes it did come out in the form of hands-off parenting, in his absence where his nephews needed a parent (one which he was never quite prepared to be).

Drayden did the unthinkable and lightly tousled Ingo’s hair, reminding him to get the door when the delivery driver came, and to give the driver their tip. When he removed his hands, Ingo’s eyes were round and shining, his mouth was slightly open as he looked up at his uncle. His nephew managed a nod, lifting his hands to pat his hair, and slowly made his way back to his brother and their friend.

About thirty minutes later their pizzas arrived and all three kids pelted toward the door, lurking just over Ingo’s shoulder like hungry Sharpedo in anticipation. A chorus of ‘thank yous’ sent the delivery driver on her way, grinning a little at the kids as the door closed. With the personal pizzas divvied up properly, the trio clambered into the fort and settled in for the preselected documentary.

Tynamo and Blitzle were under there, already snoozing as the kids ate and watched the screen transfixed with the visuals. Emmet and Ingo had selected a documentary about Unova, selecting Kantonese subtitles for Elesa so she didn’t have to rely on the audio. Although it wasn’t their preference – that was reserved for trains and professional battling – the boys chose this documentary to help acquaint Elesa to the unfamiliar region she found herself in. She didn’t really seem to have an interest in Unova at all, so they wanted to change that.

To them, Unova was the most beautiful place in the whole world, but admittedly, they hadn’t been to many places. Galar sounded amazing, but Emmet and Ingo had to acknowledge that they were biased because there were just so many trains there – so it had to be amazing, right?

They had come to love Unova through the pictures and trinkets that their mothers sent to them. Glass paperweights that contained stylized Frillish suspended in a permanent bubble from Humilau. Frayed ticket stubs from the sports arenas in Nimbasa. Luminous crystals that refracted a thousand tiny rainbows, and still contained a little bit of static hidden in their crystalline depths, from Chargestone Cavern. Pressed flowers and leaves that still smelled as fresh as the day they were picked from Pinwheel Forest. Vibrant, but uncomfortable t-shirts advertising the famous Casteliacone alongside the stand’s Vanilluxe mascot, Mochi.

But their most prized possession? Two slightly tarnished, golden subway tokens with a stamp of the front of Gear Station on one side and the NTA symbol on the other. The transit system operated on automated cards and scanners and digital tickets nowadays, but these? These things were ancient. Mom had found them and sent them back with burgundy lipstick smudged at the bottom by their names.

Found in an antique shop a few blocks from the station. A set soon to follow, my loves.

The train set had never come, so Emmet and Ingo learned to be satisfied with the tokens.

“エモンガ?”

Elesa jerked forward with her eyes wide while she gesticulated at the screen with a ferocity that made the Pokémon wake with a start. Blitzle nickered softly, stretching his neck to rest on Elesa’s knee and nuzzling her skirt until her hand came to stroke his flank absently. Tynamo flitted over to Emmet, tucking himself into the loose collar of his trainer’s sweater and buzzing Emmet with a faint electrical charge.

A pair of Emolga were skittering across the screen; chittering and squeaking while they darted through the trees of Lostlorn Forest without a care in the world at the humans filming them. The next shot cut to two males with their hackles raised and massive incisors displayed in their yawning maws, the smaller one was getting bullied out of the other male’s territory. Another shot took the documentary to a whole tree hollow full of feathery down, fur, leaves, and dry grass with small, glittering black Emolga eyes blinking back at the lens.

Elesa covered her mouth to stifle a little noise of adoration, unwittingly leaning forward with undisguised interest at the flying squirrels that plagued the whole of Unova. Emolga were few and far between in Anville Town compared to the rest of the region, they were more at home in the trees, which their hometown lacked to accommodate the rail yard and its acres of track.

“I… love…”

Elesa said the words slowly, feeling how the Galarian syllables felt in her mouth. It sounded like such a mouth full compared to 好きだ. The name of the Pokémon sat fresh in her mind as she watched them on the screen, so carefree and happy that it made her smile softly with a fondness she thought she only held for Pachirisu.

“エモンガ. Eh- what… is エモンガ?”

Emmet and Ingo exchanged looks, although they didn’t understand Kantonese, and they were at times hard pressed to understand other people’s thoughts and feelings, Elesa was telegraphing all they needed to know with how her blue eyes stared with longing at the screen.

“Emolga.”

Emmet said slowly and watched Elesa incline her head, acknowledging that she had heard him but not looking his way.

“Emolga…”

She repeated the word, drawing out each sound as she heard it from Emmet’s lips. They sat in silence for a moment, the documentary had moved on to Venipedes and their natural instinct to curl up when in danger.

“They’re delightful little scamps.”

Ingo finally said, putting down his slice of pizza on a neat square of paper towel and scratching his cheek, hesitating on even bringing it up when Emmet piped up.

“Mom has one. Her name is Daisy. She likes to groom mom’s Stoutland’s coat. Brutus likes that verrrrry much.”

Ingo pursed his lips, balling his hands up in his lap, waiting for the question that inevitably came up when anyone heard about their mothers. Uncle Drayden rarely spoke about them, only passing off the mail that one or both had sent to their sons. People were curious to say the least when Drayden suddenly had two boys in his home and when their guardian didn’t satisfy their curiosity, it meant Emmet and Ingo were often asked directly.

“Where are your mothers?”

Emmet would stare at the ground, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands, and Ingo would go unusually quiet, fumbling for words because he didn’t know what to say. Their mothers dropped them off here one day and they hadn’t seen them since, plenty of letters and trinkets, but never their mothers.

They didn’t know why. They tried to be good kids. They tried to be the best kids. They got good grades. They never caused trouble. They always did their chores and took care of the Pokémon.

It must not have been enough for them to stay.

Emmet shifted on the spot, tapping his nails against the plastic cup to fill the silence, and wordlessly murmuring something under his breath. Ingo knew it was the train schedules in and out of the rail yard. Emmet recited them when he said or did something that he didn’t realize was uncomfortable.

If Elesa noticed the weird pause, she didn’t mention anything, but she did say,

“I… want… one. Emolga.”

The moment of tension passed, and the twins felt like they could breathe again. They didn’t know that Elesa felt those same things about parents and had just as hard of a time putting those feelings into words. For now, they didn’t have to talk about it. They didn’t have to do anything, but sit back, eat pizza, and go to sleep late into the night in a castle of blankets that smelled like fresh laundry detergent.

“Have no fear! We will locate a nest and you can catch as many Emolga as you want.”

“Yep yep! A whole team!”

Elesa caught maybe every other word, but her mouth curled and her eyes crinkled at the excited murmurings of her two friends.

#pokemon #submas #nimbasa trio #pkmn #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction #i think this is the biggest departure i took from critter's work?#idk i was just thinking about drayden and the other adults #thanks for reading!

70 notes · View notes

rhaenyratargcryen · 2 years

Text

the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you (eddie munson)

masterlist ❈

summary: you find your parents' old camcorder in the attic while helping them clean out some of your childhood things. they let you have it - and you immediately take it over to eddie's place. author's note: the original a/n from MONTHS ago on this was ‘this is quite literally the smuttiest thing i have ever written in my life and i need y’all not to look at me differently after you read it okay please thank you’ can you imagine if i had known then what i know now...rip finished this puppy up in front of a youtube video of a fireplace with a playlist of hozier’s sexiest songs going if that tells you anything about the vibe !!!! also handheld camcorders were invented in the early 80s but don’t ask me the timing of nothin for one to be considered ‘old’ in this LMAO this is all vibes nothing has to make sense!!!

also, pee after sex, dweebs

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader word count: 4,444 (cwaaazy) warnings: pwp, alternate universe: canon divergence, no spoilers, if you are a minor avert your eyes or i will avert them for you

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this

You can’t wait to show Eddie what you had found.

Palming the camcorder, you ease yourself out of the driver’s seat of your car and slam the door, trudging up the front steps to the trailer and stopping directly under the porch light. Three quick knocks to the storm door and you hear the recliner in the living room squeak, the footsteps of whoever had risen now walking across to let you in. The door to the Munsons’ trailer opens, a familiar face waiting on the other side.

“Hey, darlin’,” Wayne says, smiling at you. He opens up and steps back to make room for you in the doorway. “I was just gettin’ ready to leave. He’s in his room, come on in.”

“Thanks, Wayne,” you say, squeezing his arm and slipping past him.

“What’ve you got there?”

You glance down at the camera, holding it up between the two of you so he can get a better look at it.

“I found it in my parents’ attic. They used it for, like, one family vacation a few years ago, then got sick of it. I was thinking Eddie and I could record some videos of him playing covers on his guitar, somethin’ like that.”

Wayne nods but doesn’t comment further, only smiles that barely-there smile of his and tells you there’s a few frozen meals for you and Eddie to pick from, help yourself to anything, what’s ours is yours, you know that, and to be good, before he walks out the front door and locks it behind him.

You practically skip down the hall and into Eddie’s room without knocking, and he yelps, sitting up abruptly. He’d been laying on his bed smoking a blunt, knees bent and one leg tossed over the other, swinging to the tune of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Rebel.”

“Wayne let me in. He just left for work.”

“God, knock much? I’m indecent!” Eddie scoffs, the joint hanging from his mouth while he talks.

You eye his shirtless form, the way his shorts have ridden up on his thighs, and snort, shutting the door behind you. You close the distance between the two of you and lean down until your face is level with his. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, Munson.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at you and pulls the blunt from his mouth, pressing a sweet kiss to yours before rising and making his way over to his turntable to switch out the record from Ozzy Osbourne’s Bark At The Moon - his favorite - to Songs From The Big Chair - your favorite - and turn the volume down significantly, too. You watch him, the way the muscles in his back shift when he leans over to put the Ozzy record back in its place in his record bin, his soft, messy hair falling over his shoulders in a way that makes you want to pull it all back into your hands and kiss him dizzy.

“You’re starin’, sweetheart,” Eddie says, looking over his shoulder at you and smirking. He ashes and then drops the joint on a nearby plate.

You shrug, but the twin smile on your face betrays you. “You’re indecent.”

Eddie snorts and walks over to wrap his arms around your middle, the opening to “Shout” playing softly. He kisses you gently for only a moment before pulling away, face splitting into a grin when you bring one hand up to push his beautiful hair back from his beautiful face.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you mutter, smiling back at him, your eyes roving over the freckled planes of his face. You feel your stomach dip, the familiar ache in your chest that comes every time you think about how much you love him. You can’t help it; you’d missed him, despite the fact that you’d seen him just the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. The amount of relief you feel to be back in his arms after only a short time away from him is kind of embarrassing, honestly.

“What’s this?” He purses his lips and his gaze falls from your eyes to your mouth, then down to the camcorder you’re still holding in your left hand. You watch his face and hold it up a little higher.

Eddie takes it from you and steps back a couple paces, as far away from you as he can get in his shoebox bedroom. He opens the deck of the camcorder and smiles when he sees it’s not empty.

“This tape blank?”

You nod and twist your hands together in front of you, your face slightly flushed, watching him push the deck back into place and inspect the camera more closely. The smile on his face turns into a smirk and he looks back up at you with a shake of his head, squinting slightly.

“What are you thinking we do with this, baby?”

“Dunno,” you murmur, closing the distance between the two of you again. You put your hands on his sides, rubbing your fingers along his hip bones, exposed where his shorts are riding low around his waist. “Was thinking maybe we could put on a show?”

Eddie’s face flushes and his head falls back slightly, his exposed throat bobbing when he swallows. “You’re serious?”

Nodding, you press forward and hook your fingers into his waistband, slotting your mouth against the hollow of his neck gently.

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie groans, leaning back and capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one big hand cupping your cheek and the other hooking around you, the camera still secured in its grip. He pulls away and shakes his head at you incredulously, then repeats, “Fuck.”

You grin at him and let him pull you in again to press his forehead against yours before releasing you.

“Here, we can, uh,” he says, looking around the room frantically. He holds up one finger, then hands you the camera. “Hold that thought.”

Eddie pulls open his bedroom door and rushes out into the hallway, returning just as quickly with one of the folding metal chairs Wayne keeps in the living room in his hand. You watch as he sets it up at the end of his bed, then spins around to grab a couple of the books that he keeps on his bedside table, setting them on the chair until the stack is level with the height of his mattress.

You get the general idea of what he’s trying to do, so you walk the camcorder over to him and turn it on, handing it to him when it powers up, and he immediately turns it on you.

“Smile, sweetheart,” Eddie says, and you laugh and hide your blushing face behind your fingers. He brings one of his hands up in front of the camera to wrench yours down, capturing the arousal and nerves painted across your face, then turns it on himself and sticks his tongue out. “Let the fun begin.”

Eddie bumps his hip against yours and you move closer to the end of the mattress, watching him set the camera up so that the lens is angled right towards the head of his bed. He turns and pulls you to him so that the two of you are in front of the camcorder, easing his face forward until it’s inches from yours.

“Put on a show, yeah?” Eddie smiles against your mouth, pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb in order to angle your face up slightly. You nod, brushing your mouth against his gently before moving to press kisses against his jaw and up to the spot right under his ear that drives him crazy. Eddie groans and you giggle, biting at his skin slightly, when he squeezes the tops of your arms in protest.

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, baby.”

Eddie slides his hands down the length of you, pops the button on your jeans, and then grips the fly, inching it down slowly. You wrinkle your nose at him and he shakes his head, muttering, “Patience,” when you reach a hand down to try and unzip your jeans without his help. He tugs at it gently, pulling your hips closer to him, before undoing it all the way and gripping your ass under your jeans, pushing them off of you until they pool at your ankles.

Pausing for a moment, your boyfriend angles his head in the direction of the speakers mounted above his bed frame. “Are there bagpipes in this song?”

You laugh at him, lean your forehead down to press against his shoulder.

“Seriously, how have I never noticed that before?”

You shrug, open your mouth to tease him for it, then squeal when he turns you around abruptly so that your back is to the camera. Eddie squeezes your ass once before giving you a hand and helping you step out of your jeans.

Eddie backs away from you and sits down on the very edge of his bed, then pushes himself until his back is pressed against the headboard. The heady look he gives you, patting the bed right in front of his lap, has the butterflies in your stomach inching even lower. He leans his head back and looks up at you from under half-closed eyelids. “Come take a seat, baby.”

You hesitate only briefly before you begin inching toward him, crawling across the bed when your knees finally hit it. Eddie grabs your waist when you get close enough and helps you maneuver to seat yourself right in front of him, your back pressed to his chest. You can feel the warmth of his bare skin through your thin tee, a flush creeping up the back of your neck.

“Looks like we’re framed perfectly,” Eddie says, smirking, right against your ear. You glance up at the mirrored lens of the camcorder and find that Eddie’s positioned it so that the two of you are visible, but only from your chin down. He brings one hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to the side of your head, the other hand coming to sit on your thigh. “You look so good, sweetheart. Can you spread your legs a little for me?”

You nod and let him gently push your knees apart so they’re flush against his legs. He starts to trace lazy circles onto your inner thigh and brings the other hand up to push your tee shirt up and over your tits.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, cupping one breast and kneading it, watching as your chest stutters on an exhale when he pinches your nipple between two fingers. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Eddie continues to roll your nipple, his other hand pulling up to slide along the hem of your underwear, and you settle back further against him, exhaling slowly through your nose.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie breathes, kissing the side of your head again. His voice is so soft that you wonder if you’d know what he was saying if you couldn’t feel his breath against you. “Relax.”

You smile while Eddie continues to trace the skin of your stomach, dipping every few seconds just under your panties, enough to make you clench with want, before pulling his fingers back out, laughing when you whine softly every time. He works you up until your cheeks are rosy hot with want, and you feel him smirk against your hair.

“Eddie,” you breathe, practically begging him to do something, anything, so he finally, finally, dips his hand lower, until he’s cupping your warm cunt through your cotton panties. You bring your hand up to grip his forearm, squeezing when he starts to move his hand in slow circles.

“Patience, baby,” Eddie reminds you, adjusting the two of you so you’re leaning back a little further. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Okay,” you agree, your head rolling to the side, eyes closing when you feel your cheek press against the bare skin of Eddie’s bicep. He continues his ministrations, watching the rise and fall of your bare chest eagerly, your shirt having ridden up under your chin.

“Should we get this off of you?” Eddie asks. You nod and lean forward just far enough to allow him to remove the offending garment, the tips of his fingers grazing against your bare skin in the process.

As soon as he has it off, he cups your cheek and turns your face so that he can angle his upward to capture your lips in a sweet, slow, lazy kiss. You hum into his mouth, the combination of sensations - his hand between your thighs and his tongue sliding against yours - enough to overwhelm you. When you pull away from his kiss and lean back against him, your bare skin rubs against his, and you shut your eyes at the feeling.

His fingers continue to work at you over your panties until you’ve devolved into a writhing, sighing mess, soaked through the fabric of your underwear and so, so sensitive to his touch. You hardly remember the camera is there, but Eddie does, widening the circles he’s making over you until even you can hear how wet you are. After a moment, he eases his hand up and under the front band of them.

“Can I take these off, too?”

“Please,” you murmur, and before you’ve even gotten out the full word Eddie is pushing his fingers further into them and pulling them straight off, tossing them to the floor. He spreads you wider than you were before, easing you even further down his chest, this time bringing both hands down to tease at your cunt.

Eddie clicks his tongue, breathing in deeply through his nose, then pushes two fingers through your slit to tease at your entrance.

Eddie’s hand leaves your cunt and you whine softly, but then he’s pressing them against your mouth to get you to open wide. You part your lips just enough for him to slide two fingers onto your tongue and push down onto it. You moan around the digits as he slides them in and out of your mouth once, twice, before pulling them out and bringing them right back down between your thighs.

“So wet,” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly, his cheek on top of your head, staring down at where his fingers disappear between your thighs. He groans at the way your skin already glistens. “This all for me?”

One of his hands is teasing your thigh, while the first two fingers on the other circle your clit, not quite making contact, but the ghost of his touch is enough for you. You try to remember a time you’ve ever felt so…pliant, and your eyes flutter shut. “All for you,” you say, nodding, head loose on top of your neck, “mhm.”

Your cunt makes an obscene noise when he finally slips a finger in, and Eddie groans and leans his forehead against the back of your neck. “God, I hope the camera picked that up. Gonna be getting off to that sound until I die.”

You squirm a little at his words and clench around his fingers. Eddie lets out a breathy laugh.

“You like it when I talk to you like that, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you pant, leaning your head back and angling your mouth towards Eddie. He obliges you with a smirk and presses his lips to yours, letting you slip your tongue into his mouth. You whine against him and he pulls away.

“You like when I tell you how pretty your pussy sounds?”

You bite your lip and nod, and Eddie chuckles again. His finger presses upward until he feels your thighs tighten around his wrist, your hips working themselves down into the mattress. “Eddie, please, yes, just like that, fuck.”

“Fuck,” he echoes, letting out a breathy moan of his own, “you sound so fucked out already, baby, I love you.”

Eddie presses his mouth to your shoulder and dips another finger inside of you, biting down on your soft skin when you cry out. You wriggle your hips, bring one hand up to grasp his bicep and let out a breathy moan when he begins to curl his fingers in and out of you. Eddie runs the first finger on his free hand through your slick and sets a gentle pace rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

“God, you’re so wet, baby, did I really make you this wet?” You don’t answer him right away, so Eddie pulls his fingers out of you and gives you one light slap on your soft, aching cunt. You gasp, hips canting forward when he does it again. He swiftly replaces his fingers, pressing them back inside of you, soothing the sting.

A few moments pass with only the sound of your labored breathing and Eddie’s fingers easing in and out of you breaching the otherwise silent air of the room. You start to tremble a bit under his touch, a slight sheen of sweat coating your forehead.

“That feel good, baby? Huh?” Eddie coos, watching your hips roll against his fingers, pushing upward into his hand so he grazes that spot inside of you that has your eyes fading backwards into your head.

“Yes, Eddie, fuck, it feels so good. Please, please, Eddie, please,” you huff, his fingers stretching you out, the tips of the fingers on his other hand circling your clit, and he smirks.

“Please what, baby?”

“I’m - fuck.”

Your head is spinning and the thoughts you’re trying to muster are starting to collide with one another, making it impossible for anything coherent to come out of your mouth, and he starts to laugh when he realizes that you’re –

“Are you coming already?”

You cry out, your thighs shaking around him. He laughs, again, right into your ear, the feel of his breath against your already-sensitive skin causing your back to arch taut against his front. “I’ve been touching you for ten minutes, if that, and you’re coming already? My needy girl.”

He stops his movements and you think that you could cry, right about then. You think you could hit him. “God, can’t have you coming that fast.”

Your thighs press together around his wrist, but he doesn’t budge. “Please, baby, please don’t stop, I’m s-so close, I–”

Eddie clicks his tongue, smiles against the side of your face. “Well, angel, since you asked so nicely–”

And then he’s moving again, both fingers shoved inside of you as far as he can reach, fucking you as fast as he can, pressed right up against the spot that makes you scream.

You gasp and see stars, you start to come so hard, and now you’re begging him to stop touching you, to stop, stop, “Eddie, it’s too much, please,” and even when you collapse back against him, he doesn’t.

Eddie’s unrelenting, and when you move your hand down to try to pull his from between your legs, he grasps your forearm and tuts. “Do that again and I won’t touch you for a month.”

You huff a sigh and pull your hand away, easing it under your thigh for good measure. Eddie snorts and murmurs, “Good girl,” before getting back to it, quickly working you into another orgasm, which has you writhing and crying out, whining so loud that he thinks about stuffing your underwear in your mouth so his neighbors don’t call the cops.

Even then his hands don’t stop their torment.

“Give me one more, baby,” Eddie murmurs. Your head is tucked under his chin, your back pressed flush to his chest. Eddie can feel your hair where it’s starting to stick to his neck.

“Can’t,” you cry, your thighs tensing the more pressure he puts on your clit, so hard they’re almost cramping.

Eddie shakes his head, mussing the hair at the top of yours. “Yes, you can. Know you can. Come on, sweetheart, you want to come for me again, don’t you? I want you to come again, don’t you love to give me what I want?”

He knows that’s your kryptonite. You always want to give him what he wants, and you can feel how much it turns him on pressing into you. He hesitates for a moment when you fall uncharacteristically silent, and he worries he’s pushing you too far, but then you reach one hand up behind your head, fist clenching in his hair, and turn to look at him.

“I wanna come on your cock, Eddie,” you whisper, tears in your eyes, and you sigh when you feel a groan rumble through his chest, feel him twitch against your back. You take that as your sign to shift forward, and Eddie lifts your hips, guides you onto your stomach, until your face is pressed into the end of the mattress.

You can hear him fumbling with his sweat shorts, so you push your hips back towards him until you feel his hard cock pressed up against your cunt. Eddie gasps at the feeling, grips your waist with both hands and edges forward, bringing one hand down to guide the tip of himself into you if only slightly.

“This okay, sweet thing?”

You nod, and Eddie leans forward to gather a fistful of your hair, careful to keep his hips from canting forward into your heat. His lips press against the shell of your ear. “Gotta use your words for me, baby.”

“Yes, it’s okay,” you whimper, and he leans even further down to press a kiss against the side of your head in thanks, tugs lightly on your hair until you cry out, but not in pain.

Biting down on your shoulder just harshly enough to have you hissing at the ache, the memory of his teeth against the same skin earlier almost overwhelming, Eddie pushes his hips forward. The hot pressure of his cock dragging inside of you until he’s fully seated, his pelvis firm against the swell of your ass, has him fisting the sheets below you, eyes rolling backward into his head. He groans, then laughs softly into the side of your neck.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. Grippin’ me nice an’ tight.” Eddie’s voice is breathy, his words slurring, almost, at the feel of you clenched like a vice around him. He gives a few tentative, shallow thrusts, and you’re so sensitive, thighs trembling, that your own hips press forward into the mattress in an attempt to escape him.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, hm? Thought you wanted to come on my cock,” Eddie whispers, letting go of your hair and winding his arm around your waist, holding you in place.

“I do, Eddie, please, and I – fuck,” you whisper, turning your head to the side to breathe deeply through your nose when he starts to pick up his pace. He’s bottoming out inside of you each time, his thrusts not fast or harsh enough to hurt, but enough to know it could. It feels so good. “Eddie, come inside me, baby, please, I need it.”

Eddie groans, long and thick, in response, using one knee to knock yours out further so he’s able to thrust into you what feels like even deeper than before, if that’s possible. The noises coming out of you aren’t moans at this point; just the air being pushed out of your lungs as he fucks you so hard you think you might break, and Eddie’s making up for it by whispering the filthiest things you’ve ever heard in your life right into your ear.

“You good, baby? Hm? God, what, am I fucking you so good you can’t even tell me how it feels? Fuck, sweet girl, are you gonna come for me again? Gonna come on my cock?”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your third orgasm of the night sneaks up on you, a fire consuming you from the inside out. Eddie grunts out, “Fuck, your cunt,” then huffs out a whine and spills inside of you, his chest pressed flat against your back. You both lie still for a moment, his cheek pressed to your shoulder, willing the stars out of your eyes.

Pulling out of you as gently as he can, Eddie eases himself onto his knees, running one hand briefly across your bare back, his touch fleeting. Your breathing quickens at the feeling and you try to glance at him over your shoulder.

“Eddie, I -”

“Need a minute, baby,” he whispers, eyes closed, as he sits back on against the headboard. You glance over your shoulder at him from where you still lay on your stomach. “Just one second.”

“The camera’s still rolling,” you say, voice hoarse, and Eddie chuckles.

“Let it,” he responds, planting a hand on your bare calf, his thumb rubbing your skin slightly. “Let it go.”

You hum and close your eyes, content to just lay there, bare, listening to Eddie’s breathing even out. “You falling asleep on me?”

“Yep,” Eddie whispers, and you laugh. He slides down the headboard until his head hits the pillow, then curls onto his side. “You wore me out.”

You snort. “You wore yourself out. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

“Come up here, though,” Eddie murmurs, running a hand down the comforter in front of him.

“Oh, I’m the one who has to move? You just made me come three times, my legs are like jell-o, Eddie, I can’t move.”

Eddie makes a sound that’s almost like a whine, and you huff a sigh, turning slightly so that you can ease up the bed and collapse next to him.

“One of us should really get up and turn that camera off,” Eddie murmurs, and you smack his chest. He chuckles and winds his arms around you, tight, kisses your head. “The record player, too. I didn’t take it too far, did I?”

“No, Eddie, you know I loved it. Want me to get the light?”

“Nah, leave it. I’m only teasin’.” He groans low in his throat and squeezes you, twines one of his legs through yours. “Love you, baby.”

His sex-worn voice, laced with sleep, has you smiling softly. You watch his face start to relax, your heart aching in your chest, then press a chaste but affectionate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Love you, too, Eddie.”

That’s an understatement, really.

You hear his breath go quiet once more, and think he’s fallen asleep for real, until he whispers, “I can’t wait to watch that back,” into the space between your open mouths.

God, you couldn’t agree more, you think, pressing your thighs together subtly.

539 notes · View notes

laora-ryn · 2 months

Text

So I've been rotating TMAGP in my head like a rotisserie chicken and. You know what happened in one incident report, I never thought about it too hard, and it hasn't come up again?

In the Voyeur episode, after Tom arrived at the movie theater, his audio started being corrupted. But not in a way that... Really makes sense? It's just that every so often, Chester would read out "[UNINTELLIGIBLE]" instead of whatever words Tom wrote and/or said into his phone

And I'm like. Where and when and why did the distortion happen? Was it during the recording itself, because of the supernatural nature of the theater? Was it when he uploaded it to the internet? Was it when Freddy archived it? Or was it when Chester read it out?

Because we have audio of Needles, Mr. Bonzo, Lady Mowbray, and Ink5oul recorded off a modern cell phone. We have audio recorded in Ink5oul's various hunting grounds, and in Mr. Bonzo's house. Hell, we have audio recorded from Sam's phone in the Magnus Institute. It only switched to the tape recorder when they got to the archivist's office

So it's not necessarily a supernatural creature, or a place steeped in the supernatural, that's distorting it

And I don't know, maybe this is a reach, but the other time we've seen bracketed all-caps text within otherwise normal transcript stuff is with our good friend [ERROR] from episode 10

So now I'm wondering, what made Tom's incident report special? More special than RedCanary's spelunking in the ruins of the Magnus Institute? More special than universe-hopping Darrien, who very likely ran into some version of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood in his therapist's office?

The distorted lines below the break, with a best guess of what might've been there:

Is it a private screening just for me? The contest didn't mention *that.* That's, [UNINTELLIGIBLE], cool, actually. I'm going to head on in... Hang on a sec.

Possibly: "uh," "really"

Snacks acquired! They're obviously short-staffed, since it was the same guy working the concession stand. I feel bad. He looks super old and they're really putting him to work. He seems in good spirits though. Okay... [UNINTELLIGIBLE] find my seat!

Possibly: "I'm gonna," "time to"

So I'm almost done with my popcorn and the film hasn't even started yet. No previews or anything... Do I go talk to the old guy? I really hate [UNINTELLIGIBLE] bother him. I'm just going to wait for now.

Possibly: "to," "having to"

So it's been a minute, and the screen is still black. I can hear what sounds like... beeping. It sounds so familiar but I can't quite place it. Medical equipment maybe? There's something [UNINTELLIGIBLE] the screen... Looks like it might be a flashback or something, handheld... looks like it was filmed on an old camcorder...

Possibly: "appearing on," ?

I know that room.... How... How did they get [UNINTELLIGIBLE] This was after the accident. Mum wanted to film it for my brothers... Dad... I... [UNINTELLIGIBLE] Wait. Who is that? In the corner of the screen, there's... _(soft, more shocked than anything)_ Who the hell is that?

All of the other breaks were inconsequential, basically. Dropped helper words, filler words, easily inferable verbs. It's just this last paragraph that we're actually missing information?

So no real... Revelations here, I guess, I just think it's weird that this is the only time we've seen this kind of thing happen and wanted to type it up??

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #sort of. through ep 10 #but i have a friend whos still catching up on tma so #mine

25 notes · View notes

coelacanthking · 1 year

Text

What the fuck is up with Mirage?

[[Spoilers for Rise of the Beasts under the cut.]]

I had to take a whole 24 hours to process ROTB. Damn, it was so good. I have not latched onto anything Transformers related for such a long time: so much about it highlights what we love about Transformers, and what it means to be a Transformers fan. But I’ve been hyperfixating on the star of the show–Mirage–since before I walked into the theater. He’s cocksure, carefree, and so damn loyal. And he ain’t bad to look at either. But I had to look past my infatuation to see that there is inherently something very, very strange about him that I haven’t seen anyone else talk about.

Absolutely no hate going forward, just observations.

Mirage is absolutely not your typical Cybertronian. As we all know, your average bot will have one alt-mode that they can scan new facets to as they desire, shedding them as they go. Some are even triple changers, able to go from alt to alt. In fact, I think Bumblebee qualifies as a triple changer in this movie. Perhaps something happened between his own film and this one, who knows. But as far as we know, that’s the extent of alt-mode limits.

Mirage is not a fan of limits. In the scene when he was trying to convince Noah to join the Autobots, Mirage was able to flip from alt to alt to alt (then onto another alt) absolutely effortlessly. He’s able to use his t-cog like a freaking Rolodex, spinning up a new one whenever he has a mind to. This is very unusual in of itself, since we don’t see any other bots other than he and Bumblebee taking new alts for the whole movie.

And then there’s his illusion work. I was only a little disappointed that none of his iconic invisibility was used, but the mimicry (which seems to be a page he took out of Hound’s book) is well done and seems to be something he is very comfortable and skilled using. Again, I can’t recall another instance of another Cybertronian having a skill quite like this one, in this or any other movie.

Ah, and let’s not forget the little bit of himself that he peeled off and flipped to Noah, which morphed into a great little handheld weapon. So damn strange.

And then there’s the power armor.

I don’t know if Noah’s handheld helped to integrate Mirage onto his body, but that is without a doubt NOT something we’ve seen before in a Transformers series/movie. There are the exosuits that Spike and Daniel wear in TF the Movie ('87), and Verity's armor in Last Stand of The Wreckers, but those are just fitted suits. The closest thing I can think of is the Apex Armor in TFP, and that isn’t a sentient piece of technology, just something that snaps into place as it’s engaged.

So what’s the point of all this rambling?

I think Mirage is an Outlier.

And not just any Outlier. As we know from the comics, Outliers come in so many shades, and no two individuals are ever the same. But there seems to be no limit to Mirage’s abilities. He is perhaps the most impressive Outlier in any Transformers continuity, or at least one of the very few of his kind left alive since the fall of Cybertron. And perhaps this is the reason for his attitude; after a Cybertronian lifetime of chafing under scrutiny and trying to be made sense of, my man said 'screw it' and invested in himself. Maybe these abilities of his are the reason he’s so willing to throw himself into everything he does, without hesitation or sense of self-preservation. Because he can adapt to whatever situation he finds himself in.

“There are more like you?”

“Like me? Naw.”

He’s a big deal, and he knows it.

#Transformers #Transformers: Rise of the Beasts #TF #TF ROTB #Autobots #Cybertron #Mirage #TFMIrage #ROTBMirage #Autobot Mirage #Spoilers #TF Mirage

157 notes · View notes

writtenbysprout · 2 years

Text

I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)

synopsis: The team sets you up during a Disney themed karaoke night, knowing you have a thing for your boss aaron hotchner.

pairing: reader x aaron hotchner

cw: pining, fluff

word count: 1113

a/n: my first ever fic posted here, hope you enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

Garcia’s puppy eyes, JJ’s begging and Emily’s threats all combined made for a dangerous cocktail of excitement and worry. Yet here you were. Engulfed in their embrace at a makeshift stage in a remote town in the midst of Utah.

Stage light blinding you from seeing anything other than outlines of shadow figures. Had it been during any other situation you might've felt uneasy. But here and now at the Disney themed karaoke night at the bar down the road from your motel the shadows brought you comfort. Not wanting to remember or recognize anyone's faces once you stepped off the stage later.

Hours earlier you'd caught the unsub in a hit and run with quite ease which meant it was time to celebrate. Usually the team would go out back home in Virginia, but the jet was grounded for the time being due to the weather.

Garcia handed you the handheld mic as Emily stepped up to the one sitting in the mic stand. Garcia and JJ standing on each side of Emily whispering and giggling amongst themselves. Before you could react to anything that was happening Emily spoke up.

“This is a song that is very fitting for our current situation. Our friend here Y/n has the hugest crush on someone and she won’t admit it to anyone, not even herself..” With the most shit eating grin you'd ever witnessed Emily wink your way before turning back to the crowd who was cheering. “So if you're there Hotch, this is from Y/n.”

“Emily..“ Was all you managed to hiss before the playback started. The all too familiar tone of I Won't Say (I'm In Love) from Hercules playing.

Having been a theater kid in your younger days you couldn't help but lift the mic and start singing along to the song, taking the lead as Megara.

If there's a price for rotten judgment,

I guess I've already won that

Everytime it was the muses' time to shine JJ, Garcia and Emily let everyone have it in the most 'trying to be serious', but failing miserably to hit the right notes, the timing or fumble with the words.

You sang your heart out, putting on an act, strutting around on stage with a pout fitting the song's theme. Having already forgotten Emily's sly dedication to your boss.

Hitting the right notes, belting your heart out without effort all while trying to hold back a laugh as Garcia did her very best to portray the sassy muse, the song came to an end.

At least out loud…

I won't say I'm in love

As soon as the song finished applause, cheer and even some whistling erupted from the crowd. Garcia was the first to rush to your side, hugging you tightly. JJ and Emily quickly followed suit and praise you for the 'exceptional performance'.

The light from the stage dimmed down, allowing the four of you to make a safe return to the floor below the stage where four familiar faces awaited your arrival.

Shit

Had they heard it all? Even the dedication Emily had given? Derek answered the question as if you'd asked it out loud.

"Hot stuff can sing!" He was the first and only to embrace you as you came to a halt at the sight of the one man you didn't wanna see at that moment. Your boss, Aaron Fucking Hotchner.

He looked as handsome as ever. Wearing a black buttoned up short, sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, a pair on black denim jeans and a bottle of beer in his hand.

Both Spencer and Rossi complimented all of you for your performance, but you didn't pay attention. Your entire body felt hot and cold at the same time. Sounds seemed to enhance and your ears started ringing. A quick glance around and you found everyone already deep in conversation as you awaited for your drinks.

Mumbling a loose excuse you pushed passed Derek and Spencer and hurried outside. Feeling the rush of the cool night air fill your lungs you allowed yourself to catch the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Arms wrapping themselves around your chest as if to guard yourself from some invisible treat. You felt sick, like you could throw up at any given moment.

Deep within, you knew they meant no harm in doing what they did, but it didn't mean it made you any less anxious about the whole situation.

It didn't take long before you heard someone approach. Readying yourself you turned on your heel ready to bite at anything, but was met by someone's chest. Looking up you came eye to eye with the one person you least expected to see, Hotch.

The tall, dark and intimidating man you knew as your boss smiled down at you.

“Didn’t know you could sing.” You barely noticed the jacket he'd brought before he draped over your shoulders. Now engulfed in the jacket that lingered with his cologne you felt the heat in your cheeks.

“I don’t really sing in front of people.” You admitted, offering him a shy smile. Your mind wandered. Maybe he hadn't heard the dedication? Or maybe he was just being polite in striking up a conversation.

“For what it's worth I found it enjoyable. You have talent."

It means more than you'll ever understand.

“Thank you,"

It was all you managed to muster. Being so close to him was a rarity outside work. Standing here next to him, engulfed in his jacket and having him compliment you was something you never in your wildest dreams thought would happen.

“You keep surprising me," He broke the silence meeting your eyes. You remain silent, trying to think how you possibly could've surprised him. But falling short just as he spoke up continuing. "Not only are you kind and gentle, but you're independent, smart and solves issues that arise with ease. And you can sing? You're a gift that just keep on giving."

"Hotch.. I"

"I think its time you start calling me Aaron."

He had barely finished the sentence as he leaned in, leaving no room for you to wrap your brain around what he meant. You could feel the warmth radiating from his breath as he stopped merely inches away from you. Eyes finding yours before looking down at you lips as if to ask for permission.

"May I?"

Unable to find your voice you nod. Which is all the consent he needs as he moments later places his lips on yours. Softly claiming them for himself. Finally allowing himself to do the one thing he'd been yearning to do for the longest time.

#aaron hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch blurb #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner fluff #time to talk about aaron #time to talk some aaron

282 notes · View notes

bp-zb1fics · 1 year

Note

Hey!!! I love your writing so much,, especially your jay fic ;; I saw that you loved canon fics and omg literally SAME,, so i was like lemme request a lil something lolol

Jay smut, reader is his makeup artist during the over me “era” and you can free style the rest <333

😺 anon

Tonight I’ll take you away

pairing: jay x reader

pronouns: none used

genre: canon, suggestive themes, smut

wc: 1940

summary: you proposition the cute trainee that’s been making eyes at you while you’re working

Check my pinned for more fics~

MINORS DO NOT READ PLEASE!!!!

tw/tags: flirting, staring, realities of the idol industry, makeup, plastic surgery mention (not referring to jay), assumptions made about the industry, covertly arranged hook up, jay kinda subby, bondage, mention of pre negotiation/boundary setting, teasing, kissing, making out, nipple play, oral sex (both receiving), non explicit and explicit descriptions, riding, orgasms, reader bottoms but gender isn't specified, reader is implied to be older than jay but you can imagine it however you want

a/n tysm for loving my writing, 😺 anon! Hope you like this, it took quite awhile but I finally got to writing it~ thinking of turning this into a whole over me 🥵 series but while thoughts are being had, y'all can check out the leejeong part if you haven't!

“잘생겼어요?” [Jalsaenggyoso]

You pause, just for a second, hiding that brief moment of confusion by dipping your brush back into the eyeshadow palette.

“You mean 잘생겼나요?“ [Jalsaenggyonayo]

Even under his foundation, his cheeks flush. You’re unfazed, having worked with a fair amount of foreign idols, you’ve received your share of flirtatious comments and sometimes even straight up propositions both in shaky Korean and poor English, up until they realise you’re perfectly capable of understanding both.

Tapping off the excess, you motion for him to close his eyes, holding his chin to steady him and swiping lightly over his lids. And because you rather avoid another misunderstanding, you continue to talk in English.

“Keep your eyes closed for me, please.”

You instruct him as you blend it in with a darker shadow at the outer corner of his lash line. He’s a good looking kid. In this industry, they all are, honestly, they have to be. You can only do so much contouring to sharpen their jawlines and slim their faces and define their nose. Some of them are so naturally attractive that you wonder how they have such good genes and others? Well, there’s nothing the knife and needle can’t take care of.

“And open.”

He does and you can’t help but notice how striking he looks. It does help that he has a natural double eyelid, saving you the effort of going in with the tape, the subtle liner popping out immediately. You make a few small adjustments, ignoring how his breath goes shaky every time you use your hands to angle his face.

He is, by no means, the subtle type. But he’s also a trainee, a Western-raised one to boot. They tend to be…a lot more expressive by nature, unabashed staring, the more established idols even going as far as making open advances, confidence given by signed NDAs and the knowledge that whatever footage of this will be deleted. While he doesn’t have that confidence, his face speaks volumes, wanting eyes, the ends of his mouth quivering upwards as you lean in to brush tint over his lips, even the little Korean he messed up earlier.

“You really shouldn’t stare like that when there are cameras.”

You murmur, glad that they haven’t been able to clip a mic to his shirt yet. There are only two cameras in the partitioned off waiting room, one mounted on a tripod meant to record the whole room although you know from experience that it won’t pick up audio and both of you weren’t in any kind of suspicious position either. Besides, they hardly used the footage from there, the behind the scenes most likely taking clips from the handheld camera that the other trainees sitting on the couch were talking at.

So honestly, neither of the cameras would catch him but you figured that anyone planning to be an idol might as well be a little more cautious.

“Sorry,” he immediately ducks his head, sheepish with a little embarrassment now evident on his face. Definitely a lot more expressive.

It tones down but he seriously won’t stop stealing glances at you. Even when he’s called over to film or you retouch the makeup of the other trainees, your eyes end up meeting whenever you look his way. When they’re called to stand-by backstage, mic packs are taped on with you and the rest of the makeup and styling team making last minute adjustments. Maybe, it’s a lapse of judgement but you reach up and tug the black choker askew on his neck back into place.

Maybe only you two hear the sharp inhale he makes when you do that.

“Need to get into the mood of your song, you know.”

You quip under your breath as you retouch some parts of his face, no need for any extra blush, at least.

“Ah, yes.”

He offers you a smile in return. Cute.

You’re part of the staff that accompany them to the studio for retouches. All of them stand still as you fix up smudges or spots that’ve been sweated away. But it’s only Jay who really looks at you with a little something as he parts his lips to let your brush fix up the gradient, making sure they look soft and plush and camera ready.

“Good luck, fighting!”

It’s not that suspicious with all the other staff cheering them on but he lights up right away. It’s too cute.

And then they do the dry run and in the place of that shy, soft-spoken, smiling kid is this sensual man with sultry vocals that does things to you. It’s a blur, the song wrapping up way too fast and leaving you a little breathless and slightly warm under the collar.

They come backstage and maybe you bustle up to Jay too quickly but in fairness, the rehearsal has his bangs sticking to his forehead, foundation a little smudged and you definitely need to do retouches.

“Did I do well?”

He asks you, all quiet again. There’s no trace of the man onstage in his bright eyes as he smiles at you. When you tell him he did, somehow he manages to look even happier. You watch him greet the fans with those eyes before completely flipping the switch, vocals coming on even stronger, giving them flirty little smiles as rose petals decorate the stage.

And that’s when you decide, well, why not? He was cute and he seemed to think you were too. You’d suck his dick…if he wanted you too.

__________________________________________

After the M Countdown filming and a fan meeting that had you on the side for more touch ups, you found out that he, in fact, wanted you too.

It isn’t too difficult, you being in the industry long enough to go about making arrangements discretely and without too much fuss. NDAs aside, it does help that while he is on a highly-publicised survival show, he still is considered a trainee which makes it easier to slip under the radar. There’s a little pre-negotiation, setting boundaries, getting consent but it goes over smoothly.

Which is why he’s here, actually trying to avoid your gaze, the red ribbon stage props binding his wrists to the bed posts, his pants somewhere on the floor. It’s a very pretty sight, you think to yourself as you watch him squirm, his arousal out in the open, cheeks flushed. It’s fun when they’re needy. It’s even better knowing that a hundred people can scream their name but your name will be the only one they’ll say tonight.

Jay says your name in a way that’s reminiscent of how he sang earlier. Melodic, almost breathless, just a little needy. You’re settled between his legs, running a hand over his thigh, enjoying the way he trembles slightly when you ghost at where he wants it. He’s all shy and stuttery again but his body is as expressive as before.

He surges forward as you lean in, meeting your lips with his. He’s not a bad kisser. You aren’t surprised, assuming that growing up in the West and not starting training as a child like some of the inexperienced ones you hear about must have had something to do with that. He’s still shy but there’s a sense of self-assurance in the way he mouths softly at your bottom lip. Parting his lips to let you slip your tongue in, exploring the spots that get his hips to jump, his wrists to strain against their bindings.

The sounds he makes are like music as you scrape your teeth over his neck, careful not to leave any bruises. You lap at abused skin and he starts getting noisy. That’s fine. No one would hear and even if someone does, they know it’s none of their business. Fingertips graze his nipples and you watch him twitch, leaking onto the sheets. You can’t help but ask.

“Good?”

“Please. Can you-”

“Can I…?”

“Can you do that again, please?”

And because he asked so nicely, you use your mouth, flicking your tongue out. He’s gasping, bucking his hips, trying to get some friction where he’s aching. You could toy with him all night but you won’t do that. Not tonight, at least. You press kisses lower and lower, his breath getting shallower nearly halting as you pause between his legs and look up at him.

“Will you stay still for me?”

It’s taking awhile to register but once it does, he nods. Well, you can’t have that.

“Words please.”

He looks so stricken, it’s almost adorable. But it’s barely a second of hesitation before he answers.

“Yes, yes- ah!”

You take him fully into your mouth, as much as you can. He’s heavy against your tongue as you hollow your cheeks for more suction, bobbing your head a few times. You look up and his head is thrown up against the headboard, eyes closed, lip tint smeared on his parted lips, sharp breaths escaping. You run your tongue along the veins on the underside of his dick and the sounds he lets out are obscene.

Impressively enough, he manages to keep his hips steady, letting you go at your own pace. But you know you’re good. You’ve been told that you’re good. Waiting till he relaxes, basking the pleasure of your tongue running over him, suckling softly, even moving to leave a mark or two on his thighs. Then, without warning, you’re descending, taking him almost fully in your mouth, breathing steadily through your nose.

You’re pretty sure the whole floor heard him just now, his hips jerking up traitorously. You pull off and the whine that comes next is delicious. He’s wrecked, bangs stuck to his forehead in an erotic echo of earlier, eyes dark and pleading, fists clenching uselessly.

“I thought you’d stay still for me?”

What comes out of his mouth next is almost unintelligible, a mess of Korean and English, all you know is that he’s begging. You shush him, your clothes joining his on the floor. You’ve got him hypnotised as you sink your fingers between your own legs, the wet squelch betraying how eager you are. He slides in, nice and easy and you take a moment to relish in the fullness that this angle offers, straddling him fully.

Your hands press his hips downward, keeping them still this time until you’re ready to feel him deeper. It’s a lost cause once you let go, he moves, as much as he can with his hands still restrained and unable to provide leverage. You let him tire himself out before you take your own pleasure, rolling your hips and enjoying the way he sounds when you do. He doesn’t ask you to untie him so you ride him until he’s about to tip over the edge, it’s not hard to tell with someone as expressive as him, the brink of an orgasm is written all over his face.

Maybe you’re a little sex drunk but the sound he makes when you push him past release should be recorded and made into a song. But for now, you’re the only listener. Chest heaving, you free his wrists and before you know it, it’s his face buried between your legs, helping you reach your own release.

“Is it okay if we stay tonight?” He asks after you’ve cleaned up, lying on the bed, limbs tangled together. He’s very tactile, you've found out.

You consider the consequences before shrugging, quite enjoying the way he presses soft kisses against your shoulders, singing softly to the song that’s playing quietly in the background.

“If you want to.” He does.

#boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet x reader #boys planet mnet #boys planet 999 #boys planet drabbles #kpop fics #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #jay chang #jay chang x reader #jay chang fic #jay chang drabble #boys planet jay #bp-zb1fics #boys planet over me

107 notes · View notes