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thoughts-of-bear · 2 days

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The birthday gift - Part 2

Halsin x f!Tav/Reader

Title might be replaced in the future

-> A/N: Guess what people, I have written more-!

Halsin really does bring out my creativity like nothing else and I even have ideas for a third part **huhoo**

Please be aware that I might change some of this in the future to fit the next part and that i wrote most of it while sleep deprived; if i missed any typos or the likes hit me up with a private message or something

So yeah anyways, about the story:

Halsin and Tav (= You/ Reader) wake up the morning after their first night together (see here for details) and go about their days doing hero stuff. When things turn stressful for you, Halsin comforts you and takes you to Bloomridge park to unwind, not anticipating the effect some simple honey eating has on your desire to suckle ... other things.

-> Genre? Fluff & Smut/ Porn with Plot, some hurt/comfort

-> Tags? Oral + handjob (m!receiving), food play, praise kink (for reader), public (kinda) sex/ outdoor sex, dom!Halsin (but he is still a sweetie pie ofc), uhh yea if i missed anything let me know :)

-> Words? 5.7 k

-> Reblogs & Comments? Greatly appreciated <3

-> Hotel? Trivago

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The warm rays of the sun filtering through the windows greet you when you open your eyes the next morning.

You hear the soft rustling of your companions getting ready for the day as the delicious smell of fried bacon wafts over from where Gale is undoubtedly preparing breakfast over the fireplace. You feel your stomach grumble, and immediately a hand wraps around from behind you to gently rub your belly.

“Hungry already, my heart?” Halsin whispers playfully. “Did I not sate you last night?”

A sly smile spreads across his face as you turn around to the large elf holding you.

You blush at the thought and slap his hand away in mocked affront.

“Stop teasing me; you know full well how good you are!” He chuckles, his eyebrow raised in a smug expression that makes you want to crawl back under the blanket and hide your face in embarrassment. “You are impossible!” Scrambling to your feet, you turn to leave and get dressed for the day, but Halsin quickly sits up and pulls you back into his lap.

“Last night was wonderful”, Halsin mumbles into your ear as he places a soft kiss on your head. “I agree”, you sigh.

“Silvanus has truly blessed me with you.” You smile as you lean into his embrace. Halsin cups your face to look into your eyes, once again making your heart stumble over itself over the sheer beauty of the man before you. Your breath hitches as you lose yourself in his gaze, the brown flecks in the blue and green of his irises glowing in the sunlight.

“I want you to know that wherever this takes us, you will always have me by your side. I would give whatever it takes to protect you.” Your heart swells in sheer adoration, and at a loss for words, you kiss him deeply, trying to put all of your gratitude into that simple gesture.

He smiles at you before he pulls you both up and gently guides you to where your party has already gathered for breakfast, his hand firmly in yours.

You expected surprised faces —maybe even a disapproving ‘tsk’ from Lae’zel— but when you and Halsin sit down with the others, you are merely greeted with a smirk and a knowing glance from Shadowheart, who occupies the bed next to yours and has probably already spread the word of your union.

“It’s about time you two got your hands on each other”, Gale says as he hands you your plates. “I know what sad, hopeless pining looks like, and frankly, it was getting embarrassing. Even for my standards”, he adds with a sympathetic chuckle.

“Why are we not eating downstairs?” you manage to ask in an attempt to change the topic. Thankfully, it seems to work as Gale starts to complain about the quality of food in the Elfsong and how infinitely better the establishments in Waterdeep are.

The others eagerly join in the discussion, so you and Halsin manage to eat your eggs and bacon in peace without being bothered by any questions.

The day is already warm when you step out of the tavern and head down the main road to explore the city a bit more. The streets are bustling with people going about their business, seemingly unbothered by the imminent threat of the Absolute and the murders in the city. The hours pass as you look for clues on the murders in the city that hopefully lead you to Orin’s hideaway. It is only in the late hours of the afternoon that you stop at Cora Highberry’s wine festival and find a red-clothed dwarf about to attack her that you finally get the clue you’ve been missing.

Although the dwarf escapes before you can kill him, you come across a bloodstained piece of paper between the bodies of the doppelgängers that have been hiding among the festival guests.

Written full of names, some of whom are already crossed out, you realise that this must be a target list of some sort, with the notes on the sides indicating that the victims’ hands are to be brought to a ‘tribunal’ as a bloody offering for Bhaal, proving what you had feared to be true: that Orin, as the chosen of Bhaal, is behind the whole murder plot.

You need to find the source of this all, but for now, you decide to find the next victims and warn them, if possible.

Checking in on Cora and her husband to see whether they were alright, you then make your way to the next target on the list, a tailor with the name of Figaro Pennygood, who calls himself the ‘Facemaker’.

By asking around, you eventually find the ‘Facemaker’s Boutique’, a moderately large house located directly on the right of the road leading up to the gate to the upper city, next to a jeweler, and directly behind Bloomridge Park.

Something feels off the moment you enter; besides the two shop attendants, there are no customers, and the doors leading to what seem to be the clothing rooms are closed.

Hoping the staff doesn’t notice you, you open the doors and take in the scene that unfolds in front of you.

The dwarf—Dolor, as you had found out—paces behind a stool on which another dwarf sits, facing the mirror in front of him, his dark-skinned face empty and still, only the reflection of his eyes able to express the terror that has gripped him.

Dolor has not yet noticed you, as he is occupied with revealing his plans to his victim, and you take the extra time to take in more of the room, with the seemingly lifeless body of the Flaming Fist you had briefly encountered in the Elfsong catching your eye. She too has been paralysed by Dolor, who now raises his dagger to slit the Facemaker’s throat.

You interrupt him before he can strike, but the battle that ensues is bloody. The shop attendants you met in the front room turn out to be doppelgängers too, and with the Fist and Pennygood paralysed, you are outnumbered. But between punches, kicks, healing spells, and fireballs being flung, you eventually manage to turn the fight around. With a disgusting crunch, you bring your fist down on Dolor’s neck, his body finally crumbling beneath you.

You let out an exhausted huff and exchange an assuring glance with Halsin before you search your pack for some remedy against the paralysis that still has its hold on the Fist and the Figaro. Before long, both victims are back on their feet and luckily unharmed, although quite shaken by the unexpected attack.

Thankful for his rescue, the ‘Facemaker’ assures you a very generous discount on all of his wares, and with the help of Devella Fountainhead, the Flaming Fist, you figure out the meaning of the letters in Dolor’s pocket, which finally give you the much-needed information as to where Orin is hiding.

Apparently, the purpose behind all this is to be judged by the Tribunal of Bhaal to become an Unholy Assassin in his name.

Accessed by the local shop “Candulhallow’s Tombstones”, the tribunal resides somewhere under the city, and the door is to be opened by a passphrase scrawled into the corner of one of the papers.

When you stumble into your room in the Elfsong a few exhausting, preparation-filled days later, completely spent and eagerly awaiting your bed, you are greeted with a worrying sight: Yenna, the little red-headed girl whom you have given some coin back in Rivington and who joined your camp a while ago, stands before you with Lae’zel above her, seething, a knife at the girl's throat, and a firm grip on her hair holding her in place.

“What is going on here?” you ask, approaching tentatively.

“I swear I didn't do any-”, the girl starts, but Lae’zel jerks her head back and hisses, “Shut up, abomination!”

She looks at you now, her gaze filled with rage. “She isn’t what she pretends to be! I saw that filthy shapeshifter transform before she snuck back into our camp. She’s trying to infiltrate us and then murder us in our sleep!”

You hesitate, because that does sound like Orin. And no matter how cruel your githyanki companion might be at times, even she wouldn’t hurt a child without good reason. You assess the scene before you, carefully considering who might be lying. The fear in the eyes of the little girl looks genuine; her trembling legs and the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes are honest. As your gaze wanders back to Lae'zel, you notice an excited glimmer in her eyes, buried deep beneath the rage she is showing. She is enjoying this.

With a firm voice, you command her to step away and leave the girl be.

“Oh, you’re such a spoilsport”, she whines with a shrill, unnatural voice, and you watch in horror as her bones crack themselves into painful angles, as her skin seems to melt into white goo before eventually turning back into another form—one you recognise.

“Orin!”, you spit out. “I suppose I should’ve expected this.”

She tilts her head with a wicked smile. “I almost got you”, she giggles in her sickeningly sweet tone. You glance around. “What have you done with Lae’zel? Where is she?”, you demand, worry filling your chest.

“I have assassins all over this wretched city, and word has reached my ear that you have killed a most promising student of mine and have now set your gaze upon the Murder Tribunal itself.” She narrows her eyes. “That is why I’m here. Oh, don’t worry, little hero, your pet is safe—for now. But that might change very soon if you don’t carefully consider what I’m about to propose to you.” You grit your teeth, but gesture for her to continue. “You see, the little tyrant is a thorn in my side, always wagging his tongue about his little plans... Oh, how I want to slice him open and spill his crimson." At that, she clutches her curved dagger to her chest in an almost loving manner, “but I cannot touch him; he made me swear an oath not to harm him.”

Her intense stare fixes yours now, her voice trembling with fervour. “But you can. Go and bring slaughter upon Gortash, and I promise I won’t harm your little pet. But disagree”, she hisses now, “and your pet will be only the first gift to my beloved Father. If you succeed, though, we will fight fairly for the Netherstones, and the loser shall be a most glorious offering to the Dread Lord! I will watch you, little hero.” And with these words, she twists a ring on her finger and vanishes in a cloud of red mist.

“Fuck!”, you exclaim, the only word you feel appropriate to use to express your frustration over the predicament you are in.

“I never knew you could swear, darling”, Astarion teases, although you notice that his usual sassy tone is wavering too.

“Well, I think it's clear what we do now”, Gale says, breaking the ensuing silence. “We have to go find and rescue Lae’zel; we can't just leave her in Orin's clutches!”

You nod slowly, although you dread what that means. “If we confront Orin while Gortash is still alive, we might as well give Lae’zel up entirely. So, our only chance is to kill him and fulfil our part of Orin’s bargain.”

“Our alliance with Gortash was bound to break sooner or later; that's not what worries me”, you continue with a sigh. “I just have no idea how we're supposed to kill him without his Steel Watchers bashing in our skulls.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to build in your forehead.

“Then it's best we quickly find out where these things are built, and then we'll surely discover how to disable them.”

You wish you could share in Halsin’s optimism, but with more surety than you feel, you agree to head out the next day to find the Steel Watcher’s origins. Satisfied, Gale claps his hands together. “Shall I prepare dinner?”

With these words, your little gathering dissolves, with every companion except for Gale and Wyll, who were occupied with cooking, retreating to their beds, and going about their business.

Your shoulders drop, and Halsin wraps his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on the top of your head before soothingly rubbing your shoulders. You turn around and face him to rest your forehead against his chest, his earthy scent settling over your senses like a soft blanket. He holds your small form closely against him, his hand wandering over your back in gentle strokes.

“It will be alright. We’ll get Lae’zel back in one piece. Whatever we need to do, rest assured that I will be by your side all the time.” Silent tears escape your eyes at his words, giving way to the overwhelming exhaustion that has built up over the past few months on the road and in the city.

“I know. It’s all just so much at once. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” You sniff a little, and try to steady your voice with a deep breath. “But knowing you are by my side makes it all a lot easier.”

You feel Halsin’s chest vibrate as he hums in approval, before he lifts your chin up and locks eyes with you, his gaze full of warmth and admiration.

“Anything that troubles you, you can share with me. I love you.” Your chest clenches and your heart thumps frantically hearing these words from him, and you can only stare at him in surprise, lost for words. He chuckles and kisses you swiftly before you can even begin to answer.

“Now, let me take care of you”, he whispers as he takes your hand and leads you to his bed. He motions for you to sit down on the mattress before reaching for his pack at the foot of the bed, searching its contents.

When he has what he was looking for, he walks over to the basin near you, filling a bowl with warm water and grabbing a cloth from the table next to the basin. He places both things on his nightstand, dipping a corner of the cloth into the water and beginning to clean you from the blood and dirt that have gathered on your skin over the past day. He takes one of your hands in his and dabs the cloth over your bruised knuckles before he removes the blood from your arms and forehead. You regard him as he works in silence, your body warm from the closeness of you two and the gentleness with which he treats you.

When he is finished with cleaning you up, he takes your right hand in both of his, making it seem all the smaller. He presses his thumbs into your palm firmly and moves them up to your fingers, gently stretching them and massaging all the tension from your hand. When he is satisfied with his work, he repeats these motions on your left hand, eliciting a sigh from you when his ministrations relieve a particularly painful knot in it.

“Tell me, my heart, why do you insist on using your fists to bring on our enemies’ demise when your monastery has trained you in quarterstaffs just as well?”

Halsin looks up at you, the playful smile tugging at his lips only partially hiding the concern for your wellbeing in his eyes. You merely shrug, since you have never given your preference much thought before.

With your hands freshly wrapped in bandages, you join your companions for dinner, used to Gale cooking on the fireplace by now and enjoying the meal well enough. You pass dinner in silence, only occasionally weighing in on the conversation the others are having, your thoughts swirling around the upcoming day and the task that it brings with it.

You still lay awake as the hushed conversations have long died down, listening to the calm breathing of your companions, until you eventually fall asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of Halsin’s chest against your back.

You sleep an uneasy sleep, memories from shadows and bloody fights mingling with images of Lae’zel’s empty eyes staring at you and of your companions laying in a puddle of blood while Orin stands above them, clutching her blade with a wicked grin.

When she lunges at you, you awake with a start, the room still dark and quiet around you, the silence only broken by the anxious thudding of your heart.

The shape of the large elf beside you stirs before Halsin gently wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“My heart?” Halsin whispers, his voice still groggy from the trance he has just woken up from.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you”, you sigh. “I just had a nightmare. Go back to your meditation; I will be alright.” You move to cup his face in your hand, planting a little kiss on his lips. You feel his mouth twist into a smile beneath you before you pull away again, and Halsin shakes his head.

“I have a better idea to calm you down. Remember the park we passed yesterday? It’s not the wilderness I am used to, but whenever I need a place to calm down, I feel safest among the Oak Father’s creations. Perhaps a stroll through the park will help you, even if it’s only a small oasis in a city like this.”

Still unsure of what you had done to deserve a man like this, you nod your head in agreement.

“Alright.” You kiss him again. “Thank you, Halsin, that is very kind of you. Let’s bring some food as well - who knows when the next chance to eat breakfast in nature arises in a place like this.”

You both scramble out of bed, taking extra care to be quiet so as not to wake up the rest of the party. Once you have packed a small picnic basket, you walk down the stairs of the Elfsong and step out into the early morning air.

It’s still pleasantly cool, the sun not yet warming the city streets. Halsin takes your hand in his, and together you make your way to Bloomridge Park, the warmth of his presence near you slowly dissipating the uneasiness that had lingered after your dreams.

The sky is starting to light up with soft golden rays when you reach the park, the day already promising to be as warm as the last one. Halsin inhales deeply, and you do the same; the smell of the lilac blossoms is heavy in the air. You let out a relieved sigh, feeling much calmer already, and you wonder whether that is because of the surrounding nature or more because Halsin is by your side.

You wander further through the flowers and trees, the chirping of the resident birds growing ever louder, until you eventually decide to settle down on a small hill in the back of the park.

Halsin has brought a blanket that he now spreads on the ground, careful not to damage the flowers growing nearby.

With a sigh, you fall down on the blanket, relishing in the peace and serenity surrounding you and admiring the beautiful red and golden streaks that the morning light paints across the sky.

After a while, you look back to Halsin and notice that he’s staring at you, his gaze fixed on your features and full of a warmth that rivals that of the rising sun.

You blush, feeling utterly naked under his careful scrutiny.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask him in a small voice, feeling somewhat self-conscious now.

“No reason. Just admiring nature’s most perfect creation. You truly are a feast for my eyes.” He raises his hand to softly stroke a strand of hair away from your eyes before he bends down to you to plant a gentle kiss on your now overheated cheeks.

“If you keep saying things like that, I think I might explode”, you whisper with a smile as you sit up and hide your face in his chest, hiding the tears welling up in your eyes.

You feel him chuckle and stroke your back, before he reaches for the picnic basket you have brought.

Enjoying the still-quiet city and the birdsong around you, you begin to eat in silence, but it isn’t long before Halsin lets out an unsatisfied huff.

“Where are you going?” you ask him in surprise as he gets to his feet.

“Wait and see”, he replies with a smug grin, walking over to a nearby oak. When he steps a little to the side, you see that he has stopped in front of a beehive that clings to the tree. He reaches into his pocket and produces his pipe, enlightening it with a snap of his fingers. You watch as he blows the smoke over the buzzing hive in an attempt to calm the bees down before he confidently reaches for a comb dripping with sweet honey.

But as soon as he gets a good grip on the wax, he jerks his hand back with a hiss, taking only a small part of the honeycomb he had aimed for with him. He regards his meagre harvest before he looks up to you and scratches his head sheepishly, an embarrassed half-grin crossing his features.

“Well, that wasn’t half as impressive as I had planned.”

You cannot help but laugh at the druid’s nearly juvenile attempt at courting you, before you rush over to him to help heal the several red welts that have started forming on his hand and lower arm. He chuckles and thanks you by bending down to kiss your forehead before he takes your hand in his non-sticky one and leads you back to the rest of your breakfast.

He drizzles some of the honey directly onto the fruits you have brought and feeds you piece by piece. Turning back to his catch while you are still occupied with chewing, he notices the honey has started running down his wrist and quickly catches the stray drop with the tip of his tongue, deftly running it over the defined muscles of his forearm.

You almost choke on your piece of apple—the gorgeous sight before you reminding you all too intensely of the first night you had shared with Halsin. Although you do your best to mask the physical reaction that simple movement has caused in you with a coughing fit, Halsin seems to know exactly what you’ve been thinking.

With a malicious grin, he gathers up some more honey with the two fingers of his other hand.

“Open your mouth”, he commands, and his sudden change of tone sends shivers of excitement down your body. You do as he says, and he shoves the fingers into your mouth. Instinctively, you begin to suckle at them, the sweetness of the honey running down your throat and the sensuality of the situation making heat pool in your stomach.

You look at Halsin, his eyes fixed on your mouth around his fingers and dark with desire for you.

He pulls his fingers out again, leaning in and purring into your ear, “That’s a good girl. With you behaving like that, I cannot help but wonder how those pretty lips of yours feel wrapped around my cock~”.

You stifle a gasp at the bold statement, but the heat that is creeping up your neck and into your cheeks betrays the effect his words have on you.

You trail his movements with your gaze, wetting your lips as he scoops up more honey with his fingers and holds them in front of you. Trying to look up at him as innocently as possible, you lick some of it off with the tip of your tongue before you take them back into your mouth completely. Your round eyes looking up at him as sweetly as this make him want to shove his cock down your throat until you’re gagging, but Halsin reminds himself that he has to take it slowly with you—for now.

“That’s it, very good, little flower”, he hums, the sight of you sucking and licking his fingers alone is testing his self-control immensely.

The small moan that leaves you now as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth makes him tense up with barely hidden arousal, the bulge in his pants getting more obvious the more you suck his fingers.

You let your hands wander slowly up his thighs towards his crotch, fumbling with the laces of his pants. You are determined to repay Halsin for the care and kindness he has showered you with the previous nights, feeling inadequate in comparison to his skill as a lover.

You are still fumbling with his waistband and simultaneously rubbing his hard cock through the fabric of his britches, when he takes his fingers out of your mouth and pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

He groans as he tastes the remaining honey on your tongue, the sweetness of it and yourself combining into an intoxicating mix.

You feel slightly dizzy when you pull back from him, breathing heavily both because of the intensity of the kiss and from the arousal thrumming through your veins and heating up the entirety of your body.

“Halsin-”, you interrupt him as he tries to move your hand from his pants and instead lower you down onto the blanket, “l-let me take care of you this time. Please, I need this.”

He stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow in question. “Are you sure that isn’t too much? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not that I would mind you trying~“, he adds with a lewd grin that is quickly wiped off his face when you lower yourself onto your belly and free his erection from his britches.

You begin stroking him and are immediately rewarded with a low grunt, Halsin’s eyes now fixed on your flushed face.

With your elbows propped up, you gently nudge his legs further apart to get better access to his crotch and start licking his already swollen tip, eliciting a sharp hiss from your lover.

Splaying your hands across his thighs, you run your tongue along his shaft, slowly stroking from base to tip and back a few times before you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, careful to keep your teeth out of the way. It is a lot. Your mouth already feels full, and you’re not even halfway down. But you try to take more anyway, letting a bit more of his length slide between your lips.

Halsin rewards you with a low moan, the sight of your mouth wrapped around him and your lips darkened with your saliva makes his cock twitch as you continue moving, your head bobbing up and down between his legs.

Halsin snakes his hand into your hair, his firm grip guiding you at a pace that has him growling.

“By Silvanus, you’re incredible- hngh!”

You feel Halsin throb in your mouth, and the muscles in his thighs tense in an attempt to stop himself from bucking into your throat.

“W-where did you learn to use your mouth like that?”

You pull your mouth off his tip with a small pop and look up at him, your lips curling into an embarrassed sort of grin.

“Cucumbers”, you shrug.

“Cucumbers?”

You nod, sure your face must be bright red by now.

Halsin just stares at you, and you begin to feel a little self-conscious as he suddenly lets out a hearty laugh, his whole body vibrating beneath your hands.

“You’re full of surprises, my little flower.” He shakes his head and gently strokes your hair, before his gaze falls back onto your reddened lips.

You see the desire flare up in his eyes again, and feel his hand in your hair tighten its grip.

He bends down towards you, and with his fist guiding you back towards his erection, he whispers into your ear. “Now, be a good girl and keep sucking my cock. I want to see you swallow.”

You gulp, his commanding tone so different from his usual gentle one yet nevertheless sending sparks straight into your core and causing more wetness to gather between your thighs.

Licking your lips, you obey and take Halsin into your mouth again, this time swirling your tongue around to taste the pearl of precum that has gathered on his tip, spreading the salty, unfamiliar taste around.

“Gods, if I’d known your mouth feels so heavenly wrapped around me, I’d have let you try this sooner-”, he growls, his body tensing under your ministrations.

Sliding further down, you press your tongue on the underside of his cock and hollow your cheeks, Halsin groaning in response. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, enjoying the wet-hot sensation of your mouth taking him in.

His hand in your hair that has been steadily guiding you begins to increase the pace now, his climax approaching with every move of your tongue against him.

His length fills your mouth completely now, and you try to steady your movements in order to avoid gagging, focusing on your breathing.

You feel Halsin twitch in your mouth, signalling to you that he is close to release, so you raise your head a bit and wrap your hand around the base of his cock, saliva from your previous efforts dribbling down your chin and onto your hand.

He makes a strangled noise as you begin pumping him while your mouth and tongue work on his tip, alternating between sucking and licking, and he cannot help but buck his hips into your mouth, his self-control finally leaving him.

“Silvanus, preserve me—ugh—I'm close!”

You gag as he thrusts into your throat, struggling to accommodate his length while focusing on repressing the uncomfortable feeling that sends tears to your eyes.

But you are determined to make this work, to make Halsin feel as good as he made you feel, so you try to ignore the gagging and let him fuck your mouth, moans and curses falling from his lips as he does so.

You feel him twitching inside you, his release approaching ever faster, and you look up at him, not wanting to miss a second of the pleasure you’re about to grant him.

With his gaze locked onto yours and your hand still firmly wrapped around the base of his shaft, your mouth so willingly accepting his desperate thrusts, it doesn’t take long for him to reach climax, hips and thighs tensing before he jerks, shooting ropes of thick, warm cum into your mouth.

“Swallow”, he commands in a raspy voice before his body goes limp beneath you and he leans back, arms behind him supporting him so he could see how you struggled and failed to swallow his seed, some of it leaking out of your mouth and dripping down your chin.

Your abused throat is protesting as you finally manage to gulp it all down, your face flushing with self-consciousness as you realise that you might, in fact, not have been as ready to take him as you had initially thought.

But these thoughts vanish as Halsin pulls you into his lap and softly strokes your head. He plants a little kiss on your cheek before he murmurs into your ear, his voice still ragged.

“Good girl. You’ve taken me so well.”

You moan at the praise, your so-far neglected pussy twitching as his words send sparks down your spine.

Halsin chuckles and slowly slides a hand under your waistband and into your smallclothes, stroking your slick folds and eliciting moans and sighs from you as he massages your clit, all the while kissing you and murmuring praise for your efforts into your ear.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel as well, cumming on his hand with a muffled scream, biting down onto the tunic Halsin was still wearing.

Exhausted, you collapse onto the blanket, planting your head on Halsin’s lap and closing your eyes, the now-risen sun warming your face as you smile happily.

Halsin adjusts his hips a bit and readjusts his britches, carefully surveying the park to see if anyone else has entered by now. Luckily, you two were still alone, the only sign of life being the faint sounds of the streets beyond the park slowly filling with people.

He glances back down at you and begins to gently stroke your hair that is spread out over his legs, the sweet smile on your mouth in complete contrast to the earth-shattering orgasm you gave him with that same mouth just moments ago.

“Thank you, my heart; that was amazing. Unexpected, but nevertheless positively breath-taking.” He watches as your smile broadens at his praise and his heart swells with adoration at the cute little dimples in your cheeks.

“I’m glad you liked it”, you try to say, but instead croak out more than anything. Halsin frowns, worry beginning to cloud his eyes.

“Sorry, I think I might have overestimated myself a bit there. Bitten off more than I could chew. Figuratively, of course”, you add with a shy grin.

He smiles, but then his gaze turns solemn again. “You should’ve told me right away. I hurt you”, he grimaces before he grazes his fingers over your throat, his touch featherlight and glowing with a faint blue light. The healing spell soothes your ache, and you sigh contentedly.

“All right, next time I will tell you, should you hurt me accidentally”, you mumble, sleep slowly creeping up at you in the comfortable warmth of your lover's lap.

Halsin hums in approval, satisfied with your answer.

“I shall look forward to next time, then.”

You slowly drift off, the smell of the flowers around you and the chirping birds lulling you into sleep as you both lay there for a while before you have to get back to your companions to begin the day’s work.

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Thanks for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed it!

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin silverbough #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #halsin smut #halsin fluff #bg3 fanfiction #18+ only

61 notes · View notes

rabbit-or-rib · 2 days

Note

full nsfw alphabet for toby??

posting this from the glue trap i'm stuck in

🪓 Toby Rogers NSFW alphabet!

A = Aftercare, what they’re like after sex

checks in with you a WHOLE BUNCH- he wants to make sure you know he loves you and cares about you no matter how hard y'all were going not even 5 minutes ago

B = Body part, their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

on him, i think it's a tie between his arms and his hair if that counts lolz. he likes how strong his arms are and likes to try n show off in front of you- he likes both how his hair looks, and he thinks his happy trail suits him

in you, i'd say your chest- in both a romantic and sexual sense :) he loves laying on you, listening and feeling your heartbeat, the closeness, all of it. he also loves leaving hickies all across it, little mindless bites and kisses decorating you from him getting lost on the feeling of you.

C = Cum, anything to do with cum, basically

he's a sucker for cumming inside, he just can't get over how you squeeze him and how fucked out you look

D = Dirty secret, pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

he jerked off to the thought of you WAAYYYY before y'all were dating- he was too embarrassed to tell you when you first started dating and he's too scared now. probably.

E = Experience, how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?

love him to the ends of the earth, he has nothing. nada. zilch. you're his first everything, be patient with him cus he's gonna be nervous !! that does NOT mean he has shame though. he is not at all embarrassed to tell you when he wants you.

F = Favorite position, this goes without saying

anything with you on top- as i said he's a boobs/chest kinda guy, he wants to watch

G = Goofy, are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.

he's more serious, but it's mostly because he's concentrated. he wants to do his best to make you feel good and he wants to focus!!

H = Hair, how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

i think he trims, but he doesn't wanna shave unless you ask him to (mostly because he has a tendency to accidentally nick himself with the razor)

he gets some facial hair on his chin, but it's nothing super serious. he'll jokingly ask you to help him with it sometimes, if you say yes you'll be rewarded with a very flustered boyfriend that keeps letting out shaky breaths every time you put your hand on his chest to keep him still

I = Intimacy, how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

it really depends on his mood, but most of the time he's romantic about everything; telling you how much he loves you, all the noises you make, how fucking good you feel. if he's in a mood though, expect most of the words flowing out of his mouth to be about how bad he needs you, and reminding you that you're all for him.

J = Jack off, masturbation headcanon

it's. a lot. and it's mostly because he thought too hard about you- whether it was a small thing you did earlier that day that he thought was hot or his mind drifted to certain memories of you

K = Kink, one or more of their kinks

Toby praise kink truthers in this house !!!!!!!! lean over into his ear while you're riding him and tell him how pretty he looks when he's close, tell him you feel so full when he fucks you; he's putty in your hands

L = Location, favorite places to do they do

anywhere private- not big on getting caught by other people (catching you on the other hand is something else)

M = Motivation, what turns them on, gets them going

dead serious anything. you stretching in front of him, bending over to grab something, you smiling into a kiss- you get him hot and bothered by doing nothing and everything. (he does also really like it when you take any kinda control over him- even if it's just telling him in any kinda stern tone to go do something)

N = No, something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs

nothing that would seriously hurt you, and nothing to do with a daddy kink, sorry shawtys

O = Oral, preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

he definitely prefers giving. loves how your thighs squeeze around his head, the feeling of you tugging at his hair, getting fistfuls of your ass as he pulls himself further into you.

he's such a mess receiving though, he's so sensitive and you look so pretty when you look up at him while he's halfway down your throat. he likes it when you take control when you're giving him head

P = Pace, are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

tends to get lost in the feeling of you and ends up fucking you at a rough and fast pace, no matter how slow he started off. of course you can tell him to slow down if you really need him to, but his rough grip on your thighs and the whimpers and pants in your ear tell you just how bad he needs you.

Q = Quickie, their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

they're not his favorite, but there have definitely been a few times where he just could not keep his hands off of you when the two of you were out and he pulled you aside. prefers to be able to take him time with you and draw things out a bit, but he'd never say no to you

R = Risk, are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.

he'll experiment with you !! it just has to be thoroughly talked about first

S = Stamina, how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

UNTIL HIS BODY GIVES OUT BABES- he does not care how tired his body gets, if you're down to keep going, he is too.

T = Toys, do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?

doesn't own any himself, and might be a lil shy using them on you, but he's a crying mess when you use them on him. he gets so overwhelmed so fast- make sure you tell him how good he's being <3

U = Unfair, how much they like to tease

he had no idea how to tease you for the first little bit- but as soon as he figured out how he could draw out little whines and begs for him to keep going, he could not get enough. can't do it for too long, though, he gets impatient

V = Volume, how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

he is LOUD, panting, whimpering, whining- the whole nine yards. you feel fucking heavenly to him and he just can't help it :(( poor boy's sensitive

W = Wild card, a random headcanon for the character

he likes to have music in the back when y'all are going at it- he doesn't need it and it wouldn't be super loud, but it is nice to have background noise. some she wants revenge or somethin

X = X-ray, let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

~6.5, skinnier with such a sensitive tip

Y = Yearning, how high is their sex drive?

VERY this boy is down for anything 24/7 if you mention it. will wrap his arms around you from behind and whine into your neck if he's feeling needy.

Z = Zzz, how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?

if he was more rough or dominant with you, he doesn't wanna fall asleep until you do. if you were the one to take more charge, he'll certainly try to stay up !! but he's usually pretty spent and ends up asleep on your chest, gently holding your hand

#rabbit writings #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby smut #toby rogers smut

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fantasy-relax · 3 days

Text

Please just love her

@crispyfriedchikem here you go. With the aparittion of my favorite baby girl.

Part 5

Bela was seeing what was going to be for today's meal, humming a song while she checked the refrigerator.

“What are you craving-” she turned to look at you only to find your eyes focused on her while you smiled fondly at her, she turned around immediately, clearing her throat she continues “what are you craving to eat today?”

You were tempted to answer “you” but you didn't want to ruin the atmosphere, after your talk the blonde had relaxed considerably and the last thing you wanted was to take a wrong step that would send her into another spiral.

A cough brought you out of your thoughts.

“…Stop looking at me so much,” her voice was soft as she avoided your gaze, the blush you loved to see covering her cheeks.

God how could she be so cute?

You moved your arm wrong and a slight pain made you frown in annoyance, there was still another month for your arm to heal and even then, you would still have to be careful, your beloved's face changed from embarrassment to concern, but you smiled to calm her down.

“Anything, as long as it is to your liking and the visitors is fine with me” She nodded and returned to the kitchen still with a frown, you hated how you couldn't completely remove her worry, you wanted to heal quickly so you could pamper her. After all, the poor girl has taken care of everything while you rested like an old cat on the couch.

Ding Dong

The sound of the doorbell brought you out of your thoughts before the blonde could step outside of the kitchen, you spoke.

“I got it” At least that you could do.

When you opened you found yourself face to face with Daniela Dimitrescu and Angie Beneviento, behind them was a woman that you recognized as Donna Beneviento, you already knew who they were due to the stories that Bela had told you along with the photographs that she had shown you.

The three of them stood still, waiting for your reaction and an idea to break the tense atmosphere crossed your mind.

“Excuse me, in this house we are gay and proud please leave the premises before I call the police to do so” you said with a higher-pitched tone of voice than normal while you looked at your nails in the most diva way possible.

The three of them looked at you with surprise, before Daniela could finish even opening her mouth you spoke again in the bitchiest way possible.

“Yeah, yeah Jehovah is your shepherd blah blah blah , ugh, get out of here, you're ruining my glamorous and fabulous vibesss” You leaned dramatically against the side of the door, placing your good hand on your forehead, you heard how Donna suppressed a giggle and you couldn't control your smile.

Angie raised an eyebrow and smile mischievously. “MC I know you look like a Twink, but there's no need to overdo it”

You laughed and they followed quickly.

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

Bela approached when she heard the scandal, seeing how her sister and Angie hugged you carefully while crying softly under the relieved gaze of her aunt who turned to see her when she heard her arrive.

“Hello Bela, how has everything been?” She said as she walked over to give her a hug.

“Everything is fine, Donna.” Dimitrescu couldn't help but hug her aunt with a little more force than necessary, but the woman didn't complain and she kept the hug until the blonde walked away from her.

Only to be tackled and nearly taken to the ground by her younger sister.

“Daniela, you almost threw me!”

“I'm sorry I missed you so much” The redhead said with traces of crying still in her voice.

The oldest sighed and hugged her sister.

"I missed you too"

MC's incredulous voice separated them.

“What do you mean you stole the luggage cart?!”

The smaller blonde looked proud of herself as she took a seat on the armrest of the couch.

“It's not my fault that their security is so weak and I didn't steal it I just took a quick spin on it with Dani.”

Bela looked at her sister who immediately turned her head. The redhead left the hug and proceeded to look everywhere except at her older sister, she swallowed and pointed at the decoration of the room.

“Wow, what beautiful furniture and the tapestry is uhm effervescent”

Before she could scold the duo for her antics Donna spoke to her.

“Were you cooking? Let me help you” Without waiting for a response, the older woman headed to the kitchen.

Hearing you laugh out loud, Bela turned to see you, your laughter was so much that you would have fallen to your knees if you weren't sitting. The surprise and relief in your roommates' eyes were notable, as were the barely contained tears; Angie swallowed deeply before smiling and continuing with her story more dramatic than before. Daniela quickly wiped her eyes and accompanied her cousin in her story, both of them determined to make you laugh until your stomach hurt

How long had it been since they saw you this relaxed?

This was proof that she had made the right decision.

| How long do you have before your palace of lies falls? |

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

Cooking with Donna always relaxing (as long as you followed her instructions to the letter when it came to Italian cuisine) was one of the many things she missed when she left her aunt home. The black-haired woman was the one who taught her after all, she still remembered how she let Daniela decorate the birthday cake which always ended in a monstrosity of meringue and fruits, but it helped distract her from the fact that not all of her family was present to celebrate with her.

She bit her lip.

What is Cassandra doing? Had she really forgotten about you completely?

| Why don't you call her? Why do you deny her the right to know about the status of her partner? |

She should be the one to call, it's been over a year now without her showing the slightest sign of interest in her beloved “Romeo”.

|You have no right to interfere in their relationship, you can still tell the truth you can still fix this mess|

She turned to see Donna who, despite being withdrawn, offered good advice. She was not so involved with you because to her you were simply a dear friend of her precious niece. If Bela told her the truth, Donna would understand her motives. Her aunt didn't show it much, but there was always an aura of melancholy around her. At least that's what she remembers. Recently, in the few interactions they had, she had noticed how her smiles were more sincere. as if she was finally recovering from her past tragedies.

Donna would understand that all she wanted was your happiness and well-being.

|You made a mistake, she will understand, let her help you|

Swallowing, Bela prepared to reveal her deception. The words choked in her throat as she heard the laughter through the door, technically you met them today and yet you had no problem interacting with her sister and cousin.

You were free of worries and laments.

“It almost seems like nothing has happened.” Her aunt's voice sounded full of relief, but Bela couldn't help but notice the slight sadness in it.

“I was afraid that Angie would have to lose someone dear to her again.” The dark-haired woman kept her gaze fixed on the tomatoes she was cutting. “Only two years and it seemed like they knew each for far too longer” Her smile was twisted with something that the blonde couldn't recognize “It's as if MC were a star capable of attracting anyone who looks at them” Envy? “They have such a charming personality that you can't help but want to protect and love them.” Why would Donna be envious of you? “It makes you want to fight the whole world, devils and angels.” Did you have a close relationship with her? “Just to keep that light with you always” When? How? “Bela”

Hiding her chills, the blonde tries to relax.

"Yeah?"

Her aunt stops what she was doing to look at her carefully, making her swallow saliva.

| Tell her! |

“You've been through so much on your own, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.” Donna's hands are full of calluses from her work, yet her touch is delicate like the petal of the flowers she grows. “If you need something, anything tell me and I will help you.”

| TELL HER! |

The confession of her betrayal is caught in her throat by the roots of her unrequited love.

The laughter is so loud that it passes through the door and almost echoes through the kitchen.

The expression on Donna's face fills her with questions that refuse to leave her mouth.

“Despite the obstacles in your way, you have done an excellent job, I am proud of you” the black-haired woman offers her a handkerchief. When did she start to cry? “MC has improved a lot, whatever you are doing, keep it up” Why can't she stop crying? “The past cannot be changed; we must enjoy the present and create a better future” Since she recovered her heart it has only brought her problems “You deserve a life of happiness Bela” Really?

The oldest gets up to look for the other ingredients, leaving the blonde with her thoughts. With her head stuck in the refrigerator, her voice is muffled, preventing the Romanian from hearing her words.

“Who am I to judge how you get it?”

#resident lover #bela dimitrescu #my work

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hearted-anon · 2 days

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Hi I know you’re busy with like a ton of other requests and stuff but if you get the time can you write a part two to the knight’s foolish play fic? I loved it so much and I would LOVE to see more of that kind of trope! maybe with lee! Han and Ler! Minho?

Love yaaa 🖤

A King's happy indulgence.

Words: 1837 Note: I'm sorry this took so long, not really in the best of places... T/w: Roughness, hint of romantic development, pinning (not bondage), tools Lee: Jisung Ler: Minho

Minho trekked the walls of the castle longingly, hand running across the velvet carpet that was more than happy to welcome him in. He didn’t want to be filming himself in stuffy costumes and harsh words that he was forced to spit out for so long, but it was what the entertainment needed. He was nothing but a knight to his fate despite his role, a blade pressed to his throat to keep his lips sealed about whatever happened behind the scenes.

“You said you wanted to see me?” A voice called out from behind him, below him, below his status. Right- He was acting, none of his members were his friends anymore the moment they stepped into the world of fantasy. Snapping his head, he met the eyes of his most loyal knight, Han Jisung. Cold brown eyes pierced the younger, his hands struggling to maintain their hold on the silver sword that stabbed into the floor below.

“Of course, please allow me.” The older gave the bare crumbs of a smile towards the younger, which was gratefully treasured before scurrying towards his Majesty. With a huff he stood in front of Lee Know, pushing out his chest to seem more courageous than he was; a King couldn’t be protecting his servants after all. It earned a chuckle from the older, which allowed Jisung’s eyes to sparkle in admiration from the heavenly sound.

A wooden door creaked open with a squeaky giggle, sucking out their breath from its view. Jisung’s throat went dry at how Minho looked under the glistening moonlight, tinted blue eyes reflected with each breath that sounded through him. His heart pounded out of his chest, gulping down whatever dignity he had to gawk at the unreal looks on his Majesty, truly deserving of his title in the blank eyes of Han.

“Are you alright? You’ve barely moved.” Minho snapped Han out of his own thoughts with a voice filled with worry, Jisung blinked in confusion to the glove hands that waved in front of him, having been completely enamoured by Lee Know just a few moments ago that flew by with a gentle breeze of the night. He nodded quickly with a gulp, hoping that his sinful and eyes of admiration wouldn’t be noticed, god forbid it happened.

“Would you come here for a moment?” The younger was never quicker to dash over to the older’s side, almost making it to the bed in the blink of an eye. His mind was hazy, repeating the image of someone so majestic under the glorious moon light like a broken record, jealous of anyone that was able to lay their hands on him. However, his lack of awareness might’ve been the end of him, so much for chivalry…

In what felt like a flash bang, Jisung was pinned onto the soft bed, arms trapped under his Majesty’s thighs. He shrieked, feeling a sense of deja vu at his vulnerability. The fluffy fabric of baby blue sheets didn’t do anything to let him away from the muscular thighs of the older, struggling to even move his arms an inch; he was completely stuck.

That was when it dawned on him why he remembered it so well.

“Remember our ‘banter’ last time? Well, as King, I order you to let me have my fair share.” Minho chuckled mischievously, wiggling his fingers above Jisung’s vulnerable waist to earn a loud shriek of surprise. He twisted, squirmed and thrashed all he could but knew damn well that he wasn’t going anywhere trapped under thighs that felt like chains.

“Wahahait! Plehehease please!” Jisung begged, anticipatory giggles already slipping out of him, what an embarrassment of a knight. His armour was melted away in a matter of seconds, left behind the flustered shell of someone that wasn’t the strongest of soldiers at all. All he earned was a disappointed tut, before his faux silver armour was unbuttoned, revealing a set of faint abs that the older resisted the temptation to gawk at.

“Please what? Please start already? Of course!” Minho enthusiastically exclaimed, earning quite the loud protest of screams in return. He shook his head playfully with a cheshire grin, grabbing the same bottle of body oil from previously. Waving the bottle teasingly atop the squirming quokka, he poured some right into his navel on purpose, snickering when it elicited a shriek from the cold feeling.

“Noho no no! Plehehease Minho!” Jisung babbled and pleaded, shivering when the oil was rubbed all over his slim waist. He stamped his feet onto the sheets, throwing his head back in anticipation as he stared at the older with the most pleading eyes he could muster. In all fairness, Lee Know was tempted well enough to give in to those puppy eyes, the moonlight encapsulating how his eyes twinkled in it must’ve done something to him, definitely. However, when a cat has caught their prey, they don’t let go.

“Where were the honorifics? Bold aren’t we? Well me too.” Minho teased lowly, dreaded fingers descending onto his pale tummy, stroking up and down delicately with a hum. The younger let out a shriek, giggles bubbling up in his throat like an active volcano in an instant. He spun his head side to side, unable to take the fingers that danced over his oiled tummy as if an ice cube.

“Plehehehase! I-I’m sohohohory! Hyung!” Jisung babbled, barely coherent through breathless giggles that might as well have been stealing his Majesty’s breath away too. It dripped like honey off his tongue, naturally coaxing in a wild Minho to his den; how unfortunate. The older craved more of those giggles, lost in a trance as his fingers didn’t stop their movements. He was brought back by a squeal when he went to Jisung’s pale ribs that stuck out from his vulnerable position, shaking his head.

“Well, you’re not sorry if you pulled that move previously…” Minho scoffed, an obvious denial to what he was truly feeling inside.In retaliation, both to his growing flush and poor Jisung, his once gentle fingers dug harshly into the younger’s ribs, nails that were blunt slipping through oil filled crevices to the fleshy skin below. Worth it, Han thought, but was cut off with his own scream when Minho found his ribs more interesting. He bursted into cackles, tugging at his arms trapped under muscular thighs desperately.

“AHAHAHA! PLEHEHEASE I REALLY AHAHAHAM!” His crinkled eyes tried their very best to open up to show his so-called remorse, but was more of a show of a moon cycle that was cut off way too quickly. His eyes squeezed back into crescents as fast as he opened them, oil dripping down his sides from all the thrashing. Now, Lee Know may have been a menace, may have the least amount of mercy out of everyone, and may do everything in his power to ensure no one left his grasp alive, but he was kind, letting up on his torso that buzzed with after tingles.

“Hm. Sorry? Then let me do this for…myself, not you, heheh.” Minho said rather thoughtfully, but behind those icy eyes held no meaning, blank as a canvas waiting to be painted with colour and life once more. Getting off Jisung, the younger rubbed at his wrists, though the feeling of having the older be so kind and caring made him melt. Hesitantly as if a stray cat, the ‘King’ rubbed at the ‘Knight’s’ wrists, ensuring he wasn’t badly hurt before tearing off the faux silver armour. It revealed tan thighs underneath with shorts, exposing his thighs for the world to see; well Minho was Jisung’s world, they just didn’t realise it.

“WAIT! Anywhere but thehehere! Plehehease please PLEASE-!” Although loud and whiny with his begs, there was no move to actually tap out or stop any of the cruel majesty’s action, earning a soft chuckle in return. That wasn’t fair, Han was sure with that chuckle he would be willing to let himself be tickle tortured for all he cared, it was too sweet not to crave more of.

Well, if he didn’t rub oil over his thighs.

“And why not? Are you ticklish or something?” Minho inquired with a fake innocence and a cheshire grin once more, humming a tune under his breath as a squirmy quokka refused to give the answer he wanted; but maybe those cute and puffed up cheeks would be enough to satiate his craving? Unfortunately not. Grabbing a paint brush from his night stand, he swirled it into the younger’s inner thighs, right above his knee. His legs that once held the quokka’s arms down now spreaded his legs wide apart, wanting to paint his canvas nice and colourful with hysterics that bounced off the bedroom.

“Y-You know I AHAHAM! NONONO! BRUSHES AHAHAHRE UNFAHAHAHIR! HYUHUHUHNG!” Pounding on the older’s back, tugging at his legs, squirming around, nothing worked to let the ruthless cat up on its prey, settling for his fate. The brushes that ran along his thighs paired with the oil were effective in driving him into crazed bouts of laughter, it felt like soft nails that worked up the squishy dough of his thighs.

“Unfair? Hm. I think this is unfair.” Lee Know grinned one last time before wrapping his nimble fingers around the slippery thighs, barely able to secure around it from its muscle and fat mass but it was doable. And then he squeezed, squished, scribbled everywhere on the undersides of them. Nothing prepared the older for the scream that was unleashed throughout the room, followed by laughter that might’ve been mistaken for a witch if they weren’t careful.

“NOHOHO! AHAHAHAH-!” Poor Han, he barely lasted a minute before drowning in silent laughter, his legs trembling in the air as the undersides were tormented without an end. The smooth oil allowed gliding of nails without a hitch, squishy enough to fit all five of his nails one each side. With a smirk the older let go, letting the quokka’s thighs slam into the bed softly with a thud.

He crawled close, cradling the younger in his arms as if nothing had happened. Panting with a red face, it seemed to glow brighter at the sudden close proximity of the two; he swore it wasn’t this hot in the room last time they played together. He melted when MInho ran a hand through his hair, cardling it with a smile that he swore flashed on and off as well, his heart choked in his throat at the soft sight.

“I order you to sleep.” Lee Know demanded softly, barely above a whisper as his nose dived for Han’s hair too, sniffing it with a contented sigh at the whiff of pine and mint. Only a tired nod was given back, both of their eyes lidding as they were lulled to sleep under the moonlight’s lullaby and the wind’s charm.

Maybe they both were oblivious, but when they awoke, it was no surprise of the stares they got by staff.

#..?#skz tickle #stray kids tickle #kpop tickle #ler minho #ler know #lee jisung #lee han #uwu

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middlingmay · 2 days

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Photographer!Gale x Model!John AU Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Also, free drabble if anyone can spot the nods to some of our fave fics in the fandom ;)

It takes John a few days to call.

John used to lap up attention when he was younger, but that all disappeared after Curt. He'd gotten back a lot of his sociability and affability during his recovery, but most of the time he still feels like a ghost of his former self. He's still figuring out if that was a good thing or not.

So, although he’s not body conscious, the idea of standing in front of a camera and being the sole focus of a photographer; of his image being scrutinised - it all leaves him feeling a little more bare than he's comfortable with.

But he feels hypocritical, since he's preaching to the kids at the Centre that vulnerability is okay. And it's something his therapist is trying to get him to embrace more, himself.

So, he eventually calls the number on the card.

A smooth, very low, and very polite voice with a little drawl answers. It sends a shiver down his spine John knows isn't nerves as he inwardly scolds himself.

He tells the guy his name and Gale is gently enthusiastic. Helen told him John may be calling about the calendar and Gale is thrilled to help out with a project like that.

He explains to John that they’ll take some simple shots the first day, and it’ll all be very private so he doesn’t have to worry about a room full of prying eyes. And it’ll just be a handful of shots, too. A simple selection they can use for calendar mock-ups to help Helen recruit more volunteers.

Despite himself, John can’t help but feel put at ease with how professional and reassuring Gale sounds.

A few days later, John gets to the studio and finds the Bunk House at Thorpe Abbots Studios unlocked so he just heads right on in.

Inside he finds a man fiddling with the set. One look at him and John immediately pegs him as a model. Helen got another volunteer by the looks of it, and damn. He is stupid handsome. The kind that turns ya dumb.

And it helps John relax even more because as soon as the photographer gets a hold of this guy, he’ll forget all about John and make him carry their kit bag or something.

And John will do it, if it means he gets to look at the ungodly pretty man.

So, before the photographer turns up and takes all of this guy’s attention, John introduces himself - and finds he suddenly can’t shut the hell up.

“Did Helen rope you into this, too? You must do this all the time, looking like that. Not that it's all about looks! You’re obviously a real nice guy, doing this for charity, but you could do it professionally. If you wanted. Do you -? I’m not - I'm a bit nervous. You get nervous? But the photographer seems real nice; his voice is god, so fine, and I don’t mind listening to that order me around all day-"

Gale cuts him off - John still hasn't let him introduce himself - and says, “Thanks, but I hope I’m not that bossy. Gale Cleven, nice to meet you.”

Joh is equal amounts embarrassed and delighted. Having all of this guy’s attention feels thrilling.

He tries to flirt to work through the nerves; asks Gale if he’s got cute outfits for him to wear, that he’d clean up so good as a firefighter or a cowboy or a priest.

Gale smiles and refuses to comment and explains that he doesn’t do that kind of photography. He tells John about capturing people as they are, as they want to be, as they could be. And usually never how the person sees themself.

That’s what he sees as the purpose of the calendar, beyond raising money: showing real people, the stories on their faces and the map of their bodies; what they are and are not saying.

John is entranced listening to Gale talk about photography. And because he’s still a little egotistical, John asks what his body is telling Gale, and Gale says he’s not sure. He hasn’t learned to see him yet, but they’ll get there. Today is just practice.

Gale gets them started and tells John to just move around in the space however he wants, wearing whatever he wants - shoes on or off, jacket open or closed - though the way Gale eyes his jacket makes John thinks he'd rather see it off, and not for any fun reasons. He wonders what about it is so offensive to the other man. But despite his evident hang ups about sheepskin, Gale's focus is on whatever makes John feel comfortable. Whatever feels right.

At first John is awkward. He walks around swinging his arms and puffing up his cheeks and he hears a soft clicking as he does so.

Gale asks him questions to help him through. When he asks about the sheepskin John wears, John stands up straighter, confident and proud and tall and strength.

After he takes it off now he’s warmed up, Gale asks him about his work with the charity and the Centre and John lights and and gestures around wildly and runs his mouth. He’s full of energy and passion.

But when he almost, accidentally, veers into his own story, Gale reassures him that they’re not going to go anywhere he doesn’t want to go, and Gale clicks a photo there and then of John staring down the camera - at Gale - looking soft and open and trusting and wondrous. He has a faint blush. His mouth is slightly open. Curls have flopped over his forehead and his head is tilted back just a little. Gale keeps that photo in his portfolio for the rest of his career. It’s one of his favourite shots.

They finish up quicker than John expected (or liked, if he was being honest), and Gale promises to call and let him know when they’ve been developed. John has final say over which ones he shows Helen.

And John sees his shot and runs with it. “Better give you my number then, hm?”

They meet at a quiet café that serves tea that John did not even know existed. Gale looks eager, excited and he pulls a small bundle of A4 photos from an envelope.

John sees himself in a way he never did in the mirror. He sees self-assurance; vibrancy; life and fire. And gentle softness.

He’s speechless.

Gale isn't aware of the accomplishment that is. But he blushes at the look on John’s face is is very pleased at his reaction.

He also isn’t aware that John is feeling things he hasn't allowed himself to feel for years. And he doesn't feel scared of it. He’s excited to follow that feeling, see where it could lead.

#clegan #buck x bucky #photographer!gale #model!john #mota au #headcanon #alternative universe #john egan #gale cleven

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daechwitatamic · 1 day

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Vice;Grip || chapter 2 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: depiction of a depressive episode, recreational drinking and bar scenes, allusion to oral (f. receiving), kissing, rough sex/man-handling, explicit penetrative sex, dirty talk, aftercare, didn't venture fully into writing dom!vernon but i have been informed i wrote something that might be in the realm of a dom drop, language obviously, reader is called a gendered slur by a stranger, law-breaking :), actual fluff for a second, allusions to drug use, car sex

wc: 6900

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

1 yr, 5 months ago

The onset of spring brought a lack of color. Grey clouds hung full and heavy, low over the city skyline. Grey crept into the corners of your apartment, darkening rooms during daytime so that you needed to keep lamps on even in midafternoon. Grey crept over your body, into your limbs. Days stretched and nights inched; you only got out of bed because you had to feed the damn cat.

That's part of why you'd gotten the cat in the first place, after a particularly long episode a few years ago, when Chan had presented you with a list of things he thought you should do to combat the blues, as he'd put it.

He meant well. But he always came at your depression like a problem solver, like just doing the right things could make it go away.

And sure, his suggestions were things that would help - get outside, call someone, don't isolate, shower even if you aren't leaving the house, drink some damn water - they weren't a cure. They were better reminders for when you were okay - good at keeping you okay for longer stretches. But when it was already too late, when the grey came, they all sounded fucking pointless.

Anyway. The cat had been a good idea.

is it bad??

Chan did his best. He was a good best friend. He just didn't understand it.

The answer to his question, you thought, as you flipped your phone over so you wouldn't see the notification if he followed up, was yes. Yes, this time was particularly bad. But you didn't have the energy to type those three words.

Terrible friend, your brain accused, and it was right.

You managed to drag yourself to work, to at least show up so you could continue to pay for your apartment and your damn cat, but not much else. You existed on cans of diet coke and microwave meals. You doom-scrolled until sunrise, then slept an hour or two at most before getting dressed for work. You left texts unanswered, the mail piled up. So did the dishes.

Chan came by, once, did your dishes for you. It made you feel worse - useless and pitiable. You'd rather he just go away, but you held it in; you knew that would only hurt his feelings.

You learned from your mistakes, one thing that could be said in your favor.

“Have you called your doctor?” he wanted to know.

What was the point? There wasn't a stop hating your life pill.

“What if you tried painting?” he asked.

“What if you just let me be?” you countered, finally tripping over the line from embarrassed apathy to defensiveness.

That pout again. “It might help,” he said. “Don't most famous artists do their best shit when they're down?”

“Get out,” you deadpanned. He dropped it, knowing this was a bigger issue, a bigger argument, than this current episode, a complex situation that went beyond the boundaries of your brain chemistry.

He put the last of your now-clean plates away. “Let's go somewhere,” he suggested.

“Chan,” you groaned. “I’m tired. I can't go gallivanting -”

“You're not tired, you're depressed,” he argued. “And going outside will help you.”

“I might have to kill you,” you said seriously, and he rolled his eyes.

In the end, he let you win. He'd been around long enough to know that eventually you'd venture outside again, hit the bars with him again, text first again, laugh at his stupid memes again. It was just a waiting game.

Still, when he left, you sat on the edge of your couch with your chin in your hands. On the living room rug, the cat rolled and showed you its belly.

“Not you, too,” you groused.

The cat did a few alligator rolls and then scampered into your bedroom and under the bed, as if chased.

You sighed. You made your way to the spare room, which had been shut - to keep the cat out. To keep your ghosts in.

Your easel was still set up in the corner. You were kind of surprised it wasn't covered in cobwebs. You'd been sketching just on paper last time you'd worked, trying to make decisions that way so you wouldn't waste a canvas, and it still sat there.

You inched closer, ran your hands over your brushes. Took a step back, eyed the paper and your sketches.

It was bad. Thank god you hadn't put it to canvas.

You pulled the paper down, crumpled it in your hands. You chased the cat out with a gentle nudge of your foot, and closed the door again, keeping both cats and ghosts on their respective sides of the door.

There was no rhyme or reason to your brain, no map or calendar to follow for the starts or stops. But eventually, the clouds broke. The grey gave way to baby buds of green, yellows pushed through soil, determined to meet the sun.

You texted Chan - drinks??

He responded - about time!!!

You texted Vernon - hello, its me

When he didn't answer, you tried again - sorry for the radio silence.

Still nothing.

You checked his socials, saw that he'd been doing his thing - a smattering of selfies, some group shots with the guys he played music with sometimes, a few nature shots: the moon, once, and what looked like the river at night.

The silence stretched. You gave up, considered it over. Grieved a little, because it had been good.

You went out on a night that teased summer even though it was months away, sank into the familiar blur of too many shots - not enough to be a problem, but maybe enough to make problems.

Under the club's ever-moving lights, you took a selfie, your drink and cleavage both showcased in the shot.

Send it to Vernon, the urge to make trouble suggested, and you listened without hesitation.

And - finally - an answer.

come here after??

You smiled a tiny, victorious smile and knocked back the rest of your drink.

omw.

Later, he gave you a rare and devastating pout as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smoothed fingers down the still-shaking inside of your thigh.

“What'd you make me wait so long for?” he complained, those sharp eyes sparkling with mirth. When you shrugged, still a little mindless from your high, he gave the same spot on your thigh a playful slap. “Don't do it again.”

1 yr, 4 months ago

busy tonight?

not busy but.

???

not in the best mood.

bet i could fix that.

yeah. idk.

why don't you let me try?

“What's wrong?” you cooed, teasing, when Vernon let you into the apartment.

He didn't smile, didn't play along, and it sobered you quickly.

“Don't want to talk about it,” he muttered, crowding into your space. “Wasn't that big of a deal anyway.”

Just want the fix you promised, he thought.

You moaned like liquid gold when his first kiss was a bite. Encouraged, Vernon gripped you by the shoulders, pushing you back against the wall hard enough that he heard your breath escape in a single huff. He hesitated, eyes searching your face; a question.

You lifted your chin, eyes shining with something hard. When he kissed you again, you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, hard enough to make him hiss; an answer.

His pace was frenzied from the start, your legs around his waist and the wall holding you up. His hand curled around your throat, not squeezing, but sliding up to grip at your jaw instead, keeping you from tilting your head back, closing your eyes, losing yourself in how he felt slamming his hips flush against yours with dizzying smacks.

When you whined that you were close, he pulled you away from the wall and lowered you both to the ground, the wooden floor of his entryway cold and hard beneath your spine. It didn’t matter, didn’t do anything to stop the vortex tightening below your stomach. You slapped a hand over your face as it distorted in pleasure, Vernon kneeling between the legs you still had gripping his waist, one of his hands braced on the floor next to your head, holding his body over you.

“That’s right,” he breathed, gritted teeth flashing over you, forehead wrinkling as his own release closed in on the chase. “Just fucking take it when I fuck you into the floor.”

Then he was pulling out, breaths hissing through his teeth as he straightened up, one hand pumping himself furiously until strings of white decorated your stomach, cooling immediately in the apartment’s chilly air.

His breathing was ragged as he sagged back onto his heels, and you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him warily.

Then he stood and slipped into the hallway bathroom, the light clicking on and illuminating the unlit entryway where you’d just fucked. You heard the sink run, then shut back off, and Vernon returned. He knelt gingerly - you could see his knees were red from kneeling on the wooden floor - and cleaned your stomach first, then gently between your legs.

You sat the rest of the way up then, watching him carefully as he sat back on his heels again, avoiding your gaze. Something about the moment felt like a thing alive, unfurling between you like a casablanca lily under the refracted light of the moon.

You spoke at the same time.

“Vernon?”

“You okay?”

You swallowed, rubbed absently at your elbow where you’d smacked it on the floor during the position change.

“I’m fine,” you said tentatively. “Are you?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and then peering through his fingers at you for a second before dropping them again. “Thought I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I would have said something.”

He nodded, relief starting to bring feeling back to his hands again. He stood and reached a hand down for you. When you took it, he closed his fingers around yours and pulled you to your feet.

“I know we don’t usually do this,” you said, rubbing at the parts of you that had been on the floor - the backs of your legs, your ass, “but could I take a super fast shower before I go?”

“Yeah,” he said, so quickly that the word almost trips on itself. “Of course.”

He led you into the bathroom, rummaged in the disorganized linen closet for a clean towel, pressed it into your hands.

“If you need one, too,” you said easily, as he reached around you to turn the water on so it could heat up, “I don’t mind if you join me.”

He paused. “You sure?”

You shrugged, then leaned over to put your hand under the spray, testing to see if it was still cold. “It’s your shower.”

Under the stream of warm water, you turned to face him, front to front, looking up at him with clear eyes. Something in your expression was so open, Vernon couldn’t help but feel both the desire to step into the space you seemed to be offering him as well as the desire to get far, far away from it.

He’d been so angry before you’d texted, furious enough that he’d bruised his knuckles punching the doorframe; now, as the chemicals in his body settled down, he felt those knuckles throbbing. He was disgusted that he’d lost his temper, guilty that he’d taken any of that anger out on you, who had nothing to do with it.

He was scared of the desire he felt to be closer to you, just for tonight. Scared that fucking you hadn’t been enough to soothe whatever it was that roiled inside him, like it usually was. Scared that he felt like he needed more than sex to heal this particular burn.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and part of him thought he was apologizing in advance, like he knew already he’d run scared at some point. “For being so...”

He didn’t know what word fit best.

“I told you,” you said, pressing a little closer, “I would have said if I had a problem.”

“Okay,” he said, frowning a little. “If you’re sure.”

Then he reached over and brushed a thumb along your cheekbone, chasing away a rivulet of shower-water. You closed your eyes for a second, and he swore he could feel you lean into the touch, just slightly.

He didn’t know how to explain how he felt. Kind of like he’d done a hot-coal-walk; the exhaustion that came with an adrenaline crash, the vulnerability that came after facing down something big, that need - the burn inside him needing cool water before it could quiet down.

With the shower off, the silence in the bathroom was loud.

“Do you…” Vernon started, then stopped. His heart hammered, the adrenaline returning. He covered the moment by toweling his hair roughly and pulling his hands through the strands so they’d lay right. “Do you want to stay for a little bit? I was gonna order delivery, maybe watch something before I finish my assignment.”

He’d expected you to think about it, to turn it over in your mind the way you turn his things over in your careful hands, the way you turn him ass over head with just a smirk. Instead, you nodded right away.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was no big deal. Like you did this all the time. Maybe you did, just not with him. “I was starving, actually. I could stay for an hour or two.”

On his couch, the leftovers of the food scattered on his coffee table, you reached for his hand, ran a thumb imperceptibly along his purpled knuckles. You didn’t ask what happened, just brought them to your lips and pressed the lightest kiss before putting them down again and reaching for your noodles, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

That was when Vernon saw the potential of it, an entire picture, framed and labeled: you could hurt him so badly if he let you, if he let it get that far. For whatever it was that burned inside him, you were the cool water… but you could absolutely be gasoline, instead.

1 yr, 3 months ago

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the light that passed over your closed lids in a repetitive pattern was the sweep of a lighthouse beam. You could pretend that the rumbling bass of the music was the roar of the ocean. You could pretend that you weren’t here, in a shitty bar, but at the seaside. You could pretend that you weren’t alone. You could pretend that you weren’t you.

You drained your drink and caught the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another, sliding the sweating glass away from you once you knew a new one was coming.

“What are you drinking?”

The voice came from your right, and you lifted tired, disinterested eyes to find the source of it.

“G and T,” you answered, because it was one fewer syllable than saying gin and tonic and maybe that one syllable would do the dirty work for you and tell this guy that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Nice,” he said, like you’d said something interesting, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t return the question, just slid your phone screen on and opened your messages.

wyd

drinks at my hyungs place. wbu

damn. guess i have to settle for one of these very mid prospects at the willow

damn thats a sad story. if only you had a better option

if only my better option werent busy at his hyung’s

no one said i had to stay here. ur at the willow?

yep

The guy to your right tried again. “The DJ tonight kind of sucks, huh?”

You looked back at your phone.

don’t leave

You smiled into your drink, a thrill dancing through your bloodstream. The lights and music didn’t seem as garish as they had ten minutes ago.

“My boyfriend’s on his way to pick me up,” you said flatly to the guy who kept trying to talk to you, “so you might want to find someone else to complain about the DJ to.”

The word tasted like lemonade on your tongue - acidic and sour, sweet and refreshing, taste buds blooming and shriveling in tandem. Even the knowledge that it was a flat-out lie didn’t stop your heart from beating faster.

You expected the guy to get up and leave, maybe throw you a dirty look on his way. Instead, he seemed to call your bluff, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to read you.

“I don’t think I’d let my girlfriend go out alone looking like this,” he said evenly, and you let out a derisive laugh.

“The fact that you just said the words let my girlfriend probably has a lot to do with why you’re here alone,” you countered, a flash of victory slicing up your spine when you saw his face flush.

Before he could retort, you hopped down from your barstool, pushing your way into the crowded dance floor. You didn’t even want to dance, you just wanted to get away. If Vernon wanted to find you, he could come find you. He’d told you not to leave, he hadn’t said make it easy for me.

He found you anyway; he made it look easy. He stepped around a group of guys talking in a circle and into your space, like he was following a path, like he knew there’d be room for him.

You were happy to see him. You were happy he came. You were happy to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne and hear your name tumble from his mouth like a statement. You were too drunk to tuck these truths away into pockets and folds where they would be harder to find.

You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. If he was surprised, his body hid it well. His hands came to rest on your lower back, pressing you closer to him as you leaned up to find his mouth.

You kissed him slowly, at odds with the frantic bassline vibrating under your feet. You let him tip your head back, changing the angle, sweeping your mouth with his tongue until you both tasted lemonade.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his face, one eyebrow arched in question and one half of his mouth twitching into a smile.

You didn’t have it in you to lie, so instead you said, “Your place?”

He led you outside.

As luck would have it, the idiot from the bar stood beside the front door, a cigarette between two fingers. His expression darkened when he recognized you, then further when he saw your fingers linked with Vernon’s as you stepped into the quiet night.

“Your girlfriend’s a fucking bitch,” the guy bit out, dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it.

Vernon’s eyebrows shot up.

Evenly, he said, “She’s not -”

She’s not my girlfriend. You felt your stomach swoop, and you felt yourself flinch.

“- a bitch. She’s just smarter than you.”

Vernon tugged on your hand, leading you across the street to his parked, waiting car.

You tried to bite back a smile, and he looked sideways at you, his own lips twitching.

“What?” he demanded.

“What?” you parroted.

He scowled at you, but his lips were just smiling. “What?” he asked again.

You laughed. “Let’s go,” you said. “The bitch wants to kiss you more.”

You expected his smile to sharpen. Instead, something in it seems to soften, changing from teasing to actual affection.

“Alright,” he said, turning to start the engine. “Can’t really say no to that, can I?”

“You could,” you mused, as he pulled away from the curb and the bar slid into nothingness behind you, “but I just don’t think you should.”

1 yr, 2 months ago

wyd

melting

srsly

no, seriously. i am laying on my living room floor like a starfish trying not to turn into liquid

come to hyungs

its too hot to move

i have an idea, come meet me at hyungs

You frowned at your phone. Of course your aircon died during the only heatwave you could remember in your entire adult life. Your whole body felt sticky; you were pretty sure you were stuck to your floor.

It was too hot to move.

what’s the idea??

you’ll see. i’ll order u a car. can you bring a couple towels?

“Vernon, no,” you laughed, your voice echoing.

He shushed you through laughter, both of you leaning on each other as you stood at the edge of the yard, the grass tickling the bottoms of your bare feet. Upstairs, at his friend’s place, you’d thrown back a few shots for courage before following Vernon out here, and you were feeling them, your head swimming like your body might soon be.

“It’s a circuit, see?” he tried to explain, pointing through the night, as if you could see through all the fences and over all the hedges. “Five yards, five pools, and then we end up right back here and we get in the car and go. Just follow me, don’t stop for anything.”

“Someone’s gonna call the cops,” you complained. “And these neighborhoods all have cameras.”

“That’s why we keep moving,” he said, his grin so excited and so un-Vernon that you almost couldn’t bear to say no to him. “No one’s gonna call the cops if we’re already gone - it’s not worth it. You ready?”

You hesitated. “You’re good to drive us out of here?” you checked.

He held up his hands as if to show innocence. “Only had a beer,” he promised. “But I’ve got something fun in the car for after, if you want.”

You felt your grin turn wolfish. “Okay. I’m right behind you.”

“Try and be quiet,” he warned, then took off running across the yard, cannonballing into the pool with a splash.

You tore off after him, leaping into the water and suppressing a shriek when the cold water hit you. You felt instantly sober, jittery with adrenaline, alive with laughter. You spluttered your way to the surface and pushed water away from your eyes, trying to find him through the shadows.

He was already climbing out the other side, water running down his back, the muscle shifting in the half-light as he hoisted himself back onto the pool’s deck. You hurried across the pool, climbing up beside him, giggling wildly.

“Shhh,” he warned, but he was giggling too as he led you carefully over the fence to the next yard.

As soon as you crept close enough to the pool to jump, a motion-activated light came on, flooding the yard white and causing you to cover your eyes.

“Quick!” Vernon told you, grabbing your arm and pulling you in with him as he jumped.

You let out a stream of bubbles and water rushed into your mouth. You felt your feet hit the bottom and you pushed off hard, surfacing quickly.

Again, you followed him across the pool, both of you laughing and whispering, “Hurry! Quick!” as you climbed out and headed around the house to the front yard.

“Okay, this is the hard part,” he told you, both of you shivering as the night air caught up to you. “We have to cross the street, hop the fence, and then the pool is around back.”

“I’m ready,” you promised, with a particularly hard shiver.

You sprinted across the street, both leaving wet footprints on the pavement. His hand felt warm in yours when he helped you over the fence, warm on your body when he held your waist as you climbed down.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, but giggles still spilled out of you.

“More fun than melting, right?” he asked, and you thought that you’d seen him smile more tonight than in whole months of coming together at night.

You thought you might move mountains to see him smile like this again, gums showing, open and honest, happy.

Then you were underwater again, swimming hard to keep up, following Vernon through the night as he pushed his way through some hedges and held them apart for you.

You made it to the last house before someone caught you, slamming the back door open and shouting, “Hey!”

“Go, go, go!” Vernon cried, laughing with such abandon that it sounded like goose honks, pulling on your hand as you both stumbled, dripping, towards the car.

You’d set towels on the seats before starting, so you tumbled into the car and he peeled away, both of you laughing wildly as you left the neighborhood behind.

It was miles before you calmed down, gasping in breaths and trying to hold them before exploding into laughter again.

“I’d better not end up on the news,” you scolded. “I’m in my underwear.

He gave you a searing sideways look. “I noticed.”

You felt yourself warm again, despite being in soaking wet clothes.

“Where next?” you asked. “Home?”

He let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “I don’t really want to go home,” he admitted. Then, “I was having fun with you.”

You considered this. “Not to be a cliche, but… I know a place.”

The quarry was quiet, surrounded by only trees; without posted lights, everything seemed to be just varying shades of black - the black of the water just darker than the black of the stone ledges just darker than the walls of trees just darker than the sky sprinkled with stars above you.

“We have to be careful,” you warned him seriously. “If you slip and get hurt, it could be bad.”

He turned the flashlight on his phone on and set it next to the metal rungs that jutted out of the stone, a makeshift ladder for the swimmers who came here during the day, when swimming was allowed.

“It’s going to be way colder than the pools,” you added.

“You’re not selling this very well,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a chicken,” you teased.

He eyed the water. “I’m having second thoughts.”

You nudged him in the ribs, which caused him to squirm away, hands batting at yours, a noise emitting from him that made you laugh out loud.

“Are you ticklish?” you demanded. “How did I not know?”

“Come on, are we jumping or what?” he asked, laughing, still trying to keep your sneaky hands away from his ribs.

“Yeah, that’s probably the only way to actually get in,” you admitted, still laughing a little. Your abs felt a little sore from how much you’d laughed tonight.

You stood on the edge of the stone, toes curling over the ledge, Vernon’s hand tight in yours. You stood on the edge, the ink-like water beneath you rippling slightly, marring the reflection of the constellations high above you. You stood on the edge of something, knowing full well you were afraid to swim.

He counted you down, and together, you jumped.

The water was freezing - it hurt, it stung, and you shrieked and laughed as you surfaced. A foot from you, Vernon was shouting.

“The towels!” you told him, already swimming towards the little dot of light that marked the ladder.

Shaking and shivering, you reached your towel, wrapping it around yourself. Behind you, Vernon jogged up, making noises like a disgruntled horse as he found his own towel.

“Oh my god,” he groused, grabbing for you. “I’m freezing, come here.”

He opened his arms, the towel behind him like a wingspan, and you stepped into the space, letting him wrap his arms and his towel around you. You stood shivering together, trying to let your body heat chase the cold away.

You wrapped your own arms around his middle, pressing yourself closer as your legs shook, shivers rolling up your spine in waves as your body fought the chill.

“C’mere,” he murmured above you, holding you a little more tightly, his own teeth chattering.

It was the first time, you realized as you turned your head to rest your cheek on his chest, that you’d held each other. It was the first time you’d been between his arms when you weren’t fucking, the first time he’d tightened his grip around you for a reason other than gratification.

You didn’t want it - didn’t want to know that it felt nice in his embrace, didn’t want to know that it fit right and felt safe. You didn’t want to know that you liked it, didn’t want to have to fight against the humiliation of wanting more.

As soon as the full-body tremors died away in the warm, sticky night, you stepped away, eager to put distance between you again.

Later, he looked over at you from the driver’s seat of the car, red-eyed, his smile stretching slow and thick like putty. When you straddled his lap, his hands searching out the bare skin of your back, you rocked against him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of his pretty throat until you were pulling groans from him with each pass of your hips.

Forget, you thought, as you pulled your underwear to the side for him. Forget every single thing but this.

When you slipped an arm behind his neck and pressed your foreheads together as you lifted and dropped, you weren’t sure whose memory you were hoping to erase with this most recent pleasure-chase: yours, or his.

1 yr, 1 month ago

There was no map or calendar to this thing your brain did. It was summer, the sun shone, and yet the days bled together again, sunsets swirling down the shower drain.

The last time you’d gone radio silent, the last time your world had gone grey without warning, Vernon had answered in kind. His own silence had shouted for him until you’d tempted him back.

This time, he didn’t resort to silence in retaliation to yours. Instead, he kept trying, relentless. If you’d had more presence of mind, you might have wondered why.

wyd

[ ]

yo. whats the deal

[ ]

i will have you know that this is very insulting

[ ]

don’t get mad but im coming over

“What the fuck, Vernon.”

“I said don’t get mad.”

“It doesn’t work like that. What are you doing here?”

He leveled you with a look. “You gonna let me in?”

“Literally, no.”

You hadn’t showered in days; your apartment was probably grosser than you were. The cat milled around your ankles, trying to weasel its way outside, and you hopped from foot to foot trying to nudge it back inside.

“Why not?” he asked.

You huffed, annoyed. But the annoyance was the first thing you’d felt all day, and something inside you clung to it, desperate for more of anything but the crawling nothing that’s kept you company for days.

“Because,” you grumbled. Because there’s nothing for you here. Because I have nothing I can give you. “I’m… just not in the mood.”

He stepped back from the door so you could see more of him. “I’m not asking you to be.”

“Then why are you here?” The words fell between you, heavy. If you hadn’t been so low, if you hadn’t gone all day without eating, if you hadn’t been on your thirtieth hour without sleeping, you would have known better. You would have realized that you were asking, if you aren’t here for sex, then what are you here for?

You wouldn’t have asked a question that you didn’t want the answer to.

He met your eyes. He seemed to teeter on the edge of telling you the truth, giving you the real answer. Then, he muttered, “Got bored.”

You knew it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew you knew it, and yet neither of you were willing to look at it directly.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He watched you for what felt like a long time, face serious, eyes glittering and attentive. Then, instead of answering, he repeated, “Are you gonna let me in?”

You frowned at him, but there was a little more pout to it than anger. “I’m all gross,” you said, instead of answering.

Something in him softened - it was visible on his face, in his shoulders, like he knew this was your way of saying yes. “So let’s shower,” he suggested quietly.

You felt trepidation, like part of you expected him to stay soft, to try to take care of you. To your relief, Vernon acted like everything was normal, scrunching his face at you when the water was too cold as he stepped in, washing his own body in silence and letting you do your thing.

He didn’t try to hold you, didn’t ask you when you’d eaten last, didn’t try to talk about it - didn’t try to fix it. He was just… there, and this - along with your first shower in days - was somehow revitalizing in itself.

You pulled on clean sweats, which was better than the day-four sweats he’d found you in. “The apartment’s kind of… sorry,” you mumbled, looking around the living room, feeling a bit of that familiar shame crawl up your neck as you noticed the evidence that you hadn’t been picking up, or running a vacuum.

Vernon flopped backwards on your sofa, unphased, one arm bent behind his head. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year,” he pointed out. “I know how it usually is.”

It isn’t usually like this. And neither are you.

You wondered when it happened - your ability to finish his half-thoughts, your ability to know what he meant when he only said a fraction of it.

You stood awkwardly beside the couch where he was lounging, and he looked up at you with a tiny, amused smile.

“What do you wanna do?”

What you really wanted to do was cocoon yourself in blankets again and put on repeats of a show you’d already seen. But now you had to look functional. You might be mad at him for showing up like this, now that you thought about it.

“I dunno,” you said, which was close to the truth.

“You wanna eat?”

“Honestly?” you asked, pursing your lips a little. “No.”

“Okay,” he said easily, and it struck you again how different this was than how Chan treated you when you were low. Chan would have already had the food delivered, and would be chasing you around the table with loaded chopsticks, demanding you take a bite.

“Can we just… watch something?” you asked, unsure.

Vernon wordlessly reached for your remote and held it up to you, nonplussed.

You wondered if it was an act, how easy this was, how unbothered he was, how he seemed to just understand what wouldn’t help.

You knew it wasn’t; you’d been around long enough to know that Vernon’s demons weren’t all that different from yours.

You settled somewhere between his body and the back of the couch, one leg bent over his legs, one of your arms over his stomach and his arm curled around your shoulders.

“This is weird,” you muttered into his chest, and his laugh rumbled under you.

“Why?” he asked, his smile big, like he thought you were particularly funny. “Not used to being big spoon?”

Not used to cuddling - with you.

“Yeah,” you said, because that was easier.

On your TV, a show ran through several episodes, the changing scenes splashing you and Vernon with changing colors, casting his face blue and then white and then black and then red and then blue again. Sometimes he’d watch, sometimes he’d scroll on his phone. You mostly felt his heart beating under your hand and let your mind whir.

At some point he started mindlessly (or not mindlessly, who could know) stroking your back, gentle touches brushing up and down, slow, slow, the way he always was. At some point you shivered, goosebumps rising along your arms, and snuggled closer to him. At some point he shifted you from slightly beside him to on top of him, a second hand slipping under your loose tshirt and joining the first in tracing stripes up and down your upper back.

You shifted against him, something coming to life with a shudder like the furnace in your parent’s basement on cold autumn nights. Heat worked its way slowly from your core to your stomach, down your legs.

He kept his eyes on the tv, innocent, but you could hear his heartbeat. It couldn’t lie and pretend.

You shifted again, squirming until you’d worked his t-shirt up just enough that you could touch skin, too. You trailed your own fingers over the inch of exposed stomach you’d found, and delighted in the way you could feel him start to harden beneath you.

Then, you delighted in your delight. It was the first good thing you’d been able to feel in almost a week.

You said his name, and he finally looked down at you, eyes nearly black in the unlit room.

“What is it?” he asked, and his voice was suddenly so low it sent shivers tumbling down each vertebrae and tripping over to your limbs. “Want me to make you feel good?”

No, you wanted to say as you answered his question by pulling the hem of his t-shirt higher, encouraging him to lift up so you could pull it off. No, just want you to make me feel.

1 year ago

Everywhere Vernon looked, all he saw was circles. Circle of red in his bowl when he inhaled. Circle of condensation on the table when he lifted his beer. Circle of light reflecting from his phone case, laying in the setting sunlight, to the ceiling. Above him, the ceiling fan circled lazily, nowhere to be.

And you - you and him. That was a circle, too. A cycle, at least, which was close enough in his opinion. Text, hook up, skitter back to your respective places, wait out the next weekend. It was as rhythmic and routine as waves breaking and then getting pulled back out only to come shatter on sand again. It was out of his control, up to forces far greater than he was.

Vernon’s friends had texted to hang out and he’d declined. He told them he was seeing his parents, but really, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to watch the ceiling fan circle, he wanted to let his brain go staticky quiet, he wanted to burrow deep into things that made him feel less.

But he still, somehow, wanted to see you. He wanted to be alone, and being with you didn’t feel like not getting that.

It was a little scary, he thought, that you were the exception. That he could be with you without feeling the uncomfortable pressure of being with others, of having to be on, of having to fake cheerfulness and keep up with chatter that only exhausted him.

Vernon wasn’t a kid. He knew what it meant.

whats up

honestly not a lot. want me to come over?

Yeah, he did. He did, even if you weren’t going to hook up. He did, even if you were just going to lay on opposite sides of the couch and scroll on your phones. He did, and he hoped he’d end up with his arms around you, and he hoped he’d make you laugh at least once, and he hoped you’d stay and just be there with him after.

When you came over, he asked you how you felt about it - about him, about you and him. He asked by laying you on your back in his bed, by brushing fingertips along your face. He asked you by sliding your leggings away gently, pressing his mouth to each inch of your inseam as it became exposed to his dimly lit room. He asked you by kissing you through the lace you wore for him, then kissing the same spot once that lace was on his floor.

He asked you when he crawled up your body until his tip teased at your entrance and you whined, shifting to try to take him. And - when he took it slow this time, teeth scraping at your neck and then tongue hurrying to soothe the sting, his arms bracketing your body like he was sheltering you from an incoming storm.

(Maybe, he considered, he was.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was worthless in the face of this storm’s wrath.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was the fucking storm in the first place.)

And you heard his question loud and clear. You pulled on your leggings as soon as you were cleaned up, popping your hood up over your head as you searched for your phone. You kept your eyes on your screen as you waited for a car to come, murmured, “Later,” on your way out the door.

Vernon’s apartment rang with quiet. He was alone, he’d gotten what he’d wanted.

He’d also, it seemed, gotten his answer.

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thank you so much for reading!!! i'm always happy to hear what you think!

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brainrot-of-a-thot · 3 days

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requests are officially open.

so, I have decided to open my askbox permanently for those who wish to request something from me. however, before sending in a request, there is just one thing I ask of you to keep in mind —

I’m the mother of a toddler, and I survive pretty much off of caffeine and my own daydreams.

edit: as another note to this, I was very recently diagnosed with asd (autism spectrum disorder), and it does affect my writing from time to time; for the most part, it doesn’t affect it horribly, especially when I’m hyper-fixated on something. but it could kill my motivation at times.

the reason I bring this particular fact up is that, depending on the length/detail of a particular request and whether or not it coincides with particular events in my life, it could take me awhile to write it. so, I guess all I ask is you keep in mind that patience is a virtue? lol. okay, with that out of the way, I’ll move on to my rules.

fandoms: this blog is exclusive to the windbreaker (nii satoru) fandom

maturity/genre: I essentially don’t have a filter on this. e for everyone, pg-13, nc17, rated r; fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort — it doesn’t matter. I will write anything.

is dark content okay to request?: to an extent, yes. I haven’t ever really written anything explicitly dark (just a few fics with dub-con elements) but I’m also not triggered very easily, so I am open to dabbling in darker content. [pedophilia is an absolute no-go; I will not write fics about an adult abusing/taking advantage of a minor/child.]

what constitutes as dark content?: this could vary from person to person, but for me, dark content consists of: stalking/yandere, non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, drugging, extremely toxic relationships, and other things along those lines.

how many reqs can I send in?: there is no limit. you can request as many fics as you want, with differing themes, characters, and ratings. [the only thing I ask you to keep in mind is that I do not work requests in a ‘first come, first serve’ sort of way — for me, it’s a matter of interest and how well my brain flows with the idea. my creative juices aren’t infinite, unfortunately.]

where do I send my requests?: preferably, through the askbox. I like the fact that it offers the option for requesters to do so anonymously — as an introvert who would be highly embarrassed to send in a super detailed req with my blog name attached to it, it warms my little heart. though, if you’d rather send in a req through the comment section of a post, you can do that too. [note: it may take me longer to find your request that way.]

requests and anonymity: as mentioned above, requests can be sent anonymously — but I can also take it a step further for your comfort. rather than creating the post directly from your ask, I can create it via an entirely new post (meaning, your specific ask won’t be linked to the resulting fic). all you have to do include that within your request, such as saying ‘can you make the post separate’ and I will do it. if you wish, I can briefly summarize your request within the post — or, if you’d prefer, not do so at all. you’re in control here, love.

I know these rules were long and probably pretty boring to sift through, but I appreciate anyone who did. happy requesting, my loves! let’s get some more windbreaker content on here!

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader

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japaneseadventures · 9 hours

Text

Tsuda Kenjiro - Nichiyoubi no Hatsumimi Gaku 2024.03.10

Highlights/Anecdotes of this episode:

Tsudaken tries to do the narration for his own guest appearance and dies of embarrassment

He blanked out and forgot his lines when he tried to act for the first time in a long while

Clips of his many major and minor TV drama appearances over the years were shown

His role in The Last Man made him trend worldwide on Twitter

Tsuda shared why he started acting and voice acting

He went on a 1-week holiday trip to Prague and got recognized by overseas Jujutsu Kaisen fans 5 times.

Nakajima Kento talked about how he admired Kaiba Seto from Yu-Gi-Oh. He told Tsuda about it when they worked together. On Kento's birthday, Tsuda sent him a personalized voice message, saying one of the most famous lines in Yu-Gi-Oh.

Tsuda played Inui Sadaharu in Prince of Tennis (PoT) and it changed his life dramatically. PoT was at the forefront of the "ikemen" boom at the time, and he could finally quit doing part-time jobs.

Kazama Shunsuke, who voice acted as the main character for Yu-Gi-Oh, talks about how close the two of them were in that series even though they were playing as each other's rivals. They were both newbies to the voice acting industry with no other jobs at the time, so they hung out a lot as they waited for their call time.

Kazama is particularly smug at being aware of Tsuda's charm a lot earlier than most people, and he wants everybody to know that, lol

Tsuda shares how the cast and staff from the TV drama Saiai are really passionate about the drama. Same goes from the staff of Jujutsu Kaisen.

Namikawa Daisuke shares some anecdotes about Tsuda. Sometimes tsuda texts him about eating out together, but then leaves him on read when Namikawa asks when he's free.

Tsuda talks about his latest movie, where he plays as a villain for the first time.

Tsudaken talks about his kids (!!) His daughter in particular is a bit eccentric, just like Tsuda (That's Tsuda and the TV Show host's words not mine lol)

A more detailed summary of the episode under the read more:

On his TV drama/ Movie Discography:

Tsuda talked about experience acting in the hit TV drama Saiai. On his first day filming, he forgot his lines. It's been 12 years since he last played as a recurring character in a TV show, and for his first scene, he had to do a long presentation in front of 30 people. All he could think was that there were a lot of people, and then his mind went blank.

Some notable TV drama appearances of Tsuda:

- Played as a host in Ikebukuro West Gate Park (2000) in his 20s for 21 seconds - A guy hitting on the main character (Inoue Mao) in Hana Yori Dango in his 30s (2005) for 30 seconds ("Ooh, I got more screentime") - A doctor in Jin (2009) for 24 seconds ("Aww, I had less screentime lol.").

In 2023, he trended worldwide on X/Twitter as an actor for his impactful scene in the drama The Last Man. When Tsuda turned up in the second episode, his acting was a popular topic on social media.

He adlibbed in the last scene of Last Man. Came up with 30 versions for that scene, and settled on "Shintaro, are you hungry?" Figured a parent would be worrying about whether his kid is feeling hungry, cold or hot.

On his acting:

Originally was aiming to be an actor, not a voice actor.

When he started acting, he was able to let all his dark emotions out using the lines he had to act out. These were feelings such as "hating people", and "hate towards society". It was the first outlet he found for those feelings, and he found that very fun. He was able to bring out his real self when he acted. Because of that experience, he couldn't give up acting.

Unfortunately, money was tight at the time and his electricity and gas would get cut off. It even came to a point when even his water would get cut off. He kept on failing in auditions, so even if he's been practicing on his acting, he didn't really have a chance to show it to others.

For him, the most painful thing about it all was that he was an absolute nobody. He had no proof that he's actually alive. But he overcame that difficulty because he was obstinate-- He believes that this is where his strength lies. He keeps doing things until he's satisfied with it.

On his voice acting career:

Voice acting was what gave him an opportunity to link with the world of expressing himself.

Says Nanami Kento is a wonderful role to play. That Jujutsu Kaisen's influence is amazing.

During the New Year's holidays, he went on a holiday trip abroad. While he was sightseeing, a foreigner would call out, "Mr. Tsuda?" He said yes, all the while taken aback since he was in Prague. They asked for a photo and a signature. In the one week that he stayed there, it happened 5 times.

When he asked them how they knew him, everyone answered Jujutsu Kaisen. "Nanami, Nanami." He really didn't expect it to be so popular abroad. It made him feel the power of Japanese anime.

While he was struggling with acting, he was invited to an audition for voice acting and he accepted the invitation with no hesitation. At age 25, he debuted as a voice actor for the anime H2.

At age 29 was his fateful encounter with the series Yu-gi-oh Duel Monsters (2000) where he played Kaiba Seto.

Nakajima Kento says his idol in life is Kaiba Seto. It was also thanks to Tsuda's acting that Kento admired Kaiba, and he told Tsuda exactly that when Tsuda did the narration for Kento's movie show. On Kento's 27th birthday, he got a voice message from Tsuda, saying "It's 27-year-old Nakajima Kento's turn! Draw!!" Kento was ecstatic. He thinks Tsuda is really cool.

A year after Yu-Gi-oh, he played Inui Sadaharu from Prince of Tennis. The Ikemen (Hot Guys) boom was rising at the time, and Prince of Tennis was at the forefront of this trend. It changed his life dramatically. He was finally able to quit doing part-time jobs. At around 31 years old. He always felt like he was walking a fine line, so it was a relief to have a stable livelihood.

Anecdotes from Kazama Shunsuke, voice actor of Yugi Moto from Yu-Gi-Oh

Both Tsuda and Kazama Shunsuke, who played the main character of Yu-gi-oh, were newbies at voice acting when they did Yu-gi-oh. Tsuda was still new to voice acting at the time, while Kazama had never done it before. Although they were playing as each other's rivals, they became close since they were both newbies.

They both didn't have any other work to do, so they had a lot of time on their hands. Kazama would contact Tsuda and ask if he came to work early, and Tsuda would reply, "I'm free right now so I'm lurking nearby." And they'd have tea together. We'd talk about what we could do to be good at voice acting like other VAs.

Kazama talked about how worried he was about Tsuda. When he laughs, Tsuda does it in 3 levels of increasing laughter. At times, he'd even do 5 levels, since the animation would also have 5 different clips as the power of his laughter increases. The 3rd level would be his usual laughter, so Kazama thought Tsuda's blood vessels would burst going beyond that lol

Kazama says he's super happy that Tsuda got to have a lot of regular acting and voice acting jobs. But Kazama just wants people to know that he's been aware of Tsuda's charm for more than 20 years now. A lot earlier than most people have lmao.

On what went on behind of the scenes of a popular scene in JJK:

Says there's a particular scene that highlights Nanami. He wondered how he'd do it, since that scene was originally in the manga. The producer told him what the mangaka said was Nanami's feelings during that scene, but Tsuda and the staff are free to play it out as they like. The director also told Tsuda to do it the way Tsuda thinks it should be acted. Leave no regrets. Like in the making of the drama Saiai, Tsuda feels that hit series like Jujutsu Kaisen are made with a lot of love from the staff, and this love is reflected in the tiny details. He believes that viewers could really tell from that.

Anecdotes from Namikawa Daisuke, who he's voice acted with in a number of works

Namikawa Daisuke says Tsuda's acting method is something unique to Tsuda. It can't be learned.

Namikawa describes Tsuda as a sloth with a nice voice. Tsuda: LOL. Say something nicer!

Tsuda would just contact him whenever, going, "I want to eat soon."

Namikawa: I'm not your mom!! When I text back, "When are you available?" He doesn't reply. He probably isn't feeling up to it right then. Staff: How long do you have to wait for a reply? Namikawa: At the latest, he leaves me on read.

In his latest movie My Home Hero, it is Tsuda's first time playing a villain. Said he had fun doing it. He was asked to make the character very quirky, which really pleased him as an actor. Sasaki Kuranosuke would make pleased faces due to the littlest things Tsuda would do, and it really pleases Tsuda in return.

On his family

Tsuda has 2 kids, a daughter in middle school and a son in grade school. It was his first time talking about his children in a show. Says no one ever asked, so he never had an opportunity to talk about it.

During holidays, Tsuda never answer work calls from his manager. He wants his day offs to be dedicated to playing with his children.

Wakako-san was just fangirling over Tsuda this whole episode lol "Ah, so cute!"

Tsuda talks about how his children won't speak with him if they haven't seen each other for a long period of time, and it makes him feel lonely.

His kids watch anime, and some of them are ones he's in. When he mentions this to his children, they're like, "I know." But they never try to talk to him about it. Tsuda: Why??

His kids love Detective Conan, and Tsuda actually is in the latest movie. (The host, Hayashi Osamu, uses this opportunity to flex and share that he's appeared in a Conon work before too LOL)

Tsuda says his daughter is a bit eccentric like him. When he asked her what she'd like for her birthday, she asked for a biwa (musical instrument), leaving him very baffled. In the previous years, she asked for a pocket watch, ship in a bottle, kemari (ball from a sport back in ancient Japan) Tsuda: Huh…

Tsuda says that now that the borders between countries are dissolving thanks to the internet and social media, he wants them to strengthen their identity as a Japanese person who lived in Japan by attending lessons for Nohgaku (a traditional style of Japanese theater).

Says experiencing something is also remembering what's tough. How there's a disparity with your imagination and experience. For example, we all know that getting scalded is hot. But actually getting scalded is hotter than you would have imagined.

Tsuda talked about he wasn't an elite. If anything, acting may be the thing he's worst at. But he believes life has consolation matches. (Meaning, even if you fail once doesn't mean you're completely out of the running) Being an early bloomer isn't everything.

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