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skylarmoon71 · 3 years

Text

Reverse Flash x Reader- Oneshot (Flash)

Dealing with this yellow suit wearing maniac was not how you thought you’d spend the night. As an ex citizen from Central city, you knew just about every villain that came out of the tragedy of the explosion. Every day a new one seems to arise, and since you liked having all your body parts as they were, you stayed caught up with the news.

That’s why you’d left the place for some much needed peace.

Rockstone was quiet, and still pretty populated. It wasn’t that far away from Central City either, so you could still visit your family every now and then.

“You seem awfully calm for someone being threatened."

The dark haired male raised his vibrating hand, hoping to urge at least some kind of reaction. After being brought back and wiped from existence so many times, this time around he’d just been looking to have a little fun. Chasing Barry around was starting to get redundant. And then he supposed the hero had his own problems to deal with right about now.

He planned to stay as low key as possible until he could figure out what his next move was. So kidnapping an unsuspecting victim and forcing them to provide him shelter seemed like the best way to go.

“Not gonna lie, scared the shit outta me when you appeared out of that little portal. Really thought I dodged a bullet leaving CC. Just my luck.” you grumble. Sipping at your coffee, you adjusted your bag strap. “Sorry old man, got a job to get to so if you’ll excuse me.” you walk around him. It was already dark, and since you had a night shift at the university today, you really weren’t in the mood for this.

Your hair is taken with the whip of the wind, and it feels like a blink. Drink discarded on the ground, you stare in shock. He has you pinned to the wall, snare on his face, blue eyes emitting so much raw agitation. “I’d advise against mocking me.”

He’s started to vibrate, the red light overtaking his eyes.

“It’s not wise to test me.”

The echoing of his voice would bring any person to their knees in fear. The look in your eyes shifts from shock to annoyance. Your free hand is hanging at the side of your waist. You raise your palm, and he looks down just as a blue light shoots out. He’s gone once again, obviously not anticipating this. No longer forced up on the wall, you shrug your shoulders, straightening your shirt that was ruffled.

Eobard is now standing at a distance, intrigued. He halts his speed for a second to observe you. He’s positive he has no recollection of you. Being the evil genius that he is, he’s pretty much recorded all the villain metas in Central City. All those years travelling through time also played a big part in it. So why does he have no profile on you?

“Who are you?” He narrows his eyes, and all you provide is a smirk.

“I think you mean what.” You open both your palms, and your eyes are now emitting the same glow as your hands.

“Great.”

What in the world did he get himself into. He really had a knack for picking bad situations.

~Three Months Later~

“I could have just. “ He makes a hand motion, and you don't need to even guess what he means. This guy. You'd just been telling him about your experience yesterday with one of your peers.

“Now now, don’t make me put you to sleep again Bardy-poo. “ You could tell from his facial expression that the name was anything but desired.

“How long do you intend to keep me hostage?” you scoffed at his statement.

“Hostage, I’d like to think of it as a gracious service to society. “

Eobard was still glaring in your direction.

Running into you that night was such terrible luck on his part. He really thought he’d be lucky this time around, but he was dead wrong. You were unlike anything or one he’d ever met. Certainly not a meta. Since you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your origin, there wasn’t much to go on. What he did know is that every time he attempted to do something even remotely evil, you knew about it.

His powers also had very little effect on you. Trying on many occasions to drill a hand through your chest with no luck. You had him mentally and physically subdued. What’s even worse is he was trying to avoid time travelling, cause that would catch Barry’s attention, and the prospect of the male finding him was even less appealing. With nowhere to go, and you keeping him on a tight watch, his only option was to stick around.

It wasn’t like he was completely stranded. He had means to get by for moments like this. With his abilities he could take whatever he wanted without so much as a flinch. You apparently didn’t care much for his little adventures as long as no one got dead. For all intents and purposes, he was a free man, minus the unnamed being keeping him on a leash.

“I can feel you plotting from all the way over here. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Will you remove the bind?” He asked. You click your tongue.

“You know I can’t do that. Evil villain and all. I wouldn't sleep very well if I knew you were out there impaling civilians. “

His eyes were still marking you, and you shifted, brows knitting.

“Well...I’m gonna go because that look is a bit off putting.”

Moving to pick up your cup of coffee and head for the door, you’re once again trapped between the speedster and the wall. You’re about to give him another snarky retort, but you become a little distracted by how deliciously rosy his lips are.

You divert your eyes quickly before your mind can stray any further. He doesn’t speak for a moment, and for a second you almost think he’s trapped in the same haze you are. He’d obviously prepared something diabolical to say, but like some of your most recent interactions, his usual malicious intent is missing.

“So, you're gonna say something or are you trying to relive some Korean drama scene."

He blinks, then takes notice of the position. You’re a bit confused at the lost look on his face. If you didn’t know any better you would have said he didn’t intend to do that. Taking a step back, the coldness returns to his eyes, and just like that he takes off. You release a breath.

“It’s getting harder.”

This little ploy was becoming difficult to keep up. If he ever figured it out you’re not sure what his reaction will be. Your reason for doing this has greatly changed from the beginning.

~~~~~~

The little mental battle has been going on all day.

You could barely focus on anything even when you were teaching your criminology class. That night walking to your door, you felt heavy. Not just from the secret you were keeping from Eobard, but also the feelings you’d lectured yourself not to grow.

The dark haired male is not a good man. You keep telling yourself that. But you’d hope that these months being around you would change that. He hadn’t hurt anyone since his arrival. You honestly thought that you could change him for the better. Opening the door, you step in. The area is silent, and it sort of makes you a tad bit suspicious.

“Eo-”

“Good evening.” You jump, glaring in his direction as you push the door close. He’s sitting on the couch casually like he didn’t just scare the shit out of you.

“Geez don’t do that!!”

He’s once again strutting that stupid smirk.

“It’s uncomfortable isn’t it, when things happen that we have no control over. Surprises.” you squint.

“Why do I feel like that has some alternate meaning."

He’s dressed in dark clothing, glasses perched on his nose. Everything about his body language tells you something is up. With his attention now fixed on you, the bag in your hand is placed on the counter. You’re preparing for anything. As you’ve realized Eobard is very unpredictable.

“I’m done playing your game, release me at once. “

Trying not to pay much mind to his request, you walk past him.

“Come on, we've been at this for months. I can’t let you go on a rampage. Innocent lives and all. If you really wanna blame someone then blame yourself. What are the odds that out of all of the people here you decided to grab me right?” you laugh, but you don’t receive any in return.

“You’re under the impression that this is a game.”

Eobard knows there’s no harm he can inflict on your body, doesn’t mean his actions don’t make you nervous. He approaches slowly, but with purpose. With your back now to the fridge, you try to move to an area where you won’t feel as trapped. Eobard in no way allows this. His hands press into the cool surface of the fridge.

“Y-You know this fetish you seem to have with pushing me against stuff is getting kind of old.” Who were you kidding, shit was driving you mad.

“You can’t keep me here.”

There was no humor in his voice. Just flat out hostility. Yet he wasn’t emitting the anger you knew he had inside. Just because he couldn’t kill you didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. You’re positive he’s realized that by now. The prospect of him leaving, somehow it caused an ache in your heart. Eyes connected, it was impossible for you not to look so vulnerable.

“I-If you really want to leave then just go.” you willed your body not to shake, but it was becoming difficult to even keep your tears at bay. “Are you toying with me?” He clenched his fist.

You shook your head, lowering your eyes. Why did you have to feel guilty for keeping the truth from him. The guy wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. “I’m not. You can leave Eobard. “

His eyes grew a little wide at the information.

“I’m not a witch, or a metahuman. I’m just a mutant.” you state.

“It’s how I’m able to produce barriers like the one I placed on you. It can only be sustained for a maximum of three weeks. It’s taken me years to get to that point of control. You just assumed I always had the barrier up after a month, and I never corrected you because I was trying to keep people safe.”

That wasn’t your only reason.

This entire time he’d been trying to solve your mystery when the answer was right in front of him. It still made no sense. Why didn’t he leave?

“The only reason you’re still here is because you want to be.” Eobard took a step back.

“That can’t be right, why would I want to be stuck in this wretched town.”

All you offer is a smile. At the back of your mind you hope it’s because he’s grown closer to you than he wants to admit.

“I’ve been wondering the same for weeks now. “

You aren’t sure what else can be said. Thankfully you haven’t started breaking down. You sort of want him to leave so you can have the privacy to do so. You take a breath, forcing a confident smile on your face. “Well the cat’s out of the bag so I guess this is goodbye. Just because I can’t hold you doesn’t mean I won’t know when you’re causing mayhem. Better not fall back to your old ways.”

You refuse to look him in the eye, so you have no idea what kind of expression he’s wearing.

Eobard steps forward and grabs your arm.

“Wha-” your swept right off your feet, and you grunt when your back suddenly comes in contact with the softness of your mattress. Eobard is hovering over your body, and you realize he’s just taken you into the bedroom without so much as an explanation. Not just that, but the hunger behind those dark rimmed glasses is enough to turn you into putty.

“W-What are you doing!!”

“Testing a theory.”

“The fu-” His lips collide with yours and your eyebrows shoot up. If you had expected something, it wasn’t this. His entire body is now pressed into you. You’ve held your breath, whimpering.

This is bad, wrong even. His hands are pressed into the mattress, as he shows no signs of moving, or slowing down. His lips are moving eagerly against yours, and at some point your body has started to respond. You reach up, grabbing a fistful of his black shirt, forcing him closer. Your kisses are desperate now, and raw. One of his hands lands on your thigh, trailing up your leg. Because you’re wearing a dress, you can feel his palm against your skin. You moan, and he takes full advantage, slipping his tongue in.

“So good..”

He tastes amazing. His kisses are even more incredible. If you never came up for air that would be too soon. Eobard parts for the breath you are both in need of. Sapphire orbs have changed to navy, and it elects another needy moan from you. His hand is still on your thigh, caressing the skin teasingly. He’s so close to where you need him the most. Eobard takes pleasure in your soft cries. Now it all makes sense. The reason behind your need to keep him there, his apparent unconscious reluctance to leave you.

“Delicious.”

He licks his lips, pulling off his glasses and tossing them overhead.

“I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. “ You gulp.

Did you?

His lips hover over yours and the logical part of your brain has vanished. You lean up to connect, but he’s keeping you at a distance with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face."

”It appears I’m the one who has you bind now. “

What an unusual turn of events.

Not that you’re complaining.

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marumafan · 4 years

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A Guide For Yuuram Fans

Hello fellow yuuram fan! Have you ever caught yourself thinking:

- Does Yuuri like Wolf? - No, but I mean like "Does he REALLY like Wolf?" - Am I getting invested just to find out it's clickbait? - Is Yuuri ever going to accept Wolf's feelings? - Does Yuuri like guys? - Will they get married or not?

You have questions? I have source material-backed answers!

The Basics

First, you need to understand that there's a variety of so-called canons. There's an anime canon, a manga canon, a drama cd canon, a musical canon, and then some other random things that you can't really call canon but exist: such as games, radio shows, tv stuff not written by the author, etc.

All of these canons and non-canon stuff are fine, and you can enjoy them as much as you want, but they're NOT the source material. Source material are only the novels and stories that have been written by Takabayashi-sensei (anything in written form and some dramas also written by her according to interviews).

Takabayashi-sensei is the author of the novels (the source material out of which everything else is derived), and her word is "god's word". By the way, she used this term to refer to herself in regards to the maruma series, I'm not fangirling, but using terminology she herself used.

Please understand that most of the material that isn't 'source material' has been altered in many ways to appeal to a 'larger audience' (manga and drama cds), or to make it palatable to the more homophobic society of the 2000s (in the case of the anime). When the anime began social media didn't exist. And when the anime ended (in 2009), social media was in its infancy. That's how long ago these media were adapted from source material.

The Fandom

The fandom has influenced the source material itself at times (such as Conrad fans throwing a hissy fit when he died in novel 5 to the point that Takabayashi-sensei had to resurrect him and change who the key was and many other plot points since then). Certain shippers still force sensei's hand to write fanservice here and there, and despite that, one thing has been clear from the beginning:

Takabayashi-sensei's 'main couple' is the one she got engaged back in novel 1: Yuuri and Wolf, the royal couple.

The Bias

Before we get into the thick of this, let's take a moment to understand bias. I'm sure that if you're reading this far into this you really like yuuram and don't have a problem with homosexuality, boys love, etc. (I use yuuram to mean the royal couple: Yuuri and Wolf, nothing to do with 'who's on top' or anything like that, just a name for the ship with these two characters).

Despite that, anyone reading this has been born and raised in a highly hetero-normative society where if a girl so much looks at a boy she must be into him, and vice-versa.

Who can forget the "He was a boy, She was a girl, Can I make it any more obvious" lyrics of the 2000s? Same applies to 'ships' all across the board.

If any, and I mean any 'boy-girl' relationship was 10% of what the yuuram relationship is, there wouldn't be a single doubt that those two are in love, dating, married, and living happily ever after.

But when it comes to Yuuri and Wolf it feels like pulling teeth to get people to accept that they’re in a relationship. I blame mostly the anime for including weird non-canon ideas into fans minds, as well as heteronormative societies.

Please don’t be this person:

Finally, please take a moment to read THIS as an introduction to my next section.

The Royal Couple

Begin by forgetting everything you consumed from other canons (TV, manga, fanfics) if you truly want to appreciate the Royal Couple in its source material form.

1) Romantic interest

The source material has made Yuuri very interested in Wolfram since the very beginning. Of course, at first, he was only interested in Wolfram's physical appearance. But the more he got to know Wolfram the more he cared about him and the less he cared about his physical appearance.

To get a full picture of how madly he falls for Wolf, you need to read the novels, but here are some excerpts to illustrate my point:

How it started:

Source: Novel 1-Chapter 1

"Even if our bodies are evenly matched, when I just glanced up, I've already been defeated. How can he be this beautiful! (どうよ、この美しさ！) At the same time, his head is emitting an aura. Although it's likely that it seemed that way because of his dazzling blond hair. His looks and voice are like an older Vienna chorus boy. His white skin seems transparent, and his irises are an emerald green that make me think of the bottom of a lake, and furthermore he doesn't have a split chin. He's an angel, definitely an angry angel. However, because he's in this place, he's probably a beautiful demon."

-> Yuuri writes a fucking sonnet in his head about Wolf's beauty when they meet.

Source: Novel 1-Chapter 10

From the far side of the corridor, the blond with wavy hair comes running. The intense navy blue uniform suits him; the mazoku Prince Wolfram. I muttered in a sigh 'Although he's a man, he's this beautiful, Günter'.

-> Yuuri complains to Gunter that Wolf is too beautiful.

How it's going:

Source: Novel 17, Chapter 7

"Those words hurt me deeply inside my heart, a pain as though I was burnt in an instant. Because I had an experience like that, in which I nearly lost the most important person to me, just because he was wearing someone else’s clothes."

-> Yuuri calling Wolfram his most important person, code in the maruma series for person you're in love with.

Source: Do you want an exorcism? 2 (post novel 17)

"And because of that rich VARIETY in the configuration, mazoku is more an ethnicity than a race.

You have from kotsuhizoku, kotsuchizoku, and bone fish who are living creatures, even though they are just bones, to the seasonal migrating tribe of half-humanoid, half-fish maidmer princesses. As for the humanoid ones, there are regular looking ones like me or Conrad, but there are also some who are super beautiful like Günter or Wolfram............. as for the last one, this is just a little bit of my own personal bias, but it makes no difference if he's beautiful or not."

-> Yuuri saying that the beauty he went head over heals in novel 1 for, doesn't matter to him anymore because of his 'personal bias'

Source: Misepan 2: (post novel 17, arguably the last story written near the release of the novels)

"If I was in trouble, and I was missing something important. And you had one that was exactly the same ...."

"I'd lend it to you, of course"

I thought about this, literally with my hands on his chest. In fact, with my hand, that was pressed against his chest, I could feel that the speed of my partner's and my heartbeat was the same. Anyone would get blood rushing to their brains when they're seriously thinking about something. When I could calm down a little, I let out a small sigh.

"Or rather, when it comes to things that I can give you, I would give you anything, Wolf."

-> Yuuri tells Wolfram he would give him anything in the world.

2) Sexual interest:

-There are several times when the source material implies that Yuuri and Wolf don't just sleep at night.

Again, please remember that in the novels Greta does not sleep with Yuuri and Wolfram. This was a TV addition to appease homophobic minds. In fact, in the novels, Yuuri forbade Greta from sleeping with them because she's 'too old'. Also source material Greta is rarely in Shin Makoku as she's studying abroad half the time.

Source: Novel 2- Chapter10

"If I leave it up to you, it will never get settled."

"So, what kind of settlement do you want...?" My voice trails off as he sways his hips closer.

The former mazoku prince's face brightens and he pulls me down by the arm.

"Wah!"

"So you finally feel like settling things!?"

"I don't ~"

I'm scared to think about what sort of settlement this is. I'm not going to lose my life or anything, but I do feel like there's something else I'm going to lose. I desperately extract myself, fly into the bathroom and lock the door.

"Yuuri!"

"Wait wait wait! I gotta take a bath first, okay!? You don't wanna do it with a sweaty guy, right!?"

Do it...? I blanch at my own words.

-> Yuuri's subconscious is clearly working against him.XD It looks like Yuuri doesn't want to lose the v-card yet (he barely knows Wolf at this point), but he still says to Wolf he should take a bath before they do it. Gambare, Yu-chan

Source: Novel 4 - Chapter 1

-> Yuuri and Wolfram have been sleeping together for 3 months at the beginning of novel 4! Please! If this was a guy and girl you wouldn't be wondering what they're doing! He has a lock on the door! He can keep Wolf out , order him out, but he never does. Don’t be the gray haired lady!

Source: Never Ending Poison Lady 1

- "As a measure against Wolfram, who somehow even on our trips sleeps in the same bed as I do, I made a wall with three pillows which also had cute egg shaped buttons. I tucked my shirt into my pants, so that my stomach wouldn't get cold. After all, in the mornings when I woke up, both my clothes and my sleeping posture were always preposterous."

-> Yuuri says he puts some pillows to avoid getting into the weird sleeping postures and getting his clothes messed up and shirt untucked, but he never thinks of 'not sleeping with Wolf'~

Source: Never Ending Poison Lady 1 (same book as last)

- "While watching Wolfram's cheeks get red in excitement, a surprised Josak swallowed the question" You even sleep together when you're out on a trip?".

-> Even Jozak (the spy who's supposed to know everything) seems surprised that they're "sleeping together all the time". They're clearly hiding it from people.

Source: Maru maru maruMA- (book with series info and interviews)

Takabayashi-sensei replied to a question about Yuuri and Wolfram and what would happen once they get married... and she said it clearly: They'll have sex.

("Please answer my maruma question", maru maru maruMA)

Source: SS: Murakenzu 2018-11-13 (Paper 1 accompanying cd72) "Yeah, my father was talking about it, and she's still being called 'Gokumi', huh? At any rate, even if he was smiling way too much, his footsteps started to sound louder and faster as he got farther away. In that moment we thought: Eh? Is it that bad? Maybe they saw something while we were sleeping, or rather, maybe they took peeping photographs and want to do something bad with them."

"Rather than while you were sleeping, before going to sleep?"

"You mean like, when I do practice baseball swings naked or something?"

"Yeah, naked practice."

"Or maybe like, a picture of Wolf's butt when he's wearing his sexy negligee or something?"

"Ah! If a picture of it peeking out is released it would be bad, huh?"

"Then, I suddenly realized that "secret" might just be a hook. In other words, those trick titles that often appear in sports newspapers."

"Yes, yes."

-> Yuuri talks about Wolfram's butt showing as a common place and about himself being completely naked doing 'baseball practice' in the room with Wolf, whatever that may mean.

3) Illustrations

The 4 wedding pictures. Yuuri and Wolfram have been illustrated as married four times by the series' illustrator:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

And I like to add this fifth one (used in There's Valentine's Day in Shin Makoku!? DVD special), since in the black and white version, there's a comment by Takabayashi-sensei that says: "With this we've finally won against the anime team! ", meaning they beat them to the wedding.

4) Terminology

Yuuri and Wolf are referred to in tweets by Takabayashi-sensei, GEG-san and Temari-sensei as the Royal Couple (ロイカプ). The author, editor and illustrator all know already what they are and that's why they call them that.

More information:

Please, please read the source material. But if you won't, at least read some of the analyses I've made to find out more about yuuram. Yuuram is here, it’s canon, and their ship has sailed a long time ago, in novel 1. They were always meant to end up together and they have. (”The dream ending” was how the author wanted yuuram to end, happily married). This isn't clickbait, or fanwork. The author likes the Royal couple and will see that they end up together no matter what.

Additional information:

Yuuram in novel: 1 |2 |3 |4 |5 |6 |7 |8 |9 |10 |11 |12 |13 |14 |15 |16 |17

* Novel Analysis: Crossheart and Love Letter

* Novel Analysis: Misepan2

* Novel Analysis: Do you want an exorcism?

* Bias in KKM: English version of KKM

* Novel Analysis: Yuuri confessing to Wolf (w/quotes)

* Novel Analysis: Physical and mental development in mazoku

* Novel Analysis: Yuuri and Wolfram’s daily routine (with quotes)

* Novel facts: No mpreg in Shin Makoku (I get asked a lot)

#kyou kara maou #kkm #maruma #yuuram #guide

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meat--grindr · 4 years

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another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

· It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

· Even better, you aren’t alone.

· Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

· The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

· Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

· The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

· The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

· Okay. Sure.

· It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

· In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

· “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

· Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

· “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

· “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

· “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

· And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

· The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

· You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

· In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

· So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

· He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

· You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

· His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

· He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

· “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

· And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

· He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

· “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

· Limp or lifeless?

· The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

· You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

· You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

· When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

· He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

· “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

· Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

· “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

· He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

· You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

· You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

· “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

· And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

· “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

· The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

· You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

· Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

· Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

· You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

· Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

· For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

· The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

· You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

· When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

· “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

· You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

· His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

· The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

· “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

· You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

· Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

· You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

· “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

· Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

· There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

· “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

· There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

· “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

· “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

· “Oh, yes.”

· “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

· Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

· “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

· Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

· “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

· The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

· Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

· Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

· Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

· “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

· “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

· You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

· Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

· Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

· Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

· “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

· Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

· “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

· Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

· You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

· You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

· “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

· “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

· You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

· “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

· Clever boy.

· You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

· He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

· You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

· He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

· His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

· You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

· With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

· His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

· You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

· “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

· “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

· You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

· “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

· “They are aware, yes.”

· The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

· Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

· You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

· Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

· “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

· You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

· “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

· The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

· You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

· “Oh yeah? How?”

· “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

· He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

· ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

· You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

· Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

· You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

· He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

· But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

· This is going to be fun.

· You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside. Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

· Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

· “What was that, Count?”

· “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

· The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

· Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

· “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

· With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

· The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

· “Their…blood?”

· You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

· “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

· Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

· The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

· Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

· The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

· Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

· Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

· You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

· “What’s going on, Count?”

· “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

· “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

· Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

· The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

· Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

· His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

· Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

· You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

· “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

· “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

· Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

· He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

· With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

· The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

· His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.

· He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

· The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

· Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

· He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Descendants of Despair Part 53

As I lay beside Jake, my breathing returned to normal and the crawling feeling had been replaced with the warmth of his touch. I thought about just how much I had changed. Dan had hit a raw spot when he had hinted at my weakness. I had been strong for so long, so long I couldn’t even remember a time where resilience and survival wasn’t a driving force in my life. Jake had helped tame that to an extent. I could rely on him to pick up on the things that I may miss otherwise. I had wondered if it meant I was getting weak. Dan’s words reiterated those concerns. But now I saw my behaviour for what it really was. Allowing someone into my world had not made me weak, instead it had made me stronger. His strength became my strength. Relying on him wasn’t weak, it was right. I didn’t have to manipulate him to get him to do what I needed. I didn’t have to question whether he was manipulating me. He had seen me at my worst and still loved me. I could be my true self, and that was something I don’t think I had ever really seen before. The true self that allowed myself to feel, to trust, to love...to be vulnerable. As I drifted off to sleep, I contented myself with the thought that I had been strong enough to lay Dan on his ass without hesitation. My instincts were still there, as strong as always.

I startled awake relatively early to the light from the dimly lit lamp. The softness of the bed and comfort of the room was unnerving. I felt as though it was lowering my defenses. Jake was already awake as well, holding me lightly but staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked quietly. Jake nodded thoughtfully. “I guess discomfort has become comfortable to us?” he questioned and sighed. “I should be happy, we had an amazing night...I slept in more comfort than I have in a long time, yet somehow it just doesn’t feel right.” “Check your laptop,” I murmured, sitting myself up on the comfortable bed, noting vaguely that my muscles didn’t hurt as much as they did when I slept on the floor, or the sidewalk, or the riverbank. It should have felt great, instead it just increased my level of unease. I got up with Jake and we got dressed, then I began pacing back and forth. I was hungry, we hadn’t eaten since yesterday before meeting up with Dan. Glancing around the room, I picked up my backpack and looked inside for anything of substance. As I scavenged, Jake appeared beside me and handed me an energy bar. “I grabbed a couple of these from the car last night. Thought we might need something. We can get some proper breakfast after I have checked where we are at,” he said as he opened his own bar and began chewing on it.

I accepted Jake’s offer thankfully, and began eating, sitting close to him, watching what he was doing on the laptop screen. Because his laptop was so limited, he flicked from screen to screen at near lightning speed. I wasn’t sure how he was keeping up with everything that was going on, but he seemed pretty sure of himself so I just sat and watched in admiration, trying to pick up strings of code that I could recognise. “Hm,” I mumbled quietly. “Yes?” Jake asked, pausing briefly in his screen flicking and typing. “Nothing, just...you’re still keeping track of Richy?” I asked. “You saw that, huh?” Jake replied. I was about to apologise for intruding into his private world when he continued speaking. “Well done, I am impressed. You know a fair bit about programming to pick up on that from the small strings you must have seen.” I shrugged in embarrassment. I was hardly a hacker of his calibre. “You don’t mind me watching?” I asked in wonder. Jake’s response shocked me as he began to laugh.

I glared at him as he turned to face me, shaking his head to try and gain control of himself. “Here’s the thing,” he replied soothingly. “I love you and I trust you. Usually my trust in people is based on what I have been able to dig up about them online. Not with you, you are a blank entity online. Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is, my reaction to you hadn’t made sense until I decided that you were made for me, as dumb as that sounds, I think of you as a soulmate...if they were to exist. Because you are truly part of me, I have made everything I do part of you as well. You have full access to my set up remember? You also have full access to my phone through yours. Everything I am, it is you.”

Jake’s response made me happy. I was thinking and feeling along the same lines as him. I still wasn’t as comfortable at admitting it as he was, so turned away from his gaze and then pouted as he giggled at my reaction. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it, I know how much you love me,” he replied smugly. I growled under my breath then leaped on him, but he was already expecting my response and caught me with a grin. “Okay, maybe we should get you some proper food eh?” he asked, trying to stifle his giggles. “Urgh,” I groaned. Jake closed his laptop and packed it in a bag then motioned for me to gather my gear as well. I knew he was doing this just so that he could save me from further embarrassment, but I appreciated it nonetheless. If we stayed here much longer, I knew the walls would begin to close in around me. This often happened when I was stuck in small spaces for long periods of time. There were very few escape routes from enclosed spaces.

Once we had cleared out the motel room of our personal belongings, we dropped the key on the table then put our hoods up and left. It was too early to head to meet up with Dan, so we had a little time to fill in before we would need to head back to the prison. “Let’s go through a drive thru,” Jake suggested. “Then we can decide on our next steps.” I nodded in relief. The prospect of food, even takeaway food, was appealing and being able to stay with Jake and hash out future moves was even better.

The first drive thru we saw, Jake pulled in and we argued briefly over the least disgusting options from the menu before both deciding on our breakfast. Jake pulled up to the window with his head down, we paid, got our order and left. I picked up my bag and sniffed it in mild disgust. Jake glanced at me and grinned. “Okay, I know, not the best but at least it's something.” I raised an eyebrow as I pulled my breakfast muffin from the bag. “...is it though?...” I asked. Jake laughed as he pulled the car over near a deserted park. “Okay, gross food is still food,” he grinned as he dug into his bag and began to eat. I had to admit, gross take away food certainly was better than no food at all. I had gotten accustomed to healthier eating since leaving the street. I was sick of always getting sick and I wanted to maintain my physical health...it is far easier to run when you aren’t ill or unfit.

“So, the plan?” Jake asked. “I take it there is a bit more to it than the simple stuff you gave the buffoon.” I snickered in response then became angry at myself so nudged Jake with my elbow. “Sorry,” he responded with a sly grin, no doubt relishing in my slip up. “Yeah, you need to have the cameras going, follow everything outside. If something happens, you need to get a signal to me without digital means. I can’t take my phone in with me, they will confiscate it until I leave and I would rather they had no access to it at all. I’m assuming Dan will have his, but again we won’t have access to it while in there.” I paused to take a breath and have a sip of water. Jake was thoughtful for a moment.

“Okay, the programme you installed that gave me access to their system also gave me access to their alarms. If something happens, I will set off some form of alarm, nothing major that would cause a lockdown, but enough of a distraction that you can get out and hopefully it will draw the man without a face away.”

“Wow…” I gasped, suddenly impressed. He had solved the issue so quickly. I guessed when he had seen his chance to take control of their security, he had made sure he had as much control as he could. “Fuck Jake, you’re incredible!” I declared earnestly. “Uh...there is one other thing I want to do before we go. I may not get time after...I want to take down the traps on the roofs, in case an unsuspecting person gets hurt. I also want to look at whether the trap was tampered with on the roof the man without a face was waiting on.” I requested hesitantly. I knew I’d be by myself up there and Jake wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea. “I can’t stop it from happening can I?” Jake asked sadly. “No, not this time. It’s important to me.” I replied bluntly. We didn’t need someone harmed because of us. If the Police found any trace of it, it would just be another reason for them to be chasing us. Not something I was willing to risk. The main drive though was because I was frustrated with not being able to understand how the man without a face had gotten past our defenses. The more I knew about him the better. “Okay, but this time I’m coming too. We will park as far away as we can, where there is access to the roofing around that area. Do you agree?” I thought for a moment, glaring at him intently. “Ugh, fine. But you keep your face hidden the entire time. You dismantle any cameras around the area first and if there is anybody looking at you, you go!” I replied in an attempt at compromise. Jake nodded solemnly and started the car.

Part 54

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc #hackerman

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

sweet creature (egd)

ethan hates when he has to leave you for even a few days, so when he gets back, he has a little surprise planned

word count: 4.3k

warnings/tags: fluff, and then some smut to round it out WOO we goin through it today ladies and gents, harry styles (music) is involved :)

dedicated to my bruna bby ( @ethanhes ) who is so strong and the sweetest girly I know. I love you!!

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Like hell you were gonna make another trip - you slid the last grocery bag onto your arm, ignoring how they were digging into your skin as you started your walk into the house. If anyone had watched you try to navigate your way in the door, it probably would have been quite the sight. But you succeeded, emerging into an empty kitchen, heaving the heavy bags up onto the counter.

Usually, you’d yell down the hall, summon the boys to help you unpack. But it would be futile - no one was home. Not even Sterling was around - the three of them were off on Wakeheart business, at the factory in Arizona where everything was actually produced so they could approve all the candle production.

You’d gotten a few pictures from the trip - bright colorful sunsets, Grayson and Sterling smiling from across the table at breakfast. But your favorites were the stupid little selfies he kept sending. Your phone buzzed in your pocket as if on cue.

Another snapchat from Ethan, this time of him with a metal straw trapped between his teeth and big smile on his face. Adorable, as always.

cold brew mood. miss you x was the caption that flitted across the screen. You screenshotted it just in time. The next buzz was a text from him.

why you screenshot

cause you looked cute

send me one back, I miss you

You rolled your eyes at that, deciding to make him wait for a minute while you started to put the groceries away. You’d only unpacked two bags before your phone buzzed again.

hey

show me ur face

omg gimme a minute 😂

im putting away the obscene amount of oat milk I just bought

DID THEY HAVE THE GOOD KIND

yep. bought three cartons

holy shit I love you

gray says he loves you too

but I love you more

You sent him a quick snapchat to appease him, unsurprised when you got the notification that he’d screenshotted it. He always got like this when he was away - even more clingy than usual, constantly wanting to communicate with you somehow. You had to admit, you loved the idea that you were always on his mind when he wasn’t with you, even if it did mean you felt like you were constantly on your phone.

what else are you doing today?

idk might lay out by the pool for a while

without me? 😔

you should go shopping

You frowned at your phone, looking at the few boxes of pasta you had left to put away before you typed back with a huff.

I literally just got back from the grocery what do u mean

not that kind of shopping

fun shopping. like for clothes

The thought was tempting - with everything going on, you hadn’t gotten anything new in months. To be fair though, you hadn’t really needed anything new - you were just hanging around the house anyways.

do you want me to go so I’ll stop wearing all your clothes

yes

kidding baby you know I don’t care. but you should get some new stuff, you deserve it! just use my card

I hate using your card

It wasn’t a lie. Ethan had gotten you a credit card linked to his personal account for emergencies almost six months ago, and you’d only used it a handful of times when he insisted. You never wanted him to ever think that you cared about him for his money.

I’d be buying whatever you find if I was there, it’s the same thing

You grinned to yourself, plan already hatching. He didn’t say what you had to buy. You’d just get something small - a pack of socks, or a basic tee - with his card, and pay for the rest of it yourself.

alright alright, fine

But his next text had you rolling your eyes. He knew you too well.

and you have buy real clothes. like at least one dress

Even though he wasn’t there to see it, your eyes squinted in accusation.

why a dress?

you’re being sus what’s this about

you’re so stubborn holy shit. I was gonna buy you dresses for the harry concert so I want you to pick some out for yourself

Damn. You’d almost forgotten that the concert was supposed to be that night. Ethan had bought the two of you tickets back when they went on presale, using his connections to get the two of you amazing seats. E had been almost as bummed as you when it got postponed, disappointed that the night he’d had planned for you had fallen through.

it got rescheduled to august baby, we can go shopping then!

i’m impatient

omg really? I had no idea

just go buy some dresses and send me pictures. we’re back at the factory, gotta go. I love you!

love you too!

Knowing that if you sat down you probably wouldn’t get back up, you turned back to the door with a sigh, grabbing your keys and wallet from where you’d just stowed them, heading back out to the car.

You climbed into Ethan’s Tesla, hitting your preset button on the door so the seat moved forward to where you could reach the pedals. He always insisted you take his car if he couldn’t drive you, always wanting you to be the safest you could be. It was still a bit intimidating to drive something so expensive, but you did it anyways, heading to the mall that housed most of your favorite stores with your mask on.

It turned out to be one of those days where nothing caught your eye. You really looked, scoured through the racks, hoping to find anything that looked remotely appealing or like your style. You even tried on a few that you had hopes for, but they were a bust.

Feeling defeated you stopped for a while and got some coffee, sitting and people watching as everyone passed in their masks. Your eyes wandered to another store, one you rarely went into - it catered to your style perfectly, but everything was far out of your price range.

But looking couldn’t hurt. Right?

That backfired as soon as you walked in, smelled that perfect fragrance that seemed to dust all the soft fabrics in the place.

Before you knew what you’d done, you had so many options thrown over your arm that it was starting to ache.

You stopped looking, headed to a dressing room to try and narrow down your search. Some of them were automatic no’s, the cut not flattering or the color clashing with the undertones in your skin.

But there were three winners - a tight green one that hugged your curves, a casual denim overall number that would look adorable with the right shirt, and a blue sundress that tied into a bow at the back, the fabric brushing your upper thighs.

You snapped pictures in each one, knowing Ethan would help you decide. Your bet was on the green one - he was a man, after all. But his response just made you roll your eyes.

you look hot as fuck

buy all three

yes

they’re expensive

I didn’t ask how much they cost. You like them all. therefore, you buy them all

it’s simple really

ethan

y/n

just tell me which one is your favorite please

if you don’t buy all three i’m just gonna go back and buy them for you later

or I’ll order them and have them shipped to the house

stop

getting online now 😌

stop it

placing an order 😌 😌

ethan grant

last chance

fine

im sticking my tongue out at you. you can’t see it but I am

ouch, im hurt

are you headed home after you buy them?

well I’m sure as hell not spending anymore money, so yeah. why?

just wondering where my girl’s gonna be. drive safe. you took the tesla right?

of course I did.

good. hurry home. but don’t hurry too much. safety first

You quirked an eyebrow at the last text - he was being so odd. He’d only been gone for two days, usually it wasn’t this bad for him. Who knew what he’d be like tomorrow before he got home.

Changing back into your clothes in a hurry, you put your rejects out on the return rack and carried your three choices to the register, trying not to listen to the total before you put Ethan’s card in the reader.

You left the mall swiftly after that, trying to ignore the eyes on you. In reality, no one was probably looking at you, but you felt like everyone was staring as you carried your expensive bag and got in a fucking tesla. You never understood how Gray and E could walk around with such expensive things and not be fazed in the slightest.

The drive home took longer than you would have liked considering the traffic you got caught in, but you just turned your music up, humming along as you crawled down the road towards your exit. When you finally got there you let the tesla take over, pulling you off the interstate and starting down the smaller roads that led to the house.

Your first clue was when the song changed. At first you didn’t think much of it - you had every Harry song saved to your library, it wasn’t unusual for one to come up.

But then, one verse into Fine Line, it skipped, the intro of Two Ghosts starting. 30 seconds later? Falling started to play through the car.

“What the fuck?” You muttered, quickly switching off autopilot, afraid that the car may be glitching. It was only a few more minutes until you got to the house, and in that time the song switched again twice, all Harry songs.

When you pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, your phone buzzed with your second clue.

welcome home baby

omg are you watching the cameras? that’s creepy as fuck

also the tesla just got super weird but I swear I didn’t fuck up your car

just come inside

You obliged, grabbing your bag and heading into the house.

Clue number three was that the pasta boxes you’d left on the counter were gone, put away no doubt on the shelf that you couldn’t reach. You froze.

Someone was in the house.

You only had a moment to be scared before Ethan appeared around the corner, your favorite grin adorning his face.

“Boo.”

You dropped the bag, running the few steps it took to get to him before you threw your arms around him, breathing him in as he hugged you to him tightly.

“You guys weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow!”

“Caught an early flight so I could surprise my girl. Gray and Ster are still in Arizona.” He leaned back so you could look at him, shrugging as if it was no big deal that he’d cut his trip short just to come home to see you.

“Didn’t you have stuff you needed to do?”

“No, we knocked it out today.”

“Then why didn’t Grayson come ba-”

His lips were on yours then, catching your words as he kissed you hard, a hand coming up to your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. “Are you gonna keep asking me questions, or are you gonna let me actually surprise you.”

“There’s more?” The butterflies that only he could bring fluttered in your stomach, and you bit your lip, looking up at him. He leaned down past you, reaching for the bag you’d dropped, placing it back in your hands.

“Maybe. Go put on one of your new dresses, then come out back.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before he let go. “Hurry.”

“Okay!” You were practically giddy as you hurried back to Ethan’s room, laying the dresses out on the comforter and trying to decide on one. It took a few minutes, a few switches of holding them up to you in the mirror before you settled on the blue sundress, situating the big sewed bow in the middle of your back. It had a built in bra that was surprisingly comfortable, making it the easiest choice.

Shoving your dresses back in the bag, you didn’t even bother with shoes. You just headed straight for the backyard - but you froze in the living room, taking in the sight through the doors.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky a baby purple, the clouds a pop of pink as they floated, scattered around. The city was starting to light up below you, and the moon hung high above it. But your eyes were on something - someone - entirely different.

Ethan was standing in the grass, wearing one of his nice pairs of shorts and a short sleeve patterned button down - you hadn’t even noticed his outfit earlier, you’d been too excited to see him. He was holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, the petals bright yellow even in the dim light.

He caught sight of you through the glass and immediately hid the flowers behind his back as he stood up straight and smiled like a guy coming to the front door to pick you up for prom.

You pulled the door open, stepping out into the cool California air. It felt almost cold against your flushed cheeks as Ethan looked you up and down, letting out a low whistle.

You just laughed, stopping a few steps in front of him and waiting for whatever he had planned.

He whipped the flowers around with a grin, holding them out for you with one hand, leaving his other arm tucked behind him. “Happy concert night!”

What you didn’t see was the remote in his other hand. He clicked it with his thumb, and the whole back yard lit up. There were twinkling christmas lights lining the roof and wrapping around the tree to the side of the house. He’d brought out Grayson’s projector and pointed it at a white sheet he’d hung up - you watched it for a moment, laughing when you realized it was projecting a slideshow of the pictures you two had taken together over the last year. And finally, you noticed the speakers had turned on, starting to play one of your favorite songs. Sweet Creature.

“E-”

“I know it got rescheduled, and we’ll have so much fun when we go. But, I still wanted to make tonight special. So, it’s kinda just date night, but... Harry Styles edition?”

Closing the gap with a few steps you threw your arms around his neck, flowers and all, so you could kiss him.

“I love you so much,” were the only words you could find, and you hoped he knew how much you truly meant them.

“Love me enough to dance with me?”

You froze at that - you weren’t much of a slow dancer, and Ethan had even less experience than you did. But the thought of staying so close to him made your heart flutter, so you nodded, letting go for a moment so you could sit the flowers down safely in the grass.

He pulled you back into his arms, hands settling on your waist as yours went around his neck. His fingertips ghosted over the bare skin on your back below the bow, sending shivers up your spine.

It didn’t matter that Sweet Creature was a tiny bit fast for a slow dance - the two of you weren’t doing more than swaying back and forth anyways, foreheads touching, totally lost in each other.

He spun you a few times, even throwing in a little dip that made you both laugh before he kissed you, leaving you a bit breathless when he pulled you back up to standing.

“You bring me home,” he sang, slightly off pitch and so quiet you could barely hear, but it was so sweet that it even brought a few tears to your eyes. You blinked them away so you could see his face as you both smiled.

The energy picked up a bit as the songs continued to shuffle, Carolina coming on next. You both jumped around hand in hand, looking like total idiots you were sure, stomachs sore from laughing at and with each other by the end. You paused a few times throughout the next songs to watch the slideshow, laughing at some of the pictures he’d chosen, remembering the stories behind them.

When Sunflower came on, Ethan opened his arms again for a dance and you quirked an eyebrow.

“You know, Mr. Styles doesn’t have as many romantic songs as I thought he did. This one’s not bad though,” Ethan mumbled as the two of you swayed back and forth quickly, spinning around and around.

“This song isn’t even romantic, it’s about him missing his ex,” you explained.

“You analyzed those lyrics hard huh.”

“Oh don’t act like you haven’t dissected every Cudi song five times over.” You squinted your eyes at him in accusation and he just laughed.

“Touché, touché. Maybe the sunflowers weren’t the best Harry related gesture then huh.”

“I still think they’re beautiful,” you reassured him.

“Thought it would kinda be weird to give you a watermelon. Though, I guess that would have sent a much clearer message.”

The mischief in his eyes told you he knew exactly what that song was about.

“A little on the nose, don’t yah think?” You scrunched up your nose at him as if to prove your point. He reached out for your hand and you laced your fingers with his.

“Never.”

And then he was walking, half pulling half guiding you back into the house, through the glass doors, down the hallway, into the bedroom. Your skin was hot, partially from the change in temperature, partially from the hands that were wandering over your skin as soon as the door was closed.

Ethan’s hands traced down your arms, fingertips over skin, then over fabric when he got to your waist, further down to your thighs and then you were gasping as he found his way under your skirt. His hands spread out, large and commanding over your ass, resting there for a moment, squeezing before he moved north, fingers hooking into your panties, guiding them down until they fell off and you could step out of them.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, blindly undoing them as he kissed you. You found yourself pausing, hands tracing over the new yet familiar skin that revealed itself with each one you managed to loosen until finally, finally it was open and you could push it off his shoulders.

His hand found the bow, roughly starting to tug until you reached back and caught him.

“Baby don’t pull. It’s sewed, it doesn’t come undone,” you cautioned, barely pulling back, unwilling to put any space between the two of you.

“Stupid,” he grumbled, pouting a bit until he realized that he could pull the fabric off your shoulders, freeing your chest. He hummed a bit in satisfaction, hands moving to squeeze your tits, and then he was kissing them, sinking lower, lower until his knees hit the floor.

“Oh fuck,” you squeaked, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Ethan looked up at you from his knees with a teasing grin and a quirked eyebrow, waiting for your permission. You nodded, trying to breathe as his hands ghosted up your thighs, up to your hips.

And then he ducked his head so he could get under the fabric of your skirt, ready to get to work.

Your knees buckled as soon as you felt him, tongue warm and flat against you. One of his hands came down, tracing over your skin until he got to your calf, lifting it just barely and pushing it out to widen your stance.

You whimpered as he sped up, his satisfied hums adding to the sensation in a way that had your legs starting to shake already. Your hands dropped to his head, and you pushed the fabric off the top of it so you could get to his hair, tugging. It just made him go harder, burying himself deeper. You folded forward, bracing on his shoulders, overwhelmed as you alternated holding you breathe and gasping for air, squirming.

“E, Ethan stop, my legs are gonna give out, wait,” you gasped, pulling on his hair.

He paused, ducking out from under your dress and smiling up at you, lips swollen and pride booming.

“That’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me I think. But I’m not done yet, lay down.”

You did as he said, turning around and climbing onto the middle of the bed before collapsing onto your back, rolling over and looking for him. Ethan was one second behind you, crawling above you to hover over you then duck down to kiss you hard yet somehow sweet at the same time.

It was instinct to reach down to his waist, let your fingers ghost over his waistband, tuck underneath it in a blind search. He sucked in a breath through his teeth when you wrapped your fingers around the tip. He shook his head at you, making you pout.

“Tonights about you, not me.”

“But I want to.”

“Raincheck. Best fucking raincheck ever, but raincheck. Just lemme take care of you.”

He kisses you until you forget your argument - you’re putty in his hands as his lips trail back down. He pushes all the fabric of your dress together so it’s just a band around your tummy and then he picked up where he left off.

“Fuck E, just like that, oh god.” You were squirming again in a matter of moments, his stubble rough against your thighs as he worked you over. He felt your body tense up under his hold, smiling as he gave it all he had, giving that extra little push that sent you tumbling, clenching, writhing over the edge.

He peppered kisses to your thighs as you caught your breath, and then he reached up, fists closing around all the fabric of your dress.

“Lift your hips up,” he instructed, waiting for you to bridge up so he could wiggle the dress off over your hips. He tossed it towards the closet, moving back up towards your face, bed dipping down with his weight.

“No fair,” you pouted, reaching down to tug at his shorts and boxers.

“And I’m the impatient one.”

He stood back up off the bed, quickly shoving down the clothing he had left and stepping out of it.

“Much better.” You grinned wide when you saw he was blushing at your words. “C’mere.”

He happily listened, crawling back above you and dropping a bit of his weight down as he sunk to his forearms.

“So missionary is the way to your heart huh? So vanilla.” He bumped his nose against yours.

“You have a pretty face, sue me,” you laughed, bringing your hands up to his neck and pulling him down for a kiss as he dropped his hips, searching for just a moment before he pushed inside.

You’d lost count of how many times the two of you had been just like this, intertwined and enthralled with each other, but you knew you’d never get tired of it as long as you lived.

“I love you.” It came out as a breath when he bottomed out, his lips resting on your shoulder, back curled up at an angle that let you feel every muscle, every ridge of his body.

“I love you. You’re my dream, you know that?” He started to rock his hips, unwilling to go too far from you as you clung to his back, relishing in the feeling of him on you, in you, all around you.

This would always be your favorite way to be with him - sweet and soft, just your bodies together, nothing else. You couldn’t think of anything better.

He shifted just barely, thrusting in at a different angle. You knew he was searching, and you gasped when he brushed against your g spot, your whole body shuddering.

“There she is,” he whispered, a prideful grin on his face as he hit it over and over. Watching you come undone below him would always be one of his favorite views. “Look at me baby, I wanna see you.”

You did your best in your blissed out state to listen to him, turning your head from where it had fallen against the pillow to look at him while he picked up pace. Your legs curled around his back, holding him to you, urging him as deep as he could go as you chased the orgasm that was building in your gut.

He stared at you for a few moments, and then as if he couldn’t help it he ducked down to kiss you, open mouthed and rough as he pulled his hips back, thrusting forward with more force than he’d used yet.

“Oh fuck Ethan, fuck,” you moaned, holding onto him for dear life. When he snaked one hand between the two of you to find your clit, you were done for.

His breath caught in his throat as you clenched around him and you heard the whimpers through your cloudy haze, mixtures of pleasure and your name as he came undone, hip stuttering and then stopping when he finally hit his high.

Once he’s caught his breath he rolls the both of you over so you’re resting on his chest, listening to his heart rate settle back down under your ear.

“I’m so glad you came home early,” you sighed, hugging his bare torso as he chuckled.

“Me too baby. Me too.”

#BRUNA DIS IS FOR YOU #I wrote this assuming everyone loves harry styles cause if you don't wyd haha #HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK #ethan imagines #lynds writes #ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfiction

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fishylife · 3 years

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Street Dance of China S4 Ep 3

(I’m having problems with Tumblr not saving my posts...)

- Oh no people are going to start getting eliminated! :o Well, I’m still really glad that we had two whole episodes of people just dancing and having fun and getting the opportunity to showcase who they are and how they dance.

- This question just occurred to me, but where do people look when they watch dance performances? As I watched the Go Go Brothers, I was thinking to myself, “Where do I look? If I look at one of them, I might miss what the other Brother is doing!” Just my musings lol.

- I am super shallow but people tripping makes me laugh, so yes, Nelson accidentally tripping did make me chuckle. (+ Rochka’s reaction)

- Yibo and Yixing discussing the SDOC theme song. It made me laugh because the lyrics are kind of hype but Yibo and Yixing aren’t exactly the most facially expressive people lol.

- After every performance Henry’d be like “let’s collaborate!!!!!!” Han Geng finally stepped in being like aight Henry you gotta take it easy on the recruitment because we’ve literally only seen three performances. I’m still not really sure of the format of the show from now on, so I’m not sure if they form new teams afterwards.

- Yixing was so guilty about not giving Bouboo a vote.

- Rochka’s shock @ Boubou not getting four votes.

- He’s ashamed.

- I think if a dancer gets less than 4 votes, then other dancers are allowed to challenge them for a spot to advance, but whoever loses is eliminated out of the tournament, so you have to be super confident to challenge. And if a dancer only gets 1 or 2 votes, they are eliminated.

- Yibo asked Rochka why he wouldn’t challenge Bouboo and Rochka said he’d never go against his teacher/big brother v.v They exchanged hearts but then Rochka pretended to throw the heart away and crush it lol.

- While I was expecting a bit more from Bouboo, I don’t think his challenger JC Jun was better than him. JC Jun was kind of wobbly, and I think his dance didn’t match the music as well as Bouboo’s did.

- Yixing had his head down when he voted for Ibuki too, so I think he just gets nervous about voting.

- Henry wanted to say that Ibuki was like lightning but he said the word for a flashing light/disco light and Han Geng wanted to give him shit for it.

- Yixing said that he thought AC’s waacking almost felt like krump.Yixing said that if he was to collaborate with AC, AC should do the arm swing, and Yixing would do the waacking lol. I am all for seeing Yixing doing more dance styles! Not gonna lie, I think he’d look cute doing waacking.

- Ye Yin’s performance was really nice! The music was unique and the way he danced, with the tap dance and folk-like elements really suited it.

- Rochka said he wants to know Ye Yin more and said they also have the same smile.

- Xiao Jie said he’d never battle Ye Yin but he got peer pressured by the captains into freestyling to Ye Yin’s self-produced song lol.

- To show face, you know? The entire time he was like “but this doesn’t count, okay?!!!!” since he wasn’t actually challenging Ye Yin, and it was just for funsies.

- The judges were a bit troubled by Xiaoming’s performance because at the end, he was supposed to fall but his fall wasn’t coordinated with the sound effect in the music. Xiaoming was like yeah, it’s pretty difficult but I’m hoping that my challenger wouldn’t be able to get it too and Yixing was laughing his goose laugh. But Xiaoming was eliminated with zero votes in the end.

- Kelo and Uwa had a horror mental hospital-themed dance which was interesting. Kelo said it was based on a nightmare he had as a child.

- Yang Kai wasn’t impressed though. He said he’d performed something similar with Liangliang before. He felt that Kelo and Uwa were performing but not really dancing. I can see where he’s coming from. Kelo and Uwa got three votes.

- Xiaohai ended up challenging them. He used the wheelchair too but like...somehow his expression just makes us unable to not laugh.

- I think he did really well considering he’d only heard the music once. And he returned to the wheelchair at the end of the performance lmfao

- Apparently when Xiaohai was looking up at the beginning, he was asking Li Yulong (who I assume is the person in charge of the music) for music cues but Li Yulong just laughed at him lol.

- Yibo basically said that Kelo and Uwa’s performance felt a bit abrupt in the story telling side, and that there weren’t really highs and lows to their performance.

- Rochka was talking crap about Bouboo behind his back and Yibo tattled which resulted in Rochka getting whacked in the face.

- Zyko taught Yibo and Rochka how to do his fancy leg moves.

- Yixing talking krump with Auju. Auju was like you’re really good for someone who’s only been learning for a year, but then Yixing was like, I practise 6 hours a day and Auju was like ?!?!

- Zyko + Henry (with Henry’s infamous “getting down while playing violin” move)

- Poppin’C introduced himself, saying he was from Italy and Switzerland, and Yibo and Yixing were thinking of all the things from Italy they knew. Yibo was like “...Valentino Rossi...” and Yixing was like “....pizza.....” These two spacey twinks istg.

- Anyway, Poppin’C’s performance was nice. Not only were his moves clean and impressive, but he also expressed the lyrics through his dance.

- Rochka fanboying over Poppin’C’s dance :P At one point, the lyrics were about hearts, and Poppin’C did some moves where he made a heart and Rochka here is saying how cute it was.

- Poppin’C said he missed his daughter and everybody’s like ?? a baby??? :3 :3 :3

- Also, I saw Uwa in the audience, so I think that the eliminated contestants get to continue watching.

- Poppin’C said that before, he was more fierce, but now that he has a daughter, he’s a little smoother and sweeter :3 Also he was describing that the singer’s voice in the song made his skin feel like chicken and everybody was like ??? Luckily Yixing saved the day lol. In Chinese, goose bumps are called “chicken pimples” or something like that.

- Bozi was next. In his introduction, Bozi said he was from Guangzhou, and maybe that’s why it sounded like so many people in the audience were pronouncing 波子 in Cantonese.

- Eleven said something very interesting about B-boys. He said that in their profession of dance, they don’t fear b-boys who can do tricks, but they fear b-boys who can listen to music. I think it’s a reference to the fact that b-boys are often doing their own thing and disregard the music, which makes sense. Sometimes b-boys are closer to gymnasts because they are so focused on the spins and other really athletic moves they do. But because their moves are so difficult, they sometimes don’t move to the music which is supposed to be the point of dancing.

- Bozi passed with 4 votes. And he did a bit of krump at the beginning, which Yixing admitted he fell for haha. Bozi said that Eleven helped him choreograph that part, so it’s Eleven who knows Yixing well >3

- The director asked Bozi who he thought his biggest b-boy rival on the show was. Of course, we all thought he was going to say Lil Kev, but he ended up saying Xiaoji and Xiaoji was like ?? me?? Bozi’s reasoning was that he’s more troubled by dancers with a different style from him because he doesn’t know how to beat them. From the small clips they showed, I think Xiaoji has a more animated style, whereas Bozi is more serious and reserved.

- Acky-san cheering on MT Pop lol. (”Embarrassing dad at baseball game” mode activate)

- MT Pop has really impressed me in the competition so far though. The way he moves is so cool and creative. I think he purposely goes for a kind of...monster vibe? Like he often has this creepy smile on his face lol. He’s not only dancing, but he’s using popping techniques to change how he moves entirely, including simple things like walking or how he turns his head. I think MT Pop is my favourite contestant.

- He said the monster from Pan’s Labrynth inspired this dance. So I guess I was kind of right that he does draw inspiration from monsters and other creatures.

- Low key mad at Han Geng for not giving MT Pop his vote lol. Geng-ge said he wanted to give someone a chance to challenge. Of all people, why MT Pop?? I don’t want him to goooo.

- Henry wanted to try doing the voiceover for the challenger and Han Geng indulged his overdramatic ass.

- Baby Dolphin challenged. He had some cool moves at the beginning, but I think he fell apart a bit towards the end, based on the judges’ reactions (as we didn’t see the full performance). Plus, I think MT Pop’s approach to dancing is just too unique and interesting to eliminate at this point.

- Kabamba had an interesting performance that had African and Latin influences, with big and energetic movements. Tianci challenged but he went with a general hip hop approach which did not suit the music at all. (I looked up Kabamba. Her name is Latrice Kabamba, but she also goes by 林珊娜 on her social media, which is why she’s sometimes called Nana on the show).

- Acky-san was repeating everything that people were saying around him. Stuff like jiayou!! and other words of encouragement. Dianmen who was sitting next to him was just lol’ing.

- Ma Xiaolong was performing to a song called 棋 and this word usually refers to any kind of board game. Ma Xiaolong’s first moves looked like he was putting pieces on a board and you just know that kind of stuff draws Yixing’s attention right away.

- I think Kenken’s style of dance is the kind of dance that the general public would really enjoy. Whereas some kinds of dance don’t really appeal to people who aren’t into dance, I think Kenken’s kind of dance will attract both the dance-conscious people as well as those who aren’t. I definitely got that vibe from him in the dance that he choreographed, and also his individual performance.

- Not even gonna question this. Perfection. Rochka catboy here we go.

- Okay, I agree with Colin’s performance not making the cut. Based on his introduction, he was supposed to be a popping expert, but his dance didn’t showcase that. His dance was more of a contemporary dance piece, but while we’ve had performances similar to that, his choreography didn’t stand out in comparison. After his performance he had a bit of a cry. Yixing mentioned that it was hard to judge because of the emotional aspect. But admittedly, this emotional stuff is usually the reason why I don’t like competition shows. It was revealed that Colin had lost his grandfather. Now, I’m going to sound cold, but I don’t like it when sob stories are brought in, because it makes us feel bad when we don’t like a piece of art that comes from very pure intentions. Yixing’s reasoning for not giving a vote was that he felt that the emotions overshadowed the dance, which is a problem because this is a show about dance. Han Geng’s reasoning was that he felt that the skill level could have been better. Yibo was quite moved by the performance, and I think that’s why he gave his vote to Colin.

- We got a preview for this week’s hotpot show.

- Yixing and his emotional support giant cup

- Lots of laughing (including Yixing laughing) which is good for the soul

#thinking out loud #cvariety #street dance of china #screencaps

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tlbodine · 3 years

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Skin Thief Project Post-Mortem

In which I ramble about the WIP I just finished, and my thoughts about what I learned, what worked, what didn’t, what I’ll do differently next time. I thought it might be interesting to put this out there in a public space, because this is a phase of the creative process that’s really important but also never gets talked about, somehow?

But I will put it all under a cut because, hello, spoilers. Don’t read this if you don’t want to get spoilered about the book!

I often express confusion at the way other people are able to write stories that follow outlines or more-or-less adhere to the vision they had in mind when they started, and I think this book is a really clear example of what I mean when I say “I don’t do that.”

The initial spark of the idea came while playing a short indie horror game called Serena. There’s a little bit of flavor text in there that alludes to Irish folklore, and the subtext of the game has to do with abuse and possibly captivity, and somehow that made all the synapses in my brain fire off about selkies and the sort of control taking their skins affords you.

In the stories, taking the seal skin is always a very incidental thing. But what would happen, I wondered, if someone were ripped out of it? What if the story treated the rape and kidnapping metaphor of the myth with the kind of horror it demands?

The second thing that struck me at the time was financial abuse and other types of insidious control, and how especially rampant they seem to be in creative professions. I read accounts of dysfunctional, damaging relationships between “young, vulnerable creatives and influential men who abused their status” and thought about how that specific type of abuse was a very good fit for the selkie metaphor that was rattling around in my head.

The skeleton of an idea came together:

A rich, important man of some kind who takes a selkie captive for some reason

A girlfriend character who’s in an abusive relationship with the man but doesn’t realize it

To escape the relationship, she has to become aware of the selkie, sympathize with her, try to free her, and in the process realize her own bondage so they can escape together

I had two clear scenes in mind from the beginning, little mind movies that sat fully formed in my head: one of the selkie being forcibly pulled from her seal skin, and a sequence where the selkie and the girlfriend would both turn into seals and swim away to freedom together. I had no idea what would connect those scenes or how the logistics of them would work out, but those thematic bookends formed the general shape of the plot arc.

The problem was figuring out how to approach the story from a narrative perspective.

At first I’d imagined the story told from the selkie’s POV, with her held captive in a more obvious manner -- tied up in a basement, maybe, kept in a cage, appealing to the girlfriend/wife in fleeting discussions. But I struggled with getting the selkie’s voice right. I wrote a chapter experimentally in her voice (it’s still appended to the beginning of the book on Wattpad) but it didn’t feel right. She’s fundamentally inhuman, from a very feral background, living primarily among seals, and having her pull the weight as a narrator didn’t feel authentic to the story I was trying to tell. It also made it hard to get any sort of interiority with the girlfriend character, whose history and abuse was so insidious that it needed to be told through her own perspective -- it wasn’t the kind of thing that could easily come across in dialogue, since so much of it is stuff she doesn’t realize is abuse.

So then I thought of telling the story from the girlfriend’s POV. In that version, the timeline would be more protracted and the pacing more gothic. She would be a newcomer to the house, and the selkie would have been captive for a long time. I envisioned a “woman in the attic” sort of arrangement, a narrative where the girlfriend at first thought the house was haunted or something before realizing the origin of the odd noises and discovering the selkie was being kept captive.

But that didn’t feel quite right either. The dynamic I envisioned -- the one anchored to those two key scenes in my imagination -- demanded that the girlfriend be in the relationship for a long time. It required that she slowly realize the nature of her abuse by seeing it paralleled in someone else. Having her be relatively new to the house and relationship would have shifted that to a different sort of dynamic, one where she saw what kind of danger she could be in.

So I scrapped that idea.

I spent a lot of time afterward kind of missing both of those perspectives and the stories they contained, and wondering if I missed the mark with the approach I finally chose. I guess we’ll see how it does with test audiences on wattpad and how I feel when I come back to it after a cooling-off period.

What I ultimately settled on was an alternating POV between the girlfriend and the man, leaving the selkie’s inner world to be more of a cipher. I thought it would be more interesting (and chilling) to see the way a rich, powerful, abusive man would justify and rationalize his actions. I think he’s a very frightening character, and one of the more disturbing perspectives I’ve ever written from. Through to the very end, he is convinced of his entitlement.

That said, arranging the narration the way I did makes this a very heavy read. There are some moments of sweetness and light -- and some occasional comedic relief, courtesy of the selkie’s not understanding things -- but it’s overall very oppressive. I’m a bit worried the story is too oppressive, to the point where it’s not as much frightening as depressing and/or triggering. That’s going to require some rebalancing and consideration in the next draft.

Some parts that I think work really well:

The initial selkie rape/skin ripping sequence is exactly as horrifying and uncomfortable as it needs to be

The ending, which sees our two women bonded physically and emotionally, hits mostly the right notes

The scene where the selkie is in the bathtub and just completely spectacularly failing at acting human is very funny

Some parts I know need work:

We’re going to need to see more of Moira and Silas interacting by themselves in the beginning, to get a sense of the creative world they occupy together and how that affects her later -- probably have the story start out in the recording studio, seeing her at work

We’ll probably need more characters to come and go and give some better sense of both isolation and social status because right now the whole book feels like it happens in a bubble

The time line is going to need to be adjusted; either the pace has to be changed to suit a really fast turn-around of events, or the calendar needs to be stretched and filled a bit because, again, bubble

Make this story slightly more fun??? to read??? maybe???

I’ve entered it in The Watty’s this year and who knows what may or may not come of that, but hopefully I’ll have some energy to examine the story in the future. I’ll probably leave it to cool for quite a while, though, since I’ve got the new thriller WIP + those Neverest edits I keep putting off (and don’t even talk to me about the werewolf game, that’s a whole other thing).

#writing process #writeblr #my writing #post mortem #we belong to the sea #I've had this in my drafts and forgot to post it #oops #but posting this kind of thing is useful I think #like I hope this helps someone #I really encourage you to write post-mortems for your own fiction #decide what works #what didn't #what you want to fix #it's helpful #I do it all the time #I just don't usually post it lol #but I totally can keep doing that #if that is interesting to people #let me know

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agentnico · 5 years

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Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade (2010′s)

Now that we have entered the 2020s, it’s time to look back on a decade of movie magic. To emphasise the importance of each year, I’ll balance things out by including two films from each year for my Top 20 list. I’ve tried to pick films that both defined this decade as well as appealed to me personally, so my list will of course, as always, be different from yours, but hopefully, I won’t totally irritate you with my humble choice, which I deem worthy to post online for the public eye to witness.

2010:

INCEPTION - “You’re waiting for a train...” Christopher Nolan unarguably is the most exciting and original directors working today. Each time he releases a movie, its an event. A literal must-see at the cinema. Which is why this isn’t the only film of his you will find on this list. With Inception, Nolan gives us a movie that is both enjoyable and imaginative, rewarding the audience for the attention that it demands. Filled with so much detail that if you miss certain shots, you will completely get lost in confusion of the narrative (as confusing as it already is). It’s intense and complex, with great performances from the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy, this movie will leave you lingering for more even after that mysterious ending.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD - “You cocky cock! You'll pay for your crimes against humanity!” Once again, another exciting director on this list (oh there are so so many!). Ever since Edgar Wright emerged from the British isles, he’s given us some of the funniest films of the past decade and onwards. His Cornetto Trilogy is a blast, Baby Driver is a blast, Ant-Man was going to be even more of a blast if Marvel allowed Wright to do his magical shenanigans his way, and the upcoming Last Night in Soho will surely be a blast also. With Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Wright creates a meta-clever universe taking inspiration from comic books and video games and filled to the brink with wink-wink-nudge-nudge humour, this is an exciting and very sarcastic over the top endeavor. Also, Brie Larson in this movie.....phew!! And unsurprisingly, its all a blast!

2011:

DRIVE - “I just wanted you to know, just getting to be around you, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Drive is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. A shamelessly disreputable, stylish, stoic, ultra-violent thriller with amazing stunt work, one of the best opening sequences of any movie this decade and a neon-pumped soundtrack that’s a must-own for all vinyl users, if you still haven’t seen Drive, there’s only one thing you can do. Clue: it’s to go watch Drive.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - GHOST PROTOCOL - “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...” Tom Cruise’s deal with the devil allows him to do some literally impossible stuff, and though I don’t condone his Scientology ways, the man’s stunt work and efforts in his area of expertise are worth all the praise and respect. To be honest, I’m commemorating all three of the Mission Impossible flicks that graced our screen this year (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout). This franchise is like a game of dodgeball, except that Tom Cruise is the dodgeBALL, being thrown and thrust left and right like nobody cares. Also, with me being Russian, the fact that a movie manages to destroy the Kremlin and then have me not hate the film in the aftermath shows that this film is way too fun to hate.

2012:

DJANGO UNCHAINED - “Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.” Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors working today. And Django Unchained happens to be my favourite film of his. The writing for this film is orgasmic (I went there!). The way the actors deliver the lines and the lines of dialogue themselves sound almost poetic to my ears. I can quote so many lines from this darn thing. The cinematography is immaculate. The soundtrack choice is great. The performances, my goodness, the PERFORMANCES!! Jamie Foxx does arguably his career-best work here, but also we have Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio both chewing up the scenery, and I’m sure everyone has heard the story involving DiCaprio and the broken glass. Django Unchained is an easy choice on this list for me, and possibly in my Top 10 of all time.

LES MISERABLES - “Do you hear the people sing?” The film that is based on a musical that is based on a book that is based on certain true events. Tom Hooper did an interesting choice of having actors sing live in front of the camera during filming rather than pre-record their voices, and it works to grand effect, though Russell Crowe should have probably been given more singing lessons. The movie is one hell of a way to adapt such a popular stage musical. With an opening shot that emphasises the scale of this picture with a zoom-in towards this big ship during a storm being pulled by these poor prisoners, we are plunged into the despair and conflicts of various characters with adroit narrative thrust so that not a moment feels wasted or redundant. You’d think that a film with hardly any dialogue and an overall reliance on singing wouldn’t be so emotional. Yet, somehow, it works. Also props to Anne Hathaway for winning an Academy Award for being in a film for only 5 MINUTES!!

2013:

THE WOLF OF WALL STREET - “Sell me this pen.” Martin Scorsese’s mad look into Wall Street life is a bombastic caper and running at nearly 3 hours, Scorsese and his editing team manage to keep an astoundingly intoxicating pace that keeps you enthralled and engaged throughout. This one is definitely not for the families, as this R-rated fest is filled with drugs, money, sex and everything you can possibly imagine and paints quite the picture of the rich folks of Wall Street. And the middle of it all a bravura performance from Leonardo DiCaprio. Someone needs to give DiCaprio’s agent a raise, this is Leo’s third appearance on this list and we’re only in 2013!

THE WAY WAY BACK - “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're having way too much fun, it's making everyone uncomfortable.” Sometimes a little indie flick is enough to lift a human spirit. Real, fun, uplifting and innocent, The Way Way Back dedicated to anyone who felt awkward or out of place at some point in their life, which, let’s be honest, counts all of us. I’m not afraid to admit that. So stop being a b*** and reveal your sensitive side too! Yes, you, the person reading this. Who else could I possibly be talking to? Myself? Maybe. The Way Way Back though is one of the best feel-good indie films of this decade, with the loveable Steve Carell acting very unloveable and Sam Rockwell Rockwelling himself to charm city! If you’ve missed this one, treat yo’self and check it out.

2014:

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL - “And?? Where is it? What's it all about dammit don't keep us in suspense this has been a complete f***ing nightmare! Just tell us what the f*** is going on!!!” Easily Wes Anderson’s best in my opinion (I have a friend who would argue Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums has the better hand but I think my opinion is more valid because it's me), this movie is a glossy, colorful, whimsical deadpan affair with an energetic turn from Ralph Fiennes as the hotel concierge M. Gustave H. as he and his lobby boy run into various Wes Anderson regulars and deal with murderers, stolen paintings, love affairs, prison breaks, and all kinds of crazy shindigs, but all shown in such a casual Wes Anderson way. This movie is like a slice of cherry pie - damn fine!

INTERSTELLAR - “Murphy’s Law doesn’t mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever can happen, will happen.” As promised, Christopher Nolan makes another appearance on this list, now with his space time-traveling epic Interstellar, where he takes inspiration from the likes of Kubrick and Tarkovsky to give us, as always, a tad bit confusing adventure with great visuals and an interesting narrative (though it does sometimes get lost in its own way), however, the key thing holding this piece together is the father-daughter relationship with Matthew McConaughey and Mackenzie Foy (and Jessica Chastain) managing to bring so much raw emotion to their respective roles that you can’t help but want to shed a tear. I mean, I haven’t cried for over 14 years, but I remember when I first watched this film, the audience around me was sobbing quite a few times during the duration of this movie. Give it to Nolan to give us the emotional moments!

2015:

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD - “Oh what a day! What a lovely day!!” Easily the best action movie of this decade. Sorry John Wick, neither you or Tom Cruise could defeat this beast. The sheer, limitless invention behind this movie's exhilarating, preposterous chase scenes highlights action filmmaking at its finest. With big monster trucks and a random guitarist rocking-it in the middle of all the action, it’s like a nihilistic version of a Cirque du Soleil show! And it makes Tom Hardy the calmest person on-screen; no idea how it managed that.

STEVE JOBS - “I sat in a garage and invented the future because artists lead and hacks ask for show of hands.” If there is anyone who can make formulaic, mathematical or technological sound fun and exciting, its Aaron Sorkin. The man has a talent for writing screenplays about difficult and complicated topics yet turning them approachable for the casual moviegoer. Pair him with director Danny Boyle, and the result is Steve Jobs, a look at the man behind the phone. Narratively set during three important product launches of Jobs’, we get to see the behind-the-scenes of his relationships with his colleagues and family members, and this character study is one that could have easily fallen into generic biopic tropes, but it holds it’s own right till the credits roll. Also props for showing that Seth Rogen can actually do a serious role. Who would’ve thought that pot-smoking fella had dramatic chops in him?

2016:

NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - “Susan, enjoy the absurdity of our world. It’s a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world.” Fashion designer Tom Ford does sew his suits well. Apparently, he can also make great films too, with 2009′s A Single Man and with said Nocturnal Animals. This movie is truly incredible and I remember it taking me and my friend by surprise when we first watched it at the cinema. It’s shocking. Horrifying. Depressing. Upsetting. Altogether exhilarating. Being of a fashion background, Tom Ford directs the hell out of this movie, with gorgeous shots and great use of colour as well as managing to masterfully create tension and suspense when necessary. Honestly, I know Tom Ford is probably busy at a department store somewhere, but the guy needs to make another movie. The man has a talent.

LA LA LAND - “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that ache; here’s to the mess we make.” Oh, La La Land. Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the also excellent Whiplash. People who know me well know how much I love this movie. An old-school tour-de-force musical that’s a love letter to jazz and the golden age of Hollywood. The city of stars never looked so good. Featuring catchy original songs, excellent dance choreography (the sequence to the song “Lovely Night” is especially memorable) and a romance tale ten times better than the forsaken The Notebook, La La Land is one special movie. I know many are put off by the film’s not so happy ending, however for me it was the only way this narrative could have ended.

2017:

BLADE RUNNER 2049 - “We’re all just looking out for something real.” Similarly to Nolan, Denis Villeneuve is proving to be one of the most exciting directors working today. He’s the man behind such films as *deep breath* Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. And those have all been done within the last decade. The man constantly makes quality movies of various genres, though lately, he has been leaning more towards science fiction, which is a-okay in my books, since as Blade Runner 2049 proves, he can turn science into fiction like butter on bread. A sequel made 30 years after Ridley Scott’s classic, this visually breathtaking piece is arguably even better than its predecessor with many moments giving you the “wow wow wow wow wow WOW!” factor, and when Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford are both on-screen they are dynamite. Forget the new Star Wars film (that’s right, I'm throwing shade there), Blade Runner is where it’s at!

PHANTOM THREAD - “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” The supposed last Daniel Day-Lewis film, as he has now apparently retired from acting, but let’s be honest, nothing stops him from simply unretiring at any point. Exhibit A - Joe Pesci. However, like Pesci, if he comes back I’ll only be happy. He’s one of acting greats of our time, and his collaborations will director Paul Thomas Anderson bring out some of his best roles. Phantom Thread is a marvel of a movie. No, I don’t mean that’s its part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean as in it can fill one with wonder and astonishment. Phantom Thread is PTA’s Gothic dark fairy-tale romance film, which expertly planned shots and scenes where every word of the dialogue counts. There is no wasted moment. And as the film transpires to its dark and unsettling climax, one begins to realize that this, THIS, is what filmmaking is about. Telling an engrossing story in an interesting way with crisp-clear shots and off-the-chart acting at play, with great costume design on display, although the latter is unsurprising due to a major aspect of the movie revolving around fashion.

2018:

MANDY - “You ripped ma shirt!! You ripped maaa shiirrt!!” An acquired taste for sure, however, Mandy is indeed something truly special. From first glance, this film might seem like nothing out of the ordinary, especially from the point of view of the plot. Its the usual revenge flick. However director Panos Cosmatos’ vision and how he presents it is so much more unique. And what’s not love in this film? There’s something for everyone! It’s artsy and slow enough for the critics, hip and metal for the nonchalant, gory and violent for the hardcore genre fanatics and of course the Nic-Cage-rage factor is present for the fans of the actor. Alright, it may not be a family film, but this one is worth a watch. The whole thing is bound together by this psychedelic otherworldly environment, with the whole movie conceived in this dark, unsettlingly beautiful yet horror-filled aura that might stray people away, as it might be just too different for them, however, if you are looking for something different to watch, take mandy. I mean, watch Mandy!

A STAR IS BORN - “Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over. All the artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes.” The film that began all the rumours surrounding Bradley Cooper’s and Lady Gaga’s affair. People, heads up, they are actors! They were putting on a performance! Jeez. That being said, I totally ship them. Nuff’ said. The film though? Yes, it’s good. Some country-style music, romance blooming, Gaga can apparently act, people sing about shallows for some reason...all together works for a pretty decent motion picture. Also, the fact that Bradley Cooper wrote, directed, produced and starred in this gives me so much respect for the guy. He poured his heart and soul into this. And Lady Gaga absolutely shines!

2019:

PAIN & GLORY - “Writing is like drawing but with letters.” Director Pedro Almodovar semi-autobiographical film takes a close look at how one deals with acceptance, being forgotten, symptoms of depression and generally all fairly negative attributes, but delivered in such an honest and profound way that there is a strange lightness that emerges from it all. Antonio Banderas is uncannily vulnerable in the lead role, delivering such an earnest performance that shows a man that is filled with melancholic regret who seeks his own form of redemption. This movie is a thing of beauty.

PARASITE - “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. If you make a plan, life never works out that way.” Parasite is easily the most original and surprising films of 2019, and possibly the decade, managing to subvert expectations and blend together so many different genres so naturally. To spoil any narrative element of this movie would be a sin, like this one in particular works best when not knowing anything about it. This movie comes to us from Bong Joon-Ho, a South Korean director behind such films as The Host, Memories of Murder, Okja, and Snowpiercer. It’s nice to see the awards ceremonies giving him the proper recognition finally. He deserves it.

That sums up my Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade list. Of course, there are so many other great films that came out in these 10 years, such as Whiplash, When Marnie Was There, Paterson, Silence, Kubo and the Two Strings, The Nice Guys...I can go on forever. Cinema is a constant ever-growing medium, and it is fascinating to see how it changes through the years, in some ways improving and in some parts not so much. In any case, I look forward towards a new decade of, hopefully, great movies, however, let’s be honest, for all these great films there’s always a Norm of the North, a Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse or frickin’ Cats. But let’s hope those will be kept to a minimum. In any case, bring on the 2020s!

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rosedavid · 4 years

Note

Ooh ... Childhood toy for the Merthur prompt please

Thank you for the prompt!!! I got too carried away on this one so I posted it on AO3

Here’s the link

however, in case someone wants to read it on tumblr, I’ll post it here too :)

...

Merlin heaves up the final crateful of his stuff. He looks over the tiny, ramshackle room fondly, a smile gracing his lips. It’s strange seeing it completely bare again, just like the day he first arrived in Camelot. Things were so different back then. Merlin never would have expected to be where he is today in his wildest dreams, yet here he is moving into the King’s bedchambers not as a servant, but as a companion. Despite his happiness about officially moving in with Arthur, leaving his old room is bittersweet. So many memories were made in this little room, from trying to turn a stone dog into a real one to clumsily trying to hide his spell book when Arthur came rampaging in unannounced. With one last glance and a deep breath, Merlin closes the door for the last time.

Merlin runs into Gwen on his way to Arthur’s (or, he supposes, his and Arthur’s) chambers. She’s long been promoted as a key advisor to the King, a position well deserved. Her affections have been stolen by Lancelot once again, and the two have been courting for quite some time. It’s obvious to everyone how besotted they are for each other.

“Finished moving in yet?” Gwen asks.

“Last crate,” Merlin responds. “Shouldn’t you still be in the council meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

Technically, Merlin is supposed to be at the meeting. As Court Sorcerer, attending all meetings and royal functions is in his job descriptions. However, he skives off enough so that when a meeting is particularly boring, Arthur doesn’t even nag him into going realizing it’s a futile effort. Not to mention, today’s meeting was supposed to be especially dull. Arthur constantly reprimands him about his complaints, saying that “All meetings are equally important to the King.” Of course, they both know that’s not true, especially when Arthur continuously sends looks at Merlin throughout the meeting.

“Well, you know me,” Merlin shrugs. “But I actually have permission from the Royal Prat today. I’ve been so busy recently with these new magic laws that I’ve hardly had time for a break, let alone to move all my things into Arthur’s chambers.”

“Are you nervous?”

A few months ago, Merlin may have said yes. Despite him and Arthur being as close as they were for so long, a romantic relationship brought with it a lot more awkwardness and learning than either of them expected. It took some trial and error before they got back into a rhythm again and felt completely comfortable around each other. Now, though, Merlin can safely say that he’s not nervous about moving in with Arthur officially. It just feels…right.

“No, I’m not,” Merlin replies. “Although, I’m not looking forward to Arthur’s inevitable complaints about my stuff sharing his space.”

Gwen stifles a laugh. “He’ll get used to it, but he’ll never stop complaining.”

“Exactly. But you still haven’t answered my question. Did you leave because the council meeting is over?”

“Just about. I made an excuse of having a headache, which was about to be true if I stayed in there for any longer.”

“I bet Lancelot tried to carry you down to Gaius himself,” Merlin teases.

“I had to swear to him that I would go straight there multiple times before he let me out of his sight.”

They laugh together. Merlin adjusts his grip on the crate as it begins to slip out of his arms.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I totally forgot that you were still carrying that.”

“I’m strong Gwen, remember?” Merlin jokes. “Don’t worry about it. I always like talking to you. We need to catch up soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They part ways. Merlin finishes his trek, a trek that he’s taken so many times before. Still, this time feels different. This time, he’s entering his room as well. He doesn’t have to worry about knocking or barging in unexpectedly (not that he ever worried about that before). Merlin kicks open the door with his foot, nodding at the guard that’s stationed outside.

He drops the crate with a thud next to the bed and looks around. Arthur’s chambers don’t look much different even with Merlin moved in. Merlin never had much stuff to begin with. In fact, most of his things came from Arthur eventually. A new wardrobe, nicer blankets and pillows, and even a magic book he came across while traveling. Still, his stuff is nothing compared to the grandeur of Arthur’s possessions. Of course, it doesn’t bother Merlin. He has everything he needs as long as they’re together.

Merlin finishes unpacking the crate, storing some books away and folding some cloaks. Then, suddenly, that’s it; he’s all moved in. He lives with Arthur. He gets to go to sleep and wake up every morning at Arthur’s side. They can eat breakfast together without Merlin having to walk across the castle and meet him every morning.

The door opens behind him. He turns and sees Arthur dressed regally, cape flowing behind him. He looks brave and fearless and powerful, as any King should. When he looks at Merlin, though, his expression melts into one of softness and adoration.

“Is that the last of it?” Arthur asks.

“Yup. I’m officially moved in! You’re stuck with me,” Merlin says, poking his side.

“Hmm,” Arthur contemplates. “Are you sure it’s too late?”

“Too late.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to make the most of it.”

With that, Arthur swoops in and kisses Merlin. A gloved hand cups Merlin’s face, while Arthur’s other hand sneaks down to the dip in his spine, tracing over it. Merlin’s hands fly up to Arthur’s hair, knotting his fingers in the tresses. Arthur’s mouth tastes like the watered down wine the castle staff serves during most meetings. Soon, Arthur starts backing Merlin toward the bed, and Merlin giggles when the back of his knees hit the frame. Arthur starts trailing kisses down his neck, just about to push Merlin down onto the bed when he suddenly stops, staring at something behind Merlin.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?”

“What is that thing?” Arthur asks incredulously, pointing toward their bed. Merlin cranes his neck behind him to see what Arthur is pointing at.

It’s Merlin’s stuffed bear. Beary, to be precise. Merlin has had him since he was a baby. According to his mum, the stuffed bear was always Merlin’s favorite toy. He remembers toting it around with him everywhere, especially before he met Will. It was a comfort object, something to keep him company when he felt most lonely. It helped him through a lot of dark times. Many nights, he remembers crying himself to sleep after being constantly rejected by the rest of the village. He would hold the bear tight to his chest all night long, refusing to let go. Now, it’s more of a comfort just to have it near. He brought it to Camelot with hardly any hesitation, as it was something familiar in a completely new place. He’s never thought to get rid of it, despite it being completely worn down and falling apart He’s had to resew Beary numerous times, yet the stuffing inside of him always seems to come out, and the button eyes always seem to be missing.

“That’s Beary, my childhood toy,” Merlin says simply.

“And why pray tell is it on our bed?”

“He is on our bed because he that’s where he belongs.”

Arthur stares at him. “You’re kidding, right? Why do you even have that thing, anyway?”

“He was my favorite toy when I was a child, Arthur,” Merlin explains, picking Beary up gently. “He always brought me comfort when I most needed it. I don’t know if you knew this, but I didn’t really have friends growing up besides Will. I was pretty much ostracized from the rest of the village. I guess you could say he was a friend of sorts.”

“And you brought him to Camelot.”

Merlin shrugs. “He still brings me comfort, when I look of him, and he reminds me of Ealdor and my mum. Plenty of people still have their childhood toys.”

“Girls, maybe.”

“Hey! Toys are for everyone. Didn’t you have a favorite toy when you were little?”

Merlin sits down on the bed and puts his bear back in the center against the pillows. Arthur sits down next to Merlin, so close that their shoulders and thighs touch.

“I did have a toy sword,” Arthur muses. “Father wanted me to start training to be a knight as early as possible.”

Merlin’s eyebrow furrows. “You didn’t have any stuffed animals? Or blocks? Or puppets?”

“I had books on Camelot and royal etiquette.”

Suddenly, Merlin feels a bit guilty. Although he knows Arthur’s life has been anything but easy, oftentimes he forgets some of the struggles he’s had to deal with. Merlin’s childhood was nothing to boast about, but he was relatively happy. He had his mother by his side, a loving and caring figure. He had his needs taken care of, as well as they could be for a peasant. He eventually came to have Will, his best friend. Back then, Merlin knew nothing about his destiny. Arthur, on the other hand, has known about his destiny to become King since the day he was born. And Uther was anything but a sweet, loving father. Arthur has told him stories before about leading raids as a teenager, killing while he himself was still a boy. Yet somehow, Merlin never considered that he didn’t ever have a childhood even though it makes sense.

“Well, since you’re sharing your chambers with me, I can share Beary,” Merlin offers with a grin.

“I’ll pass,” Arthur says dryly.

“Come on! He’ll be your beary best friend!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Arthur laughs.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but Beary and I are a package deal. You can’t have one without the other.”

Arthur suddenly tackles Merlin against the bed, playfighting with him as they laugh. It doesn’t take long for them to eventually tire, though, leaving Arthur to collapse beside Merlin as they lean up against the pillows.

“I think the bear is more appealing at this point,” Arthur jokes.

Merlin mock frowns, reaching over Arthur to pick Beary back up. He nuzzles the bear’s face against Arthur’s neck, pouting at Arthur’s previous expression.

“Well I think you’re unbearable,” Merlin huffs, unable to keep a straight face for long. Arthur snorts, grinning with him.

Beary is then taken carefully from his hands and brought under Arthur’s scrutinizing gaze. “Why in the world would you name him Beary? That’s the worst possible name I could think of!”

“I can think of one worse name.”

“You’re just so funny, Merlin.”

Arthur then takes the bear in his hands and places it face down on his nightstand. He pulls Merlin’s body flush against his own. Thankfully, Arthur has forgone his armor for the afternoon, making it much more comfortable.

“Why did you do that?” Merlin asks, referring to his bear.

“Because I don’t want him to see this next part,” Arthur grins, causing Merlin to blush. He joins lips with Merlin again breathily, but Merlin pulls back before they can do much else.

“Does that mean Beary can stay?” Merlin asks smugly.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but it’s followed with a smile.

#merthur #merthur fanfic #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur fanfiction #fanfiction #merlin bbc #fluff

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justanoutlawfic · 3 years

Note

how about a fic where snow is in jail and regina is her wife and she ask for a marital visit? i feel like prison sex is what this fandom needs and you said it yourself in a fic, snow is the ultimate dom ;)

This took me a bit and it’s probably a tad angstier than you expected. I went back and forth on how to handle this, and this is what my mind came up with.

On AO3/FF

The first time Regina had sex with Mary Margaret, both were partially buzzed on Southern Comfort. Their clothes discarded on the floor of Regina’s apartment, leading a trail to her room. Her roommate was out of town. They were able to blast Journey as they fucked each other into the night. There was some awkward fumbling and testing boundaries, but for their first time together, it had been pretty great.

Now if Regina wants to have sex with her wife for the first time in months, she needs to be violated. She’s heard of searches in prisons, but nothing prepared her for just how invasive it was.

“Cough,” the burly female guard barked after she dropped her lace thong. This comes after being patted down in every area known to man. Regina manages to get one out. “You can do better than that.”

Regina resists an eye roll, coughing harder. It’s up to the guard’s satisfaction and she quickly pulls the thong, followed by her skirt back up. The guard barreling over six feet leads her down a few winding hallways. It’s so quick, Regina couldn’t find her way out if she really wanted to. The guard stops in front of the door, fishing out her keys to open it. On the other side is a nicer room than she expected. Mal had prepared her for potentially the worst, saying it varied depending on the prison. There’s a queen-sized mattress covered in a simple white sheet in the center of the room. A torn couch sits on one side, a bookshelf with a few worn textbooks on the other. A single fan is plugged into the wall, currently off. A table near the couch has a vase filled with lilies. The harsh lighting washes out the stark walls with no decoration

In the corner of the room is where she stands. Bags crowd Mary Margaret’s wide green eyes. The light makeup she once worn is nowhere to be seen. Having moved on from the orange jumpsuit to tan scrubs over a white long-sleeved t-shirt. Perhaps the most shocking is the hair. Regina’s wife once had such beautiful dark curls that hung around her shoulders. In the six months since the trial, she’s cut it down to a pixie cut.

Mary Margaret’s lips tugged up into a smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Snow,” Regina breathes, the nickname for her wife has never tasted so good.

She runs right into her arms, squeezing her for dear life. Mary Margaret presses a kiss to her forehead, stroking her hair.

“You have six hours,” the guard says with as much enthusiasm as dried paint. “The door locks behind me. There’s a bathroom through there.” Regina assumes she’s pointing somewhere, but she keeps her face buried in Mary Margaret’s shoulder, inhaling the cheapo soap and cigarettes. “We’ll call that phone every hour. If you don’t answer, we’ll assume you somehow escaped and come looking.”

“I got it,” Mary Margaret says, her head going against Regina’s.

“You’ll both be searched again when it’s time to go.”

“I got it.” Regina hears her wife sigh. “Ma’am.”

“That’s better, inmate.”

The door squeaks open and then slams shut. Keys rattle to show that they are secure and alone. Regina finally pulls away from her wife. Mary Margaret strokes her cheek, taking her in completely.

“You look exhausted, my love,” she murmurs.

Regina shakes her head. “I’m fine. Look at you.” She frowns, realizing how much weight her wife has lost. “Your beautiful hair.” She reaches up to touch the short ‘do. “I mean, it’s still gorgeous, but…”

“It was just too hard to keep up with, especially with 30 second showers,” Mary Margaret shrugs. “There’s a woman in here who does it. Looked better than I expected.” She runs her fingers over Regina’s silk blouse. “I can’t believe I actually miss the feel of silk.”

Regina nods. “Are you eating, though? Sleeping?”

“I’m fine, Regina.”

“You don’t look it. I could talk to Mal, maybe…”

“Regina,” Mary Margaret says firmly. “It’s prison, not the Ritz. I’m not supposed to look great. I’m keeping myself out of drama, stick to my group.” She sighs when Regina’s face remains unchanged. “And this is why I put off this visit. I didn’t want you seeing me this way.”

“And I don’t want to not see you,” Regina takes her hands. “I can handle it, I promise.”

She tries to force a smile on her face to prove it. Mary Margaret partially matches it, leading her over to the couch. They settle down, keeping a grip on one another.

“How’s Henry?” Mary Margaret asks.

“He’s doing well.” Regina feels herself genuinely smiling as she thinks of the child they share. “Getting better at Math and he entered a short story into a contest at school.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well, they had to write a twist on a fairytale. He wrote about Snow White falling for the Evil Queen.”

Mary Margaret laughs, shaking her head. “He’s always championed for more representation.”

“He’s doing well,” Regina finds herself repeating, for both of their benefits. “He…he misses you, though. Really wanted to come today.”

Mary Margaret immediately shakes her head. “I don’t want him to see me in here.”

“Mary Margaret…”

“We have the appeal coming up and Mal thinks I have a shot of being out of here soon.”

“In the next year,” Regina points out. “He’s going to grow so much in that time.”

“And that’ll happen whether we do these family visits or a piece of glass between us.” Mary Margaret shakes her head again. “No, I’ve ruined his childhood enough. I’m not about to do more damage.”

“Hey,” Regina touches her cheek, forcing her to look her in the eye. “You didn’t ruin his childhood. He still gets to have one.”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t worry about this stuff? That kids aren’t making fun of him?” Regina grows quiet and Mary Margaret clears her throat. “Tell me the bad part.”

“Do you want to focus on that? I see a bed over there…” Regina trails off, fiddling with her top

“We have six hours, Regina,” she says, her voice scarily quiet.

Mary Margaret isn’t one to get loud. When she’s mad, her voice gets lower and lower. If it gets so bad that soon she’ll just stop talking and fix the person with one of her looks. It’s always how Henry knows he’s in deep shit with his mama.

“Now tell me, the bad part. All of it.”

Regina sighs, pulling away from her. “He knows more than we wanted him to.” Mary Margaret’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “I tried to protect him. We all did. But it’s all over the papers, kids at school are reading it.”

“They’re only 10!”

“You were a teacher, Mare, you know how easy it is for kids to get their hands on this stuff. Especially since it went online.”

“What are they saying?” Regina hesitates. “Regina.”

She sighs once more. “Just asking him what it’s like to have a murderer for a mother. They ask if he can bring the bat to show and tell.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “Kids can be fucking assholes.”

Regina nods in agreement. “I’ve got him appointments with Dr. Hopper and I can tell it’s helping, but I also think he’s trying to act tough. I’ve told him he doesn’t have to be the man of the house but he’s always trying to do all the chores. His teacher called me in because he’s missing so many assignments. When I talked to him about it, he said it’s because he needs to take care of me.”

Tears pool Regina’s eyes just as they did that night. She and Henry had hugged each other as they cried. Her baby boy sobbed about how badly he wanted things to go back to normal, he actually uttered the words “I want my mommy”. For the past six months, he’s kept a brave face, acting wise behind his years. This is just a reminder of what he is: a little boy that needs both of his mothers.

Mary Margaret scrubs furiously at her face, trying to hide the evidence of her own tears. “I’ll talk to him about it,” she whispers. “I’ll call, tell him that he doesn’t need to do so.”

“I already did, I know Dr. Hopper is as well. I’m sure a phone call from you wouldn’t hurt, though,” Regina quickly adds on. “He just misses you.” She twiddles her thumbs together. “We both do.”

“I miss you both too.” She gnaws on her lips. “And how are we doing financially?”

Regina waves her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Regina, come on. You said when I agreed for you to come here that you’d be honest. So, be honest.”

“Well…we’re hanging in there.” Regina rubs the back of her neck. “Between legal fees, me taking off so much time from work and us going down to one income as it is…we’ve burned through our savings. I had to get a loan from my mother.”

Mary Margaret groans, tipping her head back. Regina hangs her head, picking at a loose thread on her skirt. The two were never fabulously well off, but they made enough to live comfortably. Mary Margaret worked for a respected private school, which meant Henry got to go for free. Regina has been at the same ad agency for years. Lately, they’ve been hesitant to put her on accounts given her associations. Everyone thinks Manhattan is huge, but the truth is, it’s a tiny island. People hear Blanchard-Mills and instantly ask “That Blanchard? The one who killed her father?” It hasn’t made paying the rent easier.

“I know,” Regina mumbles. “But we had to pay the rent and other bills. And that’s only going to get us so far.” She shakes her head. “I’ve decided to take up Kathryn on her offer. I’ll give up the apartment, then Henry and I will move in with her in Connecticut.”

“Regina, no.” Mary Margaret’s eyes are wide once more. “Too much has changed for him! We can’t uproot him again.”

“We don’t have much of a choice, Mary Margaret!” Regina snaps, causing her wife to back up a bit on the couch. She honestly doesn’t care. Mary Margaret is doing an incredible thing, but she can’t see how bad things are. It’s partially on Regina, she’s tried to protect her from it. “If we stay in Manhattan, it’s going to bankrupt us. I can commute and still visit you. But Kathryn isn’t charging me any rent or expecting us to pay bills. I’ve looked into the local schools there, they’re adequate.”

“Mal says…”

“Yes, you’ll be out in a year, maybe. Big maybe. I need a backup plan if you don’t. And I’m sorry, even if you do, life has still changed. You’re at risk of losing your teaching license and Hyperion Day certainly isn’t going to take you back. Stamford isn’t exactly cheap to live in, but it’ll be better than New York. When you get out, we can look into affordable housing.”

Mary Margaret clears throat, a hurt look etched on her face. “Looks like you’ve figured this all out on your own.”

“Well, you’re in here so I kind of have to.”

Regina gets up from the couch, walking over to stare at the blank wall. Any guilt she had before she walked in has washed over with resentment. The soft sound of tennis shoes pad against the linoleum.

“We’ve been over this, Regina,” Mary Margaret whispers. “It had to be me.”

“And why?” Regina whips back around. “You’re innocent! I…”

Mary Margaret smacks her hand over Regina’s mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” she hisses. “This place is probably wired.”

Regina glares at her behind the hand. Ever since it happened, Mary Margaret has called the shots. She said they couldn’t call the police. She destroyed the bat. She decided to take the fall and let everyone suspect her instead of Regina.

It’s still all pretty much a blur. Mary Margaret’s father showing up to the house, demanding to see her. Regina had never met him before but she knew the stories well. After all he had done to Mary Margaret, she knew she had to protect her. At first, she just kept telling him to leave, but he wormed his way into the house. Regina went to call the cops and then he attacked her. One minute, she was fighting for her life. The next, Leopold’s lifeless body bleeding out onto their rug. Regina’s Louisville slugger gripped tightly beneath her fingers. Mary Margaret came home not long after. She didn’t even blink, she just went into crisis mode.

Henry was at the neighbor’s playing and Mary Margaret called to request a sleepover. They waited until nightfall, wrapping Leopold into a tarp and dragging him down to their garage. They drove hours to the countryside where they found the woods he had once taught his only daughter to hunt. Leopold was buried carefully, not for his dignity but their protection. Regina would have nightmares of the blood, the fire that destroyed most of the evidence. Mary Margaret drove his car to a poorer part of the city where it was bound to be stolen. All DNA scrubbed from their home. It was like it never happened.

But when Leopold didn’t show up to work the following Monday, a search went out. It took three months for them to uncover the body.

And who else would the first suspect be except his only yet estranged daughter, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Mills.

Mary Margaret never admitted to it, she maintained her innocence. A detective friend of Leopold had something to prove and stretched enough evidence to pin it on her. Mal said Mary Margaret was definitely not given a fair trial and would argue bias to get it all overturned. She has faith and Regina wants to have it as well. Just as much as she wanted to just come clean to avoid all of it.

“It was self-defense,” she told Mary Margaret. “He was threatening you, attacked me. I protected the both of us.”

“You’re a Latinx woman with a record,” her wife pointed out.

“One assault charge, which was also in self-defense.”

“They won’t care. Mal’s right. It has to be me. Besides, either way, I go down. I was there, I helped you cover it up. Henry can’t lose both of us.”

There’s not a day that goes day that Regina doesn’t regret it or debate heading into NYPD headquarters to turn herself in. And then she remembers the sacrifice her wife made. All they’ve done. According to Mal, the fight will be over soon.

“Then you can go back to normal.”

Regina knows nothing will ever be normal again. Her wife is locked up. Regina killed a man. She still has nightmares every time she closes her eyes. Their son is forever traumatized. Mary Margaret has been through hell in prison.

Normal is long gone.

Regina bites Mary Margaret’s hand, causing her to quickly move it away and shake it out. “I don’t want to fight,” she whispers. “Even if we have six hours.”

Mary Margaret nods. “I don’t either.”

There’s so much left to say. The fears about the appeal, their son, the future of their mental states and even marriage.

Regina isn’t going to let that ruin the now.

“Undress me,” Regina practically demands.

Mary Margaret cocks her eyebrow. “Excuse me?” A chill runs down Regina’s spine.

“P…please,” she whimpers. “Please undress me.”

“What do you want me to take off first.” Regina’s trembling fingers fall to her blouse. “Use your words, baby girl.”

“My…my shirt.”

Mary Margaret nods. She takes great care in each button, purposefully going slow. Eventually, it falls to the floor. She snakes her hand behind Regina’s back and unhooks the bra, allowing it to go with the blouse. Mary Margaret cups her breasts, running her fingers around the areolas. Regina bites down on her lip, letting out a soft squeal when Mary Margaret pinches her nipple.

“So sensitive,” Mary Margaret coos. She runs her hands against the soft skin surrounding the nipples, feeding Regina’s touch starvation. “Taking care of everyone else, but who is taking care of my princess?”

Princess. People often joke that Regina is a ruthless evil queen in meetings. In the bedroom, she isn’t a tough business woman or strict mother. She’s Mary Margaret’s princess.

“No one,” Regina moans. “I need you.”

“And I’m right here.”

Mary Margaret lays a kiss to her lips, their first since before the final verdict. Regina savors every moment of it, even if Mary Margaret’s lips are chapped beyond belief. Her wife’s lips travel, moving to her neck. What starts with soft, gentle kisses quickly turns to sucking, marking her territory. Looks like Regina will have to wear scarves for the coming weeks. Maybe it’s high schoolish of her, but Regina will never be against hickeys. She tingles from the sucking alone, her hand grabbing the front of her skirt. With her eyes shut, Mary Margaret smacks her hand away. She ever so slightly pulls her lips away, causing Regina to whine.

“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” Mary Margaret asks.

Regina shakes her head, only to get a smack to her bottom prompting a verbal answer. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. Keep your hands on me.”

Regina obliges, wrapping her arms around Mary Margaret’s waist. Her wife’s lips travel, leaving marks around her shoulder blades, chest and breasts. Regina fights to touch herself, digging her nails into the scrubs. Mary Margaret unzips her skirt and Regina steps out of it, kicking it across the room. Her thong is slid down for the second time that afternoon, Mary Margaret helping her out of it. She holds the black garment to her face, taking a deep inhale. Regina stands stark naked in the cold room, her nipples perking up from the temperature.

“On the bed,” Mary Margaret demands.

Regina nods and lays against the lumpy mattress. Mary Margaret pulls off her two shirts, followed by her pants. Underneath are the ugliest bra and panties combo. Mary Margaret warned her it was bad, but Regina certainly wasn’t expecting this. She smirks.

“Nice lingerie, Grandma.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes playfully narrow. “Somebody’s cruising for a bruising.”

“Go right ahead,” Regina tempts her. “You know you want to.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head, a faux disappointed look on her face. She strips off the bra and underwear. Her wife has always kept things all natural, but the bush has grown more with time. For the briefest of moments, Regina wonders if it’s possible for her shaven pussy to get rugburn. Mary Margaret climbs onto the bed. She rubs Regina’s calves, leading up to her thigh. Regina’s gently rolled over onto her side so Mary Margaret can marvel at the words tattooed above her ass. She shivers as her wife traces the five-word mantra. A callback to a random drunk night in college.

“Pour some sugar on me,” Mary Margaret purrs.

“I wish you’d let me get it removed.”

“If you really wanted to, you know I’d let you do whatever. But can you really part with it?”

Regina doesn’t even have to think. “No.”

“Good.” Mary Margaret rolls her back over and slowly climbs on top of her. “Now, let me take care of you.”

Regina can only really get a good look at Mary Margaret’s chest. “I want to take care of you.”

Mary Margaret bends down, her breasts practically spilling on top of Regina. She presses a finger to her lips. “We have six hours.”

“More like five and a half now.”

“Hush.”

Mary Margaret moves backward, her legs wrapping around Regina’s. She reaches into the bedside table, removing a bottle of lube. Regina tilts her head. Mary Margaret shrugs.”

“I heard they provided this and was shocked too.”

She squirts a decent amount onto her finger, carefully applying it to both areas. Regina bites down on her lip. It’s definitely not the quality stuff sitting in their own side table, but it’ll do the job for now. Mary Margaret slides down, sticking one finger up at first, making the room for the second. She flexes them in and out, a loud moan escaping Regina.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you feel,” Mary Margaret groans.

“S…same.”

“It’s such a shame,” Mary Margaret’s fingers fuck her harder. “We don’t have our toys here.”

Regina thinks of the pink box hidden carefully at the bottom of their closet and grins.

“Have you been using some of those without me?” Mary Margaret asks, pausing her fingers. Regina nods, blushing a bit. “Like?”

Regina smirks cheekily. “Your favorite magic wand.”

“Oh, you naughty girl.” Mary Margaret returns to her fingering. “Tell you what, when all of this is done, Mommy will show you how good it feels when she uses it on you.”

Regina nods. “Yes, please, please.”

“Remember when I first bought it? How excited you were to watch me use it?” Regina grins at the memory. “Watching as it got me all wet and horny, saving the best for you. I want you think about that right now, baby.”

“I am.” She shuts her eyes. “I promise.”

The fingers aren’t the same as the wand or the myriad of other toys they have in that box. It doesn’t replace their thousand count sheets or their favorite aftercare lotion. None of it makes forget Regina that she’s fucking her wife in a prison.

But it sure as hell brings a relief from the stress she’s been under since all of this began. A momentary distraction before she’s forced to face reality.

“Get me wet, baby,” Mary Margaret moans.

It takes a few more thrusts, but Regina finds it in herself. Mary Margaret falls on top of her, her lips lightly brushing against Regina’s.

“Again,” Regina mumbles, her eyes growing heavy.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “We have time. Take a little nap.”

“I don’t want to miss out on anything with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Regina gives into sleep, clinging tightly to her wife. She only awakes a half hour later when the phone rings out and Mary Margaret’s annoyed voice fills the room.

“Yeah. I’m still here.”

#snow queen #snow white #mary margaret blanchard #regina mills #ouat #once upon a time #anon asks #asked and answered

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feedmecookiesnow · 4 years

Text

Can I Stay With You?

For @hopelessly-me who asked for a Winterhawk “Can I stay with you” from the prompt list:

Not NSFW, but we’ll say 18+ just to be safe.

***

At three am, there’s an unholy sound of someone pounding on his front door. Bucky stumbles out of bed, remembering at the last second to put pants on, and wrenches it open with a very irritated, “What?”

Clint is standing there, looking just as exhausted and annoyed as he is. “Hi,” he says. “Can I stay with you?”

Bucky rubs his eyes and tries to force his brain online. “What?”

“Can I stay with you?”

He stares at Clint for a moment, then opens the door a little more and gestures to the couch behind him. Then he turns and goes back to his own room. Behind him, he hears Clint close the door with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Bucky makes a sound that could maybe be described as “whatever” and is asleep again before his head hits the pillow.

It’s seven am the next time his eyes open, He sits up fast, still covered in cold sweat from his last nightmare. Nothing unusual there.

What is unusual is the smell of pancakes drifting through the apartment. Burnt slightly, but still kind of appealing. Bucky rubs the grit from his eyes and gets up, tired and sore from sleeping wrong, and goes to investigate.

Clint is standing in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers with little purple things on them. Eggplants, maybe? His back is to Bucky, and he’s humming something quietly.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Clint jumps a little, dropping one of the pancakes onto the floor. “Hi. Good morning. You let me in last night, remember?”

“Yes.” Bucky rubs his forehead. “No. Kind of.”

“There was a gas leak in my building,” Clint says. “The fire department dragged me out of bed and made me leave.”

Bucky sits at his little kitchen table and looks at the two plates set out. “Why?”

“Why did they make me leave?” Clint raises an eyebrow. “It’s a gas leak, Barnes. The building could have exploded.”

“Why are you here?” It’s not that he doesn’t like Clint, but it’s weird that he’s here. At the very least, he would’ve thought Clint would try Natasha or someone first.

“Oh.” He grabs one of the plates and starts putting pancakes on it. “Because you live closest to me, it was three in the morning, and I was standing outside in my underwear?”

Well. That’s probably fair.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Clint says. “I wouldn’t have if I could’ve avoided it.”

Bucky waves a hand. “Whatever.” He takes the plate from Clint and looks at it. “Pancakes?”

“Consider it an apology breakfast.” Clint pours him a mug of coffee. “We can eat, wake up a little bit, and then I’ll go back to my place and see if I can get in. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The pancakes are good, if not slightly burnt, and the coffee is perfect. It’s nice, actually, to sit and eat breakfast. He usually skips it---either too keyed up from his nightmares, or too busy to have real food. “These are good.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky drains the coffee and gets up for another mug. “So...gas leak?”

Clint shrugs. “Apparently. I don’t know much. All I know is that I was sleeping, and next thing I know, there was some super hot fireman standing over my bed, shaking me awake and telling me to come with him. I thought it was a dream until I got outside and saw everyone else.”

Bucky laughs. “What about your roommate?”

“Kate’s with her dad in California. She’s got Lucky too, so it was just me in there.” He looks at his legs with dismay. “They didn’t even let me get real pants. I had to walk twelve blocks like this.”

“You can borrow some of my stuff,” Bucky says before even realizing he’s made the offer. “I won’t make you walk back wearing just eggplants.”

Clint smiles slightly and nods. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

They finish breakfast. Clint insists on doing the dishes too, so Bucky goes back to his room and tries to find some clothes that’ll fit him. He finally settles on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. “Here,” he says, handing them to Clint. “I think these’ll fit you? Might be a little short.”

“Curse of being tall,” Clint says with a grin. “Thanks, Barnes. Seriously.” He pulls the jeans on right there, almost tipping himself over while he hops around on one foot.

Bucky rolls his eyes and steadies him. “Are you capable of doing anything without injuring yourself?”

“Yes,” Clint says, sounding mildly offended. He buttons the jeans, then reaches up and pulls off his shirt, revealing a very muscular torso half-plastered with bandages and medical tape. He looks at himself for a moment, then adds, “This means nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky says, oddly disappointed when Clint puts the new shirt on. He takes the other one and tosses it in his laundry basket. “I’ll wash that and give it back.”

“You’re awesome,” Clint says. “Insults to my capabilities aside.”

Bucky grins. “Come on. Let’s go see if you can get into your place.”

They can’t. They can’t even get close to it. A main gas line has blown, apparently, and they’re not letting anyone in. The whole block is cordoned off. After an hour of fruitless negotiating, pleading, and begging, the best answer they get is “It’ll be about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Clint throws his arms out. “But I don’t have any stuff! What am I supposed to do for two weeks, be homeless?”

“Sorry, sir,” the fire chief says. “Can’t help you.”

He walks away. Clint stares after him. “Great,” he finally says, and tilts his head up to the sky. “What did I do to deserve this, huh?”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, not sure what to follow it with.

Clint waves a hand and rubs his forehead. “It’s fine. I’ll figure out something.”

“You can stay with me again,” Bucky offers. “It’s only two weeks. We can buy you some clothes, and I’ve got an extra toothbrush.”

“No, I don’t want to be in the way---”

“It’s not,” Bucky says quickly, for some reason desperate for him to say yes. “It’s fine. It would be nice to have a roommate. For a bit.”

Clint studies him. “You sure?”

“Definitely.” Bucky nudges him with an elbow. “I expect breakfast every morning, though.”

Clint laughs. “Okay. I can do that.”

So that’s how Bucky ends up with a temporary roommate. It’s weird at first, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself. He hasn’t lived with anyone since joining the Avengers, not even a guest, and it takes him awhile to get used to sharing a space---particularly the bathroom. But other than a couple of arguments, they manage to make it work, settling into a comfortable rhythm.

Three weeks into this new arrangement, Bucky comes back from the grocery store to find Clint packing his clothes into a duffle bag. He’s wearing Bucky’s jeans again, and Bucky can’t help but notice how tight they are, riding low across his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I’m good to move back,” Clint says, grinning at him. “Building is safe for habitation again.” He hefts the bag. “I’m just using this for transport. I’ll bring it back.”

“You can keep it, I don’t care.” He tears his eyes off the jeans and looks up. “Well. Congrats on getting your apartment back.”

“Thank you,” Clint says, apparently oblivious to the disappointment in Bucky’s voice. Bucky swallows it down and helps him pack the rest of his things. When they’re done, Clint shoulders the bag and looks at him. “Well. This has been fun.”

“It has,” Bucky agrees. “Do you need help moving in?”

“Nah, I’ve interfered in your life enough.” Clint taps his fingers on his thigh for a moment, then says, “Seriously, though. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says, trying to imbue the words with all the subtext he can. “I liked having you here.”

Clint looks like he wants to say something, but after a moment, he shakes his head. “I’ll see you at work?”

“Sure.”

He leaves, then. Bucky doesn’t close the door until he disappears around the corner. Then he turns to look at his apartment. It seems smaller, somehow, which definitely doesn’t make sense. It should feel bigger now that there’s not two grown men taking up space.

Maybe smaller is the wrong word. It’s not smaller. It’s empty. There’s a distinct sense of something missing. Like losing a tooth, Bucky thinks, and all he can do is probe at the blank space where there used to be something better.

“Get over it,” he says to himself, and starts picking up blankets from the couch. “It didn’t mean anything. You were just being a good friend. That’s all you want from him. You’re just friends.”

He keeps telling himself this. He repeats it all day.

He doesn’t believe a word of it.

A week later, he’s watching TV. He misses Clint’s running commentary, which usually ended with both of them laughing their assess off. It’s just not the same on his own.

His phone rings, and he answers without looking. “Barnes.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Bucky sits up straight and mutes the TV. “Clint? What’s up?”

“Kate’s back,” he says, “and she’s having a sleepover.” There’s a distinct shrieking of laughter in the background, and Bucky can almost hear Clint’s wince. “They’re loud and they’re very girly. Which is fine, but also they’re so loud. Did I mention they’re loud? We’re talking undiscovered decibels here.”

“I think you mentioned it, yeah.”

“Anyway. Can I stay with you?”

Bucky blinks. “What?”

“Just for tonight,” Clint rushes to add. “Not three weeks again. I just need a break. They’re loud. Have I said that yet?”

Can’t you just take your hearing aids out? is the first thing that comes to Bucky’s mind, and he almost says it.

Then he looks around at his empty apartment, and the newscaster on television, and instead says, “Bring something to drink.”

“Awesome,” Clint says. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up. Bucky stares at his phone for a moment, then looks around his apartment. It’s---well, it’s not a mess, but it’s not pretty. Not fit for company. He quickly gets up and does some frantic cleaning. He’s not sure why---Clint’s worse than he is, he makes Bucky look military neat---but he does it anyway.

He’s working on the dishes when the door opens. “Hey,” Clint calls. “Door’s unlocked, I’m coming in.”

“Hey,” Bucky calls back. He puts the last plate on the rack and dries his hands. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Clint says, flashing a smile, and Bucky’s chest gets a little tighter at the sight. “I brought beer.” He raises a six-pack.

“Works for me.” Bucky sticks it in the fridge. “So how’s Kate?”

Clint winces. “I love her, but man, when she gets together with her girlfriends...” He shudders and drops his bag by the couch. “I don’t think they communicate with words. I think it’s just high pitched squealing noises. Seriously.” He shakes his head.

Bucky pulls two beers out and drops on the couch next to him. “Well, you’re welcome over here anytime.”

“It’s very appreciated.”

They drink beer and watch TV. It’s like how it was before, stepping back into their routine with barely a beat missed, and Bucky can’t stop himself from smiling.

Clint notices. “What’re you so happy about?”

“I like having you here,” Bucky says honestly. “It’s nice.”

Clint blinks, and then a smile spreads across his face. “Yeah?”

“I liked living with you too.” He’s already started, he might as well keep going. “I didn’t realize until you left, but it was really nice to have someone around.”

“It’s nice,” Clint agrees. “Roommates can be awesome.”

They’re quiet for a while after that. Bucky tries to think of something to say, but he can’t focus. Clint is wearing his jeans again, and they’re still too tight, and they’re still obscenely low across his hips, and the casual way he’s sitting---

“Eyes up, soldier,” Clint says, watching him, and Bucky blushes hard. Clint grins at him and sips his beer.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, face still burning. “I’m---that was rude, I shouldn’t do that.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Clint winks. “I don’t mind. I know these look good on me.”

“They’d look better on my bedroom floor,” Bucky says without thinking, and then nearly drops his beer from shock as the statement hits him a second later. “I mean---that’s not---”

Clint is suddenly very still, eyes fixed on the beer in his hand. After a moment, Bucky stops stammering out excuses, and resigns himself to dying of embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mutters again, and wishes he could just disappear into the couch.

“You mean that?” Clint asks after a moment, He turns and sets his beer down, then looks at Bucky. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugs, trying for casual and definitely not making it. “Just a thought.”

“Just a thought,” Clint echoes. “Okay. And if I wanted it to be more than a thought?”

Bucky stares at him, barely daring to hope. “Wait. You do?”

“Uh, yeah.” He sounds a little breathless, a little excited. “Have you seen yourself? Of course I want that, you’re---”

He cuts off with a surprised noise, as Bucky leans forward and kisses him. Then he loses his balance and falls backwards, whacking his head on the arm of the couch with a soft, “Ow.”

Bucky chuckles. “Can’t do anything without hurting yourself, can you?”

“Your fault,” Clint pants, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down. “You knocked me over.”

“My bad.”

They kiss again, intense and hungry and heated. Part of Bucky feels like he should take it slow, make it a little softer. But then Clint’s leg hitches over him, pulling him closer, and all coherent thought flies out the window.

They break apart with a gasp, both panting. “Think we knocked your beer over,” Clint says.

“It’s empty,” Bucky says, kissing him again.

“Good.” Clint’s hand slips under his shirt. “Off.”

Bucky tugs his shirt off and tosses it somewhere. Clint puts a hand on his chest, skimming over his torso with an appreciative touch. “Your abs are unfair,” he says, poking them. “Seriously. Like, Greek god levels of unfair.”

“You’ve got abs.”

“Not like this.”

“Do more sit-ups, then.”

“I do sit-ups!”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“You---” Clint scowls up at him, and it’s honestly kind of adorable. “I don’t need your judgement. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, leaning back down. It’s a little slower this time, a little less frantic. Bucky hasn’t done this in a long time, but he’s missed it. He’d forgotten how nice it can be to get wrapped up in this, how easy it is to get lost in the taste of someone else---

They tip sideways and fall, Bucky twisting at the last second so he takes the impact instead of Clint. “Shit,” Clint says, flushing red. “Sorry, that was my fault.”

Bucky laughs. “It’s fine,” he says. “But why don’t we take this to my room before you really hurt yourself?”

“Works for me,” Clint says, standing up. He offers Bucky a hand, and pulls him to his feet. “I have been known to fall off beds, though. Fair warning.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky says. “I’m sure I can figure out a way to keep you in one place.” He winks. “For safety reasons, you know.”

“Looking forward to seeing your methods,” Clint says with a grin, and lets Bucky tug him down the hallway to the bedroom.

***

Charity Hawktion Self-Promo! If you like the things I write and would like me to write something specifically for you, you can bid on me here! Winner will get a 5-10k word story of their choosing (possibly longer because I am a verbose motherfucker). If you can participate, I encourage you to do so, and if not, that’s okay too! Thank you for reading!

#winterhawk #cookiewrites #clint barton #bucky barnes #clint/bucky #prompts #hopelesslyme

43 notes · View notes

rawmeanderson · 5 years

Text

bring you back to me ― part ix

ft. jeff skinner plot: when your high school sweetheart gets traded to the same city where you now live and work, your best friend just can’t mind her own business ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings. swearing, drinking/drunkenness, all sorts of nsfw stuff 👏🏻 word count: 7.4k notes at the end! also, a maaaaasive shoutouts go to @ferraromarios, @drunkduncs, and @capobiancos for being such good, supportive friends 💖 visit my masterlist (there’s a link in the description!) to sign up for email alerts or to view the master document with all parts of the fic for easy binge reading!!

“God fucking dammit,” Lydia mutters after someone a few tables over called bingo, earning a dirty look from the older lady at the table ahead of you. You snort softly, reaching for your mimosa as Lydia continues to mutter under her breath.

“I don’t know why we keep coming here, you always end up so angry,” you tease, grinning as she rips of the top sheet of her cards.

“It’s boozy bingo, y/n, it’s worth the anger,” she says, looking at you like you should know that. Your only response is to finish off the rest of your drink, putting the empty glass down next to your cards to pick up your dauber.

Saturday afternoon boozy bingo was a staple for you and Lydia, but it was the first time you’d been back in a while. The brunch was good, but you mostly showed up for $1 mimosas and bloody marys, while Lydia was there for the bingo. She got wildly competitive during the game, and her trash talking had almost gotten you thrown out on a couple occasions. Honestly, the entertainment watching Lydia’s frustration build and build as the games went on made it all worth it.

Peter was with you today, since he was in town for a few more days. Since it was between games, he went up to the bar to grab drinks, including another mimosa for you.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” you tell her, nudging her under the table as you pout at her. A quiet chatter had started between games, and you were glad to have a minute alone with your best friend.

“Yeah, I know,” she responds, sighing as she pushes her hair out of her face. “Since my sister’s been out of town a lot for work, I’ve been having to take Mom to her appointments and stuff, and I’ve just been absolutely drained from it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you get a double dose of me today, right?” you ask, winking when she looks at you and you both laugh. The two of you were going to the game that night to see the Sabres play the Sharks.

Peter returns a second later, putting two mimosas down in front of you and you shoot him a thumbs up.

“Good call, bud,” you tell him, already reaching for one.

“I figured you might need the extra to help drown out this one,” he responds, pointing at Lydia with a grin. Lydia gave him the finger as he puts a bloody mary down in front of her. “Watch it, or I’ll spit in the next one.” You grimace at his warning even though it wasn’t directed to you, and you straightening up in your seat as the next game starts.

Between numbers, you sip at your drink and glance at your phone, figuring that Jeff is probably taking his pre-game nap by now. Tipsy already, the thought of climbing into bed with him for a nap is very appealing, but not worth leaving Lydia and Peter.

You had stayed at your own place last night, watching Jeff’s game in Detroit from your couch. Jeff had to be up early for a work out and press stuff before the game, and you’d used your morning to clean up around the house and to catch up on laundry. You’d even dug your suitcase out of your closet, knowing you needed to start packing soon since you and Jeff were leaving for your brother’s wedding in four days.

After bumping into Peter a few nights earlier, the two of you and Lydia had been able to make plans for Saturday afternoon, and here you were. You had pushed your hardest to go putt-putt-ing, but you were out voted in favor of boozy bingo.

Lydia is a number away from winning, nibbling on the end of the celery from her bloody mary as her eyes bounce over her cards. She’s murmuring the number she needs to herself and toying with the ends of her hair with tense shoulders.

“Is she always like this?” he asks when you look at him, voice low and almost concerned. Grinning, you nod, nearly laughing because you hadn’t realized he’d never been to bingo with her before.

“Yeah, she’s nearly got bingo down to an art form if you ask me,” you respond, sipping at your drink.

“I can hear you,” Lydia says with a grin, not even looking up from her cards.

In the end, none of you won anything, but you had more than your fair share of mimosas.You and Lydia had each been planning to rideshare home, but thankfully, Peter offered to play taxi driver since he hadn’t been drinking. Lydia was worse off than you and pissed that she hadn’t won anything, making her a damn near lethal combination.

“I swear, those old bitches cheat somehow,” she mutters as you approach Peter’s rental car. You laugh, nodding to appease her as she climbs in the backseat. You take shotgun, and Peter grins at you as he starts up the car.

“It’s like I never left, right?” he asks and you nod as Lydia continues to rant from the backseat. It was true though. Peter, never much of a drinker, had often played DD for you and Lydia in the time you’d known each other, and having him there again felt like nothing had changed.

Lydia’s place was closer, so she was dropped off first. As she steps out of the car, you roll your window down, reminding her to set an alarm so she wouldn’t oversleep and miss dinner and the game later. She thanks you, calling you ‘mom’ teasingly. Considering you’re drunk, it’s extra funny and sends you into a fit of laughter. Lydia threw a peace sign up before turning to make her way to her building, and you and Peter stay put to make sure she gets to the door without tripping or managing to fall over.

Satisfied that Lydia was safely inside, Peter pulled away from the curb, glancing at you. “You’re gonna have to tell me where to go,” he tells you.

You snort, shaking your head. “Shit, you know I have no sense of direction, so let’s see how this goes,” you joke, sitting up in your seat a little more. “Turn left up here, head toward downtown.”

Peter laughs, turning on his blinker on as he nods. The two of you are quiet for a few moments aside from you giving the occasional direction before starting in with a bit of small talk. You ask about his new office, how he’s adjusting to being in a new city, and he says he’s enjoying it, that he’s happy he made the move even if it did put him far from family.

“Have you found friends to replace Lydia and me yet?” you ask, trying to decide which would be the best route to get to Jeff’s from where you were then.

“Nah, impossible, really,” he admits, glancing at you with a grin.

“Well, shucks,” you tease, laughing as you push your hair back out of your face. Jeff still didn’t seem to be awake since he hadn’t answered any of your messages from earlier, and the thought of climbing into bed with him made you feel warm and soft all over. “Take a right up here, that way’s probably quicker.”

“The fuck do you mean, probably?” Peter questions, making you crack up all over again. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but Jeff Skinner, the professional hockey player, is your boyfriend, and you didn’t even tell me about it?”

“Yeah,” you respond, trying to look apologetic for not telling him but you just ended up grinning like an idiot at the mere mention of Jeff. “I’can’t believe Lydia didn’t tell you, this is the result of her handiwork.”

Peter’s not even surprised by that. “So, are you going to tell me how all of this happened, or what?”

You snort then, shrugging as you continue to smile. “I’ve known Jeff for as long as I can remember really. He played hockey with my brother when we were little, our families are friends. We dated for a while in high school, then he got drafted and went to North Carolina. Now eight years later, he got traded here and Lydia tricked me into going to a game, and here we are.”

“Shut the fuck up, that’s some rom-com shit, honestly,” he says, glancing at you with a look of teasing disbelief. “He’s a good guy though?”

The question makes you smile. Peter had always been one to look after both you and Lydia, and you’re glad to see that the distance hadn’t changed that. “The best, really. He always has been,” you assure him and he nods. “We’ve probably moved kind of fast, but it’s been so easy, like we just picked up where we left off.”

“Good. You’re happy, I can tell. I’ve never seen you light up like that when you talk about someone,” he tells you, looking over at you quickly before changing lanes.

Feeling your cheeks burn with a flush, you cross the subject. “Enough about me, what about you, huh? Have you been dating at all?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you glance over at him.

Peter laughs, shaking his head immediately. “No, not at all, honestly. I just feel like I haven’t had any time to even try. I’m trying to make friends first, then go from there,” he admits, and you nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, that was me a couple years ago,” you way with a sympathetic smile. You spot Jeff’s building and quickly point it out to Peter. “It’s that one! Just drop me off where you can, I guess.”

Peter pulls to the curb, and you unfasten your seatbelt before turning to hug him over the center console. He hugs you back tightly, and when you pull away, you’re smiling.

“Have a good trip home tomorrow, and please, let us know when you’re in town next!” you say, making sure you’ve got your phone and keys before opening the door.

“Don’t worry, I will,” he promises as you climb out of the car. He waves as you close the door, and you do the same before heading toward the door.

In your drunken state, it takes a moment for you to figure out which key you need to use, then another to fit it into the lock to get into the lobby. You doubt Jeff is awake yet, but you text him to tell him you’re in the lobby anyway, and you press the up button on the elevator repeatedly in impatience.

You ran into the same delay with your keys outside Jeff’s door, and you nearly trip as you step into his apartment. It’s quiet and you hush yourself softly while toeing off your shows. Knowing you’d left a hamper of clean clothes in the laundry room, you stop there first to change into leggings and one of Jeff’s shirts, fully intent on being lazy and cozy until you had to leave for the game later.

Jeff’s bedroom door is partially open when you approach it a moment later, and you smile to yourself when you see him in bed. He’s shirtless, blankets pulled up to his chest and he’s sprawled out, looking so sweet and relaxed. You cross the room and slip under the sheets with him, the shifting of the bed making him sigh quietly in his sleep. Staying still for a moment, you listen to the even sound of his breathing before leaning over him enough to kiss his chest lightly.

He stirred a little, grumbling as he brought a hand up to run over your hair. Smiling to yourself, you kiss higher, along his neck and he loops an arm around you as you finally kiss his mouth.

“Hi,” you murmur, pulling back to look down at him.

“Hey,” he responds, sounding groggy as he turns his head to yawn. “What time is it?”

“Almost 2,” you say, pressing another kiss to his mouth before shifting to straddle him. He looks up at with a sleepy grin as you drape your body over his. “Did you have a good nap?” Jeff nods, tilting his head up enough to kiss you again. You feel warm all over, absolutely giddy just to be there with him.

“Did you have a good time gambling and day drinking?” he asks and you snort, laughing as you nod back at him. You reposition yourself just slightly, hips pressing down against his in a way that makes electricity shoot up your spine.

“Yeah, it was fun. Lydia drank more than I did, so she was all fired up about losing,” you tell him, moving down his body more and kissing his collarbone.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure she was,” he responds, bringing a hand up to push your hair back out of your face. He toys with the strands idly as you move lower again, kissing down his chest as you glance up at him. “What are you doing?” A crooked grin settles on his face that you mirror back to him.

“Haven’t decided yet,” you murmur, kissing his stomach as you toy with the waist of his sweatpants. He chuckles softly, nodding and tucking a hand behind his head as he watches you. Looking up at him, you bite your lip while shifting to kneel between his knees.

“We’ve got a couple of hours to figure it out,” he teases, and you grin, humming in agreement as you kiss the line of his hip.

“Don’t think I’ll need that long,” you respond, bringing a hand up to brush your knuckles over the hardening line of his cock. Looking up at him through your lashes, you kiss just above the band of his pants. His abs tense at the light touch of your lips, making you smirk.

When his hand tightens into a fist at his side, you can’t help the soft chuckle that leaves you. Moving lower, your lips ghost over the obvious bludge of his cock and he swears under his breath, hips twitching with the effort to keep still as he watches you.

“Christ, are you trying to make me beg for it?” he asks, and you look up in time to see him practically squirming in place.

You bite your lip again in an attempt to hide the grin that spread across your face, shrugging as you tilt your head to one side. “I haven’t ruled it out,” you say in an attempt to sound coy. Jeff cursed then, letting his head fall back against the pillow, and you laugh quietly, shaking your head. “So impatient.” Your words come as you tsk softly, and he nods in response, exhaling a breath.

Jeff brings a hand up to push your hair out of your face so he can look at you, a tender motion that never fails to make you shiver. You glance up to make eye contact with him before giving in and starting to tugs his sweats down his hips. He lets out a relieved sigh, lifting his hips lazily to help you out, and your mouth follows the path of the fabric, kissing his newly exposed skin.

With his cock free, your hand moves quickly, stroking him slowly from base to tip with a hum. He twitches against your palm, and he twists the sheets in his fist when your head tilts to trace the vein the runs up his shaft with your tongue. Your mouth is practically watering by the time your lips close enough the head of his cock, sucking lightly before pulling off. A sound of frustration leaves him and your grin reappears.

“You ready to beg yet, or should I keep teasing?” you ask, eyebrow raised as you stroke him again slowly. He hisses, hips rocking toward your hand as his brows knit together. His chest is flushed, the color rising higher and he whines your name so quietly that you can barely hear it.

“Fuuuck, y/n. Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low. He’s watching you intently, eyes on your hand that’s wrapped around his dick as it continues to move in lazy strokes. You raise an eyebrow and wait for him to continue, loving the way he’s absolutely squirming. “Goddammit, I need your mouth, please.”

Jeff’s getting whinier with each passing second and it’s far too hot to say no to. You stroke him a few more times, loving the sound of him panting for you, cheeks flushed, before closing your lips around the head of his cock again. He makes a sound like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and it does wonders for your ego.

“Holy shit, thank you,” he says, sounding breathless already as you take him deeper in your mouth. His hand leaves his side to come up to your hair, tangling in the strands as he pulls it away from your face. “You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth.” The words leave him so casually that it makes you moan, pulling back enough to soothe your tongue over the slit at the head of his dick.

You start bobbing your head in slow movements, taking him deep enough that your gag reflex is almost triggered. He groans, the sound leaving him slowly as his hips press up toward you. Your clit is throbbing between your thighs then, and you can feel how slick you are when you shift. Bringing a hand up to rest on his thigh, you let your nails drag over his skin lightly as you bob your head, taking your time to let him slip deeper down your throat.

A slew of curses leaves him when you swallow around him, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips twitch toward your mouth again. You can taste pre-cum at the back of your tongue and you groan around him, relaxing your jaw as you take him deep enough that your nose is pressing against his pelvis.

Jeff makes a punched out sound, murmuring that he loves you, and when you glance up at him, he’s still watching you closely. You nearly pull off him, taking a breath and teasing along a vein with the tip of your tongue. He’s tense, practically slack-jawed as he keeps his eyes on you.

You love when he’s like this, putty in your hands (or mouth to be more specific) like you’re the only thing in the world that he’s ever wanted. His flush has moved up his neck and he’s breathing heavily, groaning as you bob your head shallowly. The sounds he makes never fail to make your pussy throb, and when you lean over him more, you can tell that you’ve already soaked through your panties.

“Baby, unless you want me cumming down your throat, you should stop,” he warns before you’ve even let him slip down your throat again.

You pull off, lifting your head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I don’t hate the sound of that,” you tease, stroking his cock slowly in the absence of your mouth on him.

He curses softly, head falling back against the pillow while murmuring something about you trying to kill him and you laugh, leaning forward to kiss his stomach once before pulling back.

You get to your feet on shaky legs, grinning at him as you pull your shirt off over your head, unclipping your bra a second later and letting the fabric drop to the floor. Jeff manages to tear his eyes away from you long enough to nudge his sweats off and grab a condom while you slip out of your leggings. You nearly trip as you get your panties and leggings off completely, and you laugh as you catch your balance.

“You okay?” Jeff asks, glancing at you with a wide smile on his face as he rips he condom open.

“Yep, never better,” you respond, smiling as you push your hair out of your face. Returning to the bed, you lean over him, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. You swing your leg over his hip as he rolls the condom down onto his length, his eyes taking in the sight of your body over his again.

One of Jeff’s hand comes up to rest on your waist, leaning up enough to kiss you again, while the other slips between your legs. A low groan leaves you as his fingers slide through your folds, hips immediately canting down against his hand.

“Fuck, Jeff,” you breathe, a whimper catching in your throat. He hums in appreciation when your wetness coats his fingers, toying with your clit to make you squirm over him.

“God, you’re always so fucking wet after sucking my cock,” he murmurs, voice low as he looks up at you. His fingers are sliding through your folds effortlessly, teasing at your entrance, and you groan his name again, grinding against his hand eagerly.

Making an impatient sound, you shift, hand slipping between your bodies to guide his cock to your entrance. Your touch makes him curse softly, his lips parting as his eyes drop down to watch his cock sink into you as your hips lower toward his.

“Shit, y/n,” he groans, head falling back against the pillow with a content sigh. His hands move to your hips, resting there as you sink onto him further.

You’d forgotten how much you love riding him, how he makes you feel so full as he looks up at you like you’ll disappear if he looks away. Your thighs are tense and you bite your lip, your hands pressing against his chest as your hips lower a little more, and a moan catches in your throat. His thumb brushes idly over your skin, the other hand moving higher over your waist until he’s cupping your breast in his palm.

Leaning over him, hands resting on either side of his head, you kiss him as your hips roll down against his. He moans into your mouth, hand sliding from your hip to your ass, squeezing you there as his thumb drags over your nipple. You shiver, melting against him with a wanton groan as you try to settle into a rhythm. The head of his cock hits your g-spot with the next motion of your hips, making you tighten around him.

You’re doing your best as you try to keep focused on easy rhythm you’ve set, pussy throbbing around his length as you sit up again. Hands resting on his chest, you bite your lip playfully, grinning down at him as you grind against him rougher than before. A gasp slips from you, given the friction of your clit against his pelvic bone, and Jeff hums, eyes sliding over your frame as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

“Mm, sweetheart,” he breaths, squeezing your ass as your hips grind into his again, the friction too good to stop chasing. “Fuck, that’s good.” You nod quickly, panting out a curse as you tilt your head back to get your hair out of your face.

It surprises you when Jeff fucks up into you, a whine slipping past your lips as your hips slam down to meet his. He curses loudly, the grip on you ass tightening and guiding your hips forward against his again. You can tell that you’re soaked, making the slide of his cock in and out of you easy and downright sinfully good.

“Come here,” Jeff says, voice low as he pulls you down to him easily. You chuckle, grinning as you lean over him again, hips never slowing as you continue to rock against him. His hand slips into your hair, keeping it back from your face and tangling in the strands as he kisses you.

You moan, whining as his teeth catch on your bottom lip. Your clit is begging for attention and a jolt runs down your spine to your core as he tugs at your nipple. “Oh, fuck, I love you,” you pant, the words exhaled into his mouth before you’re kissing him again desperately. You’re close, toes curling as your hand slips between your bodies to help yourself along.

The extra friction makes you cry out, mouth leaving his as you try to catch your breath. His mouth moves to your neck, finding the spot that always takes your breath away, then moving down to your collarbone. He tugs at your hair, not enough to hurt but enough that you gasp, the sound fading into a whine as his mouth moves over your chest. Your movements have grown more erratic, searching for the perfect combination of friction to send you over the edge.

As good as it feels to have his mouth on you and to be kissing him, you sit up again, knowing the angle is just that much better. It only takes a few rocks of your hips to have you groaning in satisfaction, leaning back slightly and resting a hand on his thigh for support while still rubbing your clit. Jeff’s eyes are glued to you as his hand comes nudges yours out of the way toy with the swollen bundle of nerves himself. You don’t stop him, a smirk sliding onto your face briefly before your mouth falls open with a moan.

“God, Jeff, that’s so fucking good,” you whimper, thighs shaking as he fucks up into you and hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you gasp. The bed is squeaking slightly with the movement of you, mixing with the sounds you’re each making.

It didn’t surprise you when your orgasm washed over you a moment later, knowing how easy it was for him to just completely unravel you. You cried out, head falling back as you try to keep the motion of your hips going. It’s more difficult than you expected, moaning his name as you grind down against him roughly.

He nods beneath you, brow creased in concentration as his thumb continues to rub firm circles against your clit. Leaning forward slightly, your hands press against his chest and you can tell from the look in his eye that he’s close as well. Your nails dig into skin, making him hiss and groan that he loves you. The rustling of fabric beneath you gives way to his pressing his foot into the mattress for leverage, as he grips your hip with one hand.

Jeff fucks up into you at the perfect angle to make you go still, desperate for him to keep hitting that same spot. Reduced to whimpering, your eyes squeeze shut, body still as his hips slam up into yours. The sound of skin on skin, his heavy breathing, and your breathless whines filled the room, and you could feel that you’d each worked up a bit of a sweat. A chill runs through your body like electricity, making you shudder as your orgasm starts to fade.

Your pussy is still tight around him when his thumb leaves your clit before he’s tugging you down to him more. He pressed his face into your neck, breathing hot into your skin and groaning while kissing down to your breasts again. He sighs your name into your chest as he cums a short moment later, grunting roughly as his hips slow until he’s worn out. You move slowly, eager to drag out the last few seconds of pleasure.

Jeff melts into the mattress as he rests his head against the pillow. His eyes are closed and you imagine that if it weren’t for the hand rubbing over your thigh contently, you’d think he’d gone back to sleep already. You don’t pull away just yet, kissing down his chest as you try to catch your breath. He’s so relaxed and you can feel his heart pounding as his hand leaves your thigh.

When he pushes your hair out of your face you look up to see him grinning at you. “Have I told you that I love you recently?” he asks, the words coming slow. His voice was like warm honey and you smile back at him before leaning up enough to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“A few times, yeah,” you respond, hips resting down against his as you enjoy the fullness of having him inside you still.

“Mm, gotcha,” he says, toying with the ends of your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You only came once, didn’t you?” His brow creases slightly when you nod.

“Yeah, but trust me, I am a very satisfied customer,” you assure him, only to hear him snort with laughter in response. He guides your mouth back to yours, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. It’s slow at first, but when his tongue slides over yours, you feel your clit throb.

“Want me eat you out?” he asks, his mouth barely leaving yours. The words seem so casual and you groan, tightening around him enough that he cursed under his breath. It only takes another second before you’re nodding, moaning into his mouth as he starts to untangle himself from you.

Jeff turns you over onto your back easily and pulls out before kissing you hard before getting to his feet. Legs still open for him, you watch the muscles of his torso move as he discards the condom. Your hand slips between your thighs impatiently, and when he follows the motion of your hand, he smirks, tugging you an inch or two closer by the ankle.

He climbs back onto the bed, getting settled on his stomach between your thighs. After moving your hand away from your clit, he sucks your fingers into his mouth briefly, smirk never leaving. Guiding your legs over his shoulders, he groaned loudly at the sight of you. You knew you were absolutely soaked, and when you felt his tongue sweep through your sensitive folds a second later, your hips twitched toward his mouth.

His mouth is hot against you and your hand moves to his hair, fingers tangling in his short curls. You tug at the strands, nails brushing over his scalp to make him hum in approval. It’s impossible to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head as you whimper, hips rocking easily against his mouth. He swings an arm over you to keep you still, leaning into you more while he licks from your entrance, up to your clit, then back slowly. You realize he’s cleaning you up and you relax back into the mattress as your heel digs into the back of his shoulder.

Jeff’s tongue is still moving slowly through your folds, just taking his time and you watch him with heavy lidded eyes. The damp heat of his breath hitting your skin had you shivering while your legs shake. Your fingers curl in his hair as you inhale sharply, your other hand dropping to brush light circles against your nipple.

He’s watching you with dark eyes, watching the way you tease at your breast. His pressure changes then, tongue going from slow and lazy to hungry and firm it sinks into you. You try to buck up against him but his arm keeps you in place. A wanton moan leaves you as his tongue fucks into you again before dragging slowly up to your clit again, with the same firmness that has you squeezing your thighs around his head again.

Your thumb brushes over your nipple just as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking against you quickly and you exhale a desperate sound. “Fuuck, Jeff,” you whine, his name cut short when you cry out as he sinks a finger into you. You can feel yourself shaking, already right there at the edge with how he’d fucked you earlier.

Meeting his eye, you nod weakly and he takes your cue to sink a second fingers into your pussy. Your head falls back against the sheets as your back arches, and when his digits curl against your g-spot, you let out a string of curses. He can tell that you’re getting close and he releases your clit, taking a second to breathe before teasing at your clit again. You had abandoned the idea of toying with your nipple, far too consumed by the soft sounds of his mouth working against you.

His fingers are deep inside you, scissoring slightly and always making sure to hit your g-spot, and your legs tighten around his shoulders. Squirming, you again find yourself trapped by his arm and you make a frustrated noise that makes him pull away from you slightly.

“Cum for me, baby,” he tells you, already leaning back to seal his lips around your clit again.

Your whines build and build, eyes squeezing shut as his fingers fuck into you, and you topple over the edge a second later. You cum with a sharp moan, pulsing tightly around his fingers as Jeff groans against you, fingers still curling inside you. The orgasm is hot and bright, and Jeff guides you through it, murmuring praise every time he’s pull back from you to take a breath.

When you float back down, your eyes are heavy and you finally loosen your grip on Jeff’s hair slightly. His fingers are gone and he’s back to lapping at your folds lazily, making it that much harder to keep yourself from shaking. After another moment, you have to push him away, gasping you try to wiggle away from him.

Jeff chuckles softly, turning his head to rest against your thigh as he looks up at you. His cheeks are rosy, and when he grins, you can see that his mouth and chin are shiny with you’re wetness.

“Thought you were drying to suffocate me there for a minute,” he teases, hand sliding along your thigh as he guides your leg off his shoulder.

Laughing, you nudge him gently with your knee. “Shut up,” you respond, shaking your head as he leans up, pressing a kiss to your stomach. The light touch of his mouth makes you shiver, and you run a fingertip down his nose lightly. You’re trembling slightly, shivering as you try and catch your breath.

Jeff noses at your ribs, kissing his way up your body. Your hand returns to his hair, smoothing it with a light touch. The longer you stay there, the more relaxed you feel, and you realize that it’d be very easy to doze off. As Jeff’s mouth moved higher, he shifted to lean over you, his body radiating warmth as he kisses you on the mouth.

When he pulls away, it’s to settle back against the pillows, and he chuckles when you pout at him slightly. “C’mere, lazy,” he says, patting his chest before tugging at your hand to get you to move.

Sighing heavily, you move, curling into his side. Jeff pulls the blankets over both of you and your head settles on your chest.

tt’s easy to doze for the next hour or so, curled up with him. He had turned the TV at one point, but you weren’t conscious enough to really be sure what he was watching. Jeff ordered food, and when he went to open the door, you rolled into the warm spot he’d left behind, enjoying the smell of his shampoo and cologne clinging to the sheets. When he returned, you heard him scoff at the fact that you’d stolen his spot.

He decides to leave you be, turning around to go eat at the table and that’s when you fully drift off. Some time later, Jeff wakes you up by rubbing a hand over your back to tell you that he was leaving for the arena.

With a warm, sleepy smile you roll onto your side, promising that you’ll see him soon. You kiss him a few times before he stands up and you get the chance to appreciate how good he looks in his suit before he leaves.

Hours later, you’re awake, dressed, and enjoying the game with Lydia. The score was tied by midway through the second period and Jeff had two assists. Sipping at your beer, your eyes are on the ice, but Lydia is practically vibrating next to you.

There’s a stoppage in play a second later and you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Go ahead,” you tell her, taking another drink. You’re wearing your jersey tonight with black jeans and booties, and Lydia’s in an Eichel jersey that you feel like you haven’t seen before.

“What are you talking about?” Lydia asks, brow creasing as she glances up at the scoreboard.

“You are clearly dying to tell me something, so go ahead,” you respond, laughing slightly. She rolls her eyes, hating that she makes things so obvious.

“I left my bag in Peter’s car, so he stopped by with it after dropping you off,” she says, pausing heavily. It doesn’t take you long to figure out what she’s implying, and you snort, shaking your head.

“Girl, look at you,” you tell her, laughing as you raise your beer to her. “Wait, did you leave your bag in his car on purpose?”

She snorts, shrugging, and you both double over in laughter. It wasn’t the first time she’d used that move, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Not like you can judge. I’d bet $50 that you went straight to Jeff’s to get busy,” she teases, and your response is to shrug, because it’s not like you’d take that bet.

The two of you continued to to chit-chat and drink, enjoying yourselves as the second period wound down. With a little over a minute to go in the period, Jeff took a hit that made you gasp, bringing you to your feet when he didn’t get up immediately. The arena was full of chatter and your heart was thundering in your chest, watching as Jeff finally got up with the help of his teammates. You dropped into your seat as he immediately went down the tunnel, and Lydia was quick to take your hand, holding it tightly.

You didn’t know what to do, so you sat there, chewing on your lip and bouncing your leg idly. Lydia was quiet, still holding your hand because she wasn’t sure what else to do to help you feel better. Your stomach twists in knots, and you send Jeff a text, unsure of when he’d even have the chance to check his phone.

“Y/n, Twitter says he’s not coming back to the game,” Lydia tells you and you sigh, pushing your hair out of your face. Through most of intermission, you’re silent, staring at your phone and hoping for some sort of news.

It finally came a few minutes into the 3rd period, a text from Jeff, asking you come down to where you usually meet him. Lydia promises that she’ll be fine watching the rest of the game by herself, and you nod, taking off up the stairs just as the Sabres score.

When you see Jeff, seeing that he’s upright and grinning, you’re relieved, putting your arms around him when you’re close enough. He’s freshly showered, and he settles an arm around your shoulder, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m alright, I promise,” he tells you, giving your body a reassuring squeeze. “Knocked the wind out of me pretty bad, and my shoulder hurts like hell, but I’m alright. They don’t think I’ll be out at all.” You nod, finally pulling back to look up at him.

You drove Jeff home and just as you were parking in his garage, you got the notification that Casey scored an empty net goal to seal the win for the Sabres. He was moving a little slower than usual and in the elevator, he was leaning into you. Neither of you said much got in the door, and Jeff immediately headed toward his room. He had mentioned the the trainer had given him some meds, and you could tell he was frustrated about being out for the night, so you gave him some space.

You busy yourself by tidying up the living room some. Folding a blanket, fluffing the pillows, and a few other meaningless tasks to pass a little bit of time. He had always been quiet after a bad game or something like this, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise.

When you come into the bedroom, he’s already in bed, on his back with one arm draped over his eyes. Jeff doesn’t move as you cross the room to go into the bathroom. You wash your face and brush your teeth before heading back into his room so you can change. After hanging up your jersey, you change into a pair of sweats and one of Jeff’s shirts, and when you turn around, he’s watching you with a sad look in his eye.

“Which side do you want me on?” you ask, giving him a sympathetic smile. He pats his left side and you climb into bed with him. It takes no time at all for him to roll toward you, settling himself under your arm to nuzzle into your collarbone.

You hardly mind, loving how quickly he curled around you. His breath against you, and your fingers rub lightly of his back as you feel him relax. Turning your head slightly, you kiss the side of his head and he snuggles into your shoulder a little more.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, voice soft as you toy with his hair.

“M’okay,” he mumbles, so pitifully that you chuckle. He exhales a deep sigh before shifting onto his side a little more, but keeping his head where it was on your shoulder. “Just glad we got to 2 points.” You nod, enjoying the way he’s leaning into your touch as you continue to play with his short curls.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to watch something?” Your voice is quiet, just hoping there’s something you can do to help him feel better.

“Not hungry, but you can put something on if you want. Can’t promise I’ll stay up for long though, I’m already pretty drowsy,” he says, tipping his head up to look at you. He looks sleepy, and you nod, pressing an easy kiss to his mouth before you reach for the remote.

“No preference what I put on then?”

“Nah, not really,” he says, settling his head on your chest again as you start scrolling through Netflix. You’re both quiet for a moment as you start an episode of Derry Girls, and with the sound of Jeff’s even breathing, you think he’s asleep already, so it surprises you when he speaks again. “Are you ready for next weekend?”

You don’t answer right away, but a second later, you nod. “Yeah, I think so. I’m kind of nervous too, but I don’t really know why,” you admit, shrugging as you keep your eyes on the tv. Knowing you probably wouldn’t bother staying up much later, you turn off the lights, grateful for the fancy tech in Jeff’s room that allows you to do it from your phone.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, his arm tightening around your waist. “I’m excited though, for everyone to know about us.” You smile warmly to yourself and hum in agreement.

“Me too. I’m still a little nervous, but I know it’ll be a good weekend. It’ll be nice to see everybody.”

“Mhm. Just a few more days now. Are you still coming to the game Wednesday? Figured we could leave straight from the arena,” he says, words coming slower and slower.

“Works for me,” you tell him, starting to play with his hair again. He nods, yawning before settling into you even more.

It’s no surprise that he dozes off shortly after, and you don’t stay up much later, just long enough to finish the episode you’d started. Once you turn off the tv, you lay there in the dark, enjoying the sound of Jeff’s breathing and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It’s easy to get to sleep that night.

TA-DUH!!! I really like this chapter guys, and I hope you do as well!!! next chapter starts the 4 chapter long section of being at the wedding and i’m so excited to start working on those chapters!

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner smut #bybtm #nhl imagines #nhl smut #buffalo sabres imagine

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 4 years

Text

Maou-jou 9 - 12 (FINAL) | Idolish7 s2 10 - 15 (FINAL) | SLS 2

I’ve been holding off new seasonals because of other things, but after I post this I’ll have enough time to get around to them. That’s why I can’t guarantee winter 2021 seasonal tags on this post...maybe the next one will have them...

Maou-jou 9

…it seems shopping channels even are the same in the demon world.

Now even the demons have quests! (The frame is different to the princess’s, though.)

Oh! The quest failed.

Neo Alraune: in flower language, “the 2nd coming of happiness”. The worry from a little while ago was, “I’m worried about my brother.” The worry from recently: “I didn’t think about being happy that the princess didn’t kill my brother.”

The penguin demons are pretty cute!

Don’t you know how parents forbid children from sleeping until they finish all their homework? Must be something like that.

Yoku ganbarimashita! – Syalis worked hard!

LOL, mental age: 3. Poseidon likes cute things…I can’t read a lot of this…the hardsubs cover the JPN text.

They…both succeeded! (…LOL?)

Maou-jou 10

Owarinocity = Endopolis. It’s a good equivalent, if I do say so myself.

…oh yeah. What happened to Alraune? Update: There she is!

Also, that blonde guy in the infomercials doesn’t look too bad…*makes chef’s kiss gesture with one hand* Nice.

I wonder, was Twilight once human…?

LOL, there’s a goat symbol on the cleric’s pyjamas. Also “first time”, LOL.

I think they were playing shiritori at one point.

Hanamaru saikou yoku dekimashita!

Maou-jou 11

…How does one “sleep cheerfully”, anyway?

I think I saw Twilight drop something…some kind of paper…

Aw, Twilight blushing is kinda cute!

LOL, 70s shoujo style. Also, “It cannot be!”

Whoa, she cancelled it?!

I read up on this series on TV Tropes…and apparently the Demon King captured the Princess in her sleep.

Kagemusha? Like a ninja or something?

Apparently the Demon Cleric is much older than he looks.

Ooh! Hypnos is back!

A-whatsit really is abysmal levels of stupid!!! (LOL)

Maou-jou 12 (FINAL)

Who’s that one tiny guy occupying one of the Ten Kings’ seats?

*watching after Christmas, about a week after the anime finished* This is not seasonally appropriate!

…*thinks for a second, then spits* That’s the 2nd Nemu in the fall 2020 season!!!

Ooh, the head paladin doesn’t look that bad, either.

“…is it good to be…”

“…has seized the princess!”

“…that demon king is rather cute.” – See? Someone agrees with me.

Anyways, that was a fun series. See you soon!

Idolish7 s2 10

…Back at it after so long…(I can’t help it though – Crunchyroll, per month, is about double the local Funimation sublicensor’s fees, and for much less content that’s worth my money to boot!)

I’ve always thought Momo was like Sasara (HypMic), so seeing him anguished hurts me in the kokoro too…

I know Banri was involved with Re:vale somehow…this must be it.

…Male idols are also popular among men? Is this why there are 8 (!!!) idol anime in winter 2021 alone…? (Also, that’s why HypMic became popular? Multidemographic appeal crossed over with obvious merchandising opportunities?)

It’s kind of scary how Momo stepped the formality towards Yuki like that (to -san).

I guess in his heart Momo still reveres Yuki, some way or another.

The rakugo curtain really sold the moment that they (current Re:vale) were acting like an old married couple.

Yay! Silver Sky is such a cool song! Of course I recognised the intro when it came on.

…I see. The elder Kujo is entrusting his dream to Tenn, so that’s why he banned Aya from seeing Tamaki. However, it’s hard to know what to feel when Aya speaks in the vaguest terms possible.

I think that was a special ending for only this episode. I don’t know what its name is, but I guess I might recognise it on Spotify one day.

Idolish7 s2 11

LOL, Nagi’s reaction.

Considering the ‘rona is getting worse outside our very windows as we speak (type?), I think it’s correct to be concerned about your future right now.

Looking at these narrow streets reminds me of going to eat hotpot at the end of my Japan trip…only Japanese streets look like that, I think. Hong Kong’s streets are more crowded than that and America likes their suburbia.

Of course, when you say hajimemashite (nice to meet you), someone’s gotta say it back, hence the reply.

Considering there are people all over the world watching the Idolish7 anime, I would say you are telling the world about I7, Riku.

Oh! Restart Pointer! There was an MV for that one…I think it was around the time Idolish7’s MVs started getting better.

So this is the context around the new outfits! Cool!

There have been way too many puns about “idol” being…y’know, “ai (love) doll” and stuff like that…

I have one Twitter person who I follow (DejiNyucu, part of the creative team for Autumn’s Journey) because I don’t get much I7 content and they keep mentioning this “Haruki” person…and suddenly a “Haruki the Betrayer” showed up in the graffiti…they might be the same person, I think. Not Deji, but Haruki. Update: Sakura Haruki, perhaps…?

Sougo’s such a bad liar…

Sometimes, the best way to deal with things is to be direct…(I’m not very good at that, I naturally talk in a very roundabout sort of way.)

Sougo with long hair like Yuki would be really pretty… (<- has an obvious thing for guys with long hair)

Idolish7 s2 12

Nagi’s stupid accent is generally what he’s best remembered for (for me), so seeing him speak normally, and do a press conference on top of that, is…impressive.

A kabedon on top of all this! Whoa!

Shibuya 109 parody…? (I’ve seen that once or twice – parodying that means people know their stuff about Shibuya.)

I think the “it’s overflowing!” is referring to the hype in the “room”.

…this dejected Momo is worrying…(well, he is worrying and I am worrying about him.)

Oh, I see. The person responsible typed the letter so that they couldn’t be traced back. Kind of like those old movies where the culprit would cut letters out of newspapers to make threat mail, but…with even less traces than that, because cutting letters out leaves evidence.

…wow, it took a while for this ep. to have an intro…

…LOL, I just spotted Kenjiro Tsuda cited as the “fake Zero”, meaning the real one might never show up this season.

There’s something really stupid and infectious about these managers’ enthusiasm for drinking energy drinks. It puts a goofy smile on my face.

Is Musubi Tsumugi’s mother…? Update: Yes, she is.

…Wait, so the Chiba Shizuo guy is actually important?!

Idolish7 s2 13

Whenever someone says “by the way”, it means they’re changing the subject. I hate to state to obvious, but Sougo is clearly deflecting the topic of conversation from being about him.

I wonder if this guy (Haw9) is the actual Zero graffiti vandal…?

Hmph, I didn’t realise Tenn doesn’t refer to Kujo-san as his father, but…like that (“Kujo-san”) instead.

Oh hey! These are shots from Vibrato!

Most dramas can be solved with the power of Good Communication. That includes this one.

I feel like “he has a dark side” describes both Tenn and Kujo-san.

“Everyone, remember to wash your hands and gargle thoroughly.” – This is always a good thing to remember in the time of ‘rona. Reminds me of Jakurai’s line in ARB (<- this game started just after the ‘rona came down).

What did Sougo go to uni for (what specialisation)?

Idolish7 s2 14

I just realised Banri calls Momo -kun. Hmm…

Denki = electricity, LOL.

I feel like Tenn is basically Ramuda, give or take actual pink hair…guys in musical groups with pre-existing angst that they become the “centre” of. The fact Fling Posse have Saito Soma and so do Trigger strengthens the connection.

I would watch the heck out of a musical like that! Make it come true, Idolish7! (Also, today is I7 day! I’m not much of an I7 fan outside the anime, but…that’s cool!)

That shot of them jumping! I remember seeing it on the official site before!

Idolish7 s2 15 (FINAL)

There you go! I was wondering where Banri’s injury was – that was the only bit that didn’t add up for him to be Yuki’s old partner.

Hmm…Momo is 4 years younger than Yuki but 2 years younger than Banri…

This episode has a real concert vibe to it, to the point where I got startled by how loud the yell was at one point. (Even if it is mostly stills.)

LOL, lookit Okazaki!

Apparently, if you’re a hako oshi, you like all the members of a group. Someone with a green light and a pink light likes both members of Re:vale.

LOL, Usagi for Asahi beer.

…I forgot Nagi is 19.

…Ooh, I think that’s the kid from ZOOL. No wonder they needed a season 3!

That’s all. See you next time!

SLS 2

“fine and upstanding person” – That’s…hard to believe, Hayato.

I wonder how many bois Toboso designed for SLS…?

…The episode title is actually “Blank”. Not “Break”.

One of the guys’ shirts says moteki on it. That’s a period in one’s life where one enjoys more romantic attention than usual, literally “popularity season”.

The subs missed an I, so initially I knew Kiriyama’s name as “Kiryama”.

There are meant to be 2 wings, right…?

“He who controls information controls everything, right?” – For once, I’m surprised Hayato is right (and not just in that smug way of his).

“…I’m being treated like a manager.” – But Hayato is a manager! (In a sense.)

The plait guy jumps to nicknames really fast…also, why do I get the feeling Maeshima will lose the key?

I hate to say this Maeshima, but I side with your childhood friend (Kiriyama) here. As much as the anime wants me to back you, I’m watching for everyone else at this point.

That blocky building looks pretty cool. I think Zel (Archi-Anime) would like it.

Sasugai’s setup looks pretty cool, including his chair.

…hmm, Maeshima’s like me in a sense. I learn best by copying others, but memory is my best asset. If I don’t regularly train the fundamentals, I suck at everything. That said, I don’t have an eidetic memory. Also, I didn’t quite figure out Ken = Ken(sei Maeshima) until I watched long enough to connect the dots.

LOL, Derry’s. (<- reminded of a word for “butt” <- derriere)

Well, the guy’s (Souta…?) shirt does say moteki…

Kiriyama kinda looks like Jyuto (HypMic), come to think of it…Right down to his angry streak (although Jyuto has a reputation to keep as a “cool dude”, while Kiriyama is more of a Manza (Boueibu HK) and he’s more angry than he looks).

…This ED is nothing special.

…Hmm? Is that a small Terauchi and Maeshima…?

I think I’m sold for now, but I’m rooting for the other team, not Maeshima’s…not yet, anyways.

#simulcast commentary #skate-leading☆stars #idolish7 #Idolish7 Second Beat!#Maou-jou de Oyasumi #sleepy princess in the demon castle #Chesarka watches I7 #Chesarka watches Maou-jou

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Seven

Previous Chapter HERE

Warning: Some language

Chapter Seven

Curled up on the sofa next to Shan with the bottle of red Noah had left was where Sarah found herself later that same evening, not entirely of her own doing. She’d changed into her sweatpants and her old university hoodie for comfort as soon as she’d arrived back but she still found it hard to relax.

Earlier, after they’d left the gallery, they had continued walking to the restaurant Jocelyn had scouted for them based upon a magazine review she’d read in Home & Country. They had managed to keep their awkwardness to a minimum so no one could tell but Chris soon felt the need to make an excuse and leave. Just before they arrived at the restaurant, he turned to thank Noah and Jocelyn for a nice afternoon and left them to it claiming his producer had emailed some last-minute script amendments he needed to be clued up on. Thankfully, he was a good enough actor that they didn’t suspect anything was amiss. He kissed Jocelyn on the cheek and patted Noah on the back of his shoulder but pretty much ignored Sarah as he walked off back in the direction of his own apartment, head down to avoid the rain. The three of them continued but Sarah had lost her appetite by that point so they called it a night after having a drink at the bar next door.

She texted Chris on the way home to tell him her folks had said it was nice to see him. She had no real reason to tell him that of course but it seemed like the thing to do. That was now over an hour ago and Chris still hadn’t responded. Anyone else would have assumed, logically, that he simply hadn’t seen it yet, or he had been in the process of replying but got distracted with something else, but she knew differently. She found herself anxious at the best of times but not so much concerned with what other people thought of her, if they thought anything at all, or whether she had annoyed anyone. The Evans clan were the exception to that rule. They knew her better than almost anyone. She figured, should she ever wind up missing, that she would be one of those people about whom others would give very banal police statements such as “she was quiet” or “she kept herself to herself” or “actually, now you mention it, she does look a little bit like a female Cillian Murphy.” She almost certainly would not have a candle-light vigil held for her in a park, which was a sobering thought.

“This guy’s a dick.” spoke Shan, mouth full of cookie dough, snapping Sarah out of her head for a second. “He’s stolen another designer’s idea but the judges haven’t figured it out yet.”

Sarah tried quickly to catch up with what was happening on the TV screen. “Is he gonna get away with it? Will they get told, or...?”

“Yeh, the producers will say something. They’re just ramping it up for the drama.”

Sarah loved how into Reality TV Shanna was. Don’t count her out of a quiz team; she knows everything there is to know about Project Runway and could put anyone to shame with her intricate knowledge of Kim Kardashian’s romantic life. Possibly even more so than Kim herself. It was both strangely impressive and kind of scary at the same time, and was possible also the reason why Chris never invited her to parties in L.A.

“So, who is going to win again? Is there a frontrunner yet?”

“We’ve only had three episodes but Jody, definitely. She’s soooo cool. I’m following her on Instagram and she designed these flares that I’m gonna buy if they ever go on sale.” Shan pulled out her phone and started scrolling through the app to find them.

Sarah poured herself another glass of wine and waiting to be blown away by Shan’s ever-changing fashion sense. She wished she was confident with clothes and colour as Shanna had grown to be. She was never afraid to experiment with what she wore, often clashing but somehow always pulling it off. Confidence is key, she would say if you asked her for advice. You can wear absolutely anything you like if you act like you don’t give a shit. In stark contrast, if you managed to find something that wasn’t beige or mauve in Sarah’s closet, it would be a miracle. Actually, if you managed to find anything in her closet that was younger than five years old would be a rarer find than a double rainbow. “Autumnal” is how she would describe it. “Dull as fuck” would be Audrey’s response.

“Oh, Chris wants to know if we’re bringing anyone to his party next week. Matt needs numbers. Do you think Audrey will fancy coming?” Shan offered without looking up from her phone. “Actuallt, stupid question.”

“Actually, no, I don’t think so. I think it’s hers and Michael’s anniversary. She mentioned they were thinking of driving up to the coast.” She took a sip from her glass. “Did he just ask you that?”

“Yeh. Well, like ten minutes ago but I forgot to say anything.” Shan was still scrolling through her phone to find the photograph and couldn’t see the dejection cross Sarah’s face.

“Here they are. Look. Funky or what?” Shan excitedly waved her phone in Sarah’s direction so she could only make out a swirl of blue and purple. They were definitely flares, though. Ideal for a themes costume party but probably everyday wear for someone as ballsy as Shanna. “I reckon these with my black platforms and that red angora sweater of yours.” Maybe Sarah’s wardrobe was of some appeal after all.

“Yeh, I could see you in those for sure.” Sarah smiled. “But that sweater is the only decent thing I could wear on a date that isn’t part of my day to day stuff so you need to be careful with it.”

“Aww you saving it for Greg?” Shan winked.

“Hardly.” Sarah tried to find the energy to eye roll back at her but she was too bothered by the confirmation that Chris was almost certainly absolutely definitely ignoring her.

“Shan? I think I’ve done something stupid and I’m not sure what to do.”

Shan looked taken aback for a moment before just plain confused. “Sarah, you don’t do ‘stupid’. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.” she leaned forward a little, moving closer to Sarah on the armchair next to the couch. “You know, it sounds odd but I had this feeling something was going on. You’ve been a little distracted lately. What is it?”

Now it was Sarah’s turn to hope Shanna wouldn’t be mad at her. “You know I contacted the agency? About Charlotte? Well, they’ve put me in touch with her and things have moved on a little bit since and now we’re sort of talking to each other. We’re thinking of meeting up soon.”

Shanna’s eyes grew wider in surprise. She’d known about Sarah’s response to the agency’s request and had made her feelings approximately clear some time before, but the actual talking part was new information.

“We’ve been texting a bit.” Sarah continued with some trepidation. “She gave them her number to pass on to me. She’s thinking of coming to Boston soon, maybe to have a drink or something. What do you think?”

Shan looked at Sarah without blinking for a moment. She didn’t know what to think. “Wow, you have her number? And she has yours? Obviously, sorry. That was a dumb thing to ask. OK. Well, I guess that’s that then.” Shanna placed her phone down on the coffee table in front of her and readjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Sarah more now.

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. “Chris thinks I’m being stupid.”

“Oh, Chris thinks everyone is stupid if they don’t think the exact same way he does.” Shanna exaggerated her eye roll causing Sarah to chuckled. “Have you heard him talk about Giants fans?!”

“He is right, though, isn’t he? It’s a risk. I mean, she didn’t want to know before so what’s changed now?”

“A lot of things could have changed, Sarah. I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” Shanna responded. “When do you think you guys’ll meet?”

“She’s gonna let me know. She has to travel to Boston so I guess it depends on her journey.” Sarah shrugged, noting Shanna’s scepticism. “I’m sure she’ll contact me.”

“Yes, of course she will.” Shanna briefly paused. “Where is she from?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina. She wasn’t born there, I don’t think. Moved for work. I’m guessing she’s from Michigan originally but I don’t really know that for sure.”

Shanna nodded along, taking in everything Sarah was telling her and trying not to appear cynical. Having been on the end of something similar some years earlier, she appreciated how comforting the support was even if she herself knew it to be forged somehow. She knew the last thing Sarah would need right now was to be told she was being foolish, and she made a mental note to elbow her stupid brother in his ribcage the next time she saw him.

“I was going to tell them this weekend but I bottled it. After everything Chris said, I just figured maybe they would think I didn’t appreciate them enough. I just can’t put that on them. Not now. Not until I’ve at least met her.” Sarah rubbed both hands down her face. She didn’t know what to do and had kind of hoped that Shanna would magically make everything better.

“From everything I know of Joss and Noah, I really don’t think they would ever stop you from seeing her.” Shan nudged Sarah’s foot with her own, trying to get her attention back. “You can’t expect them to be over the moon aout it but they would at least understand your choosing to do so. And despite Chris’s opinion, that’s what this is. Your choosing. You have control over this and if you say so, well, then...that’s all that matters.”

Sarah smiled softly at Shanna, glad she’d taken the plunge and finally told her what was going on. Her shoulders felt a little lighter after removing some of the weight.

“But I can’t promise we’ll be OK. We’ll worry about you until she gives us reason not to.” Shanna leaned back on the couch, wine now in hand, and curled her feet back under herself. “Tough shit.”

Sarah watched as a smile slowly spread across Shanna’s face, her eyes full of sympathy. “You have to face it. We love you very much and if she dares even cross you? Just once? We’ll burn her house down.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded, wiping her eyes of the tears that had started forming in the corners. “OK, deal.”

Nothing had really changed in the days that followed. Sarah had the impression Chris was continuing to ignore her, with only short, clipped phrases padding out any conversation they might have had by accident. She was also pretty sure he and Lisa had both been talking to Shanna about it when he thought she couldn’t hear him, casually enquiring about her plans to meet. At several times, she caught the ends of hushed conversations and experience the odd awkward moment where everything would freeze as soon as she’d walk into the room. If they had been hoping to alleviate any concern, they were failing. Shanna was also a terrible liar at the best of times but to her credit, Sarah had heard her give Chris an earful for what he’d said to her following their visit to the McCurry exhibition and he had promised to offer Sarah an apology but that had yet to materialise, not that she cared much. Shanna had also decided not to give away any details of their impending meeting and for that, she’d be eternally grateful.

“So,” Audrey said, leaning on the desk where Sarah had set up camp to catch up on some patient admin. “You’re really going to see her, huh? How will you know it’s her?”

“How do you mean?” Sarah looked up briefly from the papers in front of her, a crease forming on her brow. She was fed up of people’s judgements.

“Will she be carrying a white newspaper and some roses, or has she sent you a photograph of herself so you know who to look out for?”

No sarcasm intended, Audrey was serious and she was right. That was a really good question. Crap. She hadn’t given much thought to asking Charlotte what she looked like and the photograph from twenty-nine years ago of a young curly-haired brunette with wide, tired eyes might not be the most entirely accurate depiction to work off. She could be a full-time blonde right now, and she had no idea how tall or slim she might be. In a strange way, being caught up in the unnerving anticipation of finally meeting her birth mother, she must have simply assumed they would bear a passing resemblance to one another. That their eyes would meet across a room and they would know instantly who the other person was. Maybe they would hug first and conversation would flow naturally from there and it would be like, where have you been all my life?

One thing Lisa had offered by way of advice was to tell Sarah to stop putting unrealistic expectations on herself. She told her she didn’t want her to be disappointed but it was almost too late for that now. She couldn’t help but get a little carried away the more she thought about the infinite possibilities and the closer their arranged date crept up on her, the more agitated she became.

Work had been something of a welcome distraction. A chance to ground herself in reality as opposed to daydreaming all the what-ifs she might have before the weekend arrived. She’d even allowed herself to flirt a little bit with Greg, not too much but certainly enough to garner Audrey’s amusement and surprise.

“I’m just saying. It’s worth asking for some kind of idea of what she plans to wear, or maybe you should tell her something about yourself?” Audrey suggested. “I’ve always thought you would look amazing with rose gold hair and that would give you a perfect way to stand out.”

“I’m not gonna dye my hair. Remember what happened last time? That charity thing? I had to replace all of my towels.” They both laughed at the memory but something had clearly struck a chord somewhere inside her and Sarah pondered it for a second. “You’re right, though. I haven’t really thought much beyond the day itself.” Sarah looked back down at the work in front of her, all of it suddenly losing focus. “Tell you the truth, I have no idea what I’m going to say to her.”

“Yes, you are quite awkward at the best of times, aren’t you?”

Sarah eyed Audrey for a second unsure of what to say before catching the smirk on her face. She threw a roll-up memo note at her face.

“What do you think you’ll say to her?” Audrey asked, more seriously now.

Sarah took a deep break and leaned back in her chair. Truthfully, she had been losing sleep over this very subject, swinging between general chit-chat you would have with a long-lost pal you’d just added on Facebook, and calling her every name under the sun. She figured the fairest most useful thing would be somewhere between the two.

“I have no idea. Every time I think I have a hold on the situation, some other thought pops into my head and it’s like I’m back at zero again.” She threw the pen she’d been holding on to the table and looked at Audrey. Audrey’s face was full of something akin to worry.

“If you like, I could always call you, like on a date? If everything is OK, you can ignore it. If not, it could be your get-out clause?” Audrey offered. If Sarah had asked, Audrey would have probably staked the place out and sat next to them all night, and only partly because she was nosier than she would admit.

“I love you, Audrey.”

Audrey playfully rolled her eyes. “OK, I get it. This is something you have to do yourself. Just know the offer still stands, OK?” Sarah nodded gratefully. “I’m off in ten and I don’t think I’ll see you again before, so...take care. Let me know how it goes, yeh?”

She grabbed Sarah’s shoulder in a tight grip before walking out of the room, leaving Sarah to her mountain of paperwork and another three hours of shift before she could head home and try to get some sleep.

Sarah waited a second before pulling her phone out of her pocket. The last messages she had sent over the past day or two had all been to Charlotte; all of them casual enough but she’d answered every single one of them. Relief washed over her momentarily as she considered how to approach the awkward subject of not having a clue what her biological mother looked like. Then again, this whole situation was awkward. It was awkward as hell, so she just went for it.

Sarah 9.02pm: Just a thought. Who should I look out for this Friday?

Mercifully, she didn’t have to wait long for a response. The feeling she had was almost pleasant and it caught her off guard.

Charlotte 9.09pm: Oh my word, I didn’t think!! I’ll be in a red dress. Boots. Honestly I only have one nice outfit ;)

She allowed herself to smile for a second at her reply, taking a moment to think about what she was doing. If she could meet Charlotte for an hour, nothing too pressured, she could easily grab a cab to Chris’ place afterwards and still be there before 9pm. No one would notice.

Sarah 9.12pm: No problem. I’ll look out for you. Still OK for 7.30?

Charlotte 9.14pm: Absolutely! Looking forward to it x

#chris evans #chris fic #evans fic #Clear The Area #Sarah Bernette #chris evans x original female character #Syms Writing

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