#soooo many good skins and accents too as always

[writingkitten]

Thanks for the tag, @illiana-mystery! I’m actually really excited, I have soooo many wips 😈

1. Harold - No Title Yet

“Come here, darling,” Harold held out his hand. He was sitting on his luxurious couch, the rich brown leather accenting his pinstripe suit.

He had invited you over for dinner, a regular occurrence nowadays. Tonight you wanted to treat him with a surprise. Dying to reveal your secret throughout the meal, you were able to keep it under wraps until you both finished.

Retiring to the living room, you remained standing as his took a seat. Harold looked at you curiously, quirking his eyebrow as he watched you slip out of your dress. As the velvet fell to the floor, a mix of crimson satin and lace came into view.

Harold forcefully swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes roamed your body. He’d seen your body countless times by now, and yet his lungs always seemed to briefly fail him when he saw you again. He felt his heart flutter when he saw how shy you were, looking down at the floor as you stood in front of him. There was no doubt in his mind that you were comfortable with him, yet your shy nature seemed to be an ever present feature. Knowing that, Harold found it endearing, and always used the opportunity to whisper soft praises to you in an attempt to help you relax.

2. Ricardo - No Title Yet

Ricardo had only ever seen you as this sweet shy little thing, a fawn that fell for the lion’s trap. He wanted to bring out the… *more confident* side of you. Who was he kidding, Ricky wanted to make you beg and scream and cry while he pulled his tie tight around your throat. He wanted to make your eyes roll back while he pounded his cock into you. He wanted to see the thick bruise that would wrap around your neck when he was done.

Little did Ricardo know, it wouldn’t take much for his fawn become his good girl.

It was a late night you decided to spend at his house. It wasn’t an inherently sexual situation to start, a storm coming through that made it too dangerous to drive home the reason for your stay. You did sleep in Ricardo’s bed, though, the two of you ready to snuggle while listening to the thunder and rain.

Ricardo finished getting ready for bed, and left the bathroom. When you came out, he saw you half asleep, your phone still unlocked beside you. He couldn’t help but laugh a little at how sleepy you could get.

He went over to you, stepping quietly as not to disturb your descent into slumber. Ricardo picked your phone up off the pillow, seeing it was open on a conversation between you and a friend. He hadn’t planned on reading your texts until his eye caught sight of his own name. You were talking about him… of course he wanted to know what you were saying.

I’ve thought about Ricky using ones of his ties on me

Okay, now Ricardo definitely needed to know what all you said.

Why don’t you just tell him?

Oh yeah just be like “hey sexy detective boyfriend, please use me for your own pleasure and wrap your tie around my throat and bite me until you break the skin?” that’ll go over sooooo well

From the straining fabric of Ricardo’s boxers, that certainly did seem to do the trick.

3. Harding - No Title Yet

When you laid down, you felt the gentle warmth of the heated padding seep into your skin. Tense muscles slowly loosened, and you relaxed.

Dr. Hooten smirked when he noticed the slight content smile gracing your lips. He moved the chair close to your side and sat down.

“So, after reviewing all of the information you provided us, I put together a treatment plan that should help address your nightmares. Three appointments a week for six weeks, and then re-evaluation for further treatment. Each session would be about an hour and a half long, unless you’re otherwise notified.”

You noticed that sweet scent getting stronger.

“What would you do during the sessions?” you asked, half of your attention taken up by the distracting aroma.

“It’s best if it’s a surprise, but I can reveal a couple of my tricks.”

He smiles and winks at you.

He has a pretty smile…

“There are three parts to each one. Part one is more focused on cognition. It’s similar to a brief therapy session. I ask questions, you answer as honestly as you can.“

Dr. Hooten reaches for the red bottle, cracking the seal and unscrewing the cap.

His hands are so strong…

“The second part is a sense-driven treatment. I stimulate all of your senses, causing a certain amount of dopamine and oxytocin to be released. Once they reach the desired levels, I’ll put you out. It’s essentially conditioning your mind to associate good feelings with sleep, replacing nightmare-inducing anxiety.”

Dr. Hooten takes the medicine cup and puts it to the edge of the bottle. He tilts it, a red liquid pouring out. It looks like cough syrup.

“The third part is physical therapy.”

You look at the doctor in confusion, “Physical therapy?”

“It’s the best way to ‘medically’ label it,” Dr. Hooten says, dramatically rolling his eyes. A more candid smile graces his features when you laugh at him.

Before you could ask anymore questions, Dr. Hooten handed you the cup.

“This is a prescription-strength melatonin derivative. It’s a slow-release formula, so we should have time to complete parts one and two before you fall asleep.”

4. Ricardo - Alternate First Time

“God, you feel huge,” you gasp breathlessly, the stretch being far bigger than what you had experienced prior.

Ricardo laughs, “Then the others were seriously lacking.”

“Other,” you correct him, still trying to catch your breath, “I’ve only had sex with one other guy.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Oh? I hadn’t expected that.”

“I have to be honest, this kinda feels like the actual first time I’m having sex,” you say, starting to laugh, “The first time I didn’t even realize he was inside me, and he definitely didn’t make me cum.”

“The dishonor,” Ricardo mumbles, quickly catching your lips with his.

You felt him slowly pull out, then sluggishly push back in, causing you both to moan into the kiss. When you part, you both gasp for air, Ricardo resting his forehead against yours. He keeps his eyes closed for a minute, savoring each drag against your walls.

“But you feel this, don’t you?” he asks, opening his eyes to look for your answer.

“Yes,” you say, your voice shaking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you

5. Ricardo - No Title Yet

“Little fawn…”

The raspy, sleep-ridden voice of Ricardo filled your ears, pulling you from the warmth of sleep. The quietest little grunt came from your throat, the only sign of life other than your shallow breaths.

You hear Ricardo laugh quietly, “My sweet sleepy girl…”

Another tiny grunt, almost as if it was an automatic response. You feel Ricardo’s hand pet your head, his fingers running through your hair. You shuffle slightly, tilting your head up to make him touch more of you. The bed shifts a bit, and you feel a pair of soft lips brushing against your temple. You give a longer, more aware groan as a smile creeps onto your face.

You keep your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his fingers against your scalp. It takes about a minute for your senses to wake up enough to register a slick, rhythmic sound. A familiar sound.

Scrunching your face as you blink the drowsiness from your eyes, you lift your head up to see what you suspected was correct: Ricardo was masturbating. Your mouth falls open slightly, saliva wetting your tongue. Your drowsy mind begs you to touch his amazing length, the one you constantly crave, and you feel your hand complying.

Suddenly, you’re pulled back by your hair, neck craned to look up at Ricardo.

“No no, sweetheart, no touching. You’re not allowed to touch daddy… or yourself…”

———

Not sure who else might have wips, other than @chrism02, so I tag them and anyone else who wants to share some tidbits.

I’m actually working to finish one of these soon, and I’ll have a drawing to go with it 😈 tell you what, if you guess which one it is, I’ll send you the full wip!

[iniquity-fr]

love to have floating bits for regular apparel this year and hopeful that the rest look great but i do wish the light one was more like sparkles or softer glowing bits and not these weird balls

[hentaimommi]

ʙᴀᴅ ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏɴ. | ᴅᴀʙɪ (× fem! reader)

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Summery: Dabi, a single dad working as a tattoo artist, has come to find himself warming up to his little girls kindergarten teacher. No quirk AU. we'll call her Eri for the sake of my sanity!

[A/N]: idea from @/ mailorderfriend on tiktok! she inspires me soooo much :) sorry for the length lmao- I normally try for well over 1.k words

[B A D R E L I G I O N]

There was a strong stigma around being a single parent. Thoughts of someone dying, divorce, and overall unhealthy connections when trying to guess why someone's single. Dabi, however, didn't mind it. He worked a simple 17-23:00pm at a local tattoo shop, coming home to his daughter was the highlight of his day.

Eri was the product of a one-night stand. The woman had gotten pregnant, not opting to tell him. Nine months after this encounter, he was only stepping outside to go to work. Upon opening the door, though, a little girl sat in a basket; crying in confusion. Dabi was just as confused as the child, though, until reading the note in the basket. It stated details of the night he once had, along with the pregnancy timeline. In the basket too were positive pregnancy tests and ultrasounds.

From then on he took care of her. He would take her to work, where women would gawk at the adorable baby. Until she became a toddler, in which he left her with his mother and father to look over her for the duration of his shifts. Everything went smooth, up until the first day of her Kindergarten year.

He walked through the doors with the shy girl, leading her through to the main room of people. Eri was a sweet girl, but very shy for her age. The children gave Dabi odd stares, some being fearful of his tattoos and piercings; all intimidating enough as it is. He felt ashamed in a way, but Eri never seemed to mind her father's appearance.

As he walked her into her class, his eyes met with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. She had (H/C) hair, gorgeous (S/C) skin, and (E/C) orbs to top it all off. She wore a black dress and matching black heels. She didn't look so bad. His cheeks flared up when he noticed Eri looking up at him watching the teacher closely.

Her small hand signaled for him to lean down, so he did. "Daddy, do you have a crush on my teacher?" Her question so innocent. "Um- no, I don't baby." She nodded, eyeing him with reluctant suspicion. Damn, this kid was so smart. "Hello! Who's this?" A voice like carmel vocalized over Dabi's ears, making him look up. It was you.

"O-Oh! I'm Dabi Todoroki. This is my daughter, Eri." She hid behind his leg, peering out to her classmates who were getting all of their things assembled and wishing goodbyes to their parents so easily. She felt envious of them, so easy to just move on and start life. "Well hello Dabi and Eri! I'm miss (L/N), I'll be your teacher this year. Say, Eri, do you like legos?" You asked, crouching down face-level with the girl.

She looked up to her dad, who was already staring at the woman in some form of admiration. "Yes!" Her grip on Dabi's pant leg loosened, making him nearly admire the woman in front of him. It was so hard to get Eri out of her shell, she had done it nearly instantly. "Let's go play with some, okay? You can wish dad here a goodbye, and he'll see you very soon." She looked up to Dabi once more, nervous. He gave the kid a little nod, gesturing her forward.

Eri ran over to the legos, where many kids already were. Her heart content with as many pieces of her desire were before her. "So, does her mom work?" You asked, folding your arms, then looking out to the kids. Dabi raised a brow, turning to face you. "Why, you wanna fill the position?" His smirk was the only thing giving away the joke, making you laugh. "I'm a single dad, she doesn't know who her mom is, unfortunately. A good kid, that one." He spoke, reminding himself how innocent and sweet Eri was. You laughed, looking up to him and smiling. His tattoos were nice, all well-done and well placed, too. The piercings were a fantastic accent to his look, too, with the white hair and all.

From then on out Dabi stayed loyal to helping his little girl in school. Her homework would always get done, all questions answered. When the beautiful teacher needed a chaperone, he was always by her side. Over time Dabi figured out the reason for this wasn't as selfless as he attempted to make it seem in his head. The truth was, overtime, he had developed a crush on the teacher. No, not just a crush. Feelings for her. She was smart and funny, knew how to take a joke. She stood up for herself- and those motherly instincts shine right through her like a bright light.

After their first date, he truly believed it was fate that brought them together. Never had he felt so helplessly vulnerable in someones presence before. Her mind was so powerful, talking to him like he was an equal and somehow always on a new topic. Eri had no clue he had taken her teacher out on a date, not that she believed her dad didnt have a crush on the woman.

Things progressed slowly. Eri was shocked to come home off the bus one day, and find you on the couch. Why were you there? How had you beaten her home? She sat her things down carefully, you hadn't noticed her till a small smack of the door was heard through the silence. "Oh, hi Eri! How's my star student?" You asked, and you really meant it. She progressed at a first grade level. "Why are you here miss (F/N)? And, I'm okay!" Her sweet smiled nearly made you faint as she sat down in front if you.

"Oh well," You started, Dabi walking in wide eyed at the two of you acting so calmly together. "Your father and I have something to discuss with you, sweetie." Your voice was so calming, you could have lulled both of them to sleep. She tilted her head as Dabi sat next you, analyzing how natural you two looked together. You could almost pass as her mother. "Well, miss (L/N) is going to move in with you! You can call me (F/N), if you like. Dabi- I mean, your daddy and I, have decided we have SUCH big crushes on each other, we just had to spend as much time as possible together." You said it so sweetly, he admired how you phrased every word.

Eri looked away in thought, Dabi's hand finding your own in reassurance for her response. "Okay! But, there's one thing." She spoke, pointing her finger out. You smiled, "Yes?" She looked to her father, then back to you. He looked happy. For the first time in her life, there were no bags under his eyes. The bottles that were usually on the counter were gone, and the house was spic and span. He had a small smile on his face, too, one she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Can I call you mommy?"

[bibliocratic]

jon and sasha

part of a series of archive polycule oneshots

“Blue,” Jon declares triumphantly.

He sets his incomplete circle of pie pieces down harder than necessary in his eagerness. The TV remote nearby gives a plasticky rattle.

Sasha leans forward from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, the space cleared where the bandy-legged coffee table usually sits to accommodate the board. She wobbles like a bowling pin as her fingers strain and scrabble before her long arms reach, and she grasps another card from the box, recovering her balance to rock back to seated.

They don’t get to play this often. Neither Tim nor Martin will play with them; apparently, they’ve been accused of getting too competitive on occasion. But Tim’s out with some uni mates, probably winding down a pub crawl which has ended two bars in because they’re all skint and there’s no point in moving once you’ve snagged good seats somewhere growing crowded. Martin had joined the two of them for a bit earlier when they were channel-hopping between Gogglebox and a Marvel film on Film 4, but he’d gone to bed early, planning on taking an early train to Devon in the morning. Now, here the two of them were, both on five pieces out of six with one more to go, and Sasha refuses to be beaten.

She takes another sip from an overloaded gin and tonic and reads out the trivia question on the card.

“What is the capital of Switzerland?”

“Aha!” Jon’s face is flushed and smug. “Geneva.”

He goes to take a victory swig of the beer that’s surely gone room temperature in the time he’s been nursing it and reaches out to claim his final piece.

“Nope!” Sasha makes certain to pop the ‘p’, knocking his hand away and grinning as she sing-songs. “My go!”

“What, no! It’s Geneva. The capital city of Switzerland.”

“It’s not.”

“Course it is!”

“Better luck next time, Jonny boy!” Sasha crows, and casts the die in her hand. The number’s too high to land on the square she wants, and she curses, but she’s distracted by Jon, who is looking grumpy and argumentative and going for his phone. She grabs it away.

“Look, let me look it up,” he protests, and he’s moving closer, shuffling nearer to her. His jaw set in that way he gets when he’s sure he’s absolutely right.

He tries to take his phone back, but she holds it up high and out of his reach.

“That’s cheating, we said no phones.” Jon lunges again and he almost knocks her back. “You’re a complete cheat! Jon!”

Jon leans in as though to kiss her, but it’s an obvious distraction ploy, and she pushes his mouth away with a giggle, and shoves the phone into her pocket. Jon attempts to retrieve it, and she shrieks and flails back, intensely ticklish which he knows, the arse, and he relents when she kicks at him and says “Would you – stop it! We’ll wake Martin! Shhh, we’ll wake him!”

Jon huffs, but his petulance is short lived as he leans back next to her, angled up by his elbows, the fight drained out of him like water through a sieve. He takes another sour-faced sip.

“What was it then?”

“Huh?”

“Sasha.”

“Bern.”

“What?”

“The capital of Switzerland. It’s Bern, not Geneva.”

“Huh,” Jon says, sounding surprised, and she can almost hear the sound of him filing the fact away in his brain.

Sasha gestures with a lazy hand to the board and pieces she upended with her kicking.

“You want to keep playing?”

“I think we can safely say you won,” Jon replies, though he doesn’t sound like he minds so much any more. He moves himself again, because he’s even more fidgety with a drink in him, and reads out the first card he manages to find.

“What is the largest internal organ of the body?” he asks her.

“Thought we were finished?” she replies, but still, she makes a humming noise. “Liver?”

“Bingo.”

She takes a card from the box offered to her.

“How many noses does a slug have?”

It’s no longer competitive. They trade questions and answers idly, flicking through to find random cards, questions that pique their interest, that they think will stir the slow-moving waters of their late night conversation. Jon leaning at her side, partially against her like a tree gradually bending in the breeze, is a straight line of indolent heat. Sasha gets to the bottom of the glass of paint stripper she’s been suffering through – it was Martin’s, which he didn’t finish before he retired, and he always goes too heavy on the sprits for her taste whenever he makes them.

“Ok. Most dangerous animal in the UK?” she asks.

“Based on what?”

“Fatalities.”

“Hmm. Ok. Um… stags? We don’t have any wild boars anymore, do we, and there’s not exactly any wolves roaming the headlands…. Soooo, yes. Stags.”

“Cows.”

“No.”

Sasha’s grabbed her phone and is checking anyway.

“Apparently so. 2015 survey, seventy odd people over fifteen years.”

Jon raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not exactly the box jellyfish, is it?”

Sasha hums in agreement.

“I think there’s some cursed cow skin in Archive Storage.”

“Oh?”

“Can’t remember what it does exactly.”

“One would hope it doesn’t turn you into a cow.”

“Oh, one would, would one?” Sasha mimics Jon’s accent, giving it a regal snobbery, and he shoves at her shoulder with his.

“Here,” he says, passing over his can. “Help me finish this?”

“Not a fan?”

“It’s one of Tim’s IPAs from the fridge. I’m not convinced.”

Sasha dutifully takes a swig and finds it a marked improvement on what she’s been working her way through.

“You think there’s any drinking songs about IPAs?” she asks.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve got… um Mistletoe and Wine, and Red, Red Wine, and they’re about, er….”

“Methylated spirits.”

“Wine, smartarse.”

Jon makes a thoughtful sound.

“Whiskey in the Jar,” he responds after a minute.

“Good one. I’m pretty sure… isn’t there a Kiss song about gin?”

“Cold Gin.”

“That’s the one. Oh! I know!” Sasha’s moving then, her limbs more sluggish than they were before, tugging her headphones out of her pocket and untangling them. “There’s that – er, Finnish band – ah, Christ, what are they called – and they’ve got, like, heaps of songs named after alcohol.”

That rabbit hole of questioning leads down into music for a while, and they sit with their heads touching so they can both use the headphones, listening to snippets of drinking songs.

“Give this one a listen,” Sasha says.

“What is it?”

“Just listen, would you?”

Jon, if anything, gets even more intense when he’s got drink in him, so he listens through the song with a furrowed brow.

“it’s… different.”

“It’s called math rock. Martin put me onto it. It’s all about like time signatures or something.”

Jon snorts and says, “That sounds exactly like something Martin would listen to” (and oh, she thinks with mild but not revelatory surprise at the way Jon has said that like an endearment, and looking at Jon’s face, she wonders if he’s realised it yet himself), before he’s heavy-handedly typing something into the search bar, backspacing repeated to correct the errors made by his imprecise fingers before he presses play.

She winces at the volume as the music starts aggressively loud.

“What is this?”

“Pirate metal.”

“No way.”

“Uh-huh.”

She watches him, his head nodding off-tempo to the raucous beat, and she mimics the motion, feeling him slide down further against her, his head cushioned against her shoulder.

“Neat.”

[et-lesailes]

only for you

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 1633

summary: you are a popular socialite married to the wealthy ransom drysdale and mother of his two children he is absolutely in love with. there’s going to be a photoshoot at your house for an upcoming magazine feature starring your family, but ransom wants to have some fun first.

themes: romance, fluff, smut

taglist: @evanstush​​, @tanyam93​​, @bval-1​​, @wonderwinchester​​, @patzammit​​, @rohaintahquil​​, @deidrashouseofpain​​, @sammyslonglostshoe​​, @jadedhillon​​, @bohemian-barbie​​, @whysparker​​, @sebastian-i-stan​​, @sebabestianstan101​​, @lille-kattunge​​, @teller258316​​, @peach-acid​​, @allsortsofinterests​​, @xoxabs88xox​​, @heyiamthatbitch​​, @cptn-sgrogers​​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​​, @bangtan-serendipity​​, @troublermalik​​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​​, @hannie-stark​​, @bookish-shristi​​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​​, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16​​, @straightforwardly​​,  @denisemarieangelina​​,  @frencchfries​​, @xlanawriter​​, @littlemoistcarrot​​, @pottxrwolff​​, @arianatheangelworld​​, @ifuseekamyevans​​, @southerngracela​​​, @nsfwsebbie​​, @rororo06​​, @savemesteeb​​, @raveviolet​​, @inactivewhore​

notes: patreon saw it first- click here to check it out and join, i would be so grateful!! graphic creds go to @thewritingdoll​!

The alarm sounds over the bedroom speaker at 5 AM, making you and Ransom stir and grumble incoherently under your breaths. “God, I can’t remember the last time we woke up before the kids,” he mutters lowly, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Makes me actually miss the mornings with Ani coming in at 7 and jumping up and down on us until our internal organs are completely fucked.” You laugh softly, snuggling close to your husband as you bury your head into his chest. “We’ll be back to our routine tomorrow, but we’ve gotta get through this busy day first…” You smile thoughtfully as you glance up at him. “I’m kind of excited, though. Our first magazine feature with Auden. Remember how cute our shoot was with Anais two years ago?”

“Mm. How could I forget?” He smirks slightly, drawing you even closer in his warm and protective hold. “My two gorgeous girls, all dolled up and posing pretty for the camera. And Jesus, Ani was only one and she was a fuckin’ natural. I’m going to be scaring off a lot of boys when that girl grows up.” You laugh softly, playfully tapping on his nose. “At least just let our little girl have some social life, yeah?” You finally sigh, sitting up in the lavish California king bed and stretching your arms. “C’mon, babe, we gotta get up. The stylists and crew are gonna be here soon.” He groans but sits up too, wrapping his arms around you again and leaning down to bury his head into your neck from behind. “We don’t even need stylists. Look at us, we’re a couple of the hottest people on this damn planet.” You giggle softly, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “Well, would you care to join this hot person in a hot shower?” you murmur, and the man grins wider, growling in pleasure as he nips at your neck. “Hell yeah. Quick, before one of the kids wakes up.” 

You smile and hop off the bed with him following close behind, entering the large master bathroom and turning to face him with a playful smile as you walked backwards towards the shower. “If only Auden could be appeased as easily as you can,” you tease, lifting your silk camisole off your head and tossing it aside on the floor. Ransom bites on his lip hungrily as he watches you, already removing his shirt and pants. “Shit, babe, you’re just so goddamn gorgeous. Come on, take it all off…” 

You giggle and reach into the shower to turn on the water before unhooking your bra, stepping out of your matching shorts and slipping off the lacy panties underneath. “You’re lucky I want you so bad I don’t feel like teasing,” you murmur, taking his hand once he’s fully stripped and lightly pulling him into the shower with you. You sigh in pleasure as the two of you wrap your arms around each other, enjoying the warmth of the several shower jets on either side of you as well as the gentle waterfall feature on top. He leans down and kisses at your neck as he runs his massive hands over your smooth body, broad fingers exploring your breasts as he massages and gropes. “We’re on the same page then, baby doll, though I can’t help but make you want to squirm just a little…” 

You can’t help but moan as he teases your nipple between his fingers, his other hand sliding down your waist until it reaches your thigh, squeezing firmly. You gasp softly as his fingers reach your entrance, rubbing against your folds as a cocky smirk crosses his lips. “I love how sensitive you are for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs huskily, pushing one finger inside  to pump deeply. You grip his biceps as you tilt your head back, whimpering and rolling your hips as he keeps going. “As much as I want to make you cum for me over and over again,” he mumbles with a playful sigh, “I’ve gotta fuck you nice and hard before I’m supposed to behave for the rest of the day.” You smile breathlessly, humming as you dig your nails into his skin. “Oh? And are you actually going to behave?”

He removes his fingers and starts pumping his erection, guiding it to your entrance and pressing himself against you. “Mm. Don’t I always for you, sweetheart?” You can’t even roll your eyes at his mischievous smirk, due to the fact that you’re too occupied moaning as he enters deep inside you. You’re closing your eyes in absolute bliss, your hips rocking back and forth as he presses you up against the shower wall, increasing his pace. “Fuck, baby, your body’s still so perfect even after having two kids-- how is that even fuckin’ possible?” He grunts as he grips your waist tightly, teeth tugging on his lower lip. The sounds of your moans and groans filling the cavernous shower, he continues fucking you nice and hard just as promised- you feel yourself reaching your climax as you pull at his wet hair, practically panting. “Ransom! Fuck, Ransom, I’m close!” 

“Shit… me too, babe…” he growls, his hands cupping and squeezing your ass roughly. You place your hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes breathlessly. “Cum inside me, Ransom, please…” He doesn’t need to be told twice; he releases inside you with his jaw clenched, his groan hoarse and guttural. “Fuck. That was so good, baby doll.” He slowly relaxes his muscle, keeping himself inside you for a few moments before finally pulling out, breathing heavily. “Hoping for baby number three, sexy?” he teases, and you giggle as you catch your breath, running your fingers through your wet hair. “Why not…? I’d say we make pretty great babies together…” 

He smirks, scooping you up into his arms under the shower as he kisses you passionately. “Damn right we do. Nothing would make me happier than to have another baby with you, Y/N.”

“Look at how pretty your mama looks, angel.” Ransom smirks proudly as he carries your three-year-old daughter while you’re getting your hair and makeup done for the photoshoot. You barely nibble on your lip as you smile, trying not to move your face too much in order for the woman to apply the makeup. “Mama’s soooo pretty!” Anais gushes, clapping her hands and making you laugh softly to yourself. 

You can’t help but stare at your husband and daughter every chance you get; the four members of your family had the most adorable outfits picked out. You and Anais were wearing matching cream colored dresses  while Ransom and Auden, your ten-month-old, had similar colored suits with slightly darker accents. Ransom had already finished getting ready, and a stylist was currently getting Auden dressed on his changing table. Once you were finally finished, you thanked your own stylist before standing up and going over to your infant, cooing fondly as you stared at how adorable he looked. “Look at my handsome boy! You look just like your Daddy, you know that?” 

Ransom comes over, chuckling softly as he gazes at his child. “He really is a little mini-me. And Anais is the spitting image of you-- look at how gorgeous she is, hm?” He bounces his little girl up and down, making her laugh in delight. You smile and pick up your son once he’s all dressed, straightening his tiny bowtie before reaching over and gently tucking a strand of your daughter’s chestnut brown hair behind her ear. “Both of our children are absolutely beautiful. I can’t get over it.” You sigh happily, taking a hold of your husband’s arm and leaning up to give his cheek a kiss. “I love you and I love our family so much.”

“I LOVE YOU, MAMA!” Anais suddenly cheers happily, clapping her hands and making you, Ransom, and even her little brother laugh. “What about me, princess?” Ransom pokes the little girl’s cheek playfully. She giggles and hugs her father tightly. “I love you tooooooo, Daddy! And I love Auddie, and- and- and Bella, and Elsie, and-”

“Okay, okay, angel, we’re going to be here all day if you list all of the dolls you own.” Ransom jokes, and you raise an eyebrow playfully. “And whose fault is that?” He blinks and scoffs in defense. “What? I like to spoil all three of my babies, is that a problem?” 

“Dada!! Dadadada!” Auden babbles, reaching out to grab his father’s finger. You and Ransom chuckle watching him until the crew signals that they’re ready; it’s time for the home shoot to begin, and you couldn’t feel more grateful for your lovely home and perfect family as the four of you sit on the couch, Ransom holding your beautiful girl on his lap and you holding your handsome son on yours. You do a series of photos-- some with the whole family, individual shots, adorable photos of Anais and Auden sitting together on the polished hardwood floor surrounded by their many toys, and then couple photos with you and Ransom. 

You smile as you gaze up into your husband’s eyes, one hand resting on his chest while he holds your waist. “Let’s get a kiss!” the photographer calls, and Ransom smirks. “Uh, gladly.” He leans down and kisses you with a natural intensity, one hand moving to the back of your neck and holding you close. You smile as you happily kiss him back- for a moment, you forget about the several people surrounding you. 

“Thank you for being so good to me, Ransom.” You whisper, gently holding his face in your hands. He presses his forehead against yours, his blue eyes filled with affection and natural devilry. “Only for you, kitten. Remember that.”

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 5

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate. A/N: Helu! So, this is super late butttttt I’ve been soooo busy with my classes and the translation I’m working on :) This is a filler part, but I find it extremely cute, plus Finan and Aoife are getting closer, my children :’) Have fun reading this. byeeee Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior. General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence Chapter’s warning: Fluff fluff fluff, probably bad English? idk Words: 3410 Chapter Four.

Chapter Five: Stories and Returns 

At some point she had passed out; it must have been just minutes because, when she woke up, her face was still wet of tears, and her hair too. She stood up and just yet noticed that she was starving. In the hall, the warriors and the Lady were already eating, and she slid next to Osferth, who shot her a smile and pushed a plate full of bread and cheese in her direction. “How are you feeling?” she asked, and he playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m doing well mum, stop worrying!” He was healing just fine, he could already walk on himself and laugh without pain, but he still had to be careful, wound like his took some time to heal. “Are you all right, Aoife?” Aethelflaed, who had followed their playful banter, asked cautiously. The Lady was sitting right in front of her and she could see how swollen and red Aoife’s eyes were. Anyone could, especially Finan, who was sitting next to Aethelflaed and in front of Osferth. “I’m fine, thank you my Lady. I’m just tired” No one seemed to believe her. Finan leant forward and filled her cup with ale. “Eat and drink. Then we go for a walk.” And so she ate abundantly and slowly, careful not to let anyone see how nervous and trepidant she was to spend some time alone with Finan. What did he want? Had she done something? Had he done something? He stared at her the entire supper with a questioning look, and it did not help the uncomfortable feeling of excitement and fear that was stirring her soul. When she chewed down the last bite, he stood up and, with a little bow to the Lady, left the hall. Aoife shot a questioning look to her friends, who just shrugged with an amazed smile on their faces; Aethelflaed gestured her to follow the warrior and she obeyed swiftly, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Finan was waiting for her just outside the wooden door and, when the girl reached him, smiled sweetly. For a while, they walked down the streets of Saltwic in silence. It was a nice winter night without wind nor cloud and Aoife enjoyed the cold air on her cheeks and how bright the stars looked. The town was still alive, the torches still burning in the alehouse and the voices loud. People would pass them and bow respectfully, and Aoife would smile to each of them and greet them with a soft “G’night.”; it warmed Finan’s heart. They stopped right next to the town well, facing each other. The stars were reflected in her eyes, the blackest eyes Finan had ever seen. He was used to the clear eyes of Uthred and Sithric and Osferth, that painfully reminded him of his mother’s eyes, but he had never seen such dark eyes, so deep and welcoming. He had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her lashes, which looked as soft as they were long and thick. Aoife was looking back at him, bolder that she would have days before. He hadn’t even noticed that he was chewing on the cross hanging around his neck, something that Aoife had seen him doing before, when he was lost in his thoughts. She found it precious, somehow vulnerable, a very childlike action, so at odds with his mature stance. And he had pretty hands too, with long thin fingers, different from the stubby hands of the Mercians. She was curious to learn where he came from, where his family lived. Had he always been a swordsman? He had the delicate hands of a musician, corrupted by the scars and dirty of his warrior life. There was a specific reason to why he had asked her to walk with him, but now that she was watching him in such a direct, open way, like no one else had ever done before, he could not find the right words to address it. “I never thanked you” he finally croaked, his voice just above a whisper. And she smiled , calmly yet questioning, still watching him boldly. “What for?” “For saving my life” “You don’t have to.” She assured him “It was the right thing to do.” He took her hand in his, succumbing to his own desires. Her skin was not as soft as he remembered, chapped and irritated by the wind and callous were the hilt of the sword would press during her training; on the opposite, her touch was delicate and prudent. He grazed his thumb on her knuckles and smiled, looking at her through his lashes. “Still, you acted like a true warrior and if I’m here today is just because of you. I shall never forget it, Aoife.” Under the dim light of the torches, she blushed and her bottom lip drop slightly, but she didn’t reply. “Also…” he kept going “I apologise if I’ve been too hard on you today.” “What made you think that?” He shrugged “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you look…” he looked her head to toe “distressed.” She averted her gaze, eyes filling with tears. He was pitying her, then. She was too embarrassed to watch him, now, she didn’t have problems with being emotional, but she did not like compassion. “It’s not you, Finan.” She mumbled, her voice shaking “It’s just…” she couldn’t find the words to explain how she was feeling, torn between excitement and guilty, happiness and grieving. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the tears from her face, trying to push herself away from the warrior. But he did not let her step back, fearing that if she left, she would never be so confidently herself with him. He reached her and embraced her without hesitation and, despite her surprise, her body reacted naturally and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noticed that he smelled of leather and metal, the scent she expected from a warrior, and just behind it she could detect the natural fragrance of his skin, and she loved how intimate that new experience was. The warmth of his body was comforting and welcoming and she couldn’t understand if it was her heart of his beating fast against her skin. He held her tightly, her fingers dipping in his back, and he was not sure where to put his hands, afraid to cross any line, but she smelled so good and her body was so warm that he could not help but melt against her and run his fingers through her hair until her tears stopped. They were ready to let go. The night had fallen long before Osferth decided to retire to his room in the alehouse. He walked slowly, in the cold air of winter. He was enjoying every second of his stay in Saltwic, knowing well how rare moments of peace were for a warrior. His wound was itching, and he picked up his pace, dreaming of his warm bed and the ointment Aoife had prepare precisely for when the healing wound would become too uncomfortable. She was an amazing healer, and he had wondered many times if he would be alive without her help. The well was fairly close, which meant that in less than a minute he would be at the alehouse. And right in front of the well, he witnessed the blossom of a love. Aoife and Finan embraced in the dark. Since that night, Finan had spent most of his time with Aoife. Honestly, he hadn’t had much to do, while she seemed to be always busy; so, he had followed her around for days, helping and amusing her. He had noticed that she was growing bolder every day, quick to answer his remarks. She still blushed, though, and he was proud of how much his words and actions could affect her. He had found himself spending with her every day and thinking about her every night; he knew he was slowly falling in love with the woman and he was trying to fight it. She was young, innocent and inexpert of everything that the world had to offer; she deserved someone just as fresh as her. Even with this knowledge, he could not stop himself from spending all his spare time with her, from thinking about her constantly, from looking for her in every room. Besides, when he tried to stay away from her, she would find him everywhere, with a little pout on her full red lips. “Were you hiding from me, Finan?” she would ask, mocking pain with a hand on her chest and he would smile and bow dramatically in her direction “I was not, milady. I was looking for you.” To assay her, Finan started telling her the most vile stories of his past; he talked about blood and swindles and heartbreaks; and one day, while he was sitting on the fence of the stable and telling her one of his cruellest stories, she ceased grooming her horse and, with a sharp smile, commented “I know what you’re doing, Finan.” “What am I doing, then?” “You’re trying to scare me away. But you’re actually doing the opposite.” she run her hand up and down her mount’s face “Because I know you now, and I know you’re not the man you’re telling me about. Not anymore, at least. I think every one of those stories made you the man you are today, a much better person than you think. I’m no fool, and surely, I’m not as innocent as you think I am. If I’d had the faintest impression that you were not a good person, I would not be here now.” “Are you making a pass at me, dear?” She looked back at him with a gaze so deep he felt naked and, unexpectedly, something that hadn’t done since he was a child happened: he blushed. It infuriated him how much power she had on him, how his body melted right against hers when she snuck between his knees and pressed her hands against his tights. He lowered his face to meet her eyes and she stood on her tiptoes. Was she about to kiss him? Did he want her to? Of course he wanted to kiss her, but was he ready for the consequences? He was aware of how his heart worked, how hardly and quickly he fell in and out of love with a woman; he did not want to hurt her in that way. Yet again, his worrying alone was an indicator of how different what he felt for her was from his previous women; he had never worried for the consequences of his actions before, but here he was now hesitating to kiss the prettiest woman watching him from under her black eyelashes. And he hesitated a moment too long, because when he finally leant towards her, she shot him a feral smile and pushed him down the fence. The last thing Finan heard, before the splashing of his body on horse shit, was Aoife’s crystal laugh. And he was happy. Winter was giving the way to spring slowly but relentlessly, the sun now a little warmer and the days a little longer. That afternoon Finan had joined Aoife at the stream and little white flowers were already sprouting from the snow along the banks, where the temperature was higher, and the first birds were chirping on the branches moved by a delicate wind. All day long, Aoife had been busy with Aethelflaed, Finan had seen them walked down the streets of Saltwic, arm in arm. Now, finally, they were together and he was watching her washing clothes. He didn’t understand how she could dip her hands in the cold water without freezing, but she had assured him that the shock was only temporary and after that, it was almost as if the water was warm. “Tell me something, Finan.” She then requested, while he was adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. With time they had become physically very closed, always touching each other in some way. “About what?” She stopped to look him in the eyes “I don’t know, something… how did you and Uthred met?” That was a story that many knew, but he still did not feel comfortable in telling it. Yet, Aoife was the one person who made him feel safe, calm, unjudged. If there was someone that could cast away the ghosts of his past, that would be her. He dipped the tip of his finger in the cold water, rippling the surface. “I have done things I am not proud of, Aoife. And some of them had led me to slavery. I have spent winters and summers at the bottom of a ship, rowing and rowing, with the sun and the wind and the snow. I reached a point where I could barely remember who I was, where I came from, why I was there. Then one day Uthred came. He was dressed as a slave, and was rowing as a slave, but there was something behind his eyes that told a whole other story. And somehow, in that hell, we bounded. And when his brother came to the rescue, he did not abandon me, he gave me a reason to live. He still do every day, and I owe him my life. He not only saved me from that ship, but he also brought me back to the man I was, and he gave me a chance to be someone better than that man. And we are bound in ways that no one could ever understand; we have suffered and seen things that no one else could ever understand. That’s why my sword is his, until the day I die. I would give my life for him, my soul for him. He is my brother. My family.” Aoife was holding his hands, he hadn’t even noticed, up until that moment, that she had stopped washing and had knelt in front of him. She caressed his face gently, brushing her cold fingertips against his scars. She had many questions, about his past, his regrets, his fears. She felt as if she knew nothing of him while knowing him deeper than many could say. He was a mystery, with a very dark past, yet he was the person she trusted the most. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Finan” she whispered softly, and he smiled, leaning in her cold palm and kissing it softly “Thank you for listening, Aoife.” She smiled, returning at her duties. “Your name is Irish too, did you know that?” Finan watched her stiffen, suddenly uncomfortable “I do know that , yes.” Here it was, the thing he couldn’t bear about her: it was easy for him to open with her, he had trusted her entirely in a short period of time, while her, as much as she seemed to enjoy his company, had yet to trust him with her past; and perhaps it was wrong, but he wanted answers to his curiosity, about her family, and the mysterious man who had gifted her with weapons and a horse, and her past; so he kept pushing her. “Was your mother Irish?” She paused “No, Finan.” He was walking down a dangerous path “What’s with that name then?” She looked up at him, with a pained and somehow angry face “You won’t rest until I’ll give you answers, right?” “Indeed, lady.” She sat down with a huff “My mom was in love with an Irish man and wanted to honour him with my name.” “Was he your father?” “Not quite.” Here she was again, reticent woman. Finan had even talked about it with Osferth, with whom Aoife seemed to have bounded and she felt freer talking – Finan at times could not stand how close they were – but the monk too had admitted that he had tried but failed in that same situation. Even Aethelflaed knew nothing, and where a Lady can’t succeed, what are the chances for a warrior to? Therefore, he took what she had offered him, which was a lot considering the previous attempts, and held her hand to his lips, kissing her cold knuckles. “Let’s go back, you’re freezing.” They had walked back in silence, hand in hand. The sun was setting one they entered the hall, where the warriors were enjoying some spare time playing dice and drinking ale. Finan left Aoife with one of his sweetest smiles and joined his companions, while she sat down next to Osferth, who was warming up in front of the fire. “You’re getting closer by the day, aren’t you? By Sunday you’ll be married.” The monk joked, gaining a light kick on the shin; the training had helped her quite a lot with her fighting skills, but, as a result, she had become more violent.“Hey, you should not hit your patients!”“I brought you back to life, I can end it just as easily.” Osferth laughed, wrapping her shoulder with his long, thin arm. He had found himself growing less shy every day and he had now reached a point of ease with Aoife that he had become physical affectionate, a part of him he had hidden successfully during his monk life. Growing up in a monastery, he hadn’t spent much time with people his age, and even now, travelling with Uthred’s warrior, he felt that there was a certain aspect of him that they could not understand. Aoife, on the other hand, had experienced a similar youth and with her he could be himself. By the day, she was becoming more and more a warrior, as was he, but they would always remain children of the church and the type of education they had been raised through was different – if not opposite – to those of the others and for that reason they were bounded as siblings. Finan watched them for long, curious – and somehow jealous – of why they were laughing. He had noticed that everyone adored Aoife, she had the singular power of making people at ease. As far as he knew her, and it wasn’t much, she seemed without flaws. However, based on his experience, he knew it could not be possible and he feared the day he would discover her darkest side. For now, though, he decided to join them and hope that their contagious laughs would heal his restless soul. Enjoying some peace after years of battles and death was a gift, he was aware of it, but he would never stop being a warrior and he missed the clanking of swords and the stench of blood, sweat and fear. He missed the shivers of excitement running down his spine on the battlefield, and the surreal, still silence that followed a bloodshed. Yet, he was torn between the past he knew, living day by day without the certainty of a tomorrow, and this new routine of enjoy sweet talks and long walks with Aoife. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that he did not care for the fresh air, nor for the starry night, he just cared for the lady standing next to him under that dark sky. For now, however, he did not have to choose, and he grabbed three cups and joined his friends. “Why are we laughing?” he asked, dropping heavily next to Aoife, who shot him a bright smile. “Just threating Osferth, here.” she answered cheerfully, accepting the ale he was offering. “Oh, I do like this game.” “No you do not!” Osferth huffed, sipping his ale “Just let me be, I’m still recovering.” Finan had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by hooves drumming outside; with the heart beating in his throat he jumped up, running to the window. “What is it?” Osferth asked. “You mean, who is it” Finan smiled, looking outside “Osferth.” He then called urgently, in his tone a happiness and thrill Aoife had never heard. He was not quick enough to reach the door and it opened from the outside, bringing in the room cold wind and smell of horses. And then here he was, wrapped in furs and covered in snow, his sword standing proudly against his back, the widest, proudest smile on his gorgeous face. Uthred of Bebbanburg was back. Chapter Six.

[lizzybeth1986]

I remember you said youre indian right? So far, what are your thoughts on PB's indian representation? What are your likes and dislikes about it? Do you think its offensive to POC having and indian villain characters? why and why not?

Well...first of all I need to put it out there that I haven't read some of these books in ages, so a lot of my input is secondhand.

Soooo...I'd say there are a lot more of them I'm seeing in more prominent roles, than there were last year, which on surface level is nice. I'm glad there are a variety of both side characters and love interests who are either Indian or of Indian origin (there is one I've noticed who I THINK might be from Pakistan - Dr Zaid Mirani - and I'm wondering whether Aisha from BP is from India or Nepal. Edit: Aisha is from India, thank you @doozysuzy!), and the desi rep does do my heart good.

They're all also very different from each other, both personality wise and arc wise. Teja is very different from a Shreya who will face very different issues from an Ajay who won't face the same struggles now as Jackie. Aisha who is a desi transwoman would have very, very different experiences! And characters like Nikhil from MW, or Nikhil from BB, or Parvati and Briar, or Raj - some of them have their own stories. And many of these characters seem to be second-generation immigrants, so I'm not expecting a lot of background information on where they're from in India.

On one level, that can take me out of the story a little, actually. I'm Indian and I live in India. A lot of us living here don't see it as one huge mass, we see it as diverse states put together into to one country. An Indian from Punjab is going to be very different from an Indian from Tamil Nadu is going to be completely different from an Indian in West Bengal is going to be different from an Indian in Nagaland. So when a character is possibly simply introduced as "from India" (and sometimes not even that)...it does throw me off a little, I must admit. The last names do help narrow down the possibilities of where they're from sometimes, but I'd like to whether Teja is from Mumbai, Gujarat or Karnataka, or is Jackie Varma from Kerala (please please please) or someplace else because, like, Varma is also a surname you can find in certain states. Ajay uses lovely names for the MC like jaan (darling) and his brother calls him bhai...but he calls his mom Amma, which...okay. Now I'm even more confused where in India this boy is from. The closest I get to know if someone is from a state here, is with Priya Lacroix who was described somewhere as having a "soft Mumbai accent".

But this is a small quibble from someone who hasn't grown up in the States, and I understand that these teams may not always view "where in India" as important the way I do. That's okay! In any case Indians aren't the only characters that deal with that. The only times I get irritated are when they don't take an effort at all and mispronounce names...like, Briar's mom shouldn't be a Pavarti, okay? It's Parvati. Paaaaarrrrrvati. (also, whose idea was it to lighten her skin for Lady Thalissa's sprite in Nightbound??? 😡)

On a representation level...thing is, I see a lot of problems, but I also see similar problems with people of colour from other places in the books. Many of them (Shreya, Teja, Jackie) are very good characters with a lot of promise, but who aren't always given consistent writing. Certain times they're even pushed to the background, their own character arcs forgotten. But I can't claim that to be a problem that you'll only find with Indian/desi characters.

Like...you will have an Ahmed Khabbaz who the narrative puts out as a Muslim man from Oman who does things a certain way...then they backtrack on that, more than once. You will have a Hana Lee who DID come from a specific place in China (Shanghai), and her writers did not do even basic level research (there is a scene where they made Hana call Shanghai ancient. ANCIENT). Some characters of colour do get better representation, but I'm noticing more and more that those are also the kind of characters that both the writers and fandom can sometimes exoticize (Damien, Zig, Raleigh). And don't even get me started on the kind of narratives/writing they give black characters. Don't fucking get me started.

About whether I'd accept a villain who is Indian/Indian-origin...hmm. At this point, sure. Because there are more on the opposite end of the spectrum to counterbalance that, and that's important. So unless they force said character into some kind of gross stereotype, I'm not too worried. I would have during the time Priya came out (and I said as much back then) because there were way less characters who seemed prominent back then. There are more now, so my issues would be completely different, let's say.

[civilorange]

once i was here,

yasha remember those months. // ao3

________________________________________________________________

Whole forevers pass as you sit in the quiet place inside yourself.

Deep within the recesses of your mind you linger with a palpable fear of what exactly you’re capable of. You watch hands that have always been yours raise the rusted edge of Skingorger and plunge it into the soft stomach of a weathered monk in blue—his eyes bulge, and his mouth parts in a harrowing howl.

Bodies do the strangest things as they die—they shake and tremble, thrumming around the edge of your blade as their muscles contract and press harder on the untended metal. And then something inside goes far away, and they slacken.

You’ve always known this, but watching it now as you are—a guest (a ghost) in your own body—you really see how the color crawls away in his eyes. You see the exact moment he dies.

“Oh, wonderful, Orphanmaker,” Obann drawls, his oily presence sliding through your mind, inking through the edges and pushing you further and further away from the view of what your body is doing. “You’ve made me such a lovely playground to play in.”

Tearing your blade free, the blood spurts and he slumps—his blood so red against the pale floor, the sound of his body collapsing echoing through the halls.

Before that night in the cavern—before Obann, before the Laughing Hand, just before—there had always been the faintest roll of thunder in your ears, just for you. Reminding you that no matter what might seem to be, you’ve never really been alone.

But now there’s only silence.

Cold and heavy.

You strain, trying to rush forward through the dark to throw yourself back into your body—to control those red soaked hands of yours. They’ve been red for weeks now, Obann doesn’t care how it makes your heart ache to see the red grow brown and stiff on the joints of your fingers.

How you watch it flake off in the night, the tips of your fingers rubbing together to turn it into the finest of dust. Absent, considering.

You keep a tally in your mind—one, two, three—of how many bodies you leave in your wake—ten, eleven, twelve—but after a while you stop. You stop trying to remember what your body does in your absence, what your horrible hands do with no hesitation as Obann whispers bitter little words into the shell of your ear.

“Soon, Orphanmaker,” he says often, late into the night, the rattling wheeze of the Laughing Hand growing slow and sluggish as the hours pass in almost silence—the softest chuckle drifting from what must be the litany of mouths carved into his enormous bulk.

.

Some nights, long after the sun has fallen, you’re given a gift.

It isn’t every night, it isn’t even one night in a handful, but often enough—there’s a voice. A twinkling voice that makes you feel lighter, makes you feel less like the monster you know you are—and probably have always been.

“Heey Yasha, it’s me—Jester.”

Always soft, always like she’s trying not to wake someone. You wonder where she is in the world—the Empire? The Dynasty? Somewhere totally new?

You can’t close your eyes where you are so deep down inside, but you can imagine her—bright eyes, infectious smile, a warmth to her that had nothing to do with heat. A warmth that bleeds across miles—realms for all you know—and touches the cold edges of you. “Just—wanted to let you know what we’ve been doing. We made a friend—she’s an aasimar! Do you know—…”

You want to respond, you know logically you can—but you’re unable to. Your fists clench, and your mouth parts—you can feel it, but nothing comes out. You sit in silence.

Always silence.

.

Except when there isn’t.

.

“Heey, Yasha. Did you know Fjord’s accent isn’t even real? He actually sounds pre-tty sophis-i-ti-cated. He told Uk’otoa—(Uk’otoa)—to go fuck off and threw—…”

.

“We—lost Nott today, she died and this might not even reach you. And you’re lost too, and I don’t even know what we’re doing—…”

That had made something inside you crumble, something otherwise untouched—a piece of you that Obann couldn’t scratch away with dirty nails and oily words.

Nott died? Jester had sounded sad, had sounded despondent, but—she didn’t sound devastated. You think of how she had screamed your name as those doors closed, how no one had ever sounded so…broken…about you.

You’re the one left behind—or, you were, before you started leaving first.

No, she didn’t sound devastated.

So you hope.

.

“Soooo, thought about that message and was like Oh My God, Yasha probably thinks Nott’s dead, and no, no, no, we got her back. She—…”

You’ll never know what she was going to do, say, or be, but you’re relieved. As relieved as you can be as your body burns with anger and your sword gouges through another hapless body. Fodder, Obann had laughingly called them. People who had no hope of standing against you, no hope of holding up the weight of your downward swing—you’re so very good at killing, even before Obann you’d known this, but there’s a disconcerting freedom now.

As if the shackles that cage you now are so very different from the self-imposed ones you’ve always chosen to bind yourself with.

You’ve always been a tamed monster, but now—now you’re on the loose.

Tethered only with the ill-intention of a creature burning red with hellish eyes.

.

“Heey, it’s me—again. Just—checking in. I—saw today. You…probably feel pretty bad, and I want you to know I know it isn’t—…”

There’s a crackle in your ears for the first time in so long, the electricity skittering over your chin and down the back of your neck eases the burn of Obann’s command. The voice—Jester’s voice—eases you even more. The Stormlord might be your salvation, but Jester—Jester’s something more tangible. On your best nights you think of her as family, the entire Nein, but on your worst nights you consider them your punishment.

Those who you’ll always disappoint.

But tonight, with Obann’s burn in your blood, and the Stormlord’s lightening crawling across your skin, you need her. You need this simple connection of someone who cares—this reminder that you are you, even if your body isn’t.

“—oh, sorry I got cut off. It isn’t you, and we’re going to get you back, I promise. Promise, promise. Keep fighting, Yasha. You’re so—…”

Because Jester thinks Yasha, and that is you.

It will always be you.

.

As the clouds whisper away and the sky is clear, you find the most beautiful flower. It’s gold, and purple, and red—swirling together, you’ve never seen one like it before. Your chin against the new breastplate Obann has fostered onto you—wrist thick tusks curling over shoulders, cracked leather and metal sticking to the blood and sweat on your skin.

You want to hold it, this beautiful untouched piece of nature—you want to touch something without ruining it for the first time in months.

You watch absently as your hand reaches out and graces just a fingertip against a petal that reminds you so very much of Mollymauk.

Somehow, you know that you can force your fingers to pluck it free, you know that Obann doesn’t see any worth in this silly little weed. You know. So you swim closer to that slanted reality that is just beyond you at every moment, for you don’t sleep when your body does, for you aren’t your body—you just exist in darkness.

You coax, and encourage, and plead, and after much hesitation, your body plucks it free from the ground—so simple, but it’s something you want.

It’s brilliant as you spin it between your fingers, the colors blurring into a kaleidoscope. You smile, your body does too, and with a smooth effort that gives you more hope than you should have—especially months into this—you tuck it away into your breastplate before Obann can see.

Before you’re forced to be just that much less you.

.

Obann talks. A lot.

The words drift and spin in the hollow emptiness around you, and you think he simply must like the sound of his own voice.

“Soon, Orphanmaker,” he says it so often, plodding along with a whip of the tail and a twitch of his wings. Soon to what, you don’t know. To the Angel of Irons, to a menagerie of death dealers, to some inevitable bloody end.

“She’ll love you,” his voice is soft, and you don’t think it should be. It should be razor blades and warning klaxons, it should be bright red and viciously wrong. “You’re perfectly broken. Your chains self-imposed and your hunger ageless.”

He’s whispering the word lovely while reaching out to cup your cheek, but there’s a splash of electricity over the curve of your jaw and into the growing black of your hair.

The darkness from where you’ve existed these months grows cold and darker somehow—and you feel it, you feel the bristling touch of that otherness inside that links you to something otherworldly.

Your wings snap open, swallowing the light and Obann’s eyes shrink, pupils going to pinpricks, his hand halting.

“You’re mine, Orphanmaker,” you want to scream that you’re not that person anymore, whoever they were, whoever you are right now. You’re Yasha. You’re a member of the Mighty Nein, you’re good.

But your wings are black and broken things, skeletal and cold.

His fingers shiver, and his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t come any closer, and your body might not see him as an enemy, but your soul does. You do.

He’s backing away, glaring, “soon.”

.

“Heeey Yasha, it’s me—Jester. Sorry it’s been a while, we were inside the Happy Fun Ball, and you wouldn’t believe what we found in—…”

.

Sometimes you don’t even notice the days without messages, without blood.

The only two things that catch your attention anymore.

“We’re coming, Yasha. I promise. There’s so much super important stuff I want to tell you. Soon.”

You can only smile, and it feels so odd when you can tell that your numb cheeks pull upward into one as well. You and your body, smiling, together.

She didn’t use all the words.

.

Soon turns out to be a chantry in Rexxentrum.

You scream at every step your body takes, you howl as your hands—still flaking rust colored blood—pulls Skingorger free from your back sheath. You’re chanting no, no, no, no but your lips won’t move. Your knuckles go white under the rust and there’s a burning anger welling up beneath your skin—you burn with it, you expel harrowing growls as your carve through the air, hacking and swiping, and intent on ruining these people you call family.

It gets worse, though, so much worse.

Nott’s face goes blank, and those bright eyes grow far away and you’re horrified for her—you’re worried, no, you’re terrified. You don’t want this for Nott, you don’t want her to ruin anything she might regret, and you don’t want her beautifully green hands to grow dark with blood.

Some part of you that’s still broken—and always will be—want to knock her unconscious before she can hurt herself in ways that have nothing to do with open wounds and spilled blood.

But your body turns, and the Skin-Gorger drags a sinister scratch across the floor, sparks dancing and trilling in the cacophony of chaos around you. Everything blurs and you wish that you could close your eyes and pretend that you aren’t going to carve your way through your friends.

Beauregard is beautiful in her movements, brilliant as she pushes Obann out of her mind, wonderful as she puts herself in front of her friends—her family—and the enemy. You. There’s blood on her tan skin, and bruises around her eyes, and you wish you could simply fall on your blade. Tumble forward and just end this.

But you’re not in control, and you do so much worse.

There’s a part of you that doesn’t wonder at how easily you slice through her, at how her body arches and spins and falls to the ground. How her blood isn’t even remarkable against all the rust still staining you—it with grow brown and turn to dust with age like every other ounce of life-force spilled on you.

Her blistering blue eyes close and her body goes slack and you scream—move, move, go—but your body rights itself and rotates the edge of the glaive so that you might be able to drive it down and into the center of her chest and ruin.

Red spurts and spills, and you can’t stop the shudder of your frame under the control.

You’re shaking as you turn, ripping the tip free, tears sliding through the rust staining your cheeks—a plea in your graveyard eyes. Asking, pleading, for someone to put you down.

You need to die before you kill anyone else.

.

After the doors close, and after the Nein gasps for what little breath they can be afforded, you lean against the wall. Skingorger in hand, but you wished you could still feel Magician’s Judge—you haven’t felt it in ages, the subtle touch of magic thrumming against your palms. The promise of a better tomorrow, of the truth being unveiled.

You watch them, each and every one of them—except Nott, who you will move heaven and earth to retrieve—and you sink down to your knees. You bow into yourself physically because you cannot do it mentally alone anymore—you are Yasha, body and soul, and you’ve missed being you.

.

“Jester,” you say, softer than soft, because you can’t help the flinch at the guarded look Fjord gives you, his fingers curling like he might wish to pull his new blade from the ether. But Jester—

—sweet, stronger than them all Jester—who could still smile after everything. Who still looks at you like someone she loves, despite every reason you’ve given her to the contrary. She hops up and over to you, clasping your hands in hers and pressing her horns against your collarbones like Mollymauk used to. The blunt scrape is comforting, the weight of her more-so.

“I missed you,” she says into your chest, and you can feel the wet drip of her tears soaking into your rust flaking clothing. “I missed you so much.”

You don’t move at first, don’t dare move, but her relief in infectious—like her laughter, and her smile—and you can only last so long before you’re clutching her to you. She’s talking, but you can’t hear her, and you don’t think the actual words really matter. No, they’re pretty unimportant—it’s the scratch of her nails into the fabric of your cloak, and the shake of her shoulders as she cries.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing your graveyard eyes closed for a moment, trying ot push away all the bad so that you can focus on Jester’s good.

“I didn’t do anything, it was Caduceus.” Extending her to arm’s length, you smile—an awkwardly unsure expression, you know—and shake your head, because she doesn’t know.

“Not for,” she stumble, grimacing. “Not for—for that. For—for thinking of me. For sending all those messages. I—…” You want to be elegant and charming, you want to say exactly what you feel, and want her to understand that she’s most of the reason there was still someone for Caduceus to save. That she reached you when the Stormlord couldn’t—that for a few months she was stronger than any deity.

You reach into the hard edge of your breastplate, pulling free the flattened flower that had reminded you so much of Mollymauk. It’s discolored after so many days hidden away, but it’s still beautiful. Reaching out you tuck it behind her ear, and smile.

“—…I heard you.”

[joyful-soul-collector]

Amazing, Actually

Chapter 6: Scene 7 (Click here to read previous scenes!)

Last scene for this chapter guys! Hope you all like it!

Jace and Kita did their homework, Kita not-so-stealthily making sure Jace ate a healthy, filling snack. When they finished, Kita suggested Monopoly and each were in the middle of searching for a lost die when Kita’s parents walked in the door.

“Hey Papá! Hey Dad!” Kita called, her hand grasping under the couch. Jace looked up and hit his head on the bottom of the table where he was searching. He crawled out, rubbing his scalp as he stood.

“Hey Mr. and Mr. Mills. How goes it?”

“Jay, how many times have we told you to just call us Frank and Jose?” Frank said. 

Frank was a tall man with curly red hair, and evergreen eyes. His face had freckles scattered about his nose and cheeks, and his teeth were straight and white. Frank always seemed to be smiling, and it took a lot for him to get angry. Jace always liked that about him. Frank put down his keys and bag, while Jose shuffled through some mail.

“I think at least as many times as I’ve been here. Force of habit, sorry,” Jace said. 

“No no, it’s quite alright Jay. How was school you two?”

“Fine,” they both answered.

“Did you finish that late assignment Kita?” Jose asked in his slightly Spanish accent. Jose was a dark-skinned man with hair almost as black as Jace’s, had it not been for the few gray streaks. Jose was almost the complete opposite of Frank in terms of personality. Jose was straightforward and strict, and he didn’t smile nearly as much as Frank. But that just meant that when he did smile, it was much more special.

“Yes Papá,”  Kita answered.

“How was your weekend Jay?” Frank asked.

“Fine. Boring even,” he lied.

“Well, I hope your first day back was better,” said Jose.

“Eh, it was alright. Much better now that I’m home,” Jace said with a crooked grin. Frank beamed widely at the last word, and Jace could’ve sworn he saw a small smirk from Jose.

“Alright. Well Jose is going to make dinner, and I’m going to head to my office and work on some things for the shop,” said Frank. He walked over and hugged them both, which made Jace’s heart swell, and then walked into the hallway to his office.

“You two both finished your homework?” Jose asked sternly. 

“Yes Papá!” Kita groaned. 

“Just checking, mija. Go finish your little game, the surprise will be ready soon.” 

So Mr. Mills is in on this too? Jace thought. He watched Jose for a few moments as he took out a few cooking supplies and ingredients from the cupboard.

Jace turned to Kita with a small smile.

“So, the surprise is dinner?” 

“Dammit. You weren’t supposed to figure that out.” They sat back down at the table, Kita holding the no longer missing die.

“Not much of a surprise, considering I have dinner pretty much every time I come over here,” Jace said.

“Oh hush, it’s not dinner that’s the surprise, it’s what’s for dinner.”

“Ooooh, how mysterious. What is it?”

“What part of ‘surprise’, do you not understand?”

“The part where I’m supposed to wait and find out,” Jace whined. He laid his head on the table, pouting with his lip stuck out. “Waiting is the worst.”

“Yeah I know the feeling, as it’s been your turn for the last five minutes. Just roll the die!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I swear if I get into jail again I’m going to throw something.” He rolled the die and made his car piece jump a few spaces to Chance.

“You’re way too passionate about Monopoly,” Kita said.

“Shhhh I’m drawing a card.”

“Why does that require me to shut up?”

“I don’t know! Quit poking holes in my arguments!”

“You’d be a terrible lawyer.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being one, that shit takes way too much schooling.”

“True. But, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jace actually thought about this a lot, so he had an answer ready. 

“Well, I want to go to college, but I don’t know if that’s really an option. I’m keeping my grades as high as I can and I’m saving up a lot and I’m trying to get a full ride literally anywhere, but I mean who knows how well that’ll work out. If I can get into college, then I don’t really know what I want to do after. Maybe like an office job or something. That’d be nice. I’m not really picky. If I don’t end up being able to go, then I’ll just keep the job I have at the movie theater. Start working full time.” 

Jace sighed, and drew his pencil out of his pocket, gently scraping the sharp end along the familiar path down his thumb. “How about you? What do you want to be?”

“Pfft, I don’t know,” Kita said, rolling the die and moving her battleship piece up a few spaces. “I’ll probably end up at the bakery. I’m going to college, and I was thinking that being a detective would be cool, like for the police, but I dunno. They’re both good options really.”

“Oooh, a detective. You gonna catch all the bad guys Sherlock?”

“Heck yeah I am! The game is afoot!”

They spent the next hour still playing Monopoly, but not really paying attention to the game. They talked mostly about the future. What they would do when they grew up, what things might be like, what kind of crazy thing that might happen that could change the whole world. Jace thought aliens might come to Earth, but Kita thought that some sort of sea creatures would walk on to land and be the new superior being.

But it wasn’t all big picture; they talked about what pets they want, what kind of house they’d like, even whether or not they would want houseplants. Jace was just explaining to Kita why the ridged butter knives were better than the flat edged ones, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

There was an incredibly enticing smell coming from the kitchen. The scent immediately made him think the word “warm”, but it also smelled like garlic and onions and spices and… tomatoes. 

“WAIT wait wait wait wait wait wait--”

“I’m waiting, Jace,” Kita interrupted. 

“Is that--Are we-- is he making tomato soup?” Jace asked her eagerly, pointing to the kitchen.

“Huh. Is he?” Kita said sarcastically. “Wait, isn’t that your favorite food? How completely random.”

“Yeah, random,” Jace said, rolling his eyes. “Has he been making that this whole time?”

“Probably. You know Papá hates making food from a box or a can. Says it’s ‘not authentic’, so he just made it from scratch.”

“What!? He didn’t have to do all that!”

“I wanted to,” Jose’s voice came from behind him. Jace turned around to see him holding two steaming bowls. Jose’s eyebrows raised slightly at the eager look on Jace’s face, and set he the bowls down in front of them.

“Thanks Mr.--I mean Jose,” Jace said as his stomach rumbled in anticipation. 

“You’re welcome, Jay. I’ll be back with Frank in a moment.” Jose disappeared down the hallway. Jace stirred his soup, blowing on it. 

“That’s so nice of Jose. And of you! God, you guys are so awesome.” When he ate a spoonful, the flavor spread over his mouth, filling him with warmth. The soup was creamy and thick, tasting even better than it smelled. “This is the best surprise,” he said, sighing happily. 

“You are so unbelievably easy to please Jay,” Kita said with a laugh.

“Really? I always thought the opposite,” said Jace.

“Pfft, Jay you make the biggest deal out the smallest things.”

“Jee, thanks, nice to know I’m a drama queen.”

“No, I mean when we do something small for you, you act as though it costed us the world. Like we’d spent a thousand dollars or a month in order to do something for you. I just thought it was nice.”

“Nice?” Sounds more annoying, Jace thought.

“Yeah, I mean it’s just nice that you say thank you. It’s not like there’s a surplus of people who do that.”

“Oh, heh, I suppose. I guess I just don’t really need a lot to be happy.”

Frank and Jose came out of the hallway and Frank kissed Jose on the cheek as they sat down at the table.

“Is it good?” asked Jose.

“Soooo good,” Jace answered. “Am--” 

“Amazing, actually?” Kita interrupted. 

“…I do say that a lot don’t I?”

They spent the next hour or so laughing and talking and eating together. Jace felt his heart swelling with happiness with each passing moment. He was warm, his belly was full, he was with Kita and Frank and Jose, and his horrible weekend and moment with Clay were the farthest things from his mind, and everything seemed to finally be okay.

“Oh hey, it’s almost seven! We better get you home, Jay,” said Frank suddenly. 

The happy balloon in his chest deflated, making his lungs feel as though they were being squeezed tightly.

“Oh. Right,” Jace said, his voice suddenly feeling hoarse. 

He’d forgotten for a moment. Of course things couldn’t just stay like this forever. Have to go back to reality at some point, Jace thought as he cleared his empty bowl. He and Kita went to her room to pack up his things.

“Hey, so you’re still coming for Halloween tomorrow right?” Kita asked.

“Yep,” Jace replied tonelessly.

Kita opened her mouth, and then closed it again, instead turning to grab Jace’s notebook from off her bed. Jace took a little more time than needed to pack up his things; he really didn’t want to leave. Kita let him dawdle, knowing how he felt, and Jace appreciated that. He kept looking around as though worried he wouldn’t see this place again, even though he knew he would be back tomorrow. After spending almost a two minutes tying and retying his tattered sneakers, they finally walked to the car.

With each minute they spent in the car, Jace could feel the familiar anxiety in his shoulders returning. He held his backpack close to his chest, hugging it like it was a lifeline. Dread was like a creature, crawling up his back and infecting his veins with anxious venom, making his muscles tense up so much it hurt. He knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until tomorrow, when he went back home. 

To his real home.

They arrived at the motel, the car stopping just outside his room. Number nine, ground floor.

“Oh I forgot! Jay, I brought you something from the bakery, I think it’s in this bag here…” Frank said and started rustling in the bag in the passenger seat. He drew out a muffin, much like the one Kita gave him on the bus, only instead of little dots of blueberry juice, the dots were a reddish pink. “It’s raspberry, I remember you liking those ones, right?”

“Yeah, I love those ones! Thank you Mr.--I mean Frank. You guys are being way too nice today.” 

“You’re welcome Jay. I’ll see you tomorrow for Halloween! Don’t forget to bring your costume to school with you.”

“Thanks Frank. I’ll see you.” Jace opened the car door, still holding the muffin, and Kita walked with him to his room. They stood for a moment outside his door, before Jace saw a flash of movement to his left, and Kita slammed into his ribcage.

“Gagh! What are you--” He cut off. It took him a moment to realize she was hugging him, not attacking him. “Jesus, I didn’t know someone could hug so violently.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her closer.

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

“But you’re not.”

“Sure I am.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m--”

“Yes, you are.”

“…I don’t know if I am.”

“If you’re okay, or if you’re lying?”

“Both. Neither. Can I get back to you on that one?”

“Sure.”

There was a silence, where they both just stared at the metal nine on the door.

“You know that just squeezing the life out of me doesn’t make it so I don’t have to leave, right?” said Jace.

“Shhhh, I don’t care right now,” said Kita. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine,” Jace said, lowering his head slightly so as to look her directly in the eyes.

“I know,” she said. She squeezed him tighter, enough to make Jace worried his ribs would crack, then released him and waved goodbye, jogging over to Frank’s car.

Jace unlocked the door, and went inside.

He sighed as he flicked on the lights. Nobody was there. The only sign anyone lived here were the ruffled bed sheets and the empty bottles still lying on the floor. He probably could’ve stayed at Kita’s a little longer if he’d known no one would be around to meet him. But he could hear the car driving away.

Now that he could have a light on, he could see the room much more clearly than he could that morning. A lamp, the alarm clock and a motel phone stood on a small table between two beds, one being his parents, and the other his own. The walls were a sickly yellow color, and while the floors were carpeted, they still felt rock hard. A mini fridge stood to the right of a wooden dresser which had a TV on top, and to the left of that dresser was the entrance to the bathroom. He shut the door and put the muffin on the table next to the alarm clock.

He turned and tossed his backpack onto his bed before flopping down on it himself. He regretted it immediately as the hard mattress almost knocked the wind out of him. 

“Ouch,” he said to the room. He stared at the cracking ceiling for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to call his mom to let her know he was okay.

Jace sat up and started dialing her number into the motel phone, and it rang twice before she answered. 

“Hey baby, you made it home?” she said sweetly. Jace could hear the bustlings of the diner in the background.

“Yeah I did. Just calling to let you know I’m okay,” Jace said. He drew out his pencil and started twirling it in between his fingers.

“Thanks honey. I have to go in a second, but how was your day?”

“Great.” Only half a lie. “It was just a normal day. Nothing really important.” A whole lie.

“That’s good. You went to Kita’s right? Did you--”

“Yes, I had dinner. I always have dinner at her house, you know that.”

“Just checking dear. I’ll be home around ten tonight. Make sure you don’t stay up too late, I want you sleeping when I get home okay?”

“Okay. Bye mom.”

“Bye hon.”

End Chapter

Tag List: @timetravelingpigeon @alexis-writes-sometimes @txintedsxint @purpleshadows1989 @gabbysmadness @thescholarsninja @danger-writes @midnight-dancer-daydreamer @musicofglassandwords @sunlight-and-starskies @panic-at-my-sexuality @edenbooknerd

[lolisuckatwriting]

Happy Anniversary

A/N: I don’t see a lot of stuff about Jeff, so I’m taking it upon myself to write this… you’re welcome? lol. Let me know what you think

Summary: It’s your anniversary and things get a little heated 

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: too many smh, im sorry

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this, I overestimated myself and made it TOO LONG, but let me know what you think, Probably going to  write shorter things in the future

You started preparing for your special day first by going with your girlfriend Corinna to get your nails done, and maybe some confidence about tonight:

“Soooo, Y/N what are you thinking in that head of yours? About how you’re going to seduce Jeff? I can give you a few pointers” Corinna inquired

If anyone knew about this kind of stuff it would be her, she’s always getting guys to fall for her, but you wanted to do this on your own.

“WHAT! NO, well maybe..I think we’re going out, then I'll figure it out if you know what I mean. I’m just worried about blowing it” you replied.

“Girl, I have seen the way he looks at you, the only thing you should be worried about is blowing him” she joked

‘maybe she's right’ you thought, ‘I'm just overreacting, I got this’

Once your nails were done you headed back to your apartment 

“To my Y/N love, wear this tonight, I’ll see you soon” -J

Jeff may come off as this tough New Yorker, but he really has a way with words. You bring the box in and set it on the counter. Carefully opening it you see a beautiful dress, a pair of heels, and a smaller box. Opening the box you find a necklace with Jeff’s initials on it. 

Taking it out the box, you make your way to a mirror, to put it on, its small and simple, but speaks volumes of love.

‘It's beautiful’ you thought, ‘now, I really owe him.’

As time drew closer to your date, you freshened up and put on the outfit Jeff got from you and hear a knock at your door.

“Just a minute” you call out

You're putting on your last earring as you go to answer the door and you see him

He has that beautiful long curl in his hair that you love is draped over his forehead, he looks like he belongs in a James Bond movie, with that suit on, you wonder how long you’ll allow him to keep it on.

“My, GOD,” he says biting his lip; the words awake you from your gaze and make you tingle with confidence

“Well hey yourself, are these for me?”

He was so entranced by the way you looked in the dress he got you, he forgot about the flowers he bought, he clears his throat 

“oh, yeah, um, these are yours” his new york accent deep, yet faint 

You giggle and accept the bouquet. 

“Come in for a bit while I put these in something”. He nods and closes the door behind him.

“Damn, I gotta say, that dress looks great on you”

You turn and smile at him as you fill up a vase with water

“Thanks, babe, you have great taste”

“Yea, and I’m sure you taste even better Y/N”

He comes up behind you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, kissing down your neck

You turn around and see the determined look on his face, eyes dark and filled with lust. Setting vase down,  immediately he picks you up to place you on the counter.

 “I made a mistake buying this, no one should see you in this except for me”

His demanding words make you gasp as he pushes himself between your legs, hands gripping your thighs just enough to make you moan. He silenced you with a hungry kiss, you can feel his lust breathing into you. You start to rock into him against the bulge in his pants 

“Fuck,” he groans “I don't know if I can make it to dinner with you looking like this baby”.

 His hands found their way to your butt and you feel yourself lift off the counter and get carried to your room, he playfully tosses you on the bed and crawls up to you leaving kisses in his path. He takes his bow tie off and wraps it around your wrists, 

“look, I've got myself a present now, you're even marked with my initials..see, all mine”

 he amuses, and continues down your body with kisses that make you melt  “Jeff please” you breathe,

 “aw I love when you beg princess”

He looks up at you one more time as he kisses your wet spot and begins to lick you.

“damn, I was right about you tasting good Y/N” he inserts a finger causing your wrists to pull at the knot he made earlier

pumping his finger in and out of you, there's a tension building up in your lower stomach, you're about to reach your high, when he stops and comes up to kiss you softly on the lips, a moan of sadness comes over you

breaking the kiss you beg once more ‘ please, please let me cum’ he laughs and responds by unzipping his pants and rubbing his already-hard-on at your entrance, causing you to groan

“is this what you want.. tell me.” he prods. You moan in respinse, your mind scattered to form thoughts. He slides into you slowly letting out a heavy acciented “fuck” 

Holding one of your legs up he gets deeper, causing you to get louder, sure that your neighbors could hear you. this causes Jeff to get sloppy and rough, sliding his other hand around your neck “i-im so close Y/N” you adjust your neck so you can suck on his thumb as you both are about to reach your high,

After a few curses, you both ride through your orgasms and Jeff unties you and climbs into the bed snuggling you.

“What a way to spend an anniversary,” he says, still breathless

“Happy anniversary love” you say in reply and cuddle you man for the rest of your now perfect night

[debcnairs]

( kim taehyung, cismale, he/him, 24. ) — i hear that PAK HAEIL has been living in seoul for around FOUR YEARS and works as an EXOTIC DANCER. rumor has it, they can be DEBONAIR & INSOUCIANT but also IMPETUOUS & MISCHIEVOUS which is why neon lights glowing at midnight, bodies entangled in silk sheets, sultry gazes & designer clothes makes me think of them.

its  me,  the  demon,  gem,  finally  making  this  demon's  intro  like  eight  years  later.  (  claps  for  myself  wow  look  @  u  go  !!  )  ANYWAYS... i  don't  have  his  entire  backstory  or  anything  like  that  figured  out  but  i  do  have  everything  i  know  of  below  the  cut  as  well  as  basic  info  /  plot  ideas  under  the  cut  !  it  kinda  sucks  and  i’m  sorry,,,,  love  me  anyway  pls  :/

SMASH  the  lil  heart  if  you  want  to  plot  with  this  shithead  !

                                        basic information.

full  name:  pak  haeil. nickname(s):  hae,  honey. age:  twenty-four. date  of  birth:  october  31st. birthplace:  london, england. current  location:  seoul,  south  korea. gender:  cismale. pronouns:  he  /  him  /  his. orientation:  bisexual. occupation:  exotic dancer  /  escort  /  sugar  baby  /  runs a  nsfw  twitter  acc. language(s)  spoken:  english,  korean,  french,  spanish.

                                   physical  appearance.

face  claim:  kim  taehyung  (  v  )  of  bts. hair  color:  changes  frequently,  currently  red. eye  color:  brown. height:  5  ’  11  ". weight:  165. build:  slender. tattoos:  far  too  many  to  count. piercings:  multiple  in  his  ears,  nipple  piercings.

                                                favorites.

season:  winter. color(s):  peach,  baby  blue,  purple. music:  not  picky  in  the  slightest. movies:  loves  comedy  &  action  movies,  starting  to  get  into   the  horror  genre. sport(s):  used  to  play  soccer  when  he  lived  in  london. beverage(s):  anything,  isn't  picky. food:  home  cooked  meals. animal:  cats.

                                                    family.

father: tba. mother: tba. sibling(s):  n/a. children:  n/a. pet(s):  an  egyptian  mau  named  diamond,  extremely  spoiled. family’s  financial  status:  upper  class.

                                                    extras.

zodiac sign:  tba. mbti:  tba. enneagram:  tba. temperament:  tba. hogwarts  house:  slytherin. moral  alignment:  tba. primary  vice:  tba. primary  virtue:  tba. element:  air.

                                               biography.

haeil  was  born  in  london,  england.  both  parents  moved  there  years  before  he  was  born  to  chase  their  dreams.

because  of  it,  he  grew  up  around  people  with  british  accents  &  picked  one  up  during  his  childhood  years.

his  parents  were  gone  a  lot,  both  of  them  working  but  he  didn't  really  mind  because  that  meant  he  could  go  do  whatever  he  wanted  to  do  without  any  consequences.

in  fact,  his  parents  were  the  ones  who  constantly  gave  him  permission  to  go  out  and  hang  out  with  friends...  all  that  good  stuff.

sure  they  didn't  really  KNOW  about  the  fact  that  him  &  his  friend  group  were   constantly  out  doing  things  they  shouldn't  have  been,  but  what  they  didn't  know  wasn't  going  to  kill  them,  right ?

he  was  basically  free  to  do  whatever  he  wanted  and  even  if  he  did  get  caught  doing  bad  shit,  his  parents  were  close  with  the  police  so  most  of  the  time  they  just  let  him  off  with  a  warning  and  sent  haeil  off on  his  way.

haeil  was  fifteen  when  he  experienced  his  first  party,  drugs  &  alcohol  within  his  grasp  and  the  peer  pressure  to  fit  in  with  his  friends  causing  him  to  cave  &  try  anything  and  everything  that  was  offered  to  him  that  night.

needless  to  say,  he  got  pretty  fucked  up  that  night  &  ended  up  sleeping  on  some  strangers  couch  after  passing  out  in  their  front  lawn  on  his  walk  home.

&  after  that?  haeil  quickly  became  addicted  to  the  atmosphere  &  the  way  that  drugs  /  alcohol  made  him  feel  so  he  continued  to  seek  it  out  with  each  and  every  chance  he  got.

that  lead  him  to  the  day  he  showed  up  back  at  his  home  at  four  in  the  morning,  drunk  &  high  out  of  his  mind,  parents  waiting  up  for  him  at  the  front  door  because  they  hadn't  heard  from  their  son  in  over  twenty  hours  &  were  beginning  to  think  he'd  gone  missing.

they  were  more  pleased  to  have  their  son  back  home  that  anything,  advising  him  to  be  more  careful  if  he  did  decide  to  go  back  to  the  party  scene  but  not  really  'punishing'  him  for  it  because  they  had  done  the  same  thing  as  kids.

hence  the  reason  that  haeil  continued  to  seek  out  anything  &  everything  he  could  that  would  get  him  to  his  next  high.

one  party,  though,  he  ran  into  someone  who  told  him  he  needed  to  make  money  so  he  could  afford  the  "better"  stuff..  and  haeil  being  the  person  he  was  went  right  along  with  it..  ending  up  at  some  hole  in  the  wall  strip  club  in  london.

he  had  no  idea  what  he  was  doing  for  the  first  few  weeks,  sticking  to  table  running  more  than  anything  but  he  always  had  a  curiosity  &  that  lead  him  to  ask  one  of  the  regular  dancers  to  teach  him  the  ropes.

which  they  did,  without  hesitation,  and  surprisingly,  haeil  was  GOOD  at  it  right  from  the  start,  knowing  how  to  use  his  looks  to  his  advantage,  knowing  the  in's  &  out's  of  how  to  make  the  most  money  all  while  still  being  able  to  have  fun  with  it.

after  a  while,  though,  he  was  bored  of  the  tiny  little  club,  wanting  bigger  &  better  things.. so  after  a  few  google  searches,  he  decided  to  move  to  seoul,  hearing  that  the  underground  party  scene  there  was  unlike  anything  he'd  been  able  to  experience  before  then.

it  was  only  a  week  after  the  first  google  search  haeil  made  that  he  was  on  a  plane,  moving  his  entire  life  without  hesitation,  excited  to  be  able  to  explore  &  go  on  new  adventures.

                                      personality.

the  BIGGEST  flirt  you  will  ever  meet.

knows  how  he  looks,  uses  it  to  his  advantage  w  every  chance  he  gets.

is  so  unashamed  of  his  entire  life  it's  unreal.

takes  no  shit  but  also  doesn't  start  it  unless  it's  absolutely  needed.

actually  really  likes  the  "domestic"  things  like  cooking  /  cleaning,  loves  spending  time  in  his  penthouse  just  baking  or  cooking  for  friends  whenever  he  has  free  time.

a  shopping  FREAK,  he's  on  shopping  sprees  at  least  three  times  a  week,  and  if  he  isn't,  he  gets  grumpy  &  snippy.

will  buy  you  things,  constantly.  loves  the  fact  that  he  can  spoil  people  with  whatever  they  want.

also  LOVES  to  be  spoiled  (  hello  sugar  baby  life  )  and  loves  to  show  of  the  new  things  he's  been  gifted  to  anyone  who's  down  to  be  shown.

still  goes  to  parties  almost  every  weekend,  still  gets  just  as  fucked  up  as  he  used  to  as  a  teenager.

a  lowkey  petty  bitch  with  a  love  for  revenge,  even  if  that  means  helping  a  friend  get  it.

loyal  af  to  his  friends,  he'd  do  anything  for  them  tbh.

not  into  relationships  or  the  idea  of  love,  will  legit  laugh  in  your  face  if  you  say  something  about  him  settling  down  eventually  because  he  doesn't  believe  that  will  ever  happen.

spoils  the  FUCK  out  of  his  cat,,,, i'm  talking  got  the  cat  a  CUSTOM  diamond  collar  &  soooo  much  other  stuff  it's  unreal.

can  be  clingy  &  touchy,  esp  when  drunk  or  high... he  just  loves  skin  to  skin  contact,  it  doesn't  even  have  to  be  sexual..  he  just  thrives  from  it.

                                                  plot ideas.

someone  who  frequents  the  club  that  haeil  works  at  and  has  never  approached  him  but  one  day  haeil  finally  finds  the  time  to  go  over  to  them  &  wow  he's  really  interested  in  getting  a  friendship  out  of  this  person.

someone  who  doesn’t  care  about  haeil’s  lifestyle  but  is  there  for  him  constantly,  aka  his  rock  that  he  can  go  to  any  time  he  feels  like  he  might  need  to.

will  add  more  as  they  come  to  mind  !

[nightlovechild]

Massages with Benefits - Patton’s Week. (Day 3: Royality)

Warnings: Confrontation, BDSM, Degradation (aka name calling), Blow job, Anal sex, Riding, Multiple sexual partners, Over-stimulation

Summary: Patton and Roman are spending their second anniversary at a spa in Roman's Realm. During their couple's massage, Roman gets bent out of shape when Patton starts moaning very loud. So Roman gives Patton something to moan, and groan and come, about.

Patton was more relaxed then he had been in, heck, years. His mind searched and couldn't come up with a single example that didn't have some strong emotion attached to it. Even this morning when, Patton and Roman had arrived at the Spa, he was a bundle of excitement and nerves. Now don't get him wrong; the heart deeply loved his prince! But Roman always needed so much attention. A weekend with a fully staffed spa waiting on both of their wants and needs sounded a little too good. But as the huge hands of Bert, the very nice masseuse, worked Patton's muscles like taffy puller every hesitation for him and his wonderful prince slipped away.

‘How could I be this lucky?’ Patton thought as another groan of relief passed his lips.

Roman bristled as Patton moaned again. The man working his hands deep into his lover’s lower back just would not stop!

“Oh, yeah! That’s the spot! I think if you go a little more.” Patton crooned like his pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.

This was supposed to be his special day! Well, really their special day. A second anniversary getaway at Love's Oasis and Day Spa. Wrapped up in cotton robes and their love for each other.

Then reality came crashing down as a couple's massage turned into Patton moaning like he as orgasmic or dying Roman couldn’t really tell. All the while Roman was tensing up all over!

His love should only sound like that because of him! His royal hands touching, kneading and stroking Patton’s shoulders, back and his other well endowed parts.

As the boiling rage turned to lust Roman got a wonderful idea. Whispering instructions into his masseuses’ ear. Roman covered his mouth as his masseuse pressed two slickened fingertips against the prince’s hole.

“Are you an angel? Because your hands are a God’s send!” Patton grinned happily as the nice young man started working on his feet. Making that weird twinge in his sciatic nerve to finally go away. “Remind me to just slip in here anytime I need to have these tired old bones readjusted!”

“Flip please.” Bert, the masseuse, said.

“What was that, Comrade?”

“Flip over so I can do your front, Please.” Bert over pronounced each word to combat his thick accent.

“Sure thing! OH! Oops….ummm” Patton blushed as he turned over to find Little Patton standing at full mast.

“It's fine. Be not embarrassed. It's natural, body is just happy at being touched.” Bert tried to reassure Patton as he went to fetch a modesty blanket.

“You Slut!” Roman called out. Pointing his finger directly at Patton's sheet covered erection.

“Lovey it's not what you think!” Patton tried using Roman's nickname to calm him.

“I bring you out to my Realm! Give you my time and energy and do I get a kiss? A hug? A thank you blow job? No!” Roman exclaimed as he jumped off his massage table, trying his terry cloth robe tight.

“Prince Roman, your Patton he tells the truth. I only give massage, no happy ending. Ethics are a strong part..” Bert came rushing back.

“You hush! And You, moaning like a bitch in heat at another man's touch! You should be ashamed at how you are treating me!” Roman pointed at a flushed Patton, whose cock was jumping at vulgar words that were aimed at him.

“I hear these sounds from all older gentleman. They are what do you call them?” Bert asked as he clicked his fingers.

“Dad sounds.” Christian, the other masseuse, chimed in.

“Oh, I’ve heard those sound before, trust me. They sound just like when I am riding him within an inch of his life.” Roman twisted around to address Bert while his fingers grazed over the tented fabric. Drawing out a little moan from Patton. “See? Those sounds are mine. I want them. But if this harlot wants to give them away for free!”

“No, Roman. I promise it wasn’t anything like that. Only you make me feel those special feelings.” Patton said while putting his glasses back on. Sitting up to wrap his arms around the fuming prince.

Roman’s strong hand forced Patton back down while his other hand ripped the thin sheet off of his lap. The air was forced out of Patton when his back hit massage table with an audible thud. Roman let his nails dig in as he climbed up onto the table. Straddling Patton’s groin as he let their cocks press against each other. Rocking their hips together as Patton’s hand softly caressed  Roman’s cheek and Roman mimicked the same action back. A signal that the scene was allowed to continue. Consent given between both of them.

“How can you tell if the feelings are different if you haven’t had them together?” Roman purred into Patton’s ear as the prince lifted his hips.

The position allowed a different set of hands to stroke and cover the moral side’s cock with lube. Patton tried to hold his ground and not make a single sound but it was all to much. Moans tumbling from him as skilled hands stroked him while Roman’s sweet kisses turned into love bites at his throat.

“That’s it my love. Give in. Stop holding back. You’ll lap up attention from anyone and everyone, won’t you?” Roman encouraged and chided all in one breath.

“No, Lovey. Want you. Only you. Moaning because you’re so close. Yearning to make love to you.” Patton whimpered as the hands held his cock held firm while Roman started rocking his hips down, making the tip of Patton’s cock press against Roman’s hole. As Roman started to slide down, Patton’s hands shot to his hips stopping him in his movements.

“We haven’t stretched you yet. I know you want to make a point, which I am allowing. But not at the price of causing you pain.” Patton’s voice was as serious as his voice. Goosebumps broke out over Roman’s skin at the display of concern and love.

“Shh, I already had Christian stretch me around his huge powerful fingers. But his fingers are nothing compared to your huge cock.” Roman winked at Christian as he fights against Patton’s grip as he sits down further on his lover’s cock.

“Y-you’re so difficult sometimes. Misbehaving while berating me because I was enjoying myself while...”

“I might misbehave but I’m not a whore like you are. Even now, letting two strange men watch you fucking like you’re an animal. Bet you want them to touch you while you fuck my ass, Don’t you?” Roman said as he started bouncing on Patton’s cock. Clicking his fingers at the grinning masseuses to have them resume their work as Patton nodded.

Hands on his shoulders, Hands on his thighs, Hands on his chest, the slick warmth surrounding his cock over and over again. Patton took it all in as the cascade of horrible wonderful words fell from Roman’s lips.

A secret kink held close to his chest, Patton’s desire leaped every time the degrading words were sent his way. Patton knew inside he wasn’t those things; a whore, a slut, a harlot. But what if he was? What would it look like? What if his passion and desires were higher on the priority list than his heart? Patton longed in the dark to taste these answers. Then Roman showed up with an ego bigger than the sun and just as bright. It didn’t take the prince many nights to put together dirty words equals Patton coming like a geyser.

“God, you’re so fucking hard right now. Going to wreck my ass, aren’t you? My little whore loves putting on a show about as much as I do.” Roman moaned as he let his leaking cock mark Patton’s stomach with every down stroke.

“Yes, please! L-love it all. Love y-you. Want you soooo much. W-want you everywhere. Use me in all my holes.” Patton panted as he was losing himself in all the pleasure. The two masseuses chuckled at his desperation as they rutted against the massage table. Trying to get their own release as the two lovers were.  

“That can be arranged, my heart. But you have to say the words.” Roman sat up as he directed one masseuse to fetch the bottle of lube while the other one spread Patton’s legs. Forcing the royal to move up a bit a new angle. Driving Patton’s cock over his prostate causing the lewdest moans to escaped the royal.

“You’re so big. Filling me up just right. Might have to start calling you my stud instead of my whore if you’re going to let me use you so much.”

“Use me, Lovey. Fu...fuck yourself on me.. I mean.. Oh goodness please right there.” Patton was falling apart faster than he could ask for it as a lubed finger circled over his opening. But when he realized both of Roman’s hands were touching on his own glorious body. Patton found he suddenly felt different. Reaching up to touch Roman in their signal.  

“I’m a whore, but only your sexual plaything, Roman. Only want your hands on me in an intimate way. Please send the masseuses away. Just want you to see me like this.” Patton expressed his discomfort as Roman repeated their signal.

“That’s my good tramp. My plaything through and through. Does this work for you?” Roman turned Patton’s flushed face to the side so he could see the two random masseuses fade out to be replaced with two bare naked Roman copies. Stroking their hard cocks with that same fire in their eyes that the real Roman currently had. “Exact copies of yours truly? Why, yes you are that lucky. Their not perfect copies of course. Because magic like me only happens once in a lifetime.”

“Luckiest man alive because my premadonna boy loves me about as much as he loves himself.” Patton whispered against Roman’s lips as he locked their lips in the perfect celluloid kiss.

“So I’ll take that as we can join in?” The Roman copies said in unison.

“Yes, please. Join us. I want every version of my Lovey.” Patton beckoned the copies closer trading kisses with them as the real Roman stroked himself until he was dripping again.

Working like a connected mind, one Roman copy stretched Patton open getting the moral side to come by the third finger was rocking deep inside. The real Roman kept Patton’s cock trapped in his body as they continued to play with him. The other Roman copy stroked Patton’s hair back from his face as he fucked himself into Patton’s mouth over and over again. The copy began humming when the moral side’s moans turned into vibrations as the other Roman copy jerked them all lower on the massage table so he could fuck Patton as deep as he needed. Fully seated inside, Patton came again with soft thank yous and requests for more.

Breathing in quick bursts when the cock in his mouth moved back. It gave Patton enough time to call out the royal’s name. His voice sounded broken in the best way as the real Roman started bouncing once he was hard again. The motion of the royal’s hips were opposite to the thrusting strokes that was filling Patton’s body. Everywhere Patton could look, feel, taste, and touch was his Roman. Roman was his world.

“Going to make us come so hard. Wouldn’t expect less from my perfect fuck toy. Going to mark you and cover you from head to toe.” Roman exclaimed as he tugged Patton’s hand from his body to his cock as he started coming. Marking his love and the copy in the process. Which set off that Roman copy.

“Mouth so warm and wonderful going to spill right down your throat, whore.” With another stroke Patton was visibility swallowing as fast as he could.

“Forget his mouth. His ass is so tight it’s pulling my cock right back in. Going to fill him all the way up. All the come his ass can hold.” The Roman copy sank balls deep growling as he as Patton pulled tight around him. Panting and tiny bouts joyous laughter echoed from the four males. Roman caressed Patton’s face but the heart was to torn repeat the signal.

The heart’s world was full and overwhelming one minute and he was empty and hollow the next. Whimpering with eyes closed, because the light was too bright. Soft words convinced him to let the helping hands guide him to sit and then stand. Strong arms picking him up and carrying him to another room. Warm water and bubbles covered his skin as he clung the familiar solid body. Hands cleaned him while soft lips pressed gentle kisses to his face. Slowly and surely the bliss and fog cleared from his head as he opened his eyes. Patton felt like melted butter on top of warm flapjacks.

“There you are, my sweetest. You slipped deeper into subspace then I’ve seen you go. Thought maybe you wouldn’t want to come back.” Roman coo’ed as Patton smiled like he was drunk.

“I’d always… come back.. T-to you. Out-side...space is good, but doesn’t have you.” Patton’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth but knew he got his point across when Roman beamed down at him.

“There’s a banquet of your favorite foods and Winnie the Pooh Bear movies waiting for us when we’re done here. You made me so proud. Used your words when you could.” Roman smirked and continued on. To much Patton’s delight. “Made your needs and fantasies known to me. Then you relaxed and trusted me. I love you, I hope you know that.”

“Love you so much, my Lovey.” Patton’s smile reached his eyes as he hugged Roman.

It was going to be best second anniversary anyone could ever have, especially since there were three more ‘Massages with Benefits’ sessions to the spa package.

[softstraykidsimagines]

Boyfriend!Seungmin Stray Kids

ALRIGHTY

Our lovely fluffy Seungmin

He’s lowkey becoming bias wrecker for me whoops

Let’s get started!!

During when he has a crush on you

Ohhhh boy

He’s gonna be insanely shy

It’s adorable

He’ll try to do little things to make you happy

From complementing you

To buying you something small like a key chain

But it’s always something meaningful

Something that reminds you of him

Let’s not discard the fact that anytime he actually does something like this for you

He’s gonna sprint away before you can even thank him properly

And he’ll hide somewhere so that you can’t see or hear him squeal with joy

Ok it’s official I am soft for Seungmin

You don’t really have too much doubt about him liking you

You’ve picked up remarkably fast how shy he is with you compared to when he’s with the rest of SK 

And you figured he had an ulterior motive when he happened to just “think of you” and buy something

Or when he teases you but quickly apologises and tells you he doesn’t mean it 

He’s just not very subtle 

So you’re rather upfront with him one day when you ask

“Soooo, I’ve been wondering…. why have you been so sweet to me? With all the nice gifts and stuff?”

He would immediately go red in the face

His eyes would go wide

And he’d just stand there a moment with his mouth hanging open not knowing wtf to do

And you feel kinda bad tbh

No one likes being in such an awkward situation so the way you just asked him out-of-the-blue seemed almost cruel

He finally managed to stutter out

“W-well umm…. I k-kinda… sort o-of l-like you…?”

It deadass took him a whole 30sec to finish

And you’re doing an Irish jig on the inside cause

WOOT WOOT he likes you too!!

“I really like you too, Seungmin” you say quickly before he can run off in embarrassment

He looks at you hella confused like

The person he’s liked for so freaking long likes him back?? Or is he dreaming??? Whatishappeningrightnow????

SeungminHasStoppedWorking.jpg

So you tell him where you want to hang out in the future

And there we go you’ve successfully planned your first date woohoo!!

Dates with this bean are soft and laid back

Ice cream dates

Coffee dates

Just wandering-around-for-no-reason dates

It’s so relaxing

Of course until one of you holds the other’s hand

Then it’s skyrocketing heart rates

And pink cheeks

At the end of your 2nd or 3rd date, he’d finally muster the courage to kiss you....

On the cheek haha you thought 

As you’re saying goodbye

Leaving you flustered af as he runs away yelling that he’ll text you later

I don’t think he’ll have the guts to kiss you first tho 

It’s up to you my friend

You’ll be sitting on a bench somewhere, just talking

And he just

Randomly

Pokes your cheek.

And you look at him like wtf man why

And he just turns away grinning

So you get cheeky, planning on making this sudden burst of confidence melt faster than snow in the sun

So you swoop in and peck his cheek

He blushes like crazy but he refuses to let you win

So he looks at you a moment

With a slight smirk on his face

Seriously where did all this confidence come from he was a shy child a minute ago tf?

And he kisses you right on the nose

Needless to say that surprised you

And spur of the moment

You decide you’re gonna kiss him smack on the lips

His eyes are wide as all hell

But he relaxes a split second later, kissing you back softly

You both part smiling slightly

Before he whisper-screeches, hiding his face in his hands, all embarrassed

And you also blush like crazy, also fighting the urge to run away

GAH THIS IS SO CUTE 

When he introduces you to the rest of the group

Oh

My god

It’s gonna be chaos I swear

Everyone’s gonna welcome you politely and enthusiastically

And then they’ll start poking fun at Seungmin

“AWWWW they’re so lovely! How on earth did you get them to date you??” Says Jisung

“I bet he pays them” replies Minho, cackling

“Must have been a lot of money” chipped in Changbin, enjoying himself 

All the while Seungmin makes a face like ‘this is the shit I need to put up with all the time good lord’

“Come on guys! Of course y/n didn’t agree to this for money” yells Jeongin

Seungmin is about to thank him when he finishes:

“They obviously came to meet me through Hyung” and he sprints off at top speed with Seungmin hot on his heels screaming bloody murder

“Please take care of him, y/n” Chan says quietly while the other boys guffaw at the two youngest’s behavior. “He really likes you”

And that’s exactly what you do

You guys have got each others back

No matter what

Someone tries to offend you in any way, shape or form 

And he’s there in front of you like a human shield ready to fight 

If he gets sick you’re there as quick as a flash with everything he needs, all the way from cold remedies to recipes for hot soup

While you’re making sure he’s not burning up, he’ll just whisper

“Can I just cuddle you? I swear I won’t sneeze on you”

So you just lie there holding each other the entire day

He keeps his promise and doesn’t sneeze on you btw

When you’re sick, he’s not gonna know what the hell to do

Lost puppy 

He’ll run around trying to find the right meds for you (he’ll take the time to read each label to make sure it’s the right one)

He’ll try to make soup it doesn’t work

But after a while he’ll calm down and sit with you to watch something on TV

Apologising that he couldn’t make your fav meal 

Makes up for it by buying takeout 

Man I want takeout now :(

He can sometimes feel down about the day

Something might have happened at the fansign/performance, he might feel really tired and fed up with work

So it’s your job to be there and comfort him 

You just wrap your arms around him and sit with his head on your shoulder 

And he cries silently with you, grateful that you’re with him 

Guess who’s emo while writing this

Sometimes days can get bad enough that he starts to shut you out all-together 

Seungmin isn’t the direct type 

He isn’t gonna start an argument because he’s stressed 

He’s gonna avoid any kind of conflict 

So he avoids you, ignores you, refuses to talk to you when he’s too upset 

Because he doesn’t want to lash out and hurt you 

But he’ll notice when he does this that it actually does hurt you 

Almost more than an argument would 

Because you want to help 

And he won’t let you 

So he’ll eventually come to talk to you, his head bowed and eyes glimmering with tears 

And he’ll just hug you, asking for you to forgive how stupid he can be 

RIGHT back to fluff because I don’t want to cry rn 

He loves to teach you to sing his parts in every song 

He feels you can understand his work better and be closer to him 

You two will end up sometimes randomly singing his part in a song at the top of your lungs in the dorm, in turn pissing off the rest of the boys 

You’ll both have singing competitions: who can sing the highest, lowest, longest, or most dramatically 

And you both end up collapsing from laughing too hard 

He’s gonna try to speak English around you 

Just so he can practice 

Have you heard his awesome accent during ASC that is a yes from me I don’t want to forget that 

He might ask you for help but he’s mostly too stubborn and proud to so he’ll struggle for a while until you ask if he wants a helping hand 

“Hey, need help for the pronunciation, there?” 

“Nope! Nope it’s fine! I’m fine! Toooootally fine” :D 

You two like trying to learn new recipes to cook for the rest of SK 

It’s actually super fun 

And you both manage to make a few dishes without setting the dorms on fire *applause* 

And you make breakfast for them too: fried eggs! now I’m really hungry aw man 

And the boys are already teasing you talking about how you’re couple goals and how well you two go together 

Making the both of you sprint back into the kitchen, giggling like children

Seungmin is gonna ask you to meet his family first 

But it doesn’t scare you that much 

For a good reason:

He’s an angel, so he must have been raised by angels logic

You meet them and they melt when they see you 

You chat, they share pictures of Seungmin when he was little he’s gonna be close to crying from embarrassment because “COME ON YOU JUST MET” 

His sister adores you 

Tells you about the pranks she’s pulled on her poor bro in the past 

Which warrants a death glare from Seungmin 

All in all his fam are your fam because they love you as much as they love Seungmin 

He’s a lot A LOT more nervous about meeting your parents 

He’s pretty damn close to fainting when the day to meet up comes 

Pale as sheet istg 

So you gotta be there for him to cling onto like a baby koala 

Save this boy I beg of you

Nearly hides behind you when he first greets your parents 

Basically leaps out of his skin every time someone raises their voice even a little bit 

But he gets a little calmer after a while 

And starts to genuinely smile and laugh 

By the end of the day he’s a happy squish with no sign of nervousness

Success! 

In the evenings he likes to buy a crap-ton of snacks and sit with you to binge watch your fav show 

You two will probs have a competition to see who can catch the most food in their mouth sigh 

He loves when you poke his left cheek 

He’ll act cute with you if he’s asking for something 

And it’s so freaking hard to say no damn it!!

He’ll have a fucking heart attack if he sees you wearing one of his hoodies or denim jackets like how many does he actually have??

But he’ll love it 

He’s gonna grin from ear to ear saying how cute you look 

Will not let you go throughout the night

Just wants to cling to you and snuggle you to death the entire evening 

You’ve probs already guessed that he is definitely not gonna be the first one to say ‘I love you’ 

Nah he’s way to shy and lowkey scared to 

But I bet you’re gonna do it kinda by accident 

You guys have been having a dance competition 

He’s gonna be jumping around all energetic and happy 

Because he’s having the time of his life messing around with you 

And you’ll accidentally let slip: 

“You’re such a dork! This is why I love you so much” 

And both of you stop laughing and stare at each other 

While you’re mentally going OH SHIT WHAT HAVE I DONE 

But Seungmin suddenly screams like a little girl 

He can’t contain himself

Runs at you at full speed 

And tackles you into a bone-crushing hug 

Making you both topple over onto the floor laughing 

Without letting you go, he’s gonna say, all giddy “I love you too!!! I was scared to say it but I’m not anymore I do love youuuuuuu!!” 

And the rest of the day you’re both skipping around, making SK wonder wtf happened to the two of you

“Are they possessed or something?” -Hyunjin 

“Who even knows with those two” -Chan  

“Guess we’ll never know” -Felix, chuckling 

Half the time they don’t get at all what happens between you two lmao 

When Stray Kids are away, Seungmin’s gonna want to FaceTime you whenever he’s free 

He’s a pouty boy who misses you senseless and forgets how to function like a proper human being when you’re not around 

SK are having to tell him specifically what to do every other minute because he keeps daydreaming about when he gets to see you again smh 

He’s gonna be so.freakin.hyper on the way back from wherever the boys were 

No one wants to sit next to him on the plane because they know all he’s gonna want to do is talk about you 

And they get enough of that on a regular basis anyway 

But they’re happy at how energetic he is when they land and he can finally see you 

He’s gonna Naruto run to you and hug you so tightly whispering how much he missed you 

And you’ll be laughing like 

“It’s been two days, buddy” 

“Yeah but it feels like AGES! It’s been an eternity and I was going insane!!” 

Seungmin most likely won’t go public about your relationship until after a year to a year-and-a-half

Wants to make sure you’re 100% ok with it 

Because he knows there will be a bit probably a lot of drama on the net about you 

He’ll post a cute selfie of the two of you 

You’re both smiling happily 

And he’ll caption it: ‘Hey everyone!! This is y/n, we’ve been together for quite a while now, and I wanted to introduce you! I hope you welcome them warmly!’ 

The internet isn’t going to shut up about you for an eternity holy shit

The entire universe ships you two 

You’re the adorable smiley couple

That everyone 

And I mean everyone 

Loves to bits 

A/N: YAY! It was really fun to write about this adorable fluff ball :D 

Also, there aren’t NEARLY as many Seungmin GIFs as there should be!

Hope everyone has a lovely day!! And feel free to request anything! Ciao <3

P.S: I love this GIF so much it’s not even funny 

[promptlists]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love (Harry Hook X Reader)

A/N: I feel I went a little overboard with this one (excuse the terrible pirate pun - I couldn’t help myself) but I hope you enjoy it anyway xxx Words: 5138 Requested: Yes! Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst Could you do Harry X Daughter of Hades reader with her attitude more like Meg (NOT related to her, like how Jay acts more like Aladdin) I can’t stop thinking about the song I won’t say (I’m in love). I kind of took the song idea and ran with it soooo…

If there was a prize for rotten judgement, you had already won it. Every person that you were drawn was inherently bad, not in the sense that they were a villain like you, but in the aspect that they wanted to break you heart. First the son of Scar, then the son Shan Yu, the sons of Mother Gothel, The Queen of Hearts and Dr Facilier equally as damaging to your mental wellbeing. Boys to you, were bad news, and you had had your heart broken so many times it was becoming tiring. You were the daughter of Hades, a goddess who was supposed to be the embodiment of evil, but it was hard to uphold a stone-cold reputation when you were constantly sniffling about your latest failed love interest. It was your best friend who always had to scoop you up off the floor, your best friend who always told you you were better than which ever villain broke your heart, your best friend who taught you that you didn’t need any pathetic boyfriend to make you worthy. It was also you best friend who had threatened to hook anybody who so much as looked at you the wrong way, but that was a habit you were trying to talk him out of. In short our best friend was pretty fucking amazing, if not a little intense. So you took his advice and made a new philosophy, vowing to never fall in love again. It wasn’t quite what he had meant but it was the easiest way to insure you would’t be hurt once more. Why would you need a relationship when you already had everything you needed in a best friend, when you already had everything you needed in Harry Hook.

“I could hurt ye,” Harry whispered a hint of seduction lingering in his Scottish accent as he traced the outline of Mal’s face with his hook. He didn’t believe his luck when he found his Captain’s worst enemy in the “Curl Up and Dye” whilst making his usual rounds, and was using the opportunity to get underneath her skin. His brief session of intimidation was swiftly interrupted by the entrance of a very familiar goddess. “Oh come on Harry! My best friend hasn’t even been on the Isle for an hour and you’re already threatening her! Hands off now!” You had walked in on Harry threatening one of your closest friends, Evie and Dizzy standing in a corner not really knowing what to do. You marched towards the smirking pirate and gave him the look, the look that meant business, the look that meant: you have two seconds to do what I say or I can no longer be held responsible for my actions. Harry sighed. “Oh come on Y/N, I’m only playing” he taunted, grinning at you slightly two widely. You rolled your eyes. “Off!” “I thought I was yer best friend not her” “Harry!” “Ye haven’t replaced me now have ye darling?” He said with mock sarcasm, turning to you with puppy eyes before winking. He was still poking his hook at Mal, making you huff a little. You changed your tactics, standing behind the pirate and pushing your lips to his ear. “Now where would you get that idea Hook” you said so quietly it could have been a whisper, slowly running your hand up Harry’s back. You felt all of his muscles tense up under his shirt and smirked to yourself. Your plan worked, his focus shifted to you instead of the purple haired VK. Suddenly you pulled him backwards away from Mal and stood in front of him, arms crossed with an un-amused look painted on your face. “Don’t look at me like that. Ye make it out like I’m some kind of bad guy” Harry grinned, his signature smirk reappearing. “That’s because you are” The pirate pouted. “Yer forgetting that ye ain’t exactly a saint yourself Y/N”. You both looked each other in the eye, trying to keep a straight face, but cracked simultaneously, erupting into a fit of giggles. “Perhaps. I guess this is why we are friends,” you said eventually but then hardened your tone again. “But I swear to god Har. If you threaten Mal again I’ll personally make sure you’re banished to the underworld. I don’t care how much Uma hates her” You glanced at Mal with a smile, who had gone to join Dizzy and Evie in the corner of the salon. “Anything for ye…” Harry started, when his eyes lit up with mischief you new exactly how he was going to finish the sentence. The dreaded nickname. “Don’t you dare call m-” “Hot stuff!”. He winked at you and you groaned running towards him and shoving his chest. Harry had called you hot stuff since you were ten, when he made you so angry that your hair ignited, engulfing your head with cobalt flames much like your father. You begged him for days to stop, but seeing as you hated it so much (mainly due to the fact that people started to presume you were together) Harry decided to keep it.

As your hands connected with the pirate chest, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. In a second, you were tossed over his shoulder, kicking, screaming and flailing your limbs as he spun you around in a circle, his hook resting over the small of your back. You were both chuckling heartily, completely forgetting you had an audience until little Dizzy cleared her throat loudly enough for you to hear. “Harold James Hook! Put me down right now!” “Any thing ye say… Hot stuff” “Harry!” You screeched. “Well as much as I would love to stay and chat.. hot stuff” He ignored your glare but sniggered to himself before continuing “But I’ve got more children to steal from” Immediately your jaw clenched and Harry realised his mistake too late. “You’re stealing from children again?” He ran his hands through his hair and avoided your eyes. “I am a villain Y/N. It’s what I do” “No, we talked about this Harry! You’re a villain yes, but not a monster. You don’t steal from children”   “Uma told me t-” “Uma doesn’t control what you do” “No, I’m sorry I forgot that was ye job” Harry muttered sarcastically under his breath. You raised an eyebrow at him long enough for him to cave in. “Fine! I’ll give it all back!” The pirate finally announced “Ye going to be the death of my Y/N” he said rolling his eyes. “What else are best friends for Harry?” You grinned back at him as he made his way out of the salon. “Dizzy yer money” He grumbled reluctantly, dropping it by the door before turning back to face you “Meet you in the market at seven?” “Meet you in the market at seven” you reaffirmed, nodding at him with a grin. Harry hadn’t even been gone 10 seconds before you were descended on by the group of confused yet intrigued VK’s standing in the corner.

“Oh. My. God!” Evie shrieked like a little school girl, jumping up and down and squealing “We knew it! We all new it!” Dizzy shouted, grabbing your forearm and tugging at it a little. You huffed but chuckled lightly at their giddiness. “You know what?” “That you love Harry!” Mal practically shouted, grabbing your other arm and beaming at you. “No.” You said defiantly, your top lip wrinkling at the mention of the word love. “I most certainly do not.” “Who’d you think you’re kidding Y/N?” Evie laughed “He’s the earth and heaven to you” “He’s my best friend!” You protested. “We can see right through you. You love each other!” Mal added, glancing at Evie with a knowing look. “It’s okay Mal, just shout it a bit louder. I don’t think the deaf man at the end of the alley quite heard you” you hissed, shaking the girls off of your arm “We do not love each other okay?” “But you have him wrapped around your finger! Do you think he would have given me back my money if anbody else had told him to” Dizzy tried to reason. “He’s my best friend!” You repeated. “And I’ve seen the way you look at each other” Mal said. “He’s all you talk about, all you think about” Evie said backing her up. You inhaled sharply before starting to ramble, refusing to take a breath until you had finished “I am not in love with Harry Hook he is my best friend and that’s how it has been and how it will always be everything works just fine the way it is we do not need to complicate that by taking it any further I mean why would we anyway relationships aren’t even a thing on the isle and I don’t need to ruin the one thing that I got right because of some stupid feelings that might not even really be there” The three VK’s looked at each other, then at you “Oh my gosh Y/N you’re scared of falling in love” “I am not!” “Face it like a grown up Y/N, you’ve got it bad. It’s a good thing you know, love is a good thing” “You don’t get it” “But we do… Don’t be proud Y/N, it’s okay to admit you’re in love” You just looked at them for a second, your stony facade wavering slightly as a memory invaded your thoughts.

(Flashback) Vibrant, curious, alive with bounce and effort. That’s how you remember the two of you that night. Your hair was flowing behind you, rustled by the breeze, as you ran giggling from the brunette beside you. He was mesmerised by your goofy grin, your cheeks pink from the cold. You and Harry couldn’t have been older than seven but you had snuck out once the sun had set, running barefoot down a grassy sand dune, holding your shoes in one hand, tossing them over one shoulder, grabbing each others hand with the opposite. “Harry, look at the sea!” You shouted with wonder. Reflected on the gossamer surface of the ocean was a perfect silver orb, a full moon, making the young pirate laugh a little. “It’s only the moon Y/N” “But it looks pretty though. It just looks so perfect ” you defended, pouting a little as you gazed out at the water. “Yer really weird you know” Harry said, letting go of your hand but shuffling closer to you. “Oh” was all you said quietly. “It’s a good thing” Harry rushed, trying to explain what he was thinking “Ye know normal people are boring” Harry looked at you, his pirate hat was way too big for his head so it slouched too far forward, covering his eyes. You broke out into an uncontrollable smile as you looked up at Harry who even at that age was taller than you. “I love you Harry” “I love you too” Then the seven year old pirate knelt down, one knee digging into the wet sand as he took off his hat. He scrambled around in his back pocket until he pulled out a small copper ring, a glossy black stone adorned the band. You gasped. “Will ye marry me Y/N?” the younger Harry Hook announced, giving you the ring and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Your smile was even wider. “Har! We are far too young to get married! Ask me again when we’re older and I’ll say yes.” You passed him back the ring and kissed his cheek. “Okay Y/N” Harry said slightly deflated but still smiling as wide, “Ye better not forget”

When you snapped out of your daydream, Evie, Mal and Dizzy were staring at you with smug looks, leaving you to wonder how long you had zoned out for. “I won’t say I’m in love” was all you huffed before you left the salon.

You weren’t even half way down the street before you started to curse the three of them. Because, for the first time, it occurred to you. They might actually be right. You were in love with Harry Hook. Shit. You were in love with Harry Hook. He was your one stable force, your one ounce of stability in a world of chaos who was always there through good and bad. You loved him so much for that. You were in love with him and you couldn’t believe that you’d only just realised it. But then the doubt came. You knew he didn’t love you back, Harry had made it very clear on numerous occasions, hell, he was the one who told you to stop falling in love. Once before you had tried to confess your feelings for Harry, even if you didn’t consciously realise that was what you were doing yourself, and the outcome had bruised way more than just your ego.

(Flashback) Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shop was packed as per usual. You were hustled into a particularly lively corner, talking with Harry over a plate full of fries. It wasn’t unusual for you two to eat together, in fact you had been bonding over questionably good fish and chips for as long as you could remember. It had become a tradition. Much like it had become a tradition to try and calm Harry down when he told you about who was irritating him and tradition for him to throw food all over the place. Much like how it had become tradition for Harry to glare at anybody else who tried to talk to you until they walked away. Much like how it had become tradition for you to laugh at him and tell him to relax. But that day was different. “I don’t think ye understand how much I hate that kid,” Harry snarled, picking up a handful of fries and launching them across the room. Normal. “Har! When did you ever care what Drew thinks anyway? If you’re mad at him, fine by me, but don’t waste my food on his sorry ass,” you laughed, hugging the plate of chips protectively. Harry slumped down beside you, muttering to himself. Also normal. “Have ye got a problem mate because if not ye need to move along and stop looking at Y/N. She isn’t interested” He shouted at whichever poor boy was approaching you. Again completely and utterly normal. “Give it a rest Har, I can defend myself” you giggled. Normal, sweet normal. But then you tilted your head to look at him “Besides Harry, I wanted to ask you something” Not normal. This was new. This was un-expected. This was spontaneous, out of blue, intriguing but not in any realm of normality. “Well ask away” replied Harry with a grin, clearly he wasn’t phased by the new conversation. “I was just wondering whether you wanted to go and see the floating lanterns with me tomorrow, you know for my birthday. They’ll be lighting them in Auradon all weekend so if we get boat at night we’ll be able to see them across the lake” You looked up at Harry hopefully “I thought it could be nice” “Ye want to see the lanterns?” You nodded your head. “Ye have always been odd Y/N. But yes, I’ll come see the lanterns with ye. I’ll get Uma and Gil to come t-” “No!” You said quickly before returning your voice back to normal “I mean, maybe us two could just go. You smiled weakly at Harry, who cocked his head and looked at you differently. It took a moment for you to realise what you had just done. You had asked Harry on a date. You cursed yourself over and over unable to comprehend why you had just done that. He rubbed the back off his neck. "Hmm, when I think about it I have to train some new crew members with Uma. Maybe another time?” Your stomach twinged a little but your forced yourself to keep smiling. “What about the day after. Like I say they’ll be letting them off all weeke-” “I’m on lookout duty all that night” “Oh” You felt about two centimetres tall in that moment but you refused to let that stupid smile falter. “How about you just tell me when you’re free and we’ll go on a boat trip then. Lanterns or no lanterns. I mean my birthday would have passed but it’s okay” Harry put his hook down on the table and avoided your gaze purposely. “I don’t really have time for a boat trip. I’ve just always got stuff to do” Rejected. You had just been rejected by your best friend and it stung like a bitch. “That okay,” you lied “No worries” Harry picked up another chip and ate it awkwardly. You didn’t speak for a while. A small piece of you had just died, but you kept that goddamn smile on your face. “Are ye okay Y/N, ye look like yer going to be sick” “Yeah yeah I’m fine. Actually no, I think I’m getting sick. I’m just going to sleep it off. Bye” You ran out of the restaurant and away from a bewildered looking pirate, before he could stop you. You couldn’t work out why you were crying about Harry Hook that day but looking back it was so obvious; your heart had been re-broken.

You weren’t mad at Harry after that day, how could you be? He hadn’t done anything wrong, he just didn’t love you in that way. But that was okay, because he was still your best friend, nothing could take away from that. So you moved on, accepted that being friends was the best you were going to get and pushed any feelings you had for Harry deep down. Just not deep enough.

You were down at the market place before Harry was, so you took the time you had spare to browse the various stalls, ignoring the calls of market traders to buy their produce. Usually if you wanted something you would just steal it, an odd apple here and there, a random scarf from time to time. Recently though, you had being to cut back on your petty thieving vice so you resisted the urge to take anything. You made your way to a small cart at the back of the market selling jewellery, the whole stand glinting with golds, silvers and bronzes. You knew none of it would be precious metal, you simply didn’t get that on the isle, but they were pretty nonetheless. “How much is this one,” you said, picking up a silver hair brooch encrusted with small red gems. The market vender was about to answer but was cut off by a voice from behind you, a familiar palm resting on your shoulder. “Might not be the best idea to get that with yer hair sweetheart” Harry whispered, pulling himself in close to you and speaking in your ear. A nauseating jolt of butterfly’s rippled through your stomach before you could stop yourself. Get a grip girl. You tried to tell yourself but you couldn’t help it. You handed the hair clip back to the stall worker and walked away with Harry. “I was going to get that you know” you said, punching Harry playfully in the arm. He grinned at you. “I didn’t know ye were the jewellery type hot stuff” You punched him again for using that god awful nickname before you answered him. “I love jewellery Har, you know it’s one of my many weakness’” It was true, Harry would often tease you, calling you a magpie, as you had a soft spot necklaces and earrings. “I got you something” Harry said quietly, opening the his palm to reveal a intricate ring. He reached for your hand, slipping it onto your finger and smiling at you. You looked at the pirate, then at the ring, then back at the pirate again. “Harry! It’s beautiful” You flung your arms around him but then paused “Did you steal it?” Harry scoffed. “Did I steal it? Ye got some nerve ye do Y/N. Of course I didn’t. I’m just offended ye don’t recognise it” he laughed. You looked at the ring Harry had given you again. It was copper, a glossy black stone adorning the band. It was the ring from the beach, the ring from your childhood. You took a step backwards “Harry I-” You were cut off when Harry pushed his forehead against yours, your eyes widening in alarm. He slowly, started to angle his head towards yours, his lips parting slightly. He was going to kiss you, holy shit he was going to kiss you. A wave of anger washed over you almost instantly. “Harry what the hell!” You slapped him hard, straight across his face, surprising the both of you. You were only getting angrier. “Y/N-” “No! Stop it! Stop playing with my emotions! I thought you were different! I don’t get it, you don’t like me enough to spend time with me on my birthday Harry, MY BIRTHDAY, but somehow you think it’s okay to spring shit like this on me!” The ends of your hair were burning blue now “I didn’t mean to-” “This is all just an intimidation thing isn’t it” you yelled not caring who was staring now “You flirt with everyone you’re trying to intimidate I knew that, but I’m supposed your best friend, why are you trying to scare me” “I don’t w-” “I’m going to walk away now so I don’t set myself on fire in public,” you said as calmly as you could manage “Go try and kiss somebody else”

You had to calm down and you knew it. You had to do it fast. Your hair was always the first thing to catch fire but the burning sensation would spread further than that if you couldn’t control it. You wanted to cry, to scream, to tear down a building when you stomped away from Harry, your confusion at his actions amplifying your emotions. You had to stay in control. There was one time when you couldn’t, when the anger was so overwhelming that your body temperature rose so dangerously high that you collapsed. You were hospitalised for weeks with severe burns, reiterating the fact that although you were the daughter of a god, you weren’t immortal. An uncomfortable prickle of heat spread across your skin as you collapsed in the alleyway bawling. You were lucky that Evie found you. “He tried to kiss me Evie. I don’t understand him and it’s driving me insane. I don’t know what he’s thinking,” “Oh Y/N,” Evie said, daring to touch your shoulder once you had cooled down “You are literally the only person on the whole Isle who can’t hear what he’s trying to tell you”

Optimistic. That’s how you felt as you stepped onto that pirate a ship, a strong belief that everything was going to turn out brilliantly. Evie helped you to accept that perhaps you over-reacted at Harry’s attempt to kiss you, so you marched to the docks armed with an apology and a sorry looking smile. You felt terrible, if Harry had truly intended to kiss you genuinely then you couldn’t even begin to understand how he was feeling. Not only had you completely rejected the poor pirate, you had embarrassed him in front of the whole market. The saddest part of all of the whole messy situation was that you actually wanted to kiss Harry, it was your fear of admitting your feelings that was pushing you away. You hoped Harry was in an understanding mood.

You scoured the upper deck for the pirate but you struggled to find him anywhere. You did on the other hand, find Uma. “Hey Uma! Do you know where Harry is?” You asked the Captain, slowly making your way towards her. You may not exactly have been friends with Uma but you two were civil and got along well enough. She nodded at you reluctantly, as if contemplating whether to speak. “He’s in his cabin,” she replied softly, looking at you with pity. You presumed she was acting strangely because Harry had told her about the market incident. You were wrong.

You whistled to yourself as you you climbed the stairs to Harry’s cabin, pausing outside of his door to give yourself a pep talk. There was no point in denying it anymore, you were completely and utterly head over heels for the boy and bottling your feelings up wasn’t going to help anything. You decided then and there you were just going to tell him, get everything off of your chest once and for all. It was Harry after all, you could tell him anything in confidence and vice versa, the two of you were practically inseparable. “You’ve got this Y/N,” You told yourself “Get in there and get yourself a boyfriend”. You grinned nervously but felt oddly calm, opening the door of Harry’s bedroom. “Har?” You called out softly. Then your whole world collapsed.

Harry Hook. Hailey Facilier. Kissing. Each other. On the lips. That’s all you had to see to know it had happened again. Your heart had well and truly broken this time. You shut the door slowly, knowing they hadn’t seen you. You felt like you’d been hit in the face. But the funny thing was, you weren’t surprised. Harry was the biggest flirt on the Isle, he was known to break hearts left right and centre, yet you refused to believe he would do that to you. It was like giving a murder a knife and expecting not to be stabbed. After all he had said about the guys who had hurt you, he had joined the list himself. But you still weren’t prepared for it. How could you possibly have prepared to have your heart ripped out of your chest. You underestimated the power of heartbreak. Why were you never ready for it? Because you loved him. Or maybe because you were in denial. You thought Harry would never do it to you. You thought the murder wouldn’t stab you. But you had been stabbed all right, stabbed right in the very back.

You stumbled your way back to the main ship. You couldn’t see, you didn’t know where you were or where you were going, you knew one thing and one thing only. You were burning. Anger boiled deep down in your system, as hot as lava, scorching you from the inside out. It churned from within you, hungry for destruction and you knew this time that it’s too much for you to handle. There was no way for you to control this. The pressure of the raging sea of anger wouldn’t just force you to say things you didn’t mean or release the pent up emotions you had suppressed for weeks, it would hurt people, including yourself. Seriously hurt people. How could you Harry? was the only thought you had as you hit the deck.

“Harry!” Gil yelled as he ran to find the first mate “Harry! We don’t know what to do!” The doors to Harry’s cabin flew open revealing him sat alone at the foot of his bed, his head in his hands. He jerked his head to face Gil. “What are ye going on about,” he snapped. “It’s Y/N! I think she’s about to set on fire again!” Harry winced at your name but still managed to roll his eyes. “She’s the daughter of bloody Hades what do ye expect! Ye know her hair sets on fire” Gil shook his head violently, so much so it made him dizzy “Yeah but Harry! It’s not just her hair!”

Harry was panicking. He was there when this happened before, when he had no idea what to do, when all he could do was stand and watch you. He raced down to the ship deck, where you were laid on the floor, a crowd of pirates surrounding you. He pushed them all out of the way. “What the fuck has made her so mad!” Harry screamed to no-one in particular as he kneeled beside you. “Get away from me!” You spat, wiggling as far from his as you could. You couldn’t stand up anymore, your entire body glowing red as you continued to get hotter and hotter. It hurt to move. “Y/N” “Please,” you croaked, any resentment in your voice vanishing, leaving you completely vulnerable “Please just go back to Hailey” “What do you mean back to Ha- Y/N you’ve got this all wrong” Without thinking Harry reached for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close. He grimaced, a searing burning pain exploding from the arm that was holding you but he shrugged it off, pulling you into a closer embrace. He started to rub your cheek. “Please try and calm yer self down Y/N” He whispered to you. “Let go of me Harry, I’m hurting you”. You were crying but your tears turned to steam as soon as they touched your face. “I’m the one that’s hurt ye love and I’m sorry” His embrace was soothing, his muscular arms protective of you as he held your frail burning body. Slowly but surely you felt your body temperature decline. “Do you love her Harry?” It was a question you didn’t want to know the answer to but you asked anyway. “Y/N ye don’t seriously think that do ye?” He gripped your harder. Your skin was no longer glowing like embers of a bonfire but you still far from back to normal. “I saw you kissing and-” “She kissed me Y/N! She kissed me! And I pushed her off me! And I screamed at her because…” He paused for a second and just looked at you. “Because what?” Your voice was gentler now. “Because I fucking love ye Y/N” It happened suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch. You were extinguished. The flames disappeared. A new kind of warmth dispersed inside of you, a tingling happy glow of heat radiating from your stomach banishing the remnants of any anger. You melted, returning back to your normal state, looking up at Harry in disbelief. “What?” “Ye heard me, I love ye. And I’ve told myself for so long that I didn’t, because I was scared of ye finding out but I can’t help it I-” “I love you too Har” You buried your face into the crook of Harry’s neck, no longer afraid of burning him to death. The Pirates around you began to cheer and you became suddenly aware that you had an audience. Harry waved his hands in an odd gesture and they all scurried away, leaving you sat on Harry’s lap in the middle of the ship. “I’m sorry for being a dick” “And I’m sorry for nearly giving you third degree burns” You both spluttered with laughter. “Yer lethal Y/N. Remind me of this whenever I plan on making ye angry again,” “Oh so you plan on making me angry in advance do you?” You smirked back at the pirate. You were back to being Y/N and Harry again, slipping back into the comforting roles as if nothing had happened,as if you hadn’t just been sat on the floor consumed by your own raging anger. It was refreshing. “Ye better believe it” Harry winked at you. He offered you a hand and pulled you up to stand behind him. “Now!” He said grandly “About that boat trip ye were banging on about…” Harry lead you to the ship’s railing and motioned towards a small white rowing boat tied up along the docks, a singular paper lantern resting at the bow. You grinned at him. “Harold James Hook, have I told you I love you?” “I love ye more” “Not possible” “It is” “It isn’t” “It is” “God we’re unbearable aren’t. we,” you chuckled lightly. “I’m afraid we are..” Harry smirked “…Hotstuff”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him... What would he do?

Notes from Mod Bonnie 

Trying something a bit new as a palate-cleanser, lads and lasses! 

Please do note that I am blissfully, unapologetically putting next-to-no effort into making this historically accurate. Soooo, if you’re in a military history/fact-checking/date-referencing mood… best take those efforts elsewhere ;D 

Hope you enjoy! 

The Last All-Clear 

September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail 

C. E. B. Randall

Camp Nightwing, France

17 September

Daytime rotation today.

No new battle casualties & all quiet in the distance, thank God. 

Did tend M. Danton (scored on the arm w/ rusted nail; antibiotics & sterile bandage to finish; strict instructions to report in 3 days for follow-up). 

A strange sort, and no two ways about it. 

“Claire—darling—dearest—You know how much I ADORE you, don’t you?”

I was already smirking—fondly, but smirking nonetheless—by the time I turned from restocking the supply cabinets for tomorrow. “How much do you adore me, Nance?”

“So much that I’ll do absolutely any of your chores—ALL your chores!!—for a week if you’ll go tend Danton??”

“Danton? The frenchman?” A glance revealed a familiar set of hunched shoulders (spilled over with filthy black hair) just visible through the cracked partition of the infirmary tent. “What’s happened to him?”

“Nothing serious. Says he got scraped by a nail or screw or something this morning and needs to be cleaned up a bit, but oh, please, Claire??” Nancy whined, grabbing both my hands in hers. “I know you were supposed to go off-duty at eight and it’s nine-thirty already but puh-LEASE will you take ten minutes before you go and be the one to tend him?? Please-please-pl—” 

“Good Lord, no need to go into a tizzy about it,” I laughed, a bit taken aback by how truly distraught she seemed. “Surely the man doesn’t bite!” Though in truth, I didn’t know that for certain.

I’d never spoken to him, nor even so much as looked him in the eye, but Danton—was his first name even known?— was a legend in camp. He’d joined the company a month or two ago, they said, one of the men-of-all-work that alternately served as laborer, orderly, handyman, gravedigger, or any other role requiring a strong back. Though I’d always gotten the sense he was past his prime, from the state of his clothing and posture and hygiene, a strong back Danton did have, and whatever his age might be, he was indispensable.  The camp always had to be ready to go into action, or even pick up and move entirely at a moment’s notice. In this chaotic wartime reality, with life and death so often on the line, a spare set of hands was always needful. 

There were a dozen such men in camp, all of them civilian frenchmen, but Danton was the only one people seemed to talk about; which was quite the irony, given that he was a man of notoriously few words. He kept always to himself, speaking only when directly addressed, gruffly and shortly when he was, crossing the verge of sheer bad-temperedness more often than not. Rooms tended to shift to low whispers when Danton entered, if not empty entirely.

It didn’t seem to bother him. The entirety of my experience with the man consisted of glimpses from across the camp or mess-hall. Yet, even that barest of acquaintance was enough to have convinced me that the unsmiling, grubby Danton—with his hunched shoulders, with that profoundly-unkempt black hair and drooping cap that together hid his eyes—wished to be left alone. 

My skin had prickled, though, whenever I had studied him, crawling with something I couldn’t quite put into words or even—

“He gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies!!” Nancy summarized neatly in a whisper. “I can’t do it, I just can’t! Anything you ask, Claire, and it’s done, but PLEASE be a brick and get me out of this??”

I would have agreed in any case—if for nothing more than to satisfy my own slightly-morbid curiosity— but I had absolutely no qualms over letting Nancy take my bedpan duties for a week out of the bargain.

….and surely the man DIDN’T bite?

“Monsieur Danton?”

He JUMPED as though shot, and I startled so violently (absurdly searching for elongated canines in the momentary panic) that I swore and dropped my tray, the bowl, cloth, and other impedimenta clattering and scattering all over the floor with great metallic crashes.

I was utterly mortified, positively dove to my hands and knees to gather the scattered supplies and hide my face, and then the sensation doubled to realize that the frenchman was on the ground beside me. I had only enough time to notice the juxtaposition of the fine leather glove on his left hand with the wretched filth of his clothing before he was placing the last item on the tray. “Thank you,” I mumbled awkwardly, glancing up to smile in thanks, and caught a momentary glimpse of vivid blue eyes before he recoiled, leaping to his feet and busying himself with getting the tray on the table. 

Shy, whatever else he might be. 

“Well, we’re off to a bumpy start, sol—Sir,” I managed with a weak laugh as I got to my feet, throwing myself fully into that ‘jovial commanding-officer’ character that had weathered many an awkward encounter in my career to-date. My usual script felt a little bereft without the useful address of ’soldier.’ “I’m Nurse Randall,” I said more briskly, clearing my throat with a smile.  “I’m told you need medical attention for your arm?”

He rolled up his sleeve without so much as a word. Very well, down to busin—

“Good LORD!” I gasped, stepping forward and reaching for the arm, then pushing him down into the chair. Not merely a scrape: it was a slash, a wicked, deep one, about two inches long, just below the right elbow. “This needs stitches! What the bloody hell happened?” 

No answer. 

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I said more kindly in French, “Monsieur, will you tell me what happened to your arm?”

No nod. No grunt. The brute didn’t bother even to raise his chin from his chest. 

No language barrier, then: just an arse.  

I reached for the antiseptic, my nostrils flaring. “Will you look at the state of this?” The blood had long since clotted, but the wound clearly hadn’t been washed, let alone sterilized. “Why in God’s name didn’t you come and get help for it right away?”

Silence.

“Excuse me, I am TALKING to you,” I snapped, choosing to stick with French for castigation as I prepared the suturing supplies. “Why didn’t you bother coming for help unt—?”

“Do what’s-must to prevent the festering and I’ll be going, yes?” he snapped back with such venom that I would have gasped if I weren’t so grounded in pique. 

So: he was both capable of speech and every bit as ill-tempered for it.  Lord, give me the strength not to SLAP this man. I bit my tongue and cleansed the wound in icy silence.

“Far from home?” I blurted testily, when the tension became too insufferable even for me. 

His head snapped up.

“Your accent,” I clarified as I reached for a clean cloth, genuinely curious despite my ire, “—your syntax. It’s not a standard dialect…nor like the other frenchmen in camp, I think?” 

“No.”

I had about an ounce of pleasantness left in me and I scraped it up to force a smile. “Grow up in the country, eh?”

“Yes.”

“…Care to share where?” 

“No.”

“Well, you’re just a blooming basket of violet-scented rainbows, aren’t you?” I snapped in English. “Hold bloody still, this will hurt and you’ll deserve every blasted bit of it.” I gritted my teeth and swore under my breath as I began stitching, in absolutely no mood for grumpy man-children. “Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST.”

By complete chance, standing bent over his arm as I began to stitch, I happened to be looking down at his mouth as I said it. To my absolute gobsmacked surprise, I saw a smile twitching at the corners, small and restrained, as though he were trying very much not to show it, but clear as day: a tiny smile verging on a grin. 

Well…! Not a *complete* automaton, then. 

I was taken still further aback when the mouth opened and said quietly in French without looking up, “Forgive me, please, Madame. I do not mean you ill.” The tone told me he was being genuine.  “It is only that I do not very much like—speaking.”

“It’s good to work at things you don’t like doing,” I said, fixing what I could see of his face with a sardonic glare between stitches, but trying not to smile. “Builds character.”  

Another infinitesimal twitch of the lips before he dropped his head, strings of wavy black hair hiding his features entirely. “It is—a small bit more easy to manage, in French.”  

“We’ll stick with the Français then,” I said, letting a smile show in my voice.

I finished the stitching and sterilization in a more comfortable silence. He took the hypodermic needle without so much as a wince, though I could see him watching it intently, sternly almost, as though not entirely sure what to make of it. From the country, indeed. 

“You’re so much younger than I would have supposed.” 

“…I beg your pardon, Madame?” 

I could hardly fault him for being taken aback, as I had blurted it with absolutely no thought for context, let alone grace. I recovered as best I could, all things considered, focusing over-intently on wrapping the bandage around his forearm. “From a distance, I had assumed you to be far older.”

Honestly, for a man with such a beard and posture, that default manner that could charitably be described as cantankerous, it was alarming to find that not only was he not middle-aged, but he couldn’t possibly be older than— 

“Thirty? At most?”

“Thereabouts.” After a pause, he added with a shrug. “I am far older in spirit, Madame.”  

I made him promise to come see me in a few days so I could see how the healing was progressing and give him more antibiotic if need be. He nodded, then stood and shrugged back into his coat (Lord, was he huge), and was just beginning to move toward the doorway, when—

“Are you well-treated here, M. Danton?”  Why could I not keep my bloody mouth shut tonight??

“Why is it that you ask such a question of me, Madame?” Though I still could barely see his face through the hair, I could hear the wariness in his voice. 

“You just seem…” I struggled to find the word in French, to express my concern without giving offense. “…..hunted.” 

Yes, a beast at bay. That’s what I had discerned and yet been unable to name in those vague, distant glances across camp: the utter wrongness in the sight of a man so tall and strong keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact, as though cowering before an invisible blow. Then there was this slash to the arm…

He caught me looking at the bandage, so I summoned my courage enough to ask directly, “Is someone bothering you? Hurting you?” 

“No.” He relaxed, and I saw his throat muscles working.  “No, it truly was a rusted nail; an accident, entirely my own.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the first statement. “And my manners and ways are mine as well, Madame. Of my own choosing, I mean to say. Better, it is, that I keep to myself.”

There was nothing morose in the way he said it, nothing maudlin or self-pitying.

 ….but it still was so very sad. 

“Nonetheless,” he added quite suddenly, one hand on the tent flap, “I thank you for having asked.” He gave a graceful bow and said in heavily-accented English before vanishing off into the night: “You ‘ave a kind ‘eart, Nurse Randall.”

Strange, yes. But not as bad as all that. 

-CEBR

5 1 9

Ye touched me, today, mo nighean donn. 

Spoke to me. Looked at me. Stopped my beating heart. 

You were supposed to go off-duty at eight. I let that damned wound go untended all the day because I was waiting for when I kent you’d be away and abed. I couldn’t take the chance of it being you. God above knows I meant for us never once to come face-to-face in this camp.

More than a year since I ran up the hill after ye and the world went black; more than a year of trying to find my way in your world; of trying to find you; these last months of staying hidden in plain sight that ye never should see my face…. All undone by a rusted nail and your damned heedless self working at all hours instead of taking to your damned bed. And yet…. ye always did see fit to undermine my plans, my wife. Mo ghraidh. 

….Lord, and you’re so young, Sorcha; so heartbreakingly young, and it makes me want to weep. And yet I weep still more to have witnessed with my own eyes and ears that you’re exactly the same. Even now, at three-and-twenty, you’ve the same fire that I myself have known in you, that same brilliance and compassion and—

Jesus. 

Oh, God, Claire. 

From a distance, keeping to my duties, I have been able to separate myself from it all; keep myself and my thoughts in check by mere will, knowing that it is my place only to watch over you, never in any circumstance to know you or seek you out.  But so close to ye today, mo chridhe, SO CLOSE with you touching me, that deepest part of yourself reaching out to heal and care for me, even in disguise, even though ye dinna yet know me— It took all my strength not to take ye in my arms and crush you to my heart.

I long for you, mo nighean donn. I long for my wife; to hold ye again; to speak all my heart to ye. My truest friend. 

And yet, beyond longing, there is that uttermost of terrors that fills me day and night. 

I wait for this war to end—this war of unspeakable horrors, the like of which I could never have fathomed—and still I dread the sounding of that last all-clear. At least here, now (and for three years more, at the least) I have a place in your world. I can watch over ye, see your face each and every day, if only for a moment from afar, and be able to close my eyes at night only because I ken that you are safe. 

But when the fighting has ceased, when ye leave France, I shall have to bid you yet another farewell….silently, this time, unseen….and hope that in April of 1948—

…Pray with all my soul that you and the bairn make it to April of 1948. 

That you won’t be— That you haven’t already been—? or that you aren’t now—?

Lost among the years. As I have been.  

[dephicient]

Character Questionnaire

Here is a detailed character meme to fill in! (If you’re stuck on some of the questions, check the prompts here.)

Full name

Thaladren Blighthollow

Preferred name/nickname

Pref. nothing - Thal and Dren are nickname-able but he’s not really feelin that

Generally referred to as

Thaladren

Appearance.

FACECLAIM: n/a SEX: male HEIGHT: 5′5 WEIGHT: suuuuuuuuper light BUILD: Dead - he’s a Death Knight and is medically dead, so he’s very very gaunt with little to none muscle. HAIR: Long hair - white - usually fashioned into a tight ponytail. SKIN: Whiteish-yellow, as he is dead. Dry. Although he is dead, the skin is not in horrible rotting condition. (still some patches here and there tho) EYES:  ghastly DK blue NOSE: his nose is fairly large and hooked, big ol’ strong bird nose SCARS: everywhere. there aren’t any that are especially jarring, but there are many light engravings into his skin of battle scars and just the negative effects of being dead. his face has notable scaring around the lips. CLOTHES: he is not often seen out of plate-gear, but when so, it’s very plain and dark, lacking a lot of characteristic

Speech.

ACCENT: thalassian, whatever that is VERBAL TICKS: the way he speaks has a certain tone deaf drawl to it. not necessarily apathetic, but almost empty. there isn’t a lot of emphasis on his words anymore  ARTICULATION: he tends to articulate things poorly EDUCATION: he has good education and is fairly smart, so he will use long words/etc when applicable. LAUGHTER: when he laughs, it’s usually just a scoff. tho if he finds something truly comedic, it comes off more as a snort and he gets kinda embarrassed. rare occasion, super rare

Mannerisms.

FACE: he’s not that expressive past showing disgust and disdain HANDS: he gestures frequently POSTURE: slumpy PERSONAL SPACE: give it

Health:

SLEEP: sleeping isn’t necessary by any means but he still occasionally finds himself knocked the fuck out ODOUR: smells like nothing in particular.  NARCOTICS: too many. he’s apathetic about the whole undeath sort of thing and being alive, so drugs fill that void of sorts. pretty productive ADDICTIONS: ^ INJURIES: probably has at least a couple injuries somewhere. gauze in numerous places

Personal.

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: introverted - though he was a bit more extroverted alive. not exponentially tho OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: p e s s i m i s t SEXUALITY: whatever ROMANTIC: not very romantic at all - more keen to flings and the like MEMORY: forgetful af GOALS: not really INSECURITIES: has more insecurities than he would like. tries his damndest to ignore them, and that can only work for soooo long. ACHIEVEMENTS: he’s pretty good at engineering ANXIETY: insecurities ^ SELF-HELP: drugs COMFORTS: solitude or someone who knows how to shut the fuck up BAD HABITS: drugs

The Past.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: average relationship SCHOOL: not a whole lot. paladin school? ADOLESCENCE: [How did puberty go? Was it a hard change? What was particularly hard (or easy) about it?] LEAVING HOME: [What was it like for them leaving home for the first time? What prompted them to move out of the home they grew up in?] FURTHER EDUCATION: [Did they go to college? University? What did they study, and how well did they do?] FIRST JOB: [What was their first job? Did they enjoy it?] LIFE EVENTS: dying and being forced to live is pretty traumatic  WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: being ‘resurrected’  BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: [What happened?] LESSONS: [What are the most important things they have learned through experience?] LOOKING BACK: he woulda loved his fiancee more :(

Relationships.

FAMILY: big ol happy death knight family FRIENDSHIPS: not a whole lot? more like acquaintances though there are a couple select people that he doesn’t mind hanging around FRIENDS IN NEED: he’s so shitty at helping people in trouble like, patpat on the back and stares off into the distance NEEDING A FRIEND: he deals with everything on his own and would probably rather explode than ask for help ANNOYANCES: voices it ROMANCE: he doesn’t know if his fiancee is alive or not but she wouldn’t want to love him anyway cos he dead af fam MARITAL PROBLEMS: [How do they deal with problems in their love life? Do they talk it through with their partner? Or do they bury their head in the sand?] ADVERSARIES: [What would turn them off a friendship or romance?] ENEMIES: cowardice, flamboyance, dodgeyness, and other traits can put them on thal’s bad list STRANGERS: doesn’t care about strangers, might not consider their existence FUN STUFF: drugs DATING: [What kind of things to they like doing with a romantic partner?] BEST FRIEND: [If applicable - who do they consider their best friend?] LOVE: :( WORST ENEMY: the living RESPECT: [Do they respect their enemies, even if they don’t like them? Is there anyone they disrespect? Why?]

Interactions.

MINGLING: he doesn’t mingle that well and doesn’t care COMFORT LEVELS: usually it’s apathetic within comfort but if the people are extra... extra? he gets uncomfortable and will probably try to shy away. especially if they’re like, happy PHYSICAL: no touchie GROUPS: acherus has big groups but that’s rather military-based in purpose, so socially he prefers small groups OPENNESS: no GENEROSITY: not really JEALOUSY: he CAN become a jealous person despite apathy, which is just petty. TEMPER: he does have a temper EMPATHY: no AFFECTION: not really DISTASTE: obv ETIQUETTE: acherus has negative social norms, it’s just living (unliving) RESPONSIBILITY: he is responsible for what he does mostly and owns up to them, but largely thinks nothing he does is wrong SELF ESTEEM: he gets kinda pushed around due to apathy CONFIDENCE: surprisingly kinda low but shh don’t tell anyone HONESTY: yes very LEADER OR FOLLOWER: he’s a follower but will take initiative if necessary PARTY TRICKS: being dead PRAISE: doesn’t really like praise at all, especially from strangers FAILURES: nawh CRITICISM: he does not take criticism well - he’s never wrong! INSULTS: fight EMBARRASSMENT: he CAN get embarrassed but does his best to not show anything  FLIRTING: if it’s anything, it’s probably sarcastically playful ATTENTION SPAN: lacks it SITUATIONS: really bad at dealing with people being upset / etc.

Life.

CAREER: [Do they have a career? Are they good at it and do they like it?] PROMOTION: [Are they hoping to advance their career?] BOSS: [Do they have a good relationship with their boss?] DUTY: [What kind of responsibilities do they have?] TECH: [Are they good with modern technology or do they prefer not to tough a computer?] POLITICS: he’s political in the way that advocates for death knights COMBAT SKILLS: yes HOME: messsyyyyyyyyyy DAILY LIFE: dull and dead INDEPENDENCE: ya COOKING: definitely not. not even alive BUILDING: [Can they put together an item of furniture or do basic DIY?] CLEANING: god no SHOPPING: [Do they like to shop? Or do they prefer to only go to the store when absolutely necessary? Are they prone to impulsive buying or do they shop sensibly?] DRIVING: [Can they drive, or operate any vehicle?]

FINANCES: [Are they in a good position financially? Are they good at taking care of their bank account? Do they usually pay their bills on time?] MARRIAGE: :( KIDS: :I PETS: dead things DEPENDANTS: [Do they have anyone to look after, such as an elderly relative or a sick friend?] LAW: fuck the police COURT: [Have they ever been in court? Why? And what was the verdict?] PRISON: [Have they ever been in prison?] TRAVELLING: [Have they ever been on holiday, or would they like to?] MEDICAL: [Do they go to the doctor/dentist when they need to? Or are they afraid of going to see the doctor?] ILLNESS: [Do they have any mental illnesses that affect the way they live their life?] WORRIES: he’s more of an anxious person than it would be anticipated PEACE: [Do they like peace and quiet? Or do they prefer always to listen to the radio or playing their favourite songs?] PARTYING: drug HOBBIES: drug