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johnsamericano · 3 years

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 16:

ℓєє נєиσ

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @whathamelon @mrcarbonatedmilk @curieouscapt @unknown5tar @gjheaaa @ajhdr @silent-potato

warnings: oral (male receiving), jealous Jeno, mentions of drunk sex, Jeno in those tight pants skaters wear 😭

“Watcha looking at?”

Jeno jolted, his eyes abandoning the pair of skaters practicing in the ice-rink. Just as he stopped watching, he heard a loud thud. You were laying down on your back, your partner sprinting towards your giggly figure.

“Are you alright?” He helped you up, his hand holding your waist naturally. “Stop laughing, you could’ve gotten yourself hurt.”

“I’ve fallen so many times that it doesn’t even hurt anymore, Jaems.” Jeno’s blood boiled at the name. You wouldn’t even call him by his name, while your partner had the privilege of having his very own nickname. “Let’s practice the death spiral.”

Jeno’s partner looked at him with curiosity, she’d never seen that look in his face before.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on switching partners.” Jeno shook his head, tearing his gaze off You to finish tying his skates.

“Never, I was just studying our competition.” Right after finishing his task, he extended his hand towards his friend. “We need to practice hard, we’re only a few days away from the competition.”

You didn’t even spare him a glance as they entered the rink, too focused on finding the perfect way to hold Jaemin’s hand.

“Okay, we’ve got this.” You high fived him, getting in position to start your routine all over again. “Hey, Lee! Quit staring at us.” Apparently, you had taken notice of his gaze.

“I wasn’t!” The slight blush in his cheeks said otherwise. “Ignore them, Irene.”

As much as Jeno considered training with you in the same rink a blessing, you seemed to despise him. Maybe it was because of that time he called you untalented when he was a teen, or maybe it was because of that time he left the morning after having drunk sex with you, but who knows.

Nationals were held a couple of days later. Thankfully, you didn’t have to travel anywhere this year.

You cheerfully greeted all of the people you’d met during the past competitions, wishing them luck as Jaemin called you out to get ready.

You dressed in the beautiful black dress with small diamonds around your sleeves, Jaemin wearing a matching outfit, the tight shirt making his chest and shoulders look broader. You were both provided with a thick coat to cover you from the ice rink’s cold.

“You ready?” You went out of the dressing rooms, holding his hand tightly.

“We’re gonna do amazing.”

As you waited for another pair to finish their routine, a handsome Lee Jeno approached you.

“Ready to lose?” You scoffed, looking at him in disbelief. “What? There’s no way you’re gonna win against us.”

“May I remind you who won a golden medal last year?” Now it was his turn to scoff, both of your partners looking at the scene unfolding with curiosity.

“Wanna bet?” His face inched closer to your own, breath fanning against your slightly flushed cheeks.

“Deal. If I win, you’ll have to treat me and Jaems dinner.” That damn nickname again.

“Fine, but if I win, you’ll call me Jeno from now on.” It wasn't the deal he'd originally thought of, but the sudden mention of your partner made his blood boil with resentment.

You stared at him, squinting your eyes.

“Fine.” You finally replied as your name was being called through the speakers. “Break a leg.”

You threw your coat at him before entering the ice with Jaemin holding your hand, the crowd cheering loudly for the country's favorite pair. You skated around, warming up your legs as you waited for your music to get started. You stopped at the middle of the rink, placing your hand behind the nape of Jaemin’s neck to start your routine.

The melancholic sound of violins filled the place, your legs moving backward as you started your well-practiced routine.

Jeno watched everything from outside as Jaemin lifted you between his arms, holding your waist tightly as you looked at each other with passion, almost as if thousands of people weren't surrounding you, as if you were the only ones in the room.

Jaemin threw you in the air, your body rotating a few times before you landed in his arms again.

Your routine was filled with emotions, each movement expertly performed, the crowd bursting into cheers as the end of your song approached. You both nailed a triple axel, perfectly synchronized. Jaemin grabbed a hold of your hand, your back slowly bending as he spun your body around, forming the infamous death spiral. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as Jaemin carried you once again, arm between your thighs as he gave a final spin to end your performance. You smiled at each other, proud of your nearly excellent performance.

You skated out of the rink, grabbing a few flowers the crowd had thrown at you. Your trainers waited for you, seating in a bench where you'd receive your final score.

Jeno’s piercing gaze could easily be disguised as a normal competitor's jealousy, but deep down, he knew that wasn't it. He wanted to be the one by your side, he wanted to hold your hand just like Jaemin did. He wanted you to smile at him the way you did with your partner.

As expected, Jeno lost the bet. He was frustrated, to say the least, not only because he didn't get the highest score, but because every single reporter that interviewed the golden medal winners would ask about their relationship.

‘They’re not together.’ Jeno wanted to tell them, but he knew you could handle the situation yourself, telling the reporters you were only friends.

“Just ask her out already.” Irene sat down on a bench beside him, the silver medal hanging from her neck.

“What?”

“Jeno, everyone knows you're head over heels for her. You're not exactly discreet.”

“I really don't want to think about that now.” Irene hummed, staring at Jeno while he closed his eyes, attempting to ease his turbulent mind.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of steps coming his way that he opened them again, his orbs going wide at the sight of you.

“You did amazing today.” Well, that was unexpected.

“Are you mocking me?”

“What? No!” You were suddenly regretted trying to lift his spirits. “Your routine was amazing, Jeno.”

You called him by his name. A small laugh couldn't be helped as his face turned bright red.

“Come, I have a consolation prize for you.” You extended your hand his way, your pretty fingers making a ‘come here’ motion.

“Why are you suddenly being nice to me?” He hesitantly took your hand, letting you drag him all the way to the dressing rooms, away from the curious eyes of reporters.

You didn't answer his question, instead, locking the door behind you. He gave you a puzzled look, his thick eyebrows joining in a small frown.

“I heard you talking to Irene.” You shyly confessed, playing with the hem of your black skirt. “How old are you? 10? Why didn't you just tell me instead of acting like an ass?”

“Okay, first, I acted like an ass once, and I was twelve, what were you even expecting?” He took a step closer to you, hands almost over your waist. “And second, I thought you hated me, why would I confess to someone who clearly doesn't like me?”

“Why would you assume I hate you?”

“You don't?”

“I mean, I don't even know you that well. We've trained together for years but we've barely spoken, except for that time we slept together after drinking.” The distance between your bodies was now null, chests pressing against each other. “But I would've definitely accepted if you’d asked me out. I kinda like that bad boy vibe you give.”

A smile creeped up his lips, hands settling right above the curve of your ass.

“You said you had a consolation prize for me.” You cocked an eyebrow, noticing how the atmosphere had changed in less than a second.

“Oh, really?” Your hands teased the back of his thighs, slightly tugging at the flexible material of his pants.

“Lately I’ve been having trouble remembering that night we shared a year ago, mind helping me freshen up my memory?”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t left the morning after, you wouldn’t have to be reminded, cause it would be a daily thing.” There was a pinch of resentment in your voice as you pulled his pants down, sinking into your knees to caress his growing bulge.

“Don’t tease.” He warned, grabbing a hold of your hair and slightly pulling it back. “I was scared...” he resumed your previous conversation. “Irene and I don’t have the best chemistry, unlike you and that friend of yours, so I feared not being able to skate with her anymore, I didn’t want to lose that small spark that makes us worthy of a medal, even if it’s just silver.”

“But still, you didn’t have to leave me hungover and confused in a hotel room. That was mean.” Jeno chuckled, breath hitching as you pulled out his length from the black boxers.

“I promise to make it up to you...shit.” He groaned as you flattened your tongue against his tip, the pressure driving him insane.

“You better.” You fitted as much as you could inside your mouth, massaging the rest of it with your hands as you bobbed your head.

Jeno could feel himself growing harder inside your wet cavern, length twitching at the feeling of your tongue swirling around it.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Slowly, his hips started moving back and forth, matching the pace of your head which was now controlled by his hand. “That’s it, I’m close.” His low grunts and moans had your core aching, clenching around nothing in an attempt to relive it. “Just a couple more hours and I’ll take you back to my apartment. I can’t wait to have that pretty cunt around me.” You whimpered, sending vibrations down his cock and causing his cum to spill inside your mouth. The salty liquid painted the back of your throat, involuntarily making you swallow it. “Come on, the reporters must be waiting for you.” With both hands below your elbows, he helped you up, pulling his pants back up before leaving the room with you following closely.

“There You are!” Jaemin spotted you, Jeno immediately running away to avoid rising any suspicions. “What were you doing in that dressing room with our enemy?” He dramatically gasped. “Am I being replaced? Hold me, I might faint.”

“Stop it, you drama queen. We were just...talking.”

“Mhm.” He grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers and shooting a glance at Jeno. His deep frown made Jaemin smile. “Oh, and y/n?” You looked at him. “Wipe that drool off your chin, darling.”

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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lykegenia · 3 years

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The Dragon Knight’s New Clothes

The speed with which Davion left Hauptstadt left him no time to pick up clothes, so now he's back to square one and very much missing enough layers to cover up his... secrets. When he and his companions stumble on a farmstead his prayers seem answered, but there's also the other matter, the reason why he had to flee Hauptstadt in the first place, and the fear that it will happen again. Set between Episodes 2 & 3.

Hints of Davion x Mirana

Read on AO3

Normally, Davion is perfectly fine with silence in his travelling companions. The life of a dragon knight requires long hours on the road, not all of which can be filled with talk, even on the days where there’s no hunt to keep the quiet. But normality seems to have taken its butterfly wings elsewhere for him lately, and the current silence is getting awkward. It’s just him and Mirana. Marci took Sagan scouting shortly after sunrise and left them alone together, and while she seems content with their current situation, she’s also the only one between them wearing clothes. She doesn’t have to worry about the strength of errant breezes finding their way to places, and she has the weight of a weapon at her side as insurance against any trouble they might run into. Her feet aren’t slipping around sockless and blistered in too-large boots taken off a dead man.

A man he tore to pieces.

He swallows, glances to his companion to take his mind off the remembered taste of blood in his mouth. Her shoulders are loose, her gaze soft and hair flowing where the wind lifts it back from her face, the unassuming brown sparking copper in the dappled sunlight. He swallows again.

“Soooooo…”

“Is there a problem?” she asks, slowing a little. A quizzical knot appears between her brows and he raises his hands in surrender.

“No problem!” he says. “It’s just… you’re quiet.”

“I was enjoying the peace.” If there’s a note of annoyance for his interruption it flashes too quickly for him to catch it.

“You must not get much chance to just stop and smell the flowers,” he supposes, after a moment. “Being a princess and everything.”

“There are always little things, if you let yourself look for them – but you’re right that my duties rarely allowed for anything more.”

Allowed. Past tense.

“You never snuck away to try something more fun?” He grins, and when she only quirks a brow at him he clears his throat. “No, never mind, I think I know the answer to that… I’m sure Marci will be back soon.”

She throws him a smirk. “Are you worried about her?”

“Actually,” he says, letting his thoughts tease out, “I’ve been wondering about you two.”

“What about us?” The smirk draws in, a warning that seems to dim the sunlight itself.

He shrugs. “She takes your orders, but you don’t exactly treat her like a servant or a squire, and you have that –” he waggles his fingers experimentally – “hand language. You must have known her a long time.”

She turns away from him, her eyes going to a bird cleaning its beak on the branches above them as her arms fold in a loose cross over her chest.

“We came to the Nightsilver Woods together, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says. “We were already companions before then.”

“Just the two of you?”

Something in the memory pains her. “There was no one else left.”

“What about Sagan?” he asks.

“A gift from my goddess, so that I might do Her work.” The smile comes back, and he’s glad for it. “He was adorable as a cub – so fluffy. He used to chase the reflections from my arrowheads.”

“I never had a pet,” he confesses, without quite meaning to. A memory of a mongrel begging at the back door for scraps threatens to pull him in, but it was a long time ago and his mind can’t conjure the dog’s appearance. It probably ended up like the rest of his village, anyway.

Mirana’s eyes find his face, too perceptive, too understanding. Before he can think of a new subject to distract her, he notices the birds have all gone silent. The undergrowth rustles nearby, concealing something huge. He darts forward, fists ready in place of a weapon, but an instant later he catches a flash of white and relaxes in recognition at the wide, blunt head that pushes out from among the trees.

“Sagan!” Mirana ducks forward, arms outstretched, and the tiger butts her in the shoulder, purring like an avalanche as Marci slides down his back.

A brief conversation follows in the silent language the two women use between themselves, the signs made by their hands too fast for Davion to follow. He waits patiently, even dares to give Sagan a scratch under the chin, his fingers inches from the mouth full of sabre teeth the length of his hand.

Finally, Mirana turns to him. “There’s a farmstead about five miles west of here. If we’re welcomed it would be a good place to get some rest.” She throws a casual look over him and he resists the urge to tug the too-small cloak further around his body. “Perhaps we might also find you some better clothes.”

“I’d like that.” What he likes less is her singular ability to make him aware of his body – and not in the fun way.

She starts to lead off down the path but stops, sighs, her fingers going to pinch between her brows in an attitude of long-suffering patience.

“Ride Sagan,” she says. Orders, really. “It’ll save your feet.”

He can’t help but lean closer, grinning. “That’s surprisingly nice of you, princess.”

“And it’ll stop you slowing us down.”

He chuckles at that. Even in the few days they’ve spent travelling together he’s learned the difference between her wry mock threats and the times she truly intends to bite. As he winces over to tiger and vaults into the saddle, he almost misses the look exchanged between his two companions.

“How do I, uh, steer?” he asks. The neck in front of him is too short, the shoulders much broader than those of a horse, and there aren’t any reins.

Mirana smirks at him. “You don’t.”

They reach the farmstead as the sun is on its last descent towards the distant hills. Barley stalks sway gently under the wind as they climb the path to the house, and when a young teen tending vegetables by the back door spots them, Davion can hardly blame them for dropping their rake and running inside. The three of them don’t exactly make for an ordinary bunch of travellers, especially not with Sagan padding along behind them. There’s a stag slung over the saddle, intended as a sort of offering by Mirana, who took it down with one of her arrows before he even knew it was there. While most would follow the custom of hospitality without such a gift, they have only a few coins from the bandits he killed, and they need more than just shelter for the night.

“Better let me do the talking,” he mutters as they pass into the yard. It’s not the first time he’s had to explain to some poor local that he’s not a marauding thug, and that was without the daunting presence of the war tiger at his back.

For a moment, Mirana considers, but nods and hangs back, passing a hand over her holstered bow as if to reassure herself it’s still there. With another self-conscious tug on his attire to make sure his decency is covered, he advances towards the farmhouse’s front door and as he passes a soft fragrance of thyme and lavender rises from pots placed beneath the windows, though it’s too early in the year for the buzzing of bees. A memory tickles at the back of his mind but he pushes it away before the herby scent can be tainted with ash, and in the instant it takes to centre himself the door swings open to a tall, broad woman with steel-grey hair and an iron brow who steps out just far enough to not appear suspicious.

“You’re an uncommon bunch, right enough,” she comments, her face half shadowed by the overhanging thatch. “What business have you?”

Davion offers her his most winning smile. “We’re travelling from Hauptstadt. If you have enough spare for a hot meal and room in your barn for the night, we’d appreciate it.” He gestures to his companions. “My friend here managed to take down a deer, and we’ll happily share it with you.”

“Half of it,” Mirana corrects, with a hand on her tiger’s shoulder. “And the hide. Sagan needs to eat too.”

The farmer passes a calculating look over them, lingering longest on Davion and the scars so clearly visible across his shoulders, but in the end he guesses their fearsome appearance works in their favour. Their would-be host shrugs. If such travellers wanted to pillage and burn, they’d have no need for subterfuge first.

“We’re always happy to have well-mannered guests, especially ones with news of the road,” she says. “At this time of year the stock is out so your cat will be fine in the barn. Just keep him away from the back field, I’ve ewes ready to drop and they don’t a need a fright to help them along.”

Mirana nods. “Thank you. Is there somewhere we can put the deer?”

If the farmer is surprised by Marci’s strength as she hauls the carcass off Sagan’s back, she doesn’t show it, only points to the gate set into the far wall to show the way to the outbuildings. “And you always dress like that, do you?” she asks a moment later, still eyeing Davion.

He glances down at himself as if it’s going to suddenly change the nature of his attire, but the princess answers before he can open his mouth.

“There was trouble with bandits.”

“Only for your friend here?” The farmer’s eyes narrow.

“We met on the road,” she says smoothly. “If you have some spare clothes, my companion would appreciate the return of her cloak.”

The farmer accepts the half-truth with a solemn shake of her head. “Some of my late husband’s things should fit you, though he never kept quite so trim as you seem to be.”

She beckons them into the house. Davion follows, ducking under the lintel to avoid knocking his head, but pauses when he realises Mirana isn’t behind him.

“I’m going to bed Sagan down,” she tells him. “I’ll join you shortly.”

He smiles, nodding, and resists the urge to reach for her as she turns away. Inside, the whitewashed walls split the house into two, a kitchen with a large, scrubbed table in the back, and a parlour of sorts with a gathering of chairs around a large fireplace that overlooks the garden. An old woman snores in the armchair closest to the window, but she doesn’t stir at the prospect of visitors, even though the stairs leading off this main room creak under Davion’s weight, the wood worn to a polish by generations of use.

“Tayran,” his host calls out as a young woman appears from one of the upper rooms, “go help your brother with the veggies, will you? We’ve three more mouth to feed tonight.”

Tayran, a few years younger than Davion and sporting the same square jaw and brown eyes as her mother, nods and ducks along the hallway, but not before she’s let her gaze rake along the expanse of his muscles not covered by Marci’s cloak. The smile he offers in return is friendly enough, but not encouraging. He needs the clothes more than he needs someone to take them off again.

Seemingly oblivious to the exchange, his host has gone on ahead to the main bedroom and has taken a key to a heavily locked chest in the corner by the washstand. She digs through it, muttering, though he notices she never quite fully turns her back to him, and after a moment she stands again, with a shirt, breeches, and quilted jerkin draped over her arm. After a pause where she casts a critical eye at his boots, she stumps over to a dresser and pulls a rolled pair of wool socks from one of the drawers as well.

“These are the best I can do,” she says, handing the ensemble to him. “Afraid we’ve no salve for those badly fitting boots of yours, though.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

She huffs. “You can pay it forward. That’s what decent folk do. I’d best go see if yon slip of a girl has managed to get any meat off that stag yet – there’s plenty of room to change in the barn,” she adds, as she chivvies him from the room.

Dinner a few hours later is a crowded affair, the family’s meagre supply of chairs not enough to accommodate their guests, which means Davion’s legs are folded awkwardly around the tree stump serving him as a stool, his knees already bruised from all their accidental knocks to the underside of the table. The dim light for their meal comes from the fire and from a storm lantern hanging in the rafters in the centre of the room, and in the darkness beyond this the house groans and creaks as it settles for the night. After the disdain Mirana showed for the inn in Hauptstadt he wondered how she would react to such simple surroundings, but she nods graciously as their host ladles her a portion of stew and doesn’t complain that it’s being served with a wooden spoon. Marci is already tucking into hers as if she hasn’t eaten for days.

He smiles down at his bowl. The stew itself tastes good, the venison paired well with bacon and fresh vegetables, and it’s so thick the slice of bread he’s been given can be planted into it like a battle standard. Their host seems satisfied with their enthusiasm for her food, too. She has yet to sit down, her own portion left off as she pours a clear liquid into a motley collection of cups.

“Don’t knock this back,” she warns as she passes the drinks around. “It’ll beat you round the head like a club and go through your pockets for loose change.”

Davion can’t resist. He makes a great show of tasting the liquor. “A fine vintage, ma’am. Comparable to an Icewrack white, I’d say.”

Opposite him, Mirana narrows her eyes, like she wants to kick him under the table.

“My, you’ve expensive tastes,” their host rumbles. “You won’t find anything half so fancy in these parts.”

“Oh? Shame.”

“Where have you been that serves Icewrack white?” the elder asks from the head of the table. It’s the first Davion’s heard her speak, and her voice is cracked with age and suspicion.

“Oh, a few places,” he answers, careful. “I’ve spent most of my life travelling.”

“You must have many stories,” says Tayran, leaning forward on her elbows while her younger brother rolls his eyes next to her.

“Some, I suppose.” Davion shrugs. “My – uh, I had a friend who was much better than telling them.” He can’t mention having a squire; it would invite too many questions.

The elder seems content with him, but then her eye swivels towards Mirana. “What about you?”

“Mama,” their host chides. “We don’t interrogate our guests.”

Mirana sets down her wooden spoon. “It’s alright. We came from further west, on business.”

“Wrong time o’ year to be travelling the high passes.”

“My business could not wait,” she replies. Not for the first time, he wonders what calamity must have drawn her from her woods, put the grit in her voice as she speaks of it.

“And what about you?” Tayran asks him. Her eyelashes flutter. “If you’re looking for work you’d be far more likely to find it back in Hauptstadt, or on one of the farms in the valley.”

He disarms her with a grin. “And leave my companions without a defender? My honour wouldn’t allow it.” He shrugs elaborately. “I’ve got some friends near Levinthal who should be able to help me after I go that way.”

“More people who owe you favours?” Mirana asks, casually enough, though it’s clear she hasn’t forgiven him for the cockroaches that came included with the last one.

“It’s likely just as well you travel together,” their host interrupts. “There’s rumours of some sort of monster roving about these hills. Someone found bodies ripped apart not a week’s journey from here, and whatever it was killed a dragon knight an’ all. Dangerous times, these.”

The chill that grips Davion’s spine doesn’t go away, nor the knot in his stomach that feels like another gang leader’s ring just waiting to be hocked up onto the table. Mirana and Marci both have stilled to watch him, but he doesn’t meet their gazes. Instead, he draws in a breath and stretches his best tavern-pleasing smile across his revulsion.

“Thanks for the warning,” he says. “We’ll be extra careful.”

The conversation moves on after that, well into the night. On isolated farms like this one, travellers may bring the only news of the outside world for weeks, and new stories of far off places are always welcome. Finally, drowsing under the effect of the wine and the full meal and with the supply of fire logs running low, Mirana rises to make their excuses for the night. They have an early start in the morning, and don’t want to trespass any further, she says. Davion follows.

In the doorway, however, an unexpected hand reaches out in a caress across his chest that stops him before he can make it out into the cold. His breath fogs as he turns, finding Tayran in the shadowed alcove where the family keeps their coats, the smile on her face one he’s seen on more than one young woman on his travels.

“It’ll be cold tonight, you know,” she purrs.

From the corner of his eye he sees Mirana pause at the sound of the voice, but when he turns fully she’s already resumed her pace, perfectly measured, her shoulders straight, and he wonders if he imagined it. Tayran’s hand moves up to cup his cheek, to bring his attention back to her.

“If you want a better offer than a draughty old barn, I’d be happy to oblige. If you’re not already spoken for, that is?”

“You mean with –?” He coughs. “No, I’m not. We’re not, ah – like that.”

She steps closer. “Good. Would you like to hear more about my offer?”

When he lets himself into the barn a little time later, bright moonlight spills around him, though his eyes take less time to adjust to the unlit interior than he expects. An oil lamp glows in the far corner.

“Your ‘better offer’ fell through then?” a voice chimes through the darkness, low with disdain.

He finds Mirana with Sagan’s head in her lap, running a soft brush over the tiger’s fur, her scowl and the sour curl of her mouth revealing the nature of whatever else she wants to say. She doesn’t look at him. His own anger rises in response.

“I didn’t take the offer,” he snaps, quiet enough not to disturb Marci. “Not that you have any reason to care.”

“I didn’t want to waste time looking for you in the morning.”

But the gaze fixed on him now flickers with calculation, the same astuteness she turned on him after he let the elf go, as if he’s a puzzle box with no clear solution.

“She was a pretty enough thing,” she comments as he unfolds a horse rug over the straw as a makeshift bedsheet. “Many men would have gone after her.”

“Yeah, well – I’ve said it before.” He throws his head down on his folded arm. “I’m not most men.”

Now more than ever, he thinks ruefully as silence descends again. If he were the sort of person who believed the gods cared at all he’d wonder if they turned him into… whatever he is… as a punishment for hubris. For a little harmless flirting. He yanks the blanket up to his chin and rolls over – he’s slept in less comfortable places, but that doesn’t make the cold, prickly ground any less frustrating. A bed would have been much better. A bed with a bit of fun thrown in, for the both of them, and yet he chose to leave, and he’s going to go mad trying to work out why.

“You’re afraid,” Mirana says into the quiet. “Worried that what happened at Hauptstadt – what you became – that it’ll happen again.”

After a long moment, he unclenches his hand and sighs. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“For what good it will do, I can watch over you, if you like.”

He shifts. The offer feels unfamiliar. A dragon knight is sworn to protect others, and though the rational part of him knows if he does turn she’ll be dead before she realises it, there’s a warm glow of comfort from the assurance in her voice. She asks nothing of him, only honesty.

“If the transformation happens…”

“I’ll shoot you.” He hears the smirk.

“Thank you.” He squeezes his eyes shut, willing away the images his mind conjures, her blood on his hands, and prays to whichever gods are listening that if the worst comes her draw will be fast enough.

#dota dragon's blood #dota: dragon's blood #dota: db #dota 2 #mirana #princess mirana #davion #davion the dragon knight #davion x mirana #mirana x davion #miravion #dragon's blood

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sl-c · 3 years

Note

Hey sim, first of all I’m glad that you seem to be so happy right now! Secondly I was wondering if I could please get some advice. I’ve been with my boyfriend for over a year, have some great memories with him and I do love him, but I feel like it’s not working out as a romantic relationship anymore. I’ve doubted the relationship countless times before but this time I feel like it’s more serious. It feels like now he’s just more of a best friend than a boyfriend? The sex is kind of bad now and I no longer have any sex drive with him, but on the broader scope of things I just feel like our lives, lifestyles and views don’t really match up. And it sounds selfish, but this is my first relationship and I do find myself wanting to see what else is out there in the dating world. It’s so confusing because I feel like we get each other on a really deep level and I don’t have that with anyone else, and if I end things I can’t expect that he’ll want to stay friends if I hurt him, so there’s no going back. Have you ever been in a similar situation? I know I need to talk to him but It’s so hard to find the right time. sorry for the super long ask, and no worries if you’re not in the right space to answer this! Xx

Thank you!

Can totally resonate with this and have many views and opinions on relationship things so more then happy to share my 2 cents about your situation!

Personally I think it's clearly time for a break of some kind, at the very least a temporary one which may give you some more clarity on how you feel, what you want and decisions going forward. It's really easy to fall into a state of comfortability when you're in a long-term relationship and not realise that even though things aren't 'bad' and you're still close/get along that the relationship is no longer working or what you want/need anymore. In other words, you can still get along with someone well and even love someone but the relationship not be right anymore for whatever reason. I've been in this exact situation and honestly I think it's one of the hardest to get over but ultimately it's for the best and something you've just got to come to terms with for the sake of both of you. I think the moment there is consistent doubt and questioning in a relationship about serious matters or you're not feeling that spark/connection in major areas (eg. intimacy) anymore then that says something and it's either time to try and resolve those issues or come to terms that things are no longer working like they use to.

I think deep down you probably know you need to break up but are still just coming to terms with it and trying to workout how to follow through with it which is really challenging. Unfortunately with these kind of tricky and emotional situations there is never a 'good time' and it's better to just get it over with. Try and surround yourself with a good support system, stay distracted and make sure you're practicing plenty of self-care.

I know this kind of situation can be extremely anxiety-provoking but you have to remember that every decision you make and change you implement will always teach you something and give you greater clarity about what you do and don't want. In other words, never stress about making the 'right' or 'wrong' decision because ultimately every decision is just a learning block and we gain knowledge in every decision we make which is always a 'good' thing.

Also, more specifically to this situation, you have no idea how much this kind of background noise in your head can be draining you and you may find that once you've broken up or just come to terms with whatever decision you will find so much more relief and happiness in yourself. I know when I went through my last breakup it was super challenging but through all the tears and sadness I always knew it was for the best and ultimately it taught me so much about myself and it was definitely the right decision and has helped me grow in so many ways even though I still have so much love and care for that person :)

Anyway, hope that helps :) all the best, sending love and hugs you'll get through this I promise!!

Side note: if you don't already openly journaling ALL of your thoughts can be really cathartic and also help give you clarity on whatever is taking over your mind at the moment. I'm a big fan of journalling, especially when I'm trying to overcome big decisions or stressful situations in my life. xx

#answered #relationship #relationships #relationship advice

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teetanjaeger · 5 years

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The Psychology of ‘Attack on Titan’: Erwin

In light of the most recent episodes of Attack on Titan, I felt inspired to write a piece on a relevant topic to this point in his story - The psychology of death and dying. Most specifically I am interested in looking at Erwin’s final soliloquy and conversation with Levi.

I remember when this portion of the story appeared in the manga and how terribly heart wrenching it was (and still is) for fans of the series. Especially for the hardcore Erwin fans. A character who stood as an icon of the fight for humanity’s freedom (albeit with perhaps some questionable choices along the way), wrestling with the idea that perhaps he really was a bad guy all along (cue Billie Eilish…)

Now in his own darkest hour, Erwin questions his motives for all of the choices he made in life. He bemuses the deaths that lie in his wake. If he fails, personally, in finally learning the truth of the Walls, were those sacrifices worth it? Was he simply a selfish monster the entire time and only ever interested in his own goals of avenging his father’s murder?

The thing is, though, that when we are faced with our own deaths, our self-reflection of the lives we’ve led to that point can be skewed based on our own personalities. Though he may not have thought so at the time, Erwin was truly a hero of the story up to this point.

This phenomenon, our mental processes that occur when we’re faced with our own mortality, is referred to as terror management theory by psychologists. This is a relatively newer theory stemming from the field of cultural anthropology in the 1970s. It attempts to explain the concept of death anxiety. “Death anxiety” is the existential dread associated with contemplating one’s inevitable death. Basically, the idea is that we all do things while we’re alive like make relationships, create families, create art, etc. in attempts to create some more of legacy that we will be remembered by. This, according to the theory, it where cultural worldviews and practices regarding the dead or ancestors may stem from.

Now a large part of this theory is that most of our choices during life are typically an unconscious creation of a legacy. Yes, we can sometimes also do it consciously too, but the point is that on a regular day to day basis we don’t contemplate our demise every time we pick out what clothes we wear or who we talk to.

Faced with his death (termed ‘death salience’ in the theory), Erwin is forced to wrestle with his worldviews and reflects on his life choices. In these moments where death is so real, we see Erwin’s anxiety spike as he realizes his ego drove much of his life choices. (Mind you, I mean this not as an insult but in the technical sense of the term.)

Erwin’s backstory is set it’s own tragedy: His father, a school teacher, made mention to Erwin one day that the government may not be sharing all that they know regarding their history within the walls. When young Erwin blabbed this to a classmate, his father turned up inexplicably dead. Thus, Erwin made it his life mission to find out the secrets of the Walls.

In pursuing his goal, he climbed up the ranks of the Survey Corps whilst sacrificing many opportunities, including the chance of love with who is now Niles’ wife. Under his command, the Survey Corps made great strides in learning more about the Titans; increasing survival rates, inching closer towards the secrets of their history, and mayhaps freedom for humanity.

Erwin helped many find a sense of purpose. In Levi’s darkest hour Erwin illuminated a broader goal for him to shift his determination to: Freedom. For Eren, Erwin saw the determined spark within him already to free humanity. He decided to feed those flames and give Eren the opportunity he always dreamed of.

“For Humanity” was long Erwin’s motto for inspiring the masses to action. He pushed so hard to achieve his goals, of which he was incredibly proud. But that pride ultimately is what causes his death anxiety to spike and question if what he did truly was for Humanity all along.

Recent studies report a fascinating correlation between humility and death anxiety. People with higher humility personality traits experience lower death anxiety than people with higher pride. And Erwin certainly has a prideful personality. Not to say that it is a negative trait, simply that he is fully aware of his successes..

A quote from the above linked study:

“Humility, with its minimized focus on the self and its affinity for seeing the self and life within a grander context, substantially overlaps with self-transcendence…. In the case of death, this is probably especially true—not only should self-affirmation be of limited value against a threat as formidable as death, but boosting the ego would simultaneously boost life’s value, rendering mortality a more terrifying prospect (emphasis added).”

Thus, when Erwin is finally facing down a situation that he knows he has no chance of escaping from, he is forced to realize how valuable he has found his own life. The fear of death and associated anxiety makes him hyper aware of his life choices. It is therefore natural for him, due to his inherent personality traits, to wonder if he erroneously placed his own life value above those around him this entire time.

Fear of death is natural. Acceptance of death is natural as well. We all handle these somber topics in different ways. Erwin’s fear and self questioning absolutely does not invalidate his successes in life.

Erwin: Everything I’ve done until now was to get to that basement. That someday I could check if I was right. So many times I thought death would be much easier. But always the dream I shared with my father would flash through my mind. And now, I’m close enough to the answers to reach out and grab them. They’re right there. But Levi, can you see them? Our comrades? Our comrades looking at us. They want to know what became of the hearts they gave. Because the fighting isn’t over yet. Is it all just inside my head? No more than a childish delusion?

Levi: (Kneels) You’ve fought well. It’s all thanks to you that we’ve come this far. I’m making the choice. Give up on your dream and go die. Lead the recruits straight into hell. I will take down the Beast Titan.

Levi’s words are perfect at this moment. He confirms to Erwin how important his life has been and assures him his death will not be vein, assisting in allaying his death anxiety. It’s really a beautifully bittersweet scene.

The concept of confronting our inevitable demise is a very heavy existential topic and we all will have our own reactions to it. However, it does not negate the work that we did in life should we find fear in the topic. Erwin is an excellent example of that.

#erwin smith #levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #death #psychology #character analysis #this post took me so long to write for some reason.

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lonelypond · 4 years

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Tiger By The Tail, Ch. 3

NicoMaki, NozoEli, RinPana, KotoUmi, Love Live, 2K, 3/?

Summary: The plan to distract Nico begins...and our last Japanese tourist arrives.

Chapter Three

Nozomi read the email again. It sounded like Umi, polite, formal, composed, requesting Nozomi do some research on local possibilities for photo shoots, which Nozomi was planning anyway, until the last line, which read, “Please refrain from discussing this with Nico as I do not wish to undermine her confidence in Kotori’s designs” which if you had made a study of Umi’s habits, sounded like panic. Rin bounced behind Nozomi, shaking her head, drops of water flicking Nozomi, “What are we doing, boss?”

Nozomi considered how much to tell Rin, who was very very bad at not blurting out the very thing anyone was trying to keep out of the conversation. Just keep Rin focused on task, so that she didn’t give anything away to Nico, who was ALWAYS looking for what was going to go wrong.

“We’re going to drive around and check out locations, then I’ll meet Eli for dinner and see what she has to suggest.”

“Ooohh, Eli seems really cool. I bet she’ll have some great ideas for us.” Rin’s eyes gleamed. Nozomi was almost certain Eli had meant a private discussion but Nozomi couldn’t strand Rin; maybe Nico would want dinner company?

“Let’s head out and tell Nico what the plan is.” Nozomi tucked her phone away, response to Umi sent.

Rin saluted, grabbing a sweater from the top bunk, “You got it.”

###

Nico, under a stack of blankets, was scrolling through a playlist on the screen in the living room, frowning. “Nico should be on here.” She switched to search function, pulling up her latest video, watching it again, with a critical eye. They definitely needed a better lighting set up. Nozomi had talked about renting gear.

“Nico meets her biggest fan every morning in the mirror.” Nozomi pulled on the top blanket, as she leaned over the couch, to grab for the remote. Nico’s viewing choice was no surprise. It was barely worth the tease, but Nozomi was on task.

“If Nico doesn’t like it…” Nico began.

“No one will ever see it.” Rin interjected, batting an ornament on the Christmas tree to watch it spin. “But this cover’s great Nico. Why are you frowning at it?”

Before Nico could answer the front door banged open and Honoka came barrelling through the hall, hung a turn at the kitchen and nearly fell over the back of the couch Nico was sitting on.

“Nico!” Shouted. As if Nico weren’t two cushions away. “Umi says you have to come now. Kotori needs you to try on the clothes. Since there wasn’t a fitting.” Honoka bobbed up and down, arms on the couch, Nico staring at her. “It’s important.”

Nico huffed and turned off the screen, her English curt. “Nico might be busy.”

“But you’re not.” Nozomi poked Nico.

“And you’re here for the clothes, right. So they have to fit.” Honoka’s bright eyes were so wide and innocent that not even Nico could find a spark to start an argument.

Enjoying the stares of everyone in the room while she decided, Nico took a minute before levering herself off the couch. “Yes.”

“Yippee!!” More shouting. “I’ll text Umi we’re coming now.” Honoka jumped, pumping a fist. Nico instinctively went into cautious older sibling mode, not quite frowning, but squelching Honoka’s exuberance with delay.

“Nico needs clothes.” Nico was not meeting Umi’s stylish friend the designer for the first time in leggings and a sweatshirt. She had acquired a designer outfit specifically for this situation, so Kotori would know she was dealing with a real professional. “Nico will go soon.”

“Cool.” Honoka pulled out her phone, typing rapidly.

Nozomi and Rin had their coats on, “We’ll see you later, Nico.”

Nico flashed her signature gesture, “Nico Ni will knock you out.”

Honoka was ignoring the Japanese, continuing her text conversation with Umi, Nico guessed. Umi would be a proper audience. She never let Nico down.

###

Shut out everything else, Maki told herself as she locked the door behind her and approached the piano. A certain amount of ritual was involved in this moment, not quite approaching an altar or a lover levels of depth, but a gathering of emotions, a tension, a familiarity as Maki sat on the bench, rested a hand for a moment on the polished, warming wood of the fallboard, revealing the keys, the cool welcome against her fingertips, the demand for effort, for excellence, for passion...Maki leaned back, maybe a little more like a lover than a shrine, not that she’d had much experience with either. But the piano was a means, an ally, a key to a language that actually allowed Maki the freedom to express everything that bottled up in her throat and chest. Maybe her mouth wasn’t made for expressing the turmoil twisting itself out of expectation and others, but with her fingers, her arms, her body, she could shout for space, for, ironically, a moment of quiet, to just settle enough to know what it was she wanted. She wondered what it would be like to...Maki didn’t even know the words for it, it was an action, a feeling, a slam, a collision, into something that held, that would let her just be.

Maki didn’t know what she was playing, she had no space to listen, everything was being driven into the piano, to transform into the pieces of Maki that kept spinning away. Was there anyone here to listen, to hear?

###

The clothes were impressive. Just the pictures had gotten Nico on a plane, flying across a huge ocean. Umi had impeccable taste so Nico knew when Umi pitched the project it would be something spectacular. Nico had also not been unaware of Umi’s gloom since the very kind and decorative Kotori Minami had ended her internship at the atelier and returned home. Now, while Nico herself was an independent modern career woman, she didn’t fault anyone who managed to find someone to get sentimental about. Yes, she totally judged Tojo, who seemed to have mastered the casual weekend relationship. Nico would not have flown across an ocean if Nozomi had pitched the project. But for Umi, Nico shrugged, and smiled at Kotori, who was a whisper of steel and grace, answering all of Nico’s questions without hesitation. Nico couldn’t put the pieces down, the textures, the lightness, the way the light caught additional colors, none of that had been in the sketches and all of it was magical. Nico found herself getting excited as she imagined the photos, the camera turning her natural charisma up by 1000 when wrapped in these beautiful slices of artistry.

“Yazawa-san…” Kotori started.

“Nico.” Nico waved an invitation to intimacy as she put down a white blanket robe that seemed to contain in its threads the silver glimmer magic of first snow at midnight. Kotori was finishing that piece, she’d wanted to see it on Nico so that the painted on kanji could be placed in the proper locations. Umi had been confirming the order of strokes, offering to do the calligraphy herself, but Kotori seemed reluctant to put that responsibility on the other woman. Nico wondered if the seamstress realized how seriously Umi took the samurai’s mastery of both sword and brush.

Kotori reached for her chalk, “Nico...thank you, now that I’ve seen this, I can mark the locations.”

“Once again, Kotori, if you want me to, I would be more than happy…” Umi stepped forward.

“Oh, I couldn’t…” Kotori shrugged, demurring, “this is all of this fabric I have, any mistake...you’re very sweet, but...”

Nico couldn’t take the look on Umi’s face, like the damsel in distress had turned down the rescue and was slowly freezing in the ice tower. She coughed, drawing the focus back to Nico, “Maybe Umi could demonstrate her talents on another fabric, similar in texture.” Nico bowed, “Nico will cover the costs. For an original Sonoda.”

Umi blushed, Nico raised a hand to cover her own mouth, pretending modesty, but actually covering a broad grin at Umi’s embarrassment.

“Oh…” Kotori glanced from one to the other, giggling, “I’m sure Umi’s talents are more than up to the job, I just thought…”

Nico gave in and laughed at her friend’s grand gestures as Umi bowed, “I will not disappoint either of you.”

Now see, if there had been someone like Umi, serious and stunning and silly and too easy to tease, in Nico’s life, interested in more than friendship, the rising pop star might have made a little time for something that wasn’t her career.

###

Eli was surprised to find she had not a family standing in her office, but one client, a small, mousy, bundled up in layers woman by the name of Koizumi Hanayo, visiting New England with her parents, who had stayed in Boston. Eli had a good reputation among Japanese tourists, but solitary guests were unusual. Groups of co workers were more common. Not that Eli would let this throw her off stride. . “Hi, I’m Eli Ayase. Nice to meet you.” Eli offered a hand, Hanayo shaking it timidly while muttering something Eli couldn’t quite make out.

“Sorry,” Eli leaned down, “I couldn’t hear you.”

Hanayo leapt back, the earflaps on her hat a comedy short of their own, “Sorry.”

“Please take a seat.” Eli indicated the chair opposite hers and sat behind the computer, “Do you downhill or cross country ski?”

Another mutter.

Eli smiled broader, her voice encouraging. “You’ll have to speak up. I’m sorry.”

The young woman took a huge breath, her hands clasped in her lap, raised her head, blinking eyelashes over shy violet eyes, her Japanese rapid, “Neither, Ayase-san. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Eli slouched a little, shoulders opening, trying every body language trick she could think of to be less intimidating. “Most of my clients just...already like the outdoors.”

Hanayo shook her head, “My parents hired you. They are worried that I’m…” Hanayo fidgeted, “neet.”

Eli was confused, “They think you’re too tidy?”

Hanayo sighed, “Do you know what otaku means?”

Eli typed it into her computer. “You’re an anime fan?”

“Idol.”

“Idol?”

“Singers. Pop stars.”

“Oh.” Eli had heard of that. “Like Babymetal?”

Hanayo’s eyes went wide as she squeaked, “You know them? Aren’t they amazing. I just love…”

“I’m not a huge fan.” Glad that she had finally gotten a reaction out of her charge, Eli didn’t want the young woman to slip back into embarrassment, “but my friends were talking about their last North American tour.” Eli turned away from her computer, “So your parents sent you here for some healthy outdoor activities. And hired me for the parts of the week I had available.”

Hanayo nodded, “They have business in Boston. They didn’t want to leave me in Japan alone over the holidays.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Hotel.”

“I have a friend with a B and B, maybe they’ll have a room. There’s a friendly group from Japan there right now.”

“Really?” Hanayo looked interested.

“Cute girls too.” Eli winked, expecting Hanayo to blush or be flustered...but her client had just leaned forward, a spark behind her glasses.

“And they might have a room?”

“I’ll have to ask Honoka. They might be booked. It’s…” Eli frowned, trying to remember the name of Nozomi’s client, she’d looked her up, “Yazawa Nico.”

“NICO NI!” Hanayo was on her feet instantly, shoving Eli’s desk back, demonstrating unexpected and impressive lung capacity, “NICO NI is here? I have to meet her.” Hanayo started for the door.

“Slow down.” Eli was on her feet, hand out, “First we have to find a winter sport for you. Your parents requested pictures. I can’t afford a refund.”

“Oh.” Hanayo collapsed in her chair.

“But after that, I’m meeting Nozomi and if you don’t have any plans, you can come along.” Eli suspected that even if Hanayo had already made plans, they would be quickly cancelled.

With a great deal of effort to not throw herself at Eli or the door, Hanayo spoke in a more normal tone. “Thank you, Ayase-san.”

“Just call me Eli,” Eli grinned, and pulled up her contact list, “Now what do you think about ice skating?”

#NicoMaki #KotoUmi #NozoEli #RinPana #Love Live #TIger By The Tail #holidays #Christmas

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owenepierce · 4 years

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Sparks Fly || Para

Who: Sam Evans & Owen Pierce

When: July 4th, 2020

Where Out by the lake, Ozarks, Missouri

Notes: Owen pulls off the prank Sue assigned, and somehow it still winds up being cute af. @sammythedominant @miss-sue-sylvester

While Blaine was off hiking with his brothers (or brother, depending on the state of affairs between Blaine and Eric) Sam and Owen made the decision to head to the beach for their free time during the afternoon. Holding hands, they walked through the trail leading out to the shoreline and set up camp on the beach. It was a gorgeous day. There was a light breeze, but not enough to take away from the heat - meaning it was the perfect weather for a swim in the admittedly cold lake. Dropping his backpack in the sand, Owen wrapped his arms around Sam's middle and pressed a kiss to the man's chest. "I'm so frickin' happy right now, it's ridiculous." It was true, too. This trip was one that Owen knew he'd never forget, and it wasn't even half over yet.

Sam kept his own arm around Owen's shoulder, keeping the submissive close as they walked. He smiled as they made their way to the beach, and then chuckled as Owen pressed a kiss to his chest. "Good. If I have my way, I'm gonna spend a long time making you and Blaine very happy," Sam murmured, as he turned his head and pressed a kiss into Owen's hair. "You didn't want to go for a hike with the Andersons? I bet Blaine would've wanted you to, if you did."

Owen smiled even broader against Sam's chest in response to the other's words. "You're almost as much of a sap as I am, sir." He stated with a giggle, hugging himself a little tighter to the dom before he relented and stepped back a bit, still keeping his arm around Sam's torso as he looked out at the lake. Owen laughed weakly at Sam's suggestion. "Uhh, no. I don't think putting myself in the middle of the woods with Eric is like...the best idea right now. I know we'll get to a place where we can be friends, but right now I think giving each other some space is the best way to go about it. Besides, Blaine should have the time alone with his siblings - maybe it'll give them a chance to smooth over any issues I've caused..." Owen said a bit sadly, his bottom lip pouting out a little bit.

Sam shook his head instantly, and instinctively. "Stop that. You're not to blame here. This is just one of those things that happen when we're all crammed into one campus and expected to find people to live our lives with," Sam said firmly, before he reached out and ran his thumb over Owen's bottom lip. "It's amazing that this kinda thing doesn't happen more. But you did nothing wrong, and neither did me and Blaine, and neither did Eric," Sam reassured Owen gently.

Owen listened to Sam and the more he did, the more it actually made perfect sense. There was no way he could've known how well he'd mesh with Sam and Blaine when he first met Eric. Everything just kind of fell into place so perfectly and almost without any of them noticing there was nothing to be done at this point, and Owen felt like he was just wasting energy harping on it. "You're right," Owen stated with a sigh. "I just have to keep faith that everything will calm down on its own. In the meantime, though - I'm gonna stop bumming both of us out." He turned and pressed a quick kiss against Sam's lips. "Thank you, though. For making me feel better about the whole thing, and for being so understanding." Owen turned his gaze back to the lake in front of them. "We should go swimming soon! I'm a little overheated from hiking out here."

Sam smiled as Owen seemed to understand his point. He cuddled the submissive a little closer to him, and nodded. "I think it will. Eric's not the type to hold grudges, which is good because me and him have argued a few times," Sam admitted, with a shrug of his shoulders. "He just needs some time, which I think is fair," he added, before chuckling and nodding at Owen's promise to stop bumming them out. He grinned as Owen gave him a quick peck on the lips, and nodded at his suggestion. "Well...I don't bring any swimming gear with me, dude," Sam sighed dramatically, not even bothering to attempt to hide a grin.

Owen's interest was definitely a little piqued at the notion that Sam and Eric had argued before - but in the spirit of laying the topic to rest, he figured that it was best he ignore his curiosities and move on. Laughing at Sam's show of faux-dramatics, Owen nudged the dom playfully and rolled his eyes. "Oh no." Owen sighed out with the same amount of grandiose. "What ever will we do, sir? I can't have my king out here sweltering in this heat! I guess you'll just have drop the pants of go out in your birthday suit..." Owen toyed with the waistband of Sam's shorts, very purposefully dipping his fingers under the fabric to trace up the v-line of his hips. "Don't worry, though - as your prince, I'll skip the swimsuit too. As if you wouldn't order me not to wear one anyway..." Owen added teasingly.(edited)

Sam grinned as Owen nudged him, and started to play along. "Oh, no, I guess you're right," Sam laughed, as he Owen began to play with his waistband. His dick gave a little twitch at the thought of both of them skinny-dipping right now, and knew it was going to be a lot of fun. "Oh, I'd definitely order you not to wear one, you're right," Sam laughed, as he took over, and didn't hesitate to push down his shorts, leaving his naked from the waist down. "Come on, dude, let's hit that lake," he grinned eagerly.

No sooner had Owen slipped his fingers under Sam's waistband than Sam took it upon himself to drop his pants completely, leaving him clad in nothing but his shoes - which he quickly kicked off. Owen couldn't help the proud little smirk at the fact that Sam's cock was definitely starting to thicken at the mere idea of being naked together. Granted, Owen was dealing with a situation of his own, but he was always especially proud when he had that effect on Sam. "Alrighty, go wait for me by the water. I'm gonna get undressed - don't go in without me, though!" Owen brushed past Sam, making sure to give his cock a little tug as he did so. Squatting down to open his backpack, he saw the firecrackers Sue had given him earlier and an idea instantly dawned on him. Looking out to the water, he saw Sam standing there - cut, chiseled back, perfect ass, hands on his hips...it was a sight that had Owen melting on the spot. "Sir, you look so good! Stay there, I wanna take a picture... Just...look out at the water. It'll be a candid shot!" Owen called out, quickly shedding off his clothes and snatching up the firecrackers and the accompanying lighter. "St...Stay there, don't move! The lighting's like - perfect right now." Owen said as he hurriedly set up the firecrackers in the sand a safe distance away but close enough for the sound to get a definite reaction. Once the firecrackers were set up, Owen swiftly planted his phone on his backpack, turned his camera on, and began recording. "Just a few more, sir! These are coming out so, so well." Owen called out again, trying desperately not to laugh. Finally, he lurched forward and lit the firecrackers before stepping back and letting them go off with a loud BANG!(edited)

Sam was a little surprised Owen didn't want to just quickly strip off and run into the lake with him, but laughed a little as Owen promised to follow, and played with Sam's cock for a moment. "Eager boy," Sam teased, before he jogged down to the lake. He grinned as he looked out to the water and let Owen take as many shots as he liked. "These better not end up on instagram, Owen! My Mom would have a heart attack!" he called out, grinning to himself as he imagined his mother's scream as she scrolled her regular insta feed of recipes and her children's accounts. He rolled his eyes playfully as Owen promised it was just a few more shots, and was about to finally turn around to call Owen over into the lake, when he heard the noise. Sam practically jumped out of his skin with fright. He let out a yell before he toppled over, and fell, butt-first, into the water. "What the FUCK!" he yelled out, his eyes wide.

Owen brought a hand to his mouth as he laughed, but that technique to keep his giggles at bay was very quickly made useless when Sam completely fell over into the water. Clutching his stomach, Owen doubled over in giggles, his eyes tearing up as he did so. He barely managed to pull himself together enough to end the recording on his phone, slip it into his backpack and job around the smoking firecrackers and down to the shore, where Sam still was - sitting waist-deep in the lake. Catching Sam's bewildered expression, Owen broke out into laughter once more. "I-...hahaha I'm sorry. Oh my god! Your face!" Owen kept giggle, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure. "I'm sorry! Sue made me!" He called out, having a sinking feeling that Sam would be paying him back very, very soon.(edited)

Sam was lost for words for a few moments, as he heard Owen giggling. He knew he'd been pranked, but he still wasn't sure what had happened. He was still sat in the edge of the lake, and blinked as he realised Owen had moved, and was now laughing right next to him. As soon as Owen declared he was sorry and that Sue had made him do it, he reached out for the sub's arm and pulled down into the water, making him sit on Sam's lap. "Oh, you are so going to get it, Owen," Sam grinned at the submissive, and shook his wet hair.

Owen squealed as he was pulled into the water and into Sam's lap. "Ack, sir! It's cold!" Owen continued to laugh and giggle in spite of himself, wrapping his arms around Sam's shoulders and leaning back as the taller blonde shook out his soaking wet hair, spraying lake water all over him. Before long, they were both equally wet and laughing together. Catching his breath, Owen leaned in, resting his forehead against Sam's. "I really am sorry... Coach Sue was offering points for us to do these pranks. We get points and a day pass in exchange for doing it, though - and I thought you and I could use the pass to do something fun sometime." He pouted at Sam and shifted his weight so that he was straddling the dom in the water. "Don't be maaad." He drawled out playfully, still trying to stifle his giggles.

Sam laughed as Owen complained about the cold water, and didn't hesitate to hold the submissive close to him. He wanted to be sure Owen was safe in the water, but he also wanted to keep him as close as possible. He smiled fondly as Owen rested their foreheads against each other, and he nodded gently. "It's okay, you don't have to keep apologising," Sam promised. "That sounds like a great idea, we should definitely do that," he chuckled lightly, as Owen moved to straddle him. "Oh, I'm not mad. But I definitely think I'm glad I packed your pretty pink cage," Sam teased, as he reached down into the water to touch Owen's shaft.

Owen's breath hitched when Sam's hand wrapped around his length under the water. Letting out a little huff, he nodded gently, a twinkle of playfulness in his blue eyes. "I guess I totally had that coming, huh?" He rocked forward, tucking himself in against Sam so that the dominant's cock was tucked upwards between his bare ass cheeks. Rutting down a little he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sam's lips, wrapping his arms around the other's neck and letting out a slight moan into the exchange. When they broke apart, Owen brushed Sam's wet bangs to the side, similarly to the way he had on that first night they spent together, when they talked on the bleachers after cheer practice. Sighing, he smiled down at Sam, taking a moment to really study the other's face. "You're kinda like...beautiful, y'know that?"(edited)

Sam grinned a little, and shrugged his shoulders. "You're not being punished, or anything like that. I want to make sure you know that," Sam said gently, and then groaned as Owen moved, and his dick pressed against the submissive's naked ass cheeks. He licked his lips, as he watched Owen while the submissive brushed his wet hair to the side. "Have you even seen yourself?" Sam asked in a quiet tone, as he reached up to gentle run his fingertips along Owen's cheek. "You're the beautiful one, sweet boy."

"I know, don't worry." He assured Sam, cutely nuzzling his nose against the dominant's. He used to think of chastity as some kind of punishment, but as he got more and more into the kink with Sam, he'd been viewing it more-so as little more than a focus-shift. It was a way of ensuring that every ounce of his attention was on pleasuring Sam. It also tended to make that moment when he finally earned his own pleasure all the sweeter. Owen leaned into Sam's touch, his eyes fluttering a bit as his smile broadened. "When you say it, I actually believe it..."

[fade to black...]

#para #para: sam evans #sam evans #sparks fly #camping

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unlit-memories · 4 years

Text

A forgotten au

Walking into the record store, he sighed. He really didnt want to be here, but he needed a new Jimi Hendrix record as he broke his old one. He was Min Yoongi. Otherwise known as Suga from the Sinners biker gang, one of the biggest gangs in the south of Seoul. He would say biggest, but the rival gang on the north was nearly as big. Typically, the two gangs never crossed paths, until recently when one of his own left and joined the rivals.

—

Everyone in the gang was on edge after the arrival of the new gang member-especially Hoseok. After all, he was originally from the Sinners gang, their rivals. of course they’d be on edge. but the main question he had was how someone could switch sides practically overnight? or maybe it wasn’t overnight, but who’s to say they won’t switch sides again? it was a dilemma hoseok was put in, and he’d either wait the situation out or deal with it on his own terms-whatever that might be.

Jung Hoseok, also known as j-hope, is part of the saviors bike gang-which just happens to be one out of the two biggest biker gangs here in seoul. Hoseok would’ve liked to say they’ve never crossed paths thus far, but with the arrival of the new gang member, there’s been sparks here and there. and not the good kind. it’s put hoseok in a tough position, along with his co-leader, Kim Namjoon-also known as RM. He rocked in his chair quietly, gently tapping his desk and thinking.

—

As Yoongi checked out of the small store he pulled out his cell, calling his number two, Park Jimin, and informed him to tell the rest of the gang that tonights meeting was off. Obviously, they would be pissed but Yoongi had more important things to do.

He needed to find Hoseok, leader of the Saviors from the northside. He had no idea where to find the man, but he needed to, and give him a piece of his mind. In Yoongi’s head, he wasnt angry at Jisung for leaving. Well he kinda was but not as angry as he was at Hoseok for allowing something like this. The two gangs typically lived in a peaceful coexistence, with slight altercations now and then. But after this? He had a feeling it wouldn’t stay that way.

—

“i mean, how could you just let him join us? he could be a threat.. everyone’s on edge, hoseok.” namjoon said, seated on the other side of hoseok’s desk-looking quite serious compared to hoseok, who was entertaining himself by kicking around a pen that he was too lazy to pick up earlier.

“look, namjoon..” he started off, turning in his seat to face him. “i know, everyone’s on edge because of the kid-but i thought this case out several times, okay? if i see him as a threat or anything of the sort in the next few weeks, i’ll personally send him out. and you know that won’t be so pretty.” he smiled, picking up his pen afterwards. “i’ll sort out a gang meeting this weekend to discuss any precautions or what we should be expecting.. i don’t think the sinners will plan on just leaving us be from now on.” That was the last thing he said before he sent Namjoon on his way to inform the rest of the members of the meeting. He stared down at the pen on his desk, seemingly lost in thought for what seemed like hours.

—

It had been literal hours and Yoongi was getting more annoyed by the second. He had walked halfway around the northside and he found nothing. Hoseok was nowhere to be found.

‘God is this even worth it?’ He thought to himself. Though a second later he smacked himself back into reality. Of course this was worth it. They had stolen a member of his gang. Jisung had been a loyal member of sinners for years now, and Hoseok just so carelessly let him join? Before, Yoongi liked to think that he and Hoseok had an understanding. They stick to the north, and Sinners stick to the south. If they needed to cross, the members would go to Yoongi or Hoseok and they would alert the other what was going down. But not anymore. It would change, and soon.

—

hoseok decided he just couldn’t focus and needed some fresh air, immediately getting up from his chair and leaving the room. once he was outside the building, he took a breath of fresh air-a soft smile appearing on his face. he immediately felt a thousand times more relaxed with the cool breeze blowing through his hair. he walked through the streets of seoul, hands in his pockets as he just simply let his mind wander. how he’d face the sinners and especially min yoongi, their leader. he hadn’t seen the man close up and personal, but he’s heard enough stories to be more than curious.

Yoongi continued walking down the street, getting sick of walking and finding nothing. He was about to give up and just go back, when he saw a man who looked an awfully lot like Hoseok walking towards him. As he got closer, he realized it actually was Hoseok. He would recognize that stupid purple hair anywhere. The suppressed anger from the past few hours all rose to the surface as he stormed up to Hoseok, and threw him to the wall. “How could you?!” He seethed, eyes blazing. “Jisung was one of the longest members of sinners and you just so easily let him in with you? I would never do that Hoseok!”

Hoseok was surprised as he was suddenly thrown against a wall, ready to pull out his pocket knife and completely destroy whoever had laid their hands on him. his expression completely changed when he almost immediately saw a head full of strikingly blue hair. a sudden smile appeared on his face. “well if it isn’t min yoongi.. i’ve been curious about you~” he nearly cooed, looking like the sarcastic bastard he was always described as. he placed a hand on his arms, attempting to loosen yoongi’s group on his shoulders.

“at least take me to dinner first..” he joked with a wink, hinting at the current contact they were currently sharing. yes, he might be a complete dumbass for joking in this sort of situation-but he was a strong dumbass, one that could fend himself if the time called for it.

Yoongi glared and slammed him against the wall again. He didnt care how much that Hoseok was going to joke around. He would get to the bottom of everything.

“No jokes, Jung, not this time. How could you. I dont know about you, but i actually show my gang loyalty. I would never allowed what you let happen, happen the other way around.” He growled. “I pegged you for a lot of things Jung, but never for a low life backstabber.” He let go of Hoseok’s shirt collar and took a step back, his eyes full of fire.

Hoseok ruffled and set up his collar after Yoongi had released him, his expression a bit more serious.

“Look, Yoongi.. jisung came to me, and although it was risky, i accepted him-not to stab you in the back, but rather test him. think about why he would leave the sinners in the first place..” he trailed off, leaning against the brick wall he was previously shoved against. “In a broader sense, i’m doing this for both of us. he could have easily been a spy for any other gang out there, if he could leave so easily..” he didn’t break the eye contact with yoongi once as he spoke, making sure his words reached the man standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry that he decided to leave, truly.. but think of this as a temporary thing. if he decides to stay, so be it. but if he gets back in his right mind, i’ll send him back straight your way. i’m a man of my word, min.” he was a little more relaxed now, even cracking a small smile now compared to his much more serious expression he was playing on.

Yoongi scoffed and looked to the side. How could Hoseok possibly think that Jisung was a spy. It had been nearly 6 years since he joined sinners. “He’s not a spy. Hes been with me for six years- SIX Hoseok. Would you accept me so easily if i decided i was done with Sinners? I dont think you would.” He spat. Was he being a bit unfair? Totally. But he was pissed. He knew how much trouble Jisung leaving was going to cause and in his eyes, it looked like Hoseok gave no fucks.

“What would you do, Hoseok. If i came to you, asking to join Saviors, after years of leading Sinners?”

It was Hoseok’s turn to scoff back, and so he did, especially at the last comment yoongi made. “Min.. the work of a spy would surprise you, but they go under training for several more years. 6 years would probably be nothing compared to that. now then again, it was just an assumption. so he might not be a spy at all, but if he did stay for that long.. what reason would he have for suddenly leaving?” hoseok could almost say he regretted making the decision-but at the same time, seeing yoongi in a fit of rage was also just so amusing.

“Since i’m also curious, i would like to know his reasoning as well. trust me, i more than anything don’t want another member joining the saviors-especially from the sinners.. but again, min, i’m doing this for the both of us. just let me borrow your member for a few weeks. Although i wouldn’t call it borrowing if he waltzed in himself..” Hoseok happened to mumble the last bit out, wanting to get out a little more of the amusing rage of a reaction out of Yoongi.

Yoongi pushed Hoseok so his back hit the wall but kept his distance still. He didnt care much about what Hoseok was saying anymore, except he did want an answer to his previous question.

He wondered, how would Hoseok react if the high and might leader of Sinners walked right into his headquarters and requested a spot in his gang. “Okay so maybe he could be a spy. Or maybe hes just a piece of shit with no loyalty. But you seem to let anyone ‘waltz in’.” He said with a chuckle, and he crossed his arms.

“So answer me. Jung Hoseok what would you do if i wanted to join Saviors? Accept me with open arms? I doubt it. You wanna know what i think you would do? I think you’d laugh in my face and send me away.”

Hoseok kept his gaze straight into Yoongi’s, an almost daring glare in his eyes as he smirked, his back gently hitting the wall again. “You don’t know me very well, Min Yoongi.. i would, 100% without a doubt, accept you in very easily..” he trailed off, coming a little closer and lessening the distance between them.

“But only to play with you for a while.. then send you off my own way-and trust me, you don’t want to know what i’m capable of, sweetheart..” he said, that same devilish smirk across his face as he remained where he was. “Maybe i could be doing the same thing with your little jisung, who knows~? he’s a little cutie, you know..” he put his hands in his pockets, that arrogant expression of his almost everlasting at this point.

Yoongi scoffed and looked away, not believing what he was hearing. Of course Hoseok would try to play this card. Act like he was gonna seduce him just to rile him up. Two could play this game

“You know, Hope,” He said in a low tone, stepping in closer as well, a devilish smile on his face, “I love that you think youre the one in control here. Ive been in this game a lot longer sweetheart.” He steps even closer, ready to play his own game, the beginning of an idea in his head to later be discussed with Jimin. Taking a final step closer, his lips were right in front of Hoseoks.

“Careful, J-Hope. You never know who else might walk through your headquarters doors.” He whispered, smirking before pressing his lips to Hoseok’s cheek, and then turning and walking away, not sparing a second glance.

Hoseok couldn’t deny it, yoongi was just as good as this game as he was-maybe even better. he simply watches as yoongi’s figure disappears, a smirk still played across his amused expression before he walked towards his headquarters again.

Hands in his pockets, he enjoyed the weather for as long as he could-before he had to plan his next move. yoongi was a tough nut to crack, but he was going to keep trying.

After all, once someone catches his attention it’s hard to just leave them alone.

~~~~~~~

Okay this got super long and theres still a ton left, so im gonna be posting in sort of “chapters” as to not have this post be as long as the entire dash 🤣 anyways, enjoy, and ill post the second part soon!

#my works #gang au #sinners and saviors #bts au #sope au #gang leader yoongi #gang leader hoseok #sinners and saviors au

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furidojasutin · 5 years

Text

Title: War of Hearts

Pairing: Fraxus (Freed x Laxus)

Characters: Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine, Bixlow, Evergreen, Ivan Dreyar, OC Eleanor, (Mother Dreyar, Makarov Dreyar)

Universe: Modern AU??

Rating: K+/T

a/n: Gosh here it is!! Some time ago I wrote a little preview for this oneshot and now I finally finished it >.< It’s the second idea that got inspired by Shadowhunters and #Malec so if you know the series you’ll recognize it >BD If not, then well more surprise for you! I also highly recommend listening to ‘War of Hearts’ by Ruelle while reading (it’s so perfect). Hopefully you’ll enjoy this and I could provide some feelz aaahh >.< ;w;

‘I can't help but love you Even though I try not to I can't help but want you I know that I'd die without you’

“Ah, Laxus! Come in!” Freed opened the door with a subtle smirk, gesturing for his visitor to step inside. He hadn't anticipated to see the blond man so soon after they've had the conversation just prior, and a meaningful one, too.

“Uh yea, thanks.” Laxus followed him inside, letting the door fall shut softly behind him.

Clear hesitation was in his movements but that either didn't seem to bother Freed or he failed to take note of it.

“I don't have much time. I only wanted to tell you about something.”

“So?” Freed was holding a bottle of wine, studying its label. “Can I at least offer you a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“Shame,” Freed hummed and proceeded to pour himself some of the alcoholic beverage before rejoining Laxus' side. His gaze was expectant when he waited for the other to continue on.

When Laxus realized that Freed was waiting for him to begin, he briefly scratched the back of his neck. That was before he straightened his posture and determination seeped back into his eyes. He had to pull himself together. This was the right decision. “So, what you told me earlier... I thought about it.”

Freed's face lit up at hearing this. A contented expression settled on his face. This was a good sign.

“I really need to change somethin' about my personal happiness, and the way the institute influences my life. It can't go on like this.”

He nodded. So Laxus had really taken his words into contemplation, huh? “So what are you going to do?” There was a small smile on his face. It was so subtle, he wasn’t sure Laxus would even notice it. And perhaps there was a sense of pride or this weird feeling of happiness he tended to feel around the blond man.

Freed was so certain that this would finally be the bit of positive development he was craving that the lingering moment of somewhat tense silence Laxus created didn’t bother him before he replied.

“I proposed to Eleanor.”

Then Freed’s face dropped. It was bound to happen. Or maybe he just thought that his facial features slipped and it was his heart cracking instead. Or it was his brain desperately trying to comprehend what just happened, searching for anything logical about this. Laxus couldn’t be serious.

Was he?

“You proposed to-”

“I’m gonna marry her in a few days.”

“Right.” Freed swallowed. His fingers tapped against the glass in his hand and he avoided the eye contact Laxus was forcing now. What was he attempting to do? Prove something? He wasn’t tipsy enough for this. “So that is- Huh, that is what you figured out from my words?” He believed he didn’t quite manage to keep the air of scorn and emotion out of his voice.

And he didn’t see the brief change in Laxus’ expression, nor did he notice the struggle in his orange eyes as he was still mindlessly letting his gaze swerve anywhere but towards the man standing in front of him.

Still, Laxus was the one who broke the silence again. “As the future head of the institute, this is the only right decision.” It was hard to keep looking at the other man and his expression that had turned gloomy. He took a deep breath, striving for a harder voice than necessary and yet still it was shaking softly as he continues. “You don't have to like it but you have to understand.”

Laxus' words more than stung and Freed still avoided the eye-contact. Fingers began tapping against the glass again and then, with a rushed movement, he gulped down the rest of the alcoholic liquid. Why was Laxus doing this to him? Why was Laxus doing this to himself?

“You're a honorable man, Laxus, as am I. Family is important to you. I get how a marriage would influence the success of the institute.” A political marriage. There weren't any feelings involved. There couldn't be. When Freed looked back up his eyes were hard but at second glance they held a hurt spark. “But is this really, really what you thought I meant when telling you to live for yourself? Is this the message you got? You think I would encourage you to enter a marriage with a person you don't know, let alone love? Blindly? So you end up unhappy with your personal life? What do you think I-”

“Stop talking!” Laxus didn't know that he would end up interrupting the other but suddenly his entire body was shaking. There was rage in his chest he was unable to interpret and he sure enough was overwhelmed with the situation. Thoughts were raging, and his heart was. “Who do you think you are? Why do you think you have any right to tell me what's right and what's wrong?” He almost kept shouting and the line of words that escaped weren't thought through. This, this wasn't what he wanted. But didn't Freed get it? Couldn't he see that this was the only thing he could do? “Why do you think I would risk anything for you?”

The words stabbed through Freed's heart like a knife. He hadn't seen the sudden outburst coming and his expression hadn't hidden this fact.

Laxus' eyes were a blazing fire, his chest heaving and lowering, until he realized what he'd just blurted out. His breathing began to become more even again and the realization slowly spread across his face, even if just slightly scratching the surface.

They just stood there for what felt like an eternity, tension dominating the air around them, until Freed spoke.

“I see.” His voice was lowered though not quite a whisper. He averted his gaze from the man he loved and turned his back on him, slowly walking towards the table in his living room to pour himself another glass of wine. “Then there's nothing else we have to talk about, Laxus. Leave.”

Laxus wished that the moment of blowing off steam would at least have done something to calm his nerves afterwards. Instead, it had made everything worse. He suddenly felt lost, his inward battle grown with the rage and words he hadn't wanted to say.

For a single second his lips parted to retort something. But then he slowly turned around, grabbing the door handle of Freed's apartment and froze in place for another few seconds. He was making the right decision, wasn't he? Even if it was painful. Sacrifices had to be made. Freed had to understand.

Or perhaps he was being too stubborn and too much of a coward all at once.

With the same hurt in his chest Laxus left and the second he was away Freed's head dropped and his grasp tightened around the glass, almost crushing it.

xxx xxx

Four days had passed since Laxus had spoken to Freed at his apartment. It was the last time they had seen and talked to each other and although he wasn't quite ready to admit it to himself, it had been the worst few days in a long time.

“Hey buddy, you okay?”

Engrossed in his own thought, Laxus hadn't heard anybody approach. His shoulders twitched and he looked back over his shoulder to see one of his closest friends behind him. No, I fucking ain't. But he could impossibly say that. Tomorrow would be his wedding. He had to do this. There was no way around it.

Maybe it would become easier, maybe the pain would become less if he kept on telling himself this over and over again.

“Yea. Just a bit nervous.” It wasn't really a lie.

Bixlow patted the broader man's shoulder in comfort. “That's normal. You don't marry everyday, do ya?” He shot Laxus a wide grin, despite noticing that something has been bothering his best friend. Something he wasn't telling him.

“Yea...” Laxus' head was feeling heavy. All he wanted to do was to get this damn wedding over with.

How he would he be able to look Freed in the face ever again?

Heaving a sigh, Laxus stood up from his chair. His muscles felt sore from working out too much this day and his hair was tousled. In a few hours he would get married and he doubted he'd be able to find much sleep.

“It's the right thing,” he muttered and grabbed his used towel from the chair.

“It's your decision.” Bixlow watched his friend with attentive eyes. His grin was less wide now but still present. If anything, Laxus needed all the support he could give right now. “If that's what makes you happy.”

There it was again. Do what makes you happy. But would this really make him happy? Laxus was so damn aware of the answer to this question and yet... yet...

He clenched his hands to fists without really taking note of it, earning a hidden concerned look from Bixlow. When his body became less rigid again, he simply turned his back on Bixlow and began to leave the work out room. “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya, buddy. Sleep tight.”

“I'll try.” No, he'd most likely be awake all night. How often had his thoughts swerved back to Freed the last days? Far too often for him to count. Thoughts of him had been consuming him.

With a heavy frown on his face, Laxus disappeared from his best friend's sight.

Once Laxus was gone, Bixlow emitted a sigh, his facade crumbling to pieces. It was an understatement to say that he was worried. Laxus was a dutiful person and he had troubles dealing with and showing his emotions. With his gaze stuck to where his friend had disappeared, honest concern surfaced in Bixlow's expression.

“Is this really what you want, Laxus?”

xxx xxx

“You look gorgeous, sweetie.” Evergreen smiled, giving a gentle tug to Laxus' purple bow tie. Taking a small exhale, she gave one last pat to his shoulders. “You'll be fine?”

“I guess.” The nervousness was getting to him. In a few moments his future wife would walk through the doors and at the end of this he would be a married man. His heart was clenching at the thought and he was barely able to grasp a straight thought. Shit.

“Alright. We're all here with you.”

Laxus didn't notice how slightly pained her smile was when she turned around to take a seat in the first row of chairs. His mind was racing and he doubted that it would get any better in the course of the next minutes. How was he supposed to remember and say his vows?

Bixlow, as his groomsman, was standing behind him. The room was crowded already. He could spot his father and his grandfather among the people. Ivan was wearing a self-satisfied expression while Makarov was waving towards him to encourage him and once again this one question claimed his mind again.

Would this make himself happy?

He was just about to turn towards Bixlow and talk to him when suddenly the entire room went quiet at once. The two big doors of the church opened and a few seconds later music began to play in the background.

From this moment on, all the spotlight was on her only for as long as she walked down the aisle together with her father.

Laxus gulped softly and stood straight. He strove for an unreadable expression for as long as nobody was paying much attention to him.

Eleanor was objectively beautiful, that was undenyable, and the dress she was wearing let her shine even more than usual. Her wedding gown was classic – white and with a long train following up behind her as she walked. Her smile was beaming and her brown eyes were sparkling. Long dark locks were held together in a pinned-up hairstyle that was neither too strict nor too casual.

It was the image of a fairy tale. She was an amazing wife and he should be thankful.

But he couldn't be. Not sincerely.

He missed how almost everyone was smiling and holding their breath once she reached him. His eyes naturally swerved towards Bixlow for a second, almost as though asking for help, and got an encouraging look in return.

Alright, this was it.

Visibly taking a deep breath, Laxus forced himself to smile. Gently, he took Eleanor's hands into her own and her radiant smile stung in his chest. She seemed so happy even though she knew that this was a political step. That no deep feelings were involved.

She did know, didn't she?

“Are you alright?” Eleanor whispered, her tone soft and barely reaching his ears.

Laxus gave a small nod, exhaling softly once more, before strengthening his smile. “Yes.”

He didn't think it was possible but her smile widened at this response and they both turned to the minister so the ceremony could begin.

The minister gave them both a humble smile. “Today we have come together to witness the joining of Bride and Groom in marriage. They met each other, fell in love and are finalizing it with their wedding today.”

Laxus' mind was still making it hard for him to concentrate on what was being said. He had lost the minister at the first few words already, his thoughts getting back to swirl around one particular person. Love.

He did fall in love, he was pretty sure. But...

Eleanor's hands still in his own, he stood there absolutely rigid. The good thing was that nobody would notice, most likely. Except for Bixlow perhaps. He just hoped that Eleanor didn't get suspicious.

While the minister gave his introduction, he constantly felt his future wife's gaze on him. It practically burnt his skin with how intense it was and no matter how rude it was, he couldn't bare looking her in the eye the entire time.

His own gaze drifted over the crowd without any destination, then over the walls and all the white and purple decorations. Everything was beautiful. Anybody would be more than joyous about the entire set up, such a wonderful wife, such a meaningful day.

But he wasn't. All he felt right now was tension and uneasiness.

“Laxus, it's time to say your vows.”

The voice sounded so distant at first that he didn't react immediately. It was the gentle squeeze on his hands that brought him back to the here and now entirely and when his eyes swerved back to Eleanor he could see a warm but slightly concerned smile. He couldn't mess this up.

Again he glanced at Bixlow, then at the minister and then at Eleanor. Pull yourself together now.

A moment of silence filled up the entire room before Laxus forced out another smile. This time, with all the effort he could muster up, he managed to make it look natural and easy and sincere. His orange eyes were locked with Eleanor's brown ones.

This was it. This would settle everything. He would say his vows, then it was her turn and then it would be done. He was going to be married.

“Eleanor,” Laxus began, forcing his deep voice not to shake. He needed a moment to remember his vows but Eleanor was still standing there with her patient and warm smile. He corrected his posture, broad body statue standing tall and proud.

With a sigh and another attempt to dismiss his heart, he finally continued. “I-”

This time he didn't interrupt himself.

Suddenly, the doors had fallen open with a loud thud. Whoever just entered didn't seem to have any care in the world.

Heads turned towards the entrance, and gasps sounded from everywhere in the hall.

Laxus' eyes went wide and he thought that his heart stopped beating right then and there. Evergreen's surprised expression turned into a knowing one, then into a large smile. Bixlow, hidden behind Laxus' back, grinned.

“Bastard, what are you doing here?” Ivan had raised from his seat, his voice bellowing. His eyes were pure rage, dangerous-looking and intimidating and his face had turned red from only shouting these words already.

Laxus could still do nothing but stare. He was unable to move, unable to register anything around him but the man who had stormed into the room.

Freed didn't pay any attention to Ivan even though it was tempting to and not all too easy to just ignore him. His long green hair was tied into a pony tail. A light blue suit paired with a fitting bow tie and a black waistcoat were covering his tautly-muscular body and it was stunning.

He was stunning.

Laxus was unable to keep up with anything. He faintly registered the minister's voice and then his father's voice again. This was his wedding. The wedding he had arranged on his own will to influence the reputation of his father's institute. A wedding that was free of any genuine love, at least on his part. And now the man he undoubtedly had feelings for was crashing it.

His mouth opened to say something but closed again without releasing any words.

Freed was just standing there in the aisle. Everybody was looking between him and the altar. Freed's stance was determined and so were his turquoise eyes, except that they also harbored a spark of insecurity, of question. He knew he wasn't technically supposed to be here.

“Who invited him?” Bixlow had sneaked away from his previous place to briefly join Evergreen in the front row.

Ever just grinned widely, voice kept low so nobody else would hear. “I did.”

At that, Bixlow's grin only widened. The two exchanged a meaningful glance and then he sneaked back to his previous place.

Evergreen was confident that this was going to help Laxus to find his own happiness. She couldn't bear seeing him enter a life that she knew would make him more than miserable.

“Laxus?” Eleanor's voice was shaken by an air of concern again, though this time of different nature. Her eyes had lost their sparkle and she gently squeezed his hands again to get his attention.

Laxus, still paralyzed, ripped his gaze off Freed to look at Eleanor instead. She was still smiling but it had gotten a crack and he spotted the lost shine in her brown eyes. He was unable to speak. Unable to breathe properly. He was lacking social skills one way or another but this was the worst.

Again his mouth opened and closed without saying something. His gaze drifted over to Freed.

Freed began to move again, walking further down the aisle with nervous determination. His heart was racing in his chest right now as hard as Laxus' was.

“Don't get anywhere near them!” Ivan had made his way towards Freed fiercely, almost spitting in his face as his voice rang through the hall anew.

Freed, so focused on Laxus only, had barely noticed Ivan coming up to him. But as the man almost went to stand in his way, Freed raised a hand. His eyes became just as fierce as Ivan's for a split-second and his deep voice told more than a thousand words could. “This is between me and your son.” He knew why he was here. This was his only chance.

Ivan was so caught off guard by this retort that he was left speechless long enough. His face was crimson and his eyes storming with pure disdain but he shut up if only not to give off more of a negative expression. Every move was going to influence his institute, and his own reputation.

Freed had gone half way down the aisle when he stopped again. He wouldn't dare walking up to Laxus entirely. He didn't want to force anything.

This was going to be Laxus' decision. Laxus' statement. Laxus could reject him or be with him.

It was silent again, only the music playing in the background and Laxus still didn't know how to breathe properly.

He is right there.

“Buddy, you okay?”

This time, Laxus was unable to respond immediately. His heartbeat was driving him mad. All eyes were on him and he hated it. Panic had risen in his chest, oh how he hated being vulnerable. How he hated dealing with his own emotions.

His orange eyes met Bixlow's red ones and he swallowed. “Yea... Yea, I-” What did he want to say?

He looked back at Freed, looked into those sincere eyes. He now noticed how Freed's chest was heaving and lowering and realized how the other man must feel right now. He put himself on the silver platter.

It was on him to decide how this was going to end.

Do what makes you happy.

“Laxus?”

Eleanor's soft voice made him jerk his head back to her. Now her smile was more obviously pained but little did he know for what reason. It was difficult for her to see him like this. It was bound to happen. “I know.” She knew. For the third time this morning, she squeezed his hands and all he could do was stare. This plan might not work out... but she didn't want to force him into this life if this wasn't what he wanted as well. “It's okay, Laxus.”

Laxus released and audible breath. Whether or not he liked that she knew about this was something to think about later, once he could think again at all. Everyone was looking at him still.

Evergreen with her wide smirk. Bixlow with supporting grin. His father with his blazing eyes, screaming threat. Eleanor with her cracked but encouraging smile.

And Freed. Freed, with his focused and waiting eyes. His look and body seemed more tense now. He must have become more insecure as it was taking so long for him to make any move at all.

In these very minutes, everything came crushing down on him. This wasn't going to make him happy. He could be as stubborn as he wanted, tell himself every lie that he could come up with. This, this wasn't what he wanted. Everybody knew, and he was the last person to realize this fact about his own happiness.

What he wanted was out of reach.

And he could change that. Right now.

“It's okay.”

Laxus heard Eleanor repeat her words and suddenly, his hands slowly slipped out of her gentle grasp. He was finally moving.

‘I can’t help but be wrong in the dark ‘Cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts I can’t help but want oceans to part ’Cause I’m overcome in this war of hearts’

He distantly felt Bixlow give a pat to his back and he didn't look right, didn't look left as he walked down the three steps and then moved down the aisle.

This war he had fought with himself was so useless. No other person should be deciding over his own life. He shouldn't be giving up on his own happiness just for business and reputation. There were other ways to stabilize them and he, as the future head of the institute, would utilize them properly.

Ivan, his entire body shaking, rushed up to him midway but Laxus didn't even grant him a look when he walked past him.

“Laxus! Don't you dare walk any further!”

“Enough!” The hiss was out before he could stop it. His gaze was stuck to the one man waiting for him and Freed's eyes were on him as well.

Laxus was pretty certain that he wasn't breathing anymore and he waited for the second his heart would burst through his rib cage.

Ivan was left behind and with how fast Laxus had walked he was suddenly standing right in front of the shorter man.

There was barely time for more eye-contact. There was definitely no more time to think.

When Laxus entangled his fingers in the front of Freed's suit, his eyes fell closed. He heard a deep, and relieved, exhale when he leaned towards the other man and all tension seemed to fall off Freed's shoulder's when their lips met.

The kiss wasn't careful and not hesitant. As soon as Freed realized that this was his answer, everything fell into the right place.

Their lips moved in unison and time stood still just for them. Laxus didn't dare to loosen his grip on Freed's clothing and he was unable to describe how it felt when Freed firmly placed his hands on his waist to keep him close.

It would be kitschy to say that finally kissing Freed felt as though fireworks were going off in his entire body – but it would be just as true. Laxus was dazed and intoxicated at once. They leant into each other, craving to feel the other, craving to feel just how real this was.

By the time they pulled apart for a brief moment, he could see all the emotion swirl in Freed's eyes. His own face was most likely a mess of emotion as well and he couldn't remember when he last revealed so much. Perhaps he never had.

They both exhaled before pulling each other close once more, not caring about any of their surroundings.

The cheers from various people, including Evergreen and Bixlow, were going past their senses as they were kissing.

This had to be the bliss everybody was referring to. He had been a fool to fight it. His happiness was tied to this very man and he had to thank him for showing up later.

He loved this man. And this man loved him.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way Freed did and now that he was beginning to hold onto this feeling, he would never let go of it again.

He would never let go of Freed again.

The kiss seemed to last for an eternity and felt too short at the same time. Too much emotion had been bottled up and released all at once. Breathing heavily, Freed and Laxus' rested their foreheads together while still not letting go of each other.

Now they both heard the cheering crowd clearly and let their gazes swerve shortly. Ivan, paralyed and his body quaking, didn't dare to start shouting again and even though Laxus knew that he had to expect something from him later, he couldn't care less right now. Eleanor was smiling softly even though she seemed a little awkward and Evergreen, Bixlow, his grandfather and his mother were all waving at them.

What would he do without any of them?

Exhaling once more, Laxus looked back at Freed who was smiling now. Almost immediately, he noticed a smile appearing on his own face and it felt so good to smile sincerely for the first time in days.

This was his future.

And it began with Freed.

#fraxus #fairy tail #freed justine #laxus dreyar #bixlow #evergreen (ft)#ivan dreyar #Sel writes #sob ss #my stuff #ft #freed x laxus #AU

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girl4music · 6 years

Photo

Psychic abilities on ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ - ‘The Clairs’ (ESP)

Gabrielle and Lin Chi get captured when they go to blow up Khan’s tent, where all the black powder was kept. From a distance away, Xena knows that they’re in danger without been given the information by anyone. Xena taps into “the power” to get information on the situation. “The power” is extra-sensory perception (ESP), also known as ‘The Clairs’.

Just in case you didn’t know, I thought I’d explain what ‘The Clairs’ are and how they work. The extra-sensory perception’s of Clairvoyance, Clairaudience, Clairsentience and Claircognizance are used in just this scene alone. Clairsentience is the main one used. Xena is able to feel Gabrielle’s fear and have the experience of feeling all of what she feels in that moment. She’s also able to hear Gabrielle call out her name and see the spark of explosives lit to kill them. She knew all of this information by the way of her sensory channels.

‘The Clairs’ are related to the 5 physical senses, except for the 6th sense, which is only metaphysical, but we all have it. The sense of intuitive knowing. There are also Clairs for taste (Clairgustance) and smell (Clairalience). too, but since they’re not used here, I’m not going to talk about them. They’ll be in the video I’ve attached to this post explaining the qualities and skills of ‘The Clairs’.

Clairvoyance (clear seeing) - Receiving intuitive information through sight/vision. You can clearly see visions and images in your head that are like dreaming but happen when you are awake. You actually see pictures and videos in your head that are very realistic and lucid. If you have this sensory experience and you see visions/images in your head, congratulations, you are Clairvoyant!

Clairaudience (clear hearing) - Receiving intuitive information through sound/audio. You can clearly hear sounds and voices in your head that seemingly come into your ears but actually they don’t. You’re creating them through your inner-hearing capability. You can pick out the nuances in music very easily. You are what is known as an audiophile. If you can do this and you get the sounds and voices in your head, congratulations, you are Clairaudient!

Clairsentience (clear feeling) - Receiving intuitive information through emotional feeling/physical touching/sensation. You can clearly sense or feel in both in a physical AND emotional way. You will have the ability to feel physical sensations and emotional feelings from something or someone that is not immediately in your presence. For example: you cry or get angry for no particular reason. What you’re actually doing is tuning into something or somebody else’s energy. And they can either be right next to you, somewhere in the room, or a long distance away from you (even in another country). Now according to what I’ve read about it, you’re supposed to be able to do this with anyone and anything, but my experience is different. If you have the ability to do any of this, you are Clairsentient!

Claircognizance (clear knowing) - Receiving intuitive information through thought and gut feelings/instincts. The main premise to this Clair is the ability to know but not know HOW or WHY you know. I have lots of information on this because this one’s MY primary and predominant Clair. If you’re very much a mind-orientated person, your predominant Clair is Claircognizance. If you are Claircognizant, these next sentences I say will be very familiar and relatable to you. So read carefully and clearly. You are Claircognizant if you know something without knowing HOW or WHY you know it. You don’t know where the information came from. Sudden and random thoughts come into your head that you had no reason to think about. It’s just out of the blue and you seem to always be correct about what you think. You like writing a lot and most likely have the gift of automatic-writing, whereby when you write, the words flow automatically and clearly without you trying or putting energy into it. Without thinking, funnily enough. You are able to write/type/text on your computer or phone RAPIDLY. I mean receptionist/call centre fast. VERY FAST. You have the ability to know whether someone is lying to you without evidence and you’ll be correct. This is a very valuable ability, because you’re able to do this with anyone. Not just people you personally know. People you’ve never met in your life beforehand. Complete strangers. You can walk into a room and sit or stand next to a person and you automatically know they are lying about something. Even if they’re not lying to you directly, you know something about them is off. They make you feel anxious or uncomfortable. This trait also lends itself to Clairsentience but at even deeper and broader levels, which is known as empathy. Empathy is scientifically verified. Clairsentience isn’t and all the other Clairs definitely aren’t either. You are good at playing cards games or even gambling because you’ll know what the card is before you even see it. It’s a form of tarot card reading. You are Claircognizant if you are a very analytical thinker and talker and you like using big and long words, making you appear intelligent. You are Claircognizant if you have a great gift for thinking and you often overthink about something or a situation.

These are the most common traits of Claircognizance, but there is so much more. You are a lie-detector, an analyst, and a intuitive person with great attention to detail. You are most likely the INTP personality: The Logician. The person who thinks rationally and logically. You like facts and love learning about practically anything. You have a great passion for science or philosophy. You, most likely, can tell the future just through thought alone, which is called pre-cognition, or you will know information about something from the past you’ve never had any knowledge of previously, through thought alone, which is called post-cognition/retro-cognition. You seem to other people like you are mature and intelligent. You appear to be someone that knows what they’re talking about. However, that’s not always the case because you still have difficulty understanding what you know without doing research. RESEARCH and EDUCATION is something you want and love to do naturally ‘cause it helps you validate or confirm something you already know. A great example to use here is with words from the dictionary. Terms you use at any random moment talking with someone that you’ve never known or used in your life before, and you’re confident you’re using them in the correct context. And if you Google check to see if you are, you will be correct. This is a very basic example of knowing information without knowing how or why you know it. It just comes into your head. You’ll also be very good at predicting songs on the radio. Knowing what song is gonna come up next, and you’ll be able to do it consecutively. Like… 10 times in a row, and you’ll be absolutely correct, every time. You will be confident about it before the song is revealed. This is because Claircognizance comes with its own sense of certainty. You will be confident and certain that you are correct about what you know. To other people this will make it seem like you are egotistical, big-headed or holier-than-thou. Basically, they will think you think of yourself better or higher than them. This isn’t the truth. You will be confident you are correct because you will be. You will know what you know is the truth because it is the truth. You won’t know HOW or WHY you know that it is, but you will just be very confident and certain on it. Now, I don’t relate to this one, but apparently you will also be a great mathematician. You will be really good with numbers and working out math problems/equations. This is something I definitely am not. It’s the only trait of Claircognizance I don’t have. If you can do all of the above and all of it relates to you, or you just simply have the ability to know what you shouldn’t be able to know without research or education, and you are always confident that you know it, congratulations, you are Claircognizant!

Do you think you have any of ‘The Clairs’? Leave comments and tell me about your sensory experiences.

youtube

#xena warrior princess #xena and gabrielle #xena #lucy lawless #gabrielle #renee o'connor #k'ao hsin #marie matiko #lin chi #khan #george kee chung #back in the bottle #psychic ability #the clairs #extra-sensory perception #ESP

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idabbleincrazy · 5 years

Text

Situation

Pairing: Sam x Christa (Sam x Christa x Gabriel later)

Word Count: 3739

Warnings: Gender Swap spell, smut, first time receiving blow job, first time topping, anal fingering, anal sex, Bottom!Sam

Summary: Set in my Christa-verse, Christa gets hit with a gender swap spell. Sam shows her he will love her no matter what, and enjoys every minute of it.

A/N: this idea has been rolling around in my brain for months and suddenly wouldn’t leave me alone til i wrote it. Smut beta’d by @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard (finally got to desktop to post here properly)

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Christa’s scream echoed through the bunker. “Sam, Gabriel…anybody!”

Sam ran down the hallway, alarmed and slightly confused as to why her voice sounded, well, off. He skidded to a stop in front of their half-open door, eyes widening when he saw her. He raked his eyes over her body, jaw slack from his surprise. He didn’t know what he had expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Christa? Are, are you okay? W-what happened to you?!”

“I don’t know, Sam. I-it must have been that witch-bitch. She was muttering something before we killed her. Sam, I thought spells end after the witch dies? Whatever she did shouldn’t have worked.” Christa stared at herself in the the floor length mirror she had set up in the corner of their room. She looked just as confused as Sam felt. “How…? I just don’t understand how this happened. This is…freaky.”

She spun around to face Sam, a concerned look on her face as she bit her lip. She crossed her arms over her torso, fists clenching at the now ill-fitting shirt. Sam stepped in to the room fully and shut the door behind him. He sat down on the bed, patting the space beside him. Christa walked over awkwardly and sat down heavily, immediately hopping back up in pain as something got pinched in her suddenly too-tight jeans.

“A man, Sam. I’m a man! What did she do to me? I’m mean I knew body-swap spells were real, but spells that change your gender? Really?! Ugh, I can barely breathe in this shirt!” Christa pulled her graphic tee off hurriedly, sighing in defeat as she looked down at her flat chest, her bra hanging loosely around her. Discarding that too, she walked over to the closet and grabbed one of Sam’s flannels.

“These jeans are too tight too, but I’m pretty sure yours won’t fit either. Do you think Dean will mind if I borrow a pair of his?” She buttoned up the plaid shirt and decided to stay standing, walking back over to Sam. “Where’s Gabe?”

“He’s still upstairs, dealing with some important…whatever. I’m sure he heard your scream, and my shocked prayer and will be back as soon as he can get away.” Sam got back up and crossed over to the door, an odd flush on his cheeks. “I’ll go grab a pair of Dean’s pants real quick.”

When Sam left, Christa went back to looking in the mirror. Her face was no longer her own. The only feature that she even recognized were her eyes. Everything else had changed. Her nose was longer, broader, the bridge slightly crooked. Her lips, once full and almost pouty, were thinner, paler. Her chin was sharper, more jutted. Even her hair had shortened. The long black locks that once fell past her breasts now stopped just before her shoulders, much like Sam’s. She had barely finished studying her face when Sam walked back in, holding a pair of Dean’s sweatpants.

“You okay, Christa?” Sam walked up behind her, handing her the pants.

That’s when she noticed it. She was still shorter than Sam, but not as short as she had been. Now, instead of being at about the height of his pecs, she came to around chin level. Well, that was something. She shook out the sweatpants and hesitated. She looked up at Sam and worried her lip.

“Sam, could you leave for minute? I…” She trailed off, uncertain.

“What is it, Christa?”

“Well, I mean, it’s awkward. I haven’t even looked down there myself yet. Not sure if I want you to see it too.” She gestured at her groin, a grimace on her face.

Sam followed her movement and his eyes widened in understanding as realization sunk in. “Oh - ooh. Christa, honey, you don’t have to feel weird about that. I mean, I’ll leave if you really want me to, but you don’t have to feel shy or ashamed or anything.”

Christa shifted on her feet and pushed back the tears she felt building up, not wanting Sam to notice how affected she really was by the whole situation. He noticed anyway, of course. He could see the change in her eyes, his own squinting in response. He stepped closer to her, his hand slowly raising to cup her face, giving her time to back away.

“What’s wrong, Christa? Please, speak to me. We don’t hide from each other, remember?” He closed the distance between them and raised her face up so that she would look him in the eye. “Talk to me.”

“I…it’s just this whole thing. Look at me. I was finally starting to feel good about the way I looked and now this . God, I hope this doesn’t last long. I was hoping for some, you know, alone time tonight. But now…there’s that plan right out the window.” Christa went to go over to the bed, but Sam stopped her, grasping her wrist gently and keeping her in front of the mirror, turning her to look into it.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly. “Christa, sweetheart, you are beautiful. Female, male. Spell or no spell. It’s still you in there. That’s who I fell in love with. That’s who Gabriel loves.”

His reflection smiled at her and his hands slowly ran down her arms. “And it’s not exactly like your not still beautiful, like this.”

Christa’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, not quite believing his words. She studied his face, looking for the lie. His smile reached his eyes, full of love. Behind the love, she noticed a spark of the fire she would always see in them when he was aroused. Christa gulped hard, her attention temporarily diverted by the motion of her Adam’s apple. She sighed and turned away from the mirror to face Sam.

“Sam, how can you even think that? Compared to you or Gabriel, this form is…nothing. I mean, even my muscles are gone now. I’m scrawny, a stick.”

“That’s not true, Christa. You don’t feel these,” Sam asked as he drew his hands back up her arms, running his hands over the biceps that were just perceptible under his plaid shirt. “They may not be as noticeable in this body, but they are still there. Your face is still gorgeous too. Those lips, are still very kissable. I still see you in your eyes. Yes, you look different , but not any less beautiful.”

Sam lowered his head slowly, stopping when he was just an inch from her lips. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of resistance. “I could show you just how beautiful I find you, if you’ll let me. Who knows, you might even enjoy it.”

Christa sucked in a sharp breath as his fanned over her lips. After a second of thought, she nodded meekly, curious despite herself. Sam kissed her, his lips surprisingly soft against hers. He didn’t rush for more, just let her set the pace. Christa’s hands moved to wind around his neck, sweatpants falling to the floor beside them. The kiss stretched out for a minute before she timidly flicked her tongue out to brush across Sam’s lips. He obliged immediately, his plush lips parting eagerly, hands roaming down her sides.

His touch and the heady taste of him sparked something within her and she gasped at the unfamiliar sensation. She broke the kiss, suddenly breathless. “I…what. Was. That.”

“What? What’s wrong, Christa?” Sam looked at her, lust laden eyes tinged with worry.

“It, it twitched . I’m fine, I just need a moment. It caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as understanding sunk in. He let out a small chuckle and smirked down at her. “Well, now you know how I feel every time we kiss. And trust me, it gets better, so much better.”

He stroked her kiss-reddened lip with his thumb. “Do you want to see how much better? Can I show you just how amazing it feels?”

Christa nodded wordlessly, her mouth suddenly dry as unbidden images played out in her mind. She let out a low grunt as she felt it twitch again, straining against her already tight jeans. Christa swallowed the lump forming in her throat and managed to finally speak. “Show me, Sam.”

Sam flashed her a wolfish grin before swooping back in for another kiss. “Gonna make you feel so good baby”, he mumbled against her lips. “God, Christa. Wanted to take you the moment you changed into my shirt.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think it took so long to find a pair of pants? Had to let myself calm down. Didn’t want to freak you out even more if you noticed.” Sam’s hands roamed every where, mapping out the new contours of her body and drawing out deep moans from her.

Christa tightened her grip in his hair as her arousal heightened at his confession. Even like this, he wanted her. Fuck. Her doubts about how awful she looked as a man dissipated as she felt the truth against her thigh where it was pressed between Sam’s legs. She pulled her lips from his and began pecking and nipping at his jaw and neck, her new height making things much easier than usual.

Her hands moved to his shirt buttons as she nipped at his earlobe, the groan that tumbled from his mouth making her new appendage twitch again. She was unable to stop the growl that rumbled in her chest at the feeling. Sam took over removing his layered shirts, eager to feel her roughened fingers on his skin.

Before the fabric even crumpled on the floor, Christa began running her hands over his chest. He shivered at the touch, a groan working its way from his throat. “Fuck, Christa, I’m supposed to making you feel good, not the other way around. Slow down, baby.”

Sam clutched at the shreds of his willpower and stopped Christa, her hand resting just above his belt. He waited until she pulled back from his neck to look at, then released her hands to place his at the hem of her shirt. Not wanting to have to deal with the buttons, he quickly pulled it over her head, taking a moment to look her over. The fire burned in his eyes again as he contemplated where to even begin.

He dipped his head down to her chest, placing open-mouthed kisses over her new muscles. Christa’s eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back as he kissed his way lower. Sam gripped her waist to steady her as he sunk to his knees. He dipped his tongue out to circle around her navel, the motion making Christa gasp and her eyes popped back open. She looked down at him, his nose now trailing back and forth across the waist of her jeans.

“Sam. What…?”

“Shh, it’s okay. Let me take of you the way you always take care of me. Sit on the bed.”

Christa backed up a couple of steps, until her legs bumped against the mattress and plopped down onto the bed. Sam followed her on his hands and knees, his hands slowly running up her legs and stopping at the button of her pants. He undid it and slowly dragged down the zipper. Christa felt immediate relief at the lessened pressure against her groin. She laid back and lifted her legs instinctively as Sam pulled the jeans off of her, tossing them behind him and pulling her to the edge of the bed.

He gave a quick nip to the inside of Christa’s knee garnering a whine from her, before working his way up to her now-bulging panties. Sam admired the size of said bulge, happily impressed. His breath ghosted over the fabric, a small dot of arousal wetting the fabric. After a kiss to the inside of her thigh, he gently peeled away the thin fabric. As he pulled off her underwear, Christa’s erection sprang free and she let out a guttural moan at the alien feeling. Her hands fisted the sheets her sides and she squirmed under Sam’s heated gaze.

“Sam..”

His eyes raised to meet hers, his pupils lust-blown, the hazel irises barely visible now. “Fuck, Christa, even like this, you’re just as gorgeous as ever. You’re dripping, sweetheart. Want to taste you, so fucking bad.”

He waited until she gave a small nod of her head, then leaned forward to lick a stripe up from the base of her penis, tongue swirling around the tip to collect the drop of pre-cum that had gathered there. Christa groaned loudly at the arousal that coursed through her, the sensations she felt making her shiver with desire.

“Oh, God, Sam!”

He lifted his eyes up, tongue still pressed over the slit of her cock-head. The corners of his parted lips lifted in a smirk as he applied more pressure, watching as Christa bucked into his touch.

“Fuck, Sam, more, need more!” Christa was overwhelmed by the feeling of Sam’s tongue on her, the pleasure both too much and not enough. No wonder Gabriel liked Sam’s blow-jobs so much, the man knew how to use that sinful tongue. She fought back the growing urge to come right then and there, her moans turning to breathy pants.

Sam licked around the head once more before taking her fully in his mouth. Christa bucked into the wet heat of him, keening. He slid his mouth down her length, one hand sliding from her thigh to wrap around the base. He bobbed up and down in an agonizingly slow rhythm, his hand working what his mouth couldn’t. After a few minutes, his other hand stopped rubbing soothing circles into Christa’s thigh, making its way between them to gently cup her balls. He gave them a testing squeeze, delighting in the groan he elicited from her.

“Oh, Sam! Fuck, that feels so good. Baby,oh, shit that’s good.” Christa reached a shaky hand down to grip at his hair, uncertain if she wanted to fuck his mouth or pull him away.

Sam decided for her as he felt her balls start to tighten, pulling his mouth off of her with a pop. Much as he would have enjoyed tasting her as she came down his throat, there was still more he wanted to show her. She whined at the loss of his touch but was placated as he crawled his way up the bed, hovering over her and placing quick kisses up her torso. He reached her pecs and swirled his tongue over one nipple, causing Christa to arch her back in response.

His hand trailed up her side as he turned his attention to the other nipple and sucked it into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it till it was taut. He then continued his path up her body, positioning his legs to straddle her hips. As he sucked a mark into her pulse point, he swiveled his hips into her, grinding his denim-clad erection over her aching member.

“Sam….”, she pleaded.

Christa pulled his head away from her neck, crushing her lips to his desperately. She carded her hand through his hair, the other one running down his back to slip into his jeans and squeeze his ass. Sam arched into her hand, his position allowing her the ability to run a finger between his cheeks and circle his tight hole. He moaned into her mouth, swiveling his hips again. He ripped his lips from hers, impatient to rid himself of his jeans. Christa removed her hand from inside his pants and he clambered off the bed, removing his jeans and boxers in one quick swoop. His aching length stood at full attention, pre-cum beading at its tip.

He took a moment to retrieve the bottle of lube from their beside drawer before climbing back onto the bed. He waited for Christa to scoot up to the head of the bed and laid himself out beside her, leaning in for a deep kiss as she turned on her side to face him. He pulled away after a minute to look into her eyes, as dark with lust as he was sure his were.

“Christa, I want you to fuck me.”

Christa gasped in surprise, both at his words and the aching need in his voice. “Sam, are you sure? It won’t…make things awkward once I’m back to…myself?”

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing Gabriel hasn’t already done. I’m sure. Besides, I did say I wanted to show you how good it can feel. Take me, Christa. I want to feel you inside me.”

Sam laid on his back as Christa took the lube from his hand and moved to slot herself between his spread legs. She squeezed a few drops of the cool liquid on to her fingers and set to work opening him up as she had a few times before when prepping him for Gabriel. She ran a trail down his perineum to circle his hole, slowly teasing her forefinger inside. As Christa let him adjust, she bent over him, running her tongue up his weeping erection. Sam moaned at the dual motions, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her up to kiss her fiercely. He could taste himself on her and he reveled in it. As she hovered over him, their cocks brushed against each other, causing them both to groan out at the contact.

Christa worked a second finger into him, scissoring him open for her. Sam reached between them and wrapped his large hand around them both, pumping up and down at a slow pace. She thrust into his hand at the same as she thrust her fingers in to his ass. Christa moved from his mouth to nip and suck Sam’s neck as she slipped in a third finger, wanting to make sure he was well prepared for her. When she was sure he was ready, she sat up, removing her fingers carefully.

Settling back between his legs and nudging them further apart, she lubed up her swollen cock. As she positioned it at his slick hole, she looked back up at Sam, making sure this was still what he wanted. He stared back at her, eyes fiery with passion as he nodded at her unspoken question.

“Fuck me, Christa. Let me feel you, baby.”

She bit back a moan as she slowly pushed into him, careful to let him adjust to her size. Sam groaned loudly as she entered him, a string of filth tumbling from his lips and he pushed down on her, wanting to feel more.

“Shit, baby, feels so good. Fuck, you’re gonna fill me up so good.”

Christa was unable to control the moan this time as he took even more of her into him. She fought the building need to come, not wanting the feeling of his tight heat around her to be over so soon. She bucked further into Sam an inch at a time until she bottomed out. She gripped his hips tight to keep herself steady as she drew out slowly, keeping just her tip inside him before thrusting back in. Sam cried out in pleasure as she started a sinful pace.

“Oh, God, Sam. Fuck, so tight. Love you so much, Sam. Fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Fuck me. Want you to feel good, sweetheart, want you to know how I feel when I fuck you. How Gabriel feels when he fucks this tight ass. Does it feel good, baby?”

Christa groaned and thrust as deep as she could, looking for that spot she felt when was stretching him open. She knew how much he loved it when Gabriel would hit that sweet spot and she wanted to make him feel as good as she did.

“Yeah, Sammy. God, yes, you feel so good around me. So fucking close, baby. Are you close? Wanna come with you, Sam.”

“So close, Christa. You fill me up so good. Gonna make come so fucking hard.”

Christa reached a hand between them to grasp his cock, stroking him in time to her thrusts as she finally found his prostate. She kept that angle to make sure she hit it with every thrust. Sam was quickly becoming a writhing mess beneath her, his hands fisting the sheets so hard, his knuckles were white with strain. His bent legs lifted to wrap around her, pushing her even further into him, deeper than she had even thought possible. Within minutes he was coming undone, come spurting over her hand and onto his stomach, shouting her name and enough expletives to make a sailor blush.

As he came, his walls clenched down on her cock like a vice and it was all she could do to stay upright as she followed right behind him. She continued thrusting into him as they rode out their climaxes, filling him up with her come. The edges of her sight blurred as she came down from that high.

As her dick softened, she slid out of him slowly, Sam whimpering at the loss. Christa took care not to collapse on top of him, one quivering arm holding her up as she lifted her come-spattered hand to her mouth to lick it clean. Sam moaned at the sight and pulled her down to kiss her, not caring about the mess still left on his stomach. Christa maneuvered herself over to his side, breaking the kiss to catch her breath.

“God, Sam, that was amazing. Thank you for making me feel better about...this.” Christa gestured at her body, a shy smile dimming her post-coital glow.

“Sweetheart, I love you. No matter what. It's still your soul in there, your light. I could never not want you, Christa.”

Sam grabbed a rag from the bedside table and wiped away as much of the mess as he could then propped himself up on his elbow, facing her. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her softly before wrapping his arm around her hip. He pulled Christa flush against him and she tucked her head under his chin, her arm draping over his broad back. She fell into a light sleep, nuzzled into the amazing hunter that was a third of her being, content to wait a little longer before figuring out how to reverse the spell.

To Be Continued...

~~~

Chapter Two ---->

#smut #sam x christa #sam x oc #sam x christa x gabriel #sam x gabriel #gabriel x christa

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flowerfan2 · 6 years

Text

It’s About Time

My first fic for the Hawaii 5-0 fandom... I know my followers are probably going ??? but let me tell you, I’ve been sinking into it for weeks and it’s awesome. I made myself finish my stucky CapBB before writing any McDanno fic, but here it is:

Steve/Danny, T, 1300k, A03; setting could be vaguely season 6 or 7, possibly anytime, no spoilers. A first kiss fic.

Steve crouches down beside what used to be their campfire, poking it with a stick to make sure nothing is still burning. It isn’t as if they had really needed a fire, but when he and Danny had finally reached the clearing after a two hour hike – after practically a full day at work – he figured Danny would enjoy it. Steve had even brought supplies for s’mores, which had made Danny grin delightedly.

Of course, soon after going through half the package of marshmallows, Danny expressed his fervent desire to make sure their sleeping bags were laid out properly. Steve was not at all surprised to hear his light snore coming from the tent a few minutes later.

Steve doesn’t fault Danny for going to sleep. It has been a long day, on top of a long week. When Steve had sprung this weekend camping trip on Danny he thought there was little chance of him agreeing to it, but Danny had just tilted his head and gazed at Steve for a long moment before saying yes. Steve doesn’t know what Danny had found in his expression that tempered his usual stubborn reaction to anything Steve suggested, especially if it involved the outdoors and possibly bugs. And it wasn’t as if they had a very good history where camping trips were concerned.

Steve had toyed with inviting the whole team, in part to heighten the odds that Danny would say yes. But now he’s very glad it’s just him and Danny. It will make it easier.

He’s tried not to let himself think of this an as op – Danny would tease him relentlessly for it. He can’t help planning, though. Thinking through all the possible outcomes of what he might, might just try, if he can finally get his courage up. As much as he’s run through every scenario he can think of, though, at a certain point his mind goes blank, and he doesn’t know what happens next.

Blinking, Steve realizes that at least his next step is fairly straightforward. He crawls into the tent and strips down to his boxers, careful not to wake Danny. Danny has indeed laid out their space quite neatly – sleeping pads first (Steve has learned that these make Danny much, much less grumpy if he carts them along), then light sleeping bags on top.

The window flap at the back of the tent is folded down a bit, letting in the light of the moon through the screen. Steve can see Danny curled up facing the side of the tent, his bare shoulder exposed and pale in the cool light.

Steve slides down next to him, shoves his hand up under his little pillow, and tries to quiet his mind. It’s not easy with Danny just inches away. At least Danny has stopped snoring.

Steve realizes the meaning of this just as Danny snuffles and flops over, blue eyes blinking open and focusing on his face.

“Hey,” says Danny.

Steve’s throat is dry. He should have made sure one of their canteens was nearby. Or maybe some Gatorade. And he hasn’t brushed his teeth. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything, his breath might be terrible up close like this.

“You okay?” Danny asks, pushing his hair back away from his face. Not like it comes that close anymore.

“Um, sure. Yeah.” Steve finally manages to make words work. “Though you were asleep.”

Danny shrugs. “Thought I should be ready.”

“Ready?”

Danny smiles at him, a little challenge in the quirk of his lips. “For you to make a move.”

Steve thinks he may have stopped breathing. He sucks some air into his lungs, just to check. Is Danny serious, or is this just the continuation of the ridiculous teasing/slash/flirting they do all the fucking time?

“Although with as much as you’ve been going on about our arduous trek you have planned for tomorrow, to the spot with the amazing waterfall and the unbelievable view, I’d understand if you want to wait until then,” Danny rambles on. “I can wait. I am a patient man. More or less. When it’s worth it. But I was hoping maybe we could ease up on the suspense and you would just go ahead now. If you want to, that is, of course. ‘Cause if you do - I’m ready.”

“What if I did?” Steve is pleased that his voice sounds passably confident. He’s not such a bad actor after all. Danny doesn’t have to know how nervous he is, how he feels like he’s freefalling out of a plane without a parachute. And maybe Danny is still teasing, maybe he’s still just going to laugh it off, shove Steve in the shoulder and grouse at him for waking him up.

But Danny’s smile just gets broader. And achingly fond. “Then I’d say it’s about time.”

Danny leans in, and Steve feels himself start to do the same, but then some horrid self-protective urge strikes him and he pulls back. “Wait.”

Danny’s smile falters. “Okay…”

They lay there in silence for what seems like forever. Steve doesn’t scare easily, but this – this is terrifying.

“How long are we waiting?” Danny asks eventually, raising himself up on an elbow. “Like, a minute for you to catch your breath? Or until the next time we’re inexplicably in the perfect situation for a first date? Because I know I said I could be patient, but it’s been a lot of years. And as Melissa kindly informed me before she stormed out last month, at this point, you probably either know or you don’t.”

“Know what?”

Danny rolls his eyes, and then sets a hand on Steve’s cheek. Softly, like he’s calming Charlie after a temper tantrum. “How you feel about me. How I feel about you.”

Steve swallows hard. “Which is?”

Danny huffs a small laugh. “I suppose it should come as no surprise that I’m the one who has to say it. But it wouldn’t go amiss if you wanted to jump in, here. Contribute. Really, feel free to help out at any time.”

Steve closes his eyes, lets himself feel the light pressure of Danny’s hand on his cheek. Danny just put himself out there. Steve doesn’t want this opportunity to pass by. This isn’t a joke. This is real.

“I love you.” Steve keeps his eyes closed, squeezing them tighter, then forces himself to open them and look at Danny. “I love you. Like – in love. Not just… ohana-love, I mean, that too, of course, but this…”

Danny’s smile is incandescent. “I know. I love you too.”

Steve’s insides are doing a victory dance. He did it. He finally said it. And Danny – Danny loves him too. Is that there all is to it? Steve laughs, chokes a little, and squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Danny says, wiping a tear off Steve’s cheek with his thumb. “I know this is hard for you, pal, but this is all good.”

Steve presses his face into the pillow. “Sure, very romantic.”

“What, are you kidding?” Danny gently takes Steve’s face in his hands and presses his lips to Steve’s cheek. “Kissing your tears away? This is grade-A fantasy material.”

“Danny…” Steve turns and finds Danny’s lips with his own, and finally his body gets with the program, lighting up at the feel of Danny’s body close to his. Danny’s mouth is softer than it has any right to be, his tongue doing all the best things, and Steve feels sparks shoot through him as they wind themselves together and make out like teenagers.

When they finally come up for air, Danny’s hair is a mess, and Steve bites his lip at the sight.

“What?” Danny says.

“Your hair,” Steve replies, waving his hand at Danny’s head.

Danny just grins and runs his fingers through it. “It’ll survive.”

As Danny dives back onto Steve, this time straddling his waist and starting to kiss down his neck and chest, sucking on a nipple as he continues his way south, Steve can’t help but think that he’s gonna make it, too.

#mcdanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #hawaii 5-0 #mcdanno fic #my fic

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justin-chapmanswers · 6 years

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how exactly do you write the show? what techniques do you use to write certain scenes?

Storytelling a character-work matters to me above anything else. As a result, I’m always taking notes on ideas. In my spare time, with another writer, there is constantly action. I wouldn’t spend so much time on a project that didn’t engage me in critical thought and analysis in and of itself.

Everything is 100% of the time thoroughly outlined. The remainder of the series is loosely outlined, and we know where we want each and every character to end up. Granted, some more specifically than others, but we are constantly working out the fine details. I feel that in storytelling you need to be able to maintain a balance at all times of having a close-to-vivid picture of the end-goal while leaving that mental wiggle-room to readjust ideas as new ones come up. If you lock yourself down entirely, you block off the better potential routes. If you don’t know the end goal, you’re bound to meander and not build up to something meaningful unless you get lucky. If you put all of your time into something, you CANNOT leave it to chance.

I love to live in the broader conceptual zone. Theming. Thinking through the purpose of characters and the world they live in. How do pieces connect? What matters? How would the actions of the characters reflect on the viewer and the world of the show? Why X? Why Z? Nothing makes sense, life is an illusion, how do characters make sense of that?

But also I am fascinated by character. I love to dig into a characters’ moral code and force them to question. I need to find purpose in every little quirk, whether in origin or in result over time. What pairs make sparks? How do different characters change one another? Who has a story to tell, and in the case of II, when is the best time to tell it? How does that story affect everyone else, does it create a new story? Repeat.

There is so much to say here in regards to episode 12 alone. But, sticking to released episodes, my go-to scene is Suitcase and Knife at the dock, which you better bet started way longer. We take everything that Knife and Suitcase have been through come this point, contrast it with their brief conversation in S2E7, and force a character to question the moral values while shedding light on another. It helps helps that I think they are perfectly-suited to bounce well off of each other. And that I’m a sucker for quiet, contemplative scenes. A dynamic is constructed, we re-establish our characters’ purposes (especially in the eyes of one-another), and it leads to an intense decision- one that triggers strong effects down the line. Repeat.

To start moving into your question more specifically, like I noted earlier we have a ton of concepts going forward, and as one episode nears its end we really dig into the next one and make sure everything is set and understood (I hecking love episode 13). Before Brian and I jump into more thorough outlining, we need to have every general idea sorted out, which if I had to choose one step of the process, I’d call my strong-suit (despite loving every little detail that goes into -pre-production). We need to review:

-What is each characters’ arc (important or not) in the episode, and what events accomplish it? Who needs more focus than others? Who can sit out?

-Who is getting eliminated, and how (which is well-sorted out for the series already, but with wiggle-room)?

-What do we need the characters to be able to do, physically, in the episode- and what are three challenges that can allow that to happen most-properly?

-What themes and messages matter most to us in the episode?

-What are key moments and visuals that we would like to highlight?

-What scenes NEED to happen in order to complete each arc? What scenes would we LIKE to have to strengthen those arcs and the episode?

-How does the world of the show play into the episode? What can we explore? What hints can we leave?

Then we’re onto outlining. This takes all the concepts that we initially had and breaks it down into a general beat-sheet, talking about every single important point we need to hit on, in order, for the episode to be complete- in a lot more detail. This is used as a pitch to show off the workability of the concept and how it, and likely will, play out in structure. Granted, more-so in episode 12 than in episode 11, the story that we pitch through the outline can go through many readjustments between that point and script-completion. That’s a mix between reworking concepts based on Adam and Taylor’s pitch-input and then the natural progression of the four of us (and often plus Ben) coming up with strong concepts over the scripting process that take some details in different directions.

Once we are settled on that story, scripting is on the way! By this point in pre-production I am incredibly comfortable with the characters’ mindsets and feel pretty free to go about writing out what’s in their heads. We work within the general guidelines presented by the outline, and complete scenes often as individual pieces- knowing already how they fit in and need to flow. There is so much to talk about just in terms of writing strategies, I might make separate posts about more specific types of scenes going forward. A lot of it comes down to balancing the puzzle pieces that are constantly juggled throughout my mind and the comedy that comes from the characters and their situation. It’s important to know what is necessary and when, and obviously there’s no one-way about it, but it’s a skill you can certainly build up with enough practice. A tone can sell an emotion, and emotion can sell a beat, a beat can sell an arc, and arcs are everything. Nothing is meaningless, even things about meaningless. If a story is told and a writer is purposefully avoiding making or alluding to a statement, it’s a wasted opportunity… so I see it.

A great deal of writing is rewriting. That’s a good sign. A first draft CAN be the best draft, but chances are it isn’t. Even when I have a good plan for a scene, I’ll keep the major beats at the back of mind and just let characters talk. I’ll see if they naturally hit on the beats I need them to hit on. If it goes on for long enough without meaning, the convo is scrapped, but good ideas from the scene can be retained for the next try. Retry and redirect it. A scene cannot be written so procedurally that it ruins any natural characterization that a character deserves. Again, it’s that dang balance back at-it. In writing it can be tough in the moment to entirely scrap a scene that you just worked hard on, but trust me- when you muster the strength to let go, you won’t miss it. You can always do even better.

Find a piece of yourself in every character you write. If you have trouble with writing a character, there’s a decent chance that it is because you’re connecting to them. Find qualities in the character that you can understand and empathize with, or relate it to something you’re familiar with in your day-to-day life, and focus in on that. Any character could be a good character if you use them properly and focus on what’s drawing about them.

If a scene accomplishes nothing, it shouldn’t be there. Every scene must establish a motivation, progress the action, or explain something in some manner. Understand what’s necessary, and feed into what makes a scene good.

Write what you like. Thinking about what the audience will get out of things is good when conceptualizing, but your vision should never rely on that. If you find something interesting or funny, others will too. Write what you would enjoy seeing. Occasionally when I come up with something I’ll think “this is amazing, people are gonna hate it” and go with it anyway. This goes more-so for the pre-writing stages, such as deciding character-focus degrees or eliminations, for instance, but it is still important in any step of the process.

When working with a team on a script, chances are there will be arguments. No good ways around that. That-said, embrace discussions and arguments! Every argued idea and concept deserves attention. If you are spending a lot of time on a project and are not willing to dig into what works and what doesn’t thematically, character-wise, or within the rules of the world- there is something wrong there. Be passionate about what you’re writing. Don’t shut down input until it is thoroughly discussed. Fighting does not mean something is wrong. (Although, fighting to the death is a problem).

A lot of the editing in II writing is shortening. We have a budget, we want episodes to come out as quick as possible, there’s no room to meander. Even scenes that we had deemed “perfect” at a point may still have a flaw of being too long for our own good. Although it seemed like a major limit back in the day, it quite honestly is important to learn how and when to keep writing concise. Bring everything down to the essentials. Brevity will allow your work to flow better and come across as neater. An annoyingly tedious two hour movie might be an hour long masterpiece wearing a scary costume. As someone who definitely writes extremely long on every first-go, having more than one pass to check for conciseness is wonderful.

I hope the overview of this process at least shed a little light. There are so many more details to go into, and I’ll gladly dive into them per request. Writing and constructing story for this show is what keeps me going, so I’m glad it has intrigued many of you, as well. :)

#inanimate insanity #jay rambles #jay tutorial

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guksthighs · 7 years

Text

Soul Stealer || kth

TRICK

Pairing: V X READER

Excerpt: ‘There was no stealer, just a photographer who was beginning to look amused by the situation, a wide grin spreading across his face that seemed to showcase all of his teeth.’

Genre: fluff, mystery, magic!au

Length: 1.2k

A/N: this is a very weird au but i kinda like it?? also this is much more descriptive than usual so tell me what you think.

There was something wrong and you knew from the moment you stepped foot in the walled gardens that there was a stealer nearby, it was the way the hairs on your arms raised and quickly you had tucked your hair behind both ears so you would be able to hear their approach. The knife in your hand was heavy, opal edge that glowed a milky orange in the sunset of the night.

This stealer was different, you were used to their movements being erratic, unpredictable and yet you were certain this one was pacing back and forth behind the old apple tree, the bark of which was gnarled with age. You had hunted stealers for as long as you could remember, a tradition passed down from your father and his father before him, to rid the world of the creatures that lurked in the darkness, taking a variety of forms to perform one task, stealing souls.

What they used the souls for, you were uncertain but when there were multiple unexplained deaths in an area you were called to deal with the problem. Your footsteps were light against the grass, slowly you made your way towards the stealer, worried about what you would be facing tonight and if you would make it back home for Jimin's famous stew.

"Stay back!" Your hand had just touched an apple branch when the voice had called out, and instantly you had sprinted forward worried about anyone being in danger. A boy – no, a man was standing in a section of golden light, a camera case hung from his neck and his hands were wrapped around a camera that he tilted to get the perfect picture. You froze.

There was no stealer, just a photographer who was beginning to look amused by the situation, a wide grin spreading across his face that seemed to showcase all of his teeth. He placed the camera back into the case, and stuck out a hand for you to shake, "I’m Taehyung and may I ask what a pretty thing like you doing here?" You shook his hand, knowing that if he were a stealer you would be able to tell automatically, but you felt nothing.

Well, you felt the small tingle from holding his hand, a warmth spreading up from your hand towards your chest as you felt your cheeks start to warm, before choking out a reply, "Looking for something."

He was entrancing, brown fringe falling over one of his eyes and long, elegant fingers that were now turning a leaf between them, but you watched as a flash of interest sparked within his dark brown eyes, "can I take your picture?" You shook your head slowly beginning to back away in fear of someone having evidence that you even existed.

You had begun to shift from foot to foot, deciding it was better to get back to calm your racing heart by taking in what he was wearing; a dark grey hoodie that seemed too big for his form and you wondered what had happened to the stealer, but only for a split second. You watched as he angled your camera towards you and before he clicked the shutter, you threw yourself out of the way of the picture.

"I've got to go," you gasped, glancing over your shoulder at his pout but the memory of Jimin who was probably starting to get nervous lingered in your mind, and with a tilt of your head you ran off, not noticing the section of leaves that Taehyung had just taken a photo of, wilt and die.

But you did realise as you ran away and the distraction of the handsome stranger faded, that you could sense the stealer in the same place.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your father had always hated his picture but why? Looking around you realised that the light had disappeared and that the only thing illuminating the garden now, was the large moon and suddenly you remembered why he had hated pictures. He had claimed with every photo they took a piece of your soul.

Taehyung was not the stealer, but there was something you had not touched, his camera. Slowly you began to walk back to where he had been and as you heard the crunch of the leaves under his feet, you crouched and watched as he walked into view, "I know you're still here, Vante can sense you."

As he walked past you, finally you jumped into action, grabbing the camera case with such force it snapped off of his neck and holding it away from your body you looked up at Taehyung, "Naming a stealer is a dangerous game."

He rolled his eyes before he tried to lunge for the camera case, "It was named before the demon entered it," but you easily dodged and holding up the knife you decided it was time to kill the stealer and give the souls somewhere to go instead of being trapped to power a camera.

"So you're not an idiot, just childish," you grinned at him and quickly you leapt out of his reach and pointed the knife at the camera, "I'm going to have to dispose of this." As the knife touched the camera, a black void was created and quickly you slashed up, destroying the stealer within the object.

Surprisingly, Taehyung seemed distraught kneeling on the floor as his arms reached out for the camera, and when you made sure every trace of the stealer was gone, you handed the camera back, "good as new Tae."

Looking up in surprise, he realised you hadn't been destroying his camera in the process of killing the stealer, and you found he was smiling brightly at you again, "You didn't break it!" You shook your head, wondering why he would think that until you remembered most civilians didn't understand how stealers worked.

Your mind leapt away from that thought process when two arms wrapped around your torso and you found yourself surrounded by the scent of coffee, "How can I ever say thank you?" You smiled at how kind Taehyung was being and as you pulled out of the hug, you grabbed a pen and quickly wrote your number onto his hand.

"Call me as we need to discuss how the soul stealer ended up in your camera-" Taehyung raised an eyebrow and you corrected the statement, "ended up in Vante." You had thought Taehyung's smile could not become broader and yet he seemed to be a ray of sunshine, as he pecked your cheek and jogged to the gates as he waved goodbye to you and disappeared from sight leaving you with an interesting story to tell Jimin.

And tell me your thoughts in the comments/ask box <3

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