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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

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Fight Club

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone will say Jason Todd is protective of the people he loves. But sometimes independence is more important than protecting.

Word Count: 4,000 [One Shot]

Warnings: harassment, stalking, general daily discomfort that women have to deal with

Y/N was so fucking tired.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t fallen asleep on the bus home from work.

But anyone with half a brain knew that doing so in Gotham was basically asking to get robbed or worse.

Never fall asleep on public transit. Only buy purses and wallets that zip close. Never leave any personal belongings alone in public. Never use an ATM at night. Only take well-traveled and well-lit routes. Always be aware of your surroundings.

These were the unwritten rules of living in Gotham. It was how you stayed safe, how you stayed alive. But even when one followed them strictly, that didn’t insure that they would always be safe.

Which is why Y/N noticed a middle-aged man staring her down on the bus. He knew what he was doing. He knew that he was making her uncomfortable. He was clearly getting off on it.

Y/N just blasted the music in her headphones and pretended not to notice. But she could feel his leering and it made her stomach twist into knots.

She looked down at her watch: 6PM.

Y/N knew she could call Jason. She knew this.

It would take her all of 30 seconds to explain the situation, Jason would instantly understand and then be waiting at her bus stop for her, ready to escort her home safely and glare at whoever had made her uncomfortable.

But Jason was probably sleeping still.

Last night, he’d returned from patrol needing stitches and had so many bruises scattered across his face that Y/N kept messing up her counting. She was also suspicious that his right hand was broken, but Jason brushed if off so smoothly that she let it slide.

The point was that Y/N had managed to force pain meds on her boyfriend. Jason always slept until late afternoon after patrols anyways, basically becoming nocturnal since he often wouldn’t get back until 5AM.

The meds were meant to make him sleep all day and force him to recover.

The stubborn part of Y/N didn’t want to prevent Jason from getting his much needed recovery and rest.

Except this guy didn’t plan on just staring at her.

When he saw that she was getting off at the stop that was just announced, he too stood up from his seat and moved to the other exit that she wasn’t using.

Y/N was aware of all of this, making sure to track him subtly through the corner of her gaze. It was from the conditioning that all women unfortunately had to go through, whether they realized or not.

Without turning around, she caught his reflection in the window of a building she walked past. He kept a distance to remain unsuspicious, but it was obvious that he was following her.

Y/N tried to subtly walk faster. But she also realized she couldn’t go straight home now. Even with Red Hood being her live-in boyfriend, there was no way she was letting this creep know where she lived.

She started taking a strange route, making weird turns. But it was hard not to lose him without fully running, which she didn’t want to do until it felt absolutely necessary.

But then she came upon a coffeeshop that she knew had a front and back entrance.

She quickly went inside and pretended to get in line for coffee. But when she looked for the man in the corner of her eye, he wasn’t going to come in. Instead, he decided to linger outside and wait for her to come out.

Y/N subtly left the line and made for the back exit.

‘Now it’s time to run,’ she thought to herself.

Y/N was grateful that she had decided to wear stylish sneakers today instead of heels.

By the time she reached the steps of her apartment building, she was breathing heavily. She had been looking over her shoulder every few feet to make sure the creep didn’t get smart.

When she reached her door, she made sure to be quiet in case Jason was still sleeping. Then when she reached the bedroom and quietly opened the door, her mountain of a boyfriend was still passed out in bed with his face pressed into her pillow.

Y/N decided to get started on dinner and quietly moved about the kitchen.

But no matter how much she tried to concentrate on her cooking, her mind kept returning to the man who had tried to follow her home.

What would he have done if he found out where she lived?

Did he plan on grabbing her before she got there?

Did he just get off on making women scared?

Was he planning on raping her? Abducting her? Killing her?

The more Y/N thought about it, the more her fear shifted into rage. Why was it so much more unsafe for women to just merely exist in the world?

But she had no intention of telling Jason.

He would be furious. Not at her, at a man who thought it was OK to even make his girlfriend feel uncomfortable and unsafe – let alone any woman. He would go on a hunt for him and teach him a lesson.

Jason Todd was protective of the people he loved and the innocent – of which Y/N was both. But he also had a bad temper. And whoever was the reason for it starting up better run for their life because Red Hood was not a merciful man and his morals were unpredictable.

So, no. Y/N was not planning on telling her boyfriend, who was also secretly a vigilante with rage issues, about the man who ogled her on public transit and tried to follow her home.

But Y/N was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear said boyfriend finally wake up.

Next thing she knew, someone was slowly wrapping their arms around her waist.

Y/N jumped.

Obviously it was Jason. She knew that. This was not uncommon behavior for him.

But after the day she had and being lost in her thoughts, the feeling of someone’s touch scared the life out of her.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason immediately muttered in a whisper at her reaction. “It’s just me.”

Y/N turned around in hopes of easing any worry before he asked any questions.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t hear you wake up.”

But Jason narrowed his gaze at the crazed look in her eyes. He could somehow feel her heart racing as he gripped her torso, and traced lines up and down her rib cage with his thumbs in an attempt to soothe her.

“What happened?” He asked as he brushed some hair out of her face.

“Nothing. I’m fine. I was just in my head and zoning out, so you scared me.”

Jason was basically a human lie detector. So he raised an eyebrow at her attempt.

“Y/N,” he warned.

She sighed and shook her head. “Promise you’ll just listen? That you won’t freak out?”

Now Jason was even more worried. “Y/N, what happened?”

She sighed again, knowing it was pointless to ask him not to freak out when it came to her. Now all she could hope for is that she’d be able to calm him down.

Y/N explained what happened to Jason: the bus, the following, the running to make sure a threatening stranger didn’t follow her home.

She could see Jason’s body getting more and more tense, and his expression angrier and angrier. His hands clenched into fits. His posture straightened with purpose.

“Did he grab you? Did he touch you?” Jason asked as soon as he was sure she was done with her whole story.

“No, but…” her words died out.

“He didn’t have to for you to feel violate,” Jason offered her.

Y/N nodded and hung her head.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jason asked softly.

“I…I don’t know. I wanted to you to rest.” Then Y/N really thought about it. “And despite his intentions being very clear…there was still a voice in my head telling me not to overreact, that there was a small chance I was being paranoid.”

“Y/N, even if you had been wrong, I would’ve rather you felt safe than worry about being wrong. I wouldn’t have been mad at you, or even annoyed.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N.” Jason sighed and pulled her into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just love you and want you to be safe.”

She nodded into his shoulder.

———

For the next week, Jason was waiting for Y/N every day after work at her bus stop to walk her home. She didn’t ask him to or even suggest it. But Jason knew she was still shaken after the incident. And the last thing he wanted was his girlfriend living in fear.

On the eighth day of him doing this, Y/N finally spoke up.

“Jason, ya know, you can’t do this forever…”

“I know,” he smirked.

“Why are you smiling?”

“How would you feel about me teaching you some self defense?”

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face him. “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope.”

———

The next weekend, Y/N found herself in the bat cave with her boyfriend, both of them in workout clothes.

“First things first, you have to gain your strength. I can teach you all the moves I want, but you have to make sure your body is in the right condition to defend yourself. And I don’t mean just physically. Confidence is key, beautiful.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the last part, but still smiled.

“Did we have to have an audience?” She asked as she looked over to see that Tim was on the computer, and Dick and Barbara were working out together.

“Ignore them.”

The next couple of hours, Jason taught Y/N all of the basics of self defense. Especially the tips that benefitted women.

Eye strike. Knee to the groin. Heel-palm attack. Elbow hit. How to escape from a bear-hug attack. How to free herself from a choke hold. How to get out of a headlock.

Y/N was covered with sweat. Meanwhile, Jason looked as put together as he had when they started.

“OK,” she finally said with hands on her hips as she tried to catch her breath. “But if someone that’s the same size as me tried to attack me, I don’t have a chance.”

Jason tilted his head to the side. “And who said that?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “J, come on. Look at you! Do you really think I would be able to get away – no matter how hard I tried?”

She looked her boyfriend up and down. He was built like a tank, standing at 6’3 and with an almost inhuman width. Just his thighs seemed bigger than her torso.

While Y/N loved cuddly with her giant teddy bear of a boyfriend, she had mercy for anyone that decided to pick a fight with Jason Todd or Red Hood. They didn’t stand a chance.

“Size isn’t everything,” Jason told her with a wink.

She rolled her eyes again.

“Dick! Barbara! Can you come here for a sec?”

“What’s up?” Dick asked with Barbara by his side.

“Y/N thinks that she’d never be able to take on someone bigger than her,” Jason shared with them.

Barbara didn’t even bother trying to hide her laughter.

Dick smirked. “It’ll take a lot of training, Y/N. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to kick Jason’s ass. Until then, let us know if he’s giving you any trouble and we’ll handle him for you.”

Jason glared at his older brother, but chose not to give his usual sarcastic retorts. He turned his attention back to Y/N instead. “Dicky here is 5’10 and about 175. Meanwhile, Babs is 5’6 and can’t weigh more than 120.”

Barbara crossed her arms. “Didn’t you ever learn that it’s not polite to comment on a woman’s weight?”

Jason gave her an apologetic look but he knew she wasn’t actually offended. “The point is that I’ve seen Barbara hand Dick his ass more times than I can count. Not to mention guys twice her size.”

Then he looked at the couple and gestured to the sparring mat. “Would you be so kind?”

Dick didn’t seem to have any issue with facing off with his girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Barbara looked excited.

As the two of them began sparring, Jason lowered his voice down to Y/N and pointed out Barbara’s strategies and moves. Then he would explain how she was manipulating her smaller frame and turning it into an advantage.

Next thing Y/N knew, Barbara had Dick on the floor.

Dick was beaming up at his girlfriend with nothing but pride and awe.

“See?” Jason muttered quietly in Y/N’s ear.

Barbara laughed and held a hand to help Dick up. He jumped back onto his feet and gave his girlfriend a kiss.

“What’s going on?” A voice said at the bottom of the stairs.

They all turned to see Damian had entered the Bat Cave.

“Teaching Y/N some self defense,” Jason shrugged.

Damian sighed. “I do not understand why society does not train women to defend themselves – especially when they are not protected from evil men.”

Y/N laughed. “Not everyone was raised by a league of assassins, Damian.”

But then Damian’s words hit her again in a different way. She spaced out for a moment.

Jason looked at her with concern. “You OK?”

She just nodded.

He wasn’t convinced, but let her be. “I think that’s enough training for today.”

Jason’s brothers convinced him and Y/N to stay for a family movie night.

They used Jason’s old room to shower, since Y/N was covered in sweat by the end of her self defense lesson. Jason gave her some of his old clothes for her to wear that he’d left behind.

When they got to the theatre room, Jason could tell how exhausted Y/N was. She was going to be sore tomorrow – probably for a few days, actually.

She curled into Jason as they grabbed one of the love seats. In moments like these, Jason was always amused how she seemed more like his pet cat than his girlfriend.

Dick and Barbara cuddled together, as well.

Damian brought a book, pretended to already be bored, and acted like he was forced to join family movie night.

Tim brought in his laptop so he could continue to work.

Alfred brought them snacks every so often.

Even Bruce came in halfway through the movie, making his entrance so subtle that they almost didn’t notice.

But lo and behold, not even 15 minutes into the movie, Y/N had passed out.

Jason ended up having to carry her to his car after the movie – not that he minded in the slightest – and drive home as smoothly as possible, so he didn’t wake her.

———

A few days later, Y/N found Jason reading while lounging on the couch in the living room of their shared apartment.

She hopped on beside him, laying across his chest and sliding underneath his book.

Jason chuckled at her antics and put his book down, realizing she wanted his full attention and not just to snuggle while he continued to read.

“So, I was thinking…” Y/N began.

“Mhmm,” Jason hummed.

“I’m not the only woman in Gotham who’s been harassed. You of all people know that – probably better than I do.”

Jason’s amusement disappeared as he listened to where she was going.

“Did you know that in most big cities, there are almost always more women than men?”

“I did not.”

Then she sat up straight, but remained close to him. “But Gotham is the only major American city where there are 20% more men than women.” She waited for him to interrupt, but he just continued to pay close attention. “Researchers believe it’s because of the high crime rate in Gotham, and therefore it’s even more unsafe for women to live here than men.”

“Makes sense,” Jason agreed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“When you started giving me self-defense lessons and then Damian made the comment about no one training women, I kept thinking how other women don’t have a family of vigilantes to keep them safe or teach them how to defend themselves.”

“I’ve seen enough of this city to know that you’re right,” Jason commented darkly.

“Exactly.”

“You still haven’t explained why we’re talking about this…”

“Right,” Y/N smiled embarrassingly. “What if we – I don’t know – started a center for women to learn what you taught me. Completely pro bono. Like a…”

“Fight Club?” Jason offered with a smirk.

“Well, not exactly. But kinda,” Y/N giggled.

Then she frowned as her mind was still working all of it out. “I just don’t know who could teach it. You and your family are already too busy. Teaching women how to defend themselves is a little beneath you…”

“First of all, it’s not beneath us. But you’re right: Dick barely has a second to spend with Babs. Tim is so sleep deprived that he’s just gonna collapse one day. It also wouldn’t be smart for our cover and show that all the Wayne kids can hold themselves in a fight. People might start putting things together...”

“Right,” Y/N agreed and looked further disappointed.

“Hey,” Jason said with an encouraging smile and lifted her chin to look at him. “It’s a good idea. And between my brothers and me, we know plenty of retired heroes that would be more than willing to help out.”

Y/N’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Dinah, Roy, Wally and Artemis. Hell, I bet if Bruce mentioned it to Diana, she’d smuggle in some Amazons to really show ‘em.”

Y/N smiled at the idea.

“You should tell Bruce,” Jason added.

“Bruce?”

“He has a habit of blindly writing checks for a good cause. I bet he’d just straight up buy you a warehouse to hold classes in.”

She frowned. “I don’t – won’t he feel like I’m taking advantage of him?”

Jason laughed. “I know he’s shit at showing it, but Bruce likes you. And I think he’d be more than happy to help.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over. “Bruce Wayne likes me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head…”

“So, you think this is a good idea?”

Jason couldn’t help himself when she looked this adorable and excited. He grabbed her torso and flipped them so her back was on the couch and he was now hovering above her.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he told her softly before kissing her.

But before Y/N could push the intimacy any further, Jason pulled away from her lips.

“I have to tell you something,” his voice suddenly went serious.

Y/N’s smile dropped. “What? What is it?”

“I know you didn’t want me to…”

Then she sat up, lightly pushing Jason off of her. “Christ, Jason. What did you do?”

He took in a quick breath. “I found him.”

“Found who?”

“The guy who followed you.”

“Fuck,” Y/N put her hands over her face. “Jason. God. What the fuck.” “I know! I know. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Y/N rubbed her face and looked at him. “Please, please tell you didn’t kill him.”

Jason had the audacity to roll his eyes. “I didn’t kill him, OK? Happy?”

“No, I’m not happy! You went after him when I explicitly asked you not to!”

“Did you forget that the guy you’re dating is also a vigilante? In what world did you expect me to not look him up?” He shook his head in wonder. “I mean, the idiot’s face was all over the public transit database I hacked when I looked up the footage from the cameras on your bus – not to mention the footage from half the storefronts you walked by.”

Y/N only glared at him.

“Don’t be mad,” he requested.

“Well, I am.”

Jason sighed. Then he scooted closer, hoping she’d allow it. “Look, I get what’s going on. And I get why you want to help all these women.”

She eyed him, but let him continue.

“I’m sure it’s hard to believe, but I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t protect yourself.” He cleared his throat, catching himself. “I know it’s not the same as what women have to deal with on a daily basis. I’ll never really know what that’s like.”

Jason kept all the terrible things he’d seen on patrol to himself. But there were things he knew would terrify and traumatize her. Because of this, Jason wasn’t as oblivious to the suffering of women as the majority of men were. Or maybe he just chose to actually acknowledge it and care.

He took in a deep breath. “But I just hated the idea of someone doing that to you. And I know there’s probably a million times its happened and you haven’t told me, or you didn’t even notice because you’ve gotten so used to it. I just…I couldn’t let him get away with it.”

Jason paused to let her process his excuse. He’d be the first to admit it wasn’t a good one.

But Jason Todd was fiercely protective of the people he loved. And Red Hood’s sole purpose was to protect the those who couldn’t protect themselves – no matter the cost.

So when his girlfriend was troubled enough to lose sleep or zoned out constantly to rehash what happened, he was going to do something about it.

Jason was fully aware of his anger issues. But he also learned how to redirect them to be something a bit more productive.

“So…what did you do to him?” Y/N asked nervously.

He gave her a look, silently asking her if she really wanted to know.

“Jason…” she warned him.

“He had a record, OK? Let’s just say you weren’t the first woman he’s done that to. And a lot of them weren’t as lucky as you. So he got what he fucking deserved.”

“And what is that?” She pushed, refusing to let him gloss over it so easily.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I roughed him up a bit, alright? Told him I’d be watching. Scared the shit out of him enough that, hopefully, he won’t ever pull that shit again.”

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head at him.

Jason would take her amusement over her anger any day, even if she was teasing him.

“What?” He asked through a grin.

She bopped his nose. “So protective over me.”

Jason had enough of the distance between them.

He moved her body so she had no choice but to sit on his lap. “‘Course I am.”

Then he kissed her. But when he pulled away, his face was rather thoughtful.

“You’re not going to feel helpless forever, ya know.”

They were words to comfort her. Because deep down Jason knew that promising to always be there for her wasn’t going to make her feel better. She wanted him as her boyfriend, not her bodyguard – despite Jason being more than happy to be both for her.

“I know,” Y/N confirmed with a shy smile.

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

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #batfam #batboys #batman family #dick grayson #barbara gordon #damian wayne #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #jason todd fic #dc #tim drake #red hood fic

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3wisellamas · 3 years

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Giant Sweet Cap’n Cakes Headcanon Masterpost!

(Fun fact, I thought most of these up while on one REALLY long hike. ^^; You can tell I fell for these three pretty hard.)

Music:

-I like the idea that, while the three all share a love of hip hop, glitch hop, electronic music in general, and a little lo-fi for chill times, they all have different tastes outside of those. (Meaning if you pass them the aux cord, they WILL argue!)

-Sweet's actually the biggest audiophile of the group, with by far the most eclectic tastes; he will literally put together playlists that go from dubstep to heavy metal to classical to rap to vaporwave to even country. The others don't really get it, but they're cool with whatever he puts on, and learn a lot of new music from him!

-He also owns an electric guitar, which he just plugs into himself to use as an amp and plays early in the morning to wake the others up if needed (he's the early riser and the other two are night owls...)

-Cap'n's definitely got a more narrow focus than the other two; he likes rap and also R&B, jazz, and even a little swing/electro swing. He's also been caught more than once listening to cheesy romantic pop songs, claiming he's just into them for their potential madamoizel-attracting uses but really he's just a sappy romantic.

-He can also rap, very well in fact, and gets Sweet to beatbox while he freestyles.

-Heck, he's just got a good singing voice in general, helped by having a built-in autotune, and dominates at karaoke!

-K_K also has a really broad range, but stays more towards the electronic end of the spectrum -- melodic dubstep, synthpop, disco, trance, chiptune, DnB, even occasionally puts on straight-up ambient spa music to chill out to (the only genre the other two will NOT tolerate.)

-K_K has also, in the past, set up entire mini-raves just by themselves, complete with glowsticks and everything, while Cap'n and Sweet were out doing whatever. They were...not pleased, when they got back, mostly because they weren't invited. All three got to have one together eventually though.

-Physical media is king in their shop; if it's not on a CD, cassette tape, or a vinyl record (or an 8-track, though they have to dig out their old player for it), they will refuse to play it, and might even ask you to leave. "MP3" is an extremely dirty word to them.

-(In fact, they don't get along too well with the MP3 player-headed robots elsewhere in the city.)

-They are indeed always listening to music on physical media as well -- K_K and Cap'n are their own CD players (though Cap'n's one of those models that's also got a built-in FM radio), while Sweet has a straight-up Walkman.

-(He's also the group's cassette champion, claiming his media of choice is superior to CDs because you can record music on BOTH sides of the tape! The other two just don't have the heart to point out that each side only holds half as much music as a CD, and you don't even have to rewind those...)

-Jury's still out on Hit Clips. Cap'n and Sweet think they're just toys, but K_K genuinely collects and appreciates them and treats them like actual music (it helps that they are only around four seconds long!)

-Believe it or not, the headphones are only decoration, all three actually just...listen to their music entirely within their own heads, though they can also switch to playing it externally on their speakers as well. Perks of being robots! Though, sometimes K_K has his internal volume up too high, and misses things that other people say because of it.

-Sweet also has an input port, and connects himself to his turntable to act as the speakers! The other two are WAY too embarrassed to ask if they can use it as well.

-Sweet can play almost any instrument you throw at him, as long as it's not a woodwind (Surprisingly, he can do brass, since those work on vibration rather than air!). He prefers his guitar or violin when he isn't spinning records on his turntable. Where the other two just enjoy music, he's the actual trained musician.

Voice headcanons:

-Sweet: Kind of deep, bass-y, lots of reverb, a slight tinny audio distortion to it like a low-quality recording that becomes much more pronounced when he gets upset or starts shouting. And since he's a speaker, you can literally feel the vibrations he makes when he's speaking!

-Cap'n: Scout from TF2. I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot get that out of my head for him. XD However, he's actually putting that voice on as an "accent" of sorts, his real voice is actually super autotune-y like K_K's, and it comes out whenever he gets flustered, his pitch only getting higher and higher as it gets worse...

-K_K: Pure autotune, he can just do whatever the hell he wants with his voice -- pitch, tone, whatever, and while he tends to keep it a little higher he can and does change it to fit his mood! He often has a completely different voice every day, but the others are used to it. He also just straight-up vocalizes sound effects (like, the kind that make you go "How did you just make that sound with your mouth?!") and can mimic other people perfectly (though the slight mechanical distortion does give it away). There are absolutely no rules when it comes to K_K's voice.

-They harmonize perfectly whenever they sing together!

Sweet:

-I like to think Sweet's actually the brains of the group; like, not SMART, he just holds their one collective braincell most often. He does any technical work when they're building stuff, like soldering circuits or the occasional programming, and even handles a lot of the actual business operations and pays the bills. The other two also like to follow his lead when it comes to rebellion plans, even if he’s not the official leader.

-That said, though? It's balanced out by him being rather hotheaded and having the shortest temper by a lot. There are REASONS why he's not usually out selling bagels with the others -- he's unfortunately prone to some more "extreme" sales tactics, like hurling half their stock at random passersby until they finally agree to buy some. On the plus side, he's always the first to step up to defend the gang from anything that dares to harm them, and is always on guard.

-He can also hold a heck of a grudge -- don't ever get on his bad side! Cap'n and K_K are mostly immune to this though, if he gets upset with them he works through it by the end of the day. It helps that they can all hug it out.

-He's a bit of a perfectionist, often working overtime to try and get everything they build exactly right. He can get really frustrated when things don't work out the way he plans, or when he can't make sense of a problem, or when Cap'n and K_K are goofing off instead of doing their part, and needs to go blast some loud music and blow off steam.

-He does have a really tough time keeping his balance, since his head is a bit heavier than the rest of his body, but he takes tripping over his own feet constantly in stride. The biggest problem he has is with dancing -- while he'll join in with the others on occasion, he can't match their more acrobatic moves and sticks more to actually PLAYING the music they're dancing to.

-He's also really, really unlucky, just in general. He actually considers the other two his good luck charms, since they help him out whenever he trips or gets into a bad spot!

-He's the fashionista of the group, surprisingly. It's difficult for him to find clothes that fit his body, so he tends to get a little creative with it and has a whole closet full of different stuff! And since Cap'n is roughly the same size they'll occasionally swap jackets.

Cap’n:

-Cap'n actually has managed to score a handful of dates with girls in the past! However, NONE of them went well, and only one actually made it to the second date (only to break up right in the middle of it), so he always ends up returning home heartbroken and in tears. Sweet and K_K, by this point just ready for it whenever they hear that he's going out that night, always dry him off before he shorts himself out, take him to bed and cuddle with him (platonically, I don't see them as brothers but I also don't see them as having that conversation until Cap'n's ready, which he clearly is NOT), remind him that it doesn't hurt forever and he isn't unlovable and that he'll find someone eventually, etc.

-They have sat him down multiple times to try and gently suggest to Cap'n that he might just not be into women? And that he’s actually turning them off by trying so hard? To which he's always just like "No, of course not. I'm straight. Love the ladies. Totally. Oh no they didn't catch me checkin' out that one dude earlier did they? Is that what this is about?!"

-(Basically, Cap'n is just a hopeless romantic in love with the idea of being in love, but is absolutely clueless as to how it works or what he actually wants, and his best buds are always there to catch him when he falls. ;v; )

-The glasses are prescription -- he's SUPER nearsighted, a hardware glitch he refuses to fix. Sometimes when he's working on something close up he'll take them off, panicking when he can't find them afterwards, only to have the others point out that they're just on his head. He’s also got non-tinted glasses, but you will not catch him DEAD wearing those unless it’s an absolute emergency.

-This dude is SUPREMELY insecure with himself. Like, his rather questionable fixation on romance aside, he basically runs off of others' validation, the "cool" persona he's spent much of his life building up being how he hides the fact that he isn't really sure who he is, or what he wants to do with his life, or what he's even good for -- the others have learned to check on him now and then whenever he hides away in the back of the shop, since he can slip into some pretty dark places when left alone to sulk. It took a long time for him to open up even to them to share his feelings, and sometimes still has doubts about whether they or anyone else really care about him as more than just The Smooth One...

-He's the only one of the three to actually enjoy the occasional silence, especially when he's trying to think, or whenever he's upset. So, his headphones also serve a dual purpose -- they're noise-cancelling!

-He's the video guy, carrying around a small camcorder and constantly trying to record the group's activities, to put together into music videos! He also just likes to record himself doing stupid stunts for posterity, though K_K just takes these and makes (affectionate) blooper reels.

-Cap'n is not his real name, similar to K_K. However, unlike K_K, he refuses to say what it is, just that it's embarrassing.

K_K:

-K_K has a bad habit of just completely zoning out when he gets into his music, getting completely lost in the groove and needing to be pulled back to reality. It's not a bad thing during jam sessions, but at work, or in the middle of a battle...not so much.

-He kind of needs to have some kind of music going at all times -- silence drives him absolutely CRAZY! Though, because he gets distracted by his own music, he then misses out on entire conversations, only tuning back in towards the end. Sometimes the other two have to repeat or summarize what they just said for him.

-He knows sign language, and taught the others to use it. They're able to communicate reasonably well no matter how loud their shop gets, or on days when K_K isn't able to form words properly (he's just shy, and even when he isn't he gets tongue-tied a LOT).

-He's easily the best dancer of the three, and uses his extendable body to get really creative with his moves! He even knows a little ballroom, somehow, which he'll pull out sometimes to make the others laugh.

-(Seriously, K_K CANNOT stand to see Sweet or Cap'n not smiling. He'll do anything to keep the group's spirits up, usually cracking jokes during a scrap project or doing little favors, and they appreciate all his efforts!)

-K_K has the WORST sleep cycle, ever. If you let him, he will stay up all night working or partying, finally going to bed at 6AM, and will then sleep until 6PM if the others don't wake him up at some point. If they know he was up really late they'll let him sleep in a little, but he's often pretty sleep-deprived and running solely on sugar and caffeine, which doesn't help his natural loopiness.

-He is a VERY physical guy. Seriously, he will just scoop up and hold Sweet or Cap'n like a cat every five minutes; at first they were just like "Oh. Okay. We're hugging now I guess," but after a while they got more used to it and even anticipate when K_K is going to do it. And he also initiates tons of snuggles and gives piggyback rides whenever one of his bandmates (usually Sweet) requests.

-K_K actually scrapbooks, collecting pictures and little mementos of places he and the others have gone and things they've done. After the library fountain is sealed, he pulls them out to show everyone else from Cyber City and reminisce about home.

-It's very hard to make K_K angry, since he tends to stay super chill and brushes off almost everything. But, on those very, very rare occasions when something does get under his metal outer casing, he'll go full-on silent treatment, not speaking to anyone for up to a week as he sulks and stomps around the junk shop, and even refuses to play any music! And no amount of sweets or hugs or cheering up will bring him out of it, either; the other two have learned to just wait him out and let him have his space, letting him come to them when he's finally ready to talk about it.

Misc:

-Though all three love everything sweet, K_K's the only one who really goes overboard with it, making whole meals out of candy. Sweet, ironically enough, actually prefers more salty/savory snacks, while the less is said about Cap'n's hot sauce addiction, the better.

-Okay, actually, I will say more about it. Cap'n loves spicy food in general, and literally drinks tabasco sauce right from the bottle. However, he's got a bad habit of daring himself to eat hotter and hotter stuff, ESPECIALLY if someone is watching, and can easily get in WAY over his head before begging for milk.

-They also all totally drink battery acid like Queen.

-Heck, being both Darkners and robots, they can really eat literally anything. Normal food, milk, oil, batteries, gallons of pure sugar, toothpaste, moss, glitter (NEVER let K_K get hold of any though, he gets lost in the sauce), broken glass, etc, and of course their own deep-fried CDs. Only thing they can't do is water, since, you know, robots.

-With a lot of the aesthetics of Cyber City being close to turn-of-the millennium and early 2000s (CDs and boomboxes, popup ads, wired mice, Queen theorized to be one of those see-through iMacs, EVERYTHING about Spamton), I like the idea that the boys DO NOT have smartphones, and if you handed them one they'd have no clue how to use it or what to do with it. But they do have cell phones: Sweet's got an old flip phone covered in stickers (courtesy of K_K), Cap'n splurged for one of those that slide open and with a camera (he set his background to a tiny, grainy photo of the three of them!), and K_K has one of those indestructible Nokia bricks, that Sweet got him after he kept breaking all his other ones. They can all text, but that's about as high-tech as they get.

-Same with tablets or newer computers in general, they might share one tiny netbook at most. Cap’n never remembers to log out of his Dark World dating profile, so the others will snoop or post embarrassing things to it.

-They're really, really durable, even without milk -- they're made of 90s plastic and electronics, so it takes a LOT to take one of them down! Plus, they regularly repair each other back at the shop (it took a LONG time for them to gain enough trust to physically open and work on each other), so as long as at least one's left to drag the other two to safety they'll be just fine.

-However, if they get splashed with water, caught in the rain, or worse, drowned, they will short out, or shut down on the spot to prevent damage. Once they completely dry out, though, they'll start right back up, no worse for wear. When only one of them gets waterlogged the other two will break out the hair dryers to dry them out faster, or even pop them into the oven in a pan of rice like an iPod that got dropped in the toilet...

Finally, backstory?

-Cap'n and K_K met first -- maybe both as new recruits to another, much less savory gang of music equipment robots, and bonded as a result of being put upon by the more established members (Cap'n probably even had to defend K_K more than once when his inattentiveness got him into trouble!) But, they both had enough one day, and decided to break off and form their own thing, making music and selling CD bagels to support themselves.

-Sweet, meanwhile, has the complete opposite background, coming from a rich and important family of musicians in Cyber City who regularly entertained Queen in her mansion (hence why he always used to get sweets from her!) But, he was kind of the black sheep, preferring his own style of music, and decided to strike out on his own as a street musician instead.

-They met when Cap'n and K_K accidentally set up to sell bagels on Sweet's usual corner, and he battled them to reclaim his turf. But, they were evenly-matched (even two-to-one; Sweet's definitely the strongest of the trio!), and impressed each other with both their fighting and musical skills, so Sweet decided to join their tiny group, and thus Sweet Cap'n Cakes was formed.

-After the whole situation with Queen is resolved, SCC turns their rebellion into an anti-DRM kind of thing? Nobody can hold back the music, man!

#deltarune #sweet cap'n cakes #deltarune sweet #deltarune cap'n #deltarune k_k #sweet #cap'n #k_k #emheadcanons

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isaacsapphire · 3 years

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"The Army’s height and weight requirements are laid out in Army Regulation 600-9, the guidance for the Army Body Composition Program, which dictates how much a soldier should weigh depending on their gender, height, and age. If a soldier doesn’t meet the standard on that body mass index (BMI) table, they have different parts of their body measured as part of the tape test...

... To meet those standards, service members often adopt unhealthy behaviors like starving themselves, working out excessively, taking diet pills or laxatives, or sitting in saunas for prolonged periods of time to drop weight quickly. An Army major who struggled with bulimia for years said taking drastic measures ahead of weigh-ins is “so common that nobody looks at it as weird,” and while “people will fully admit it’s happening … it’s never discussed as a danger...

... the rate of anorexia and bulimia were higher among Marines than the other services. One study estimated almost half of U.S. service members reported at least one experience with weight stigma in the military in 2017, noting that stigma is “associated with harmful thoughts and behaviors, including diet pill and laxative use, purging, and overeating.” Those behaviors fall into a category of “disordered eating.”

...these habits don’t happen only among young service members, or just women. The problem extends to men and women, officers and enlisted, from new lieutenants to senior non-commissioned officers...

...getting taped is in Army regulations and not technically considered a punishment, there is an overwhelming negative stigma attached to it. Every service member interviewed by Task & Purpose described a certain amount of shame that went along with the practice, summed up by a first lieutenant... who has heard soldiers say “all the fat kids need to go get taped.’”

To say only “fat” service members get taped simply isn’t true. The test equally punishes muscular men and women and service members whose body types don’t fit the required measurements. That problem was highlighted in March by The Army Mom Life, an advocacy group for mothers in the Army, in a slideshow that showed photos of women and their height and weight results. The photos show women who appear muscular and fit, yet surpass their table weight and in some cases barely meet their body fat percentage requirement.

As one soldier noted on her photo, the terror over being taped has made her rethink strength training, opting to reduce the weight she tries to squat since she would fail if she gained 1.5 inches on her gluteus muscles.

“I am perplexed by the idea that we are asking women to gain muscle, and then we use a tape that measures that muscle (gluteus) and punishes them for increasing the size of that muscle,” she said.

An Army sergeant first class at the Pentagon said that despite excelling on his fitness tests, he’s a naturally “stocky guy,” and the tape test has been the “only thing that’s ever threatened my career.” He had good reason to be worried. If someone fails to meet the height and weight requirements, and fails the tape test, they are put on the Army Body Composition Program. They’re given a maximum of six months to show “satisfactory progress” in losing weight, which the Army defines as three to eight pounds a month.

If a soldier fails to be within weight standards by six months — and it is not due to a medical condition — the soldier will be separated from the service. The Marine Corps has a similar policy, which says Marines who have not made “satisfactory progress” within those six months will be processed for administrative separation.

Aside from the threat of separation, there’s fear that news of a soldier failing height and weight could damage their reputation. The Army major remarked that “so much of people’s reputations are on these silly” tests.

“If word gets around then it’s going to professionally affect you,” he said. “Even if it’s something you can pass, it’s still just the fear of that possibility.”

The sergeant first class added that he experienced harassment while at the Drill Sergeant Academy because even though he passed tape, he looked bigger than some of the other soldiers who “all fit a very particular mold” and were “fairly skinny people.”

Other soldiers interviewed by Task & Purpose echoed that sentiment — saying the Army is holding onto an antiquated view of what a “good soldier” looks like, which they say often translates to a thin “runner’s body.” Even the Army’s own standards lean on a subjective appearance; the service’s body composition program regulations say that commanders “have the authority to direct a body fat assessment on any soldier that they determine does not present a soldierly appearance.”

... Marines can be assigned to the program even if they meet height and weight standards...

... There’s also an argument that measuring someone’s health with BMI is not only outdated, but biased towards anyone who is not a white man...

... Experts also say it’s not accurate. Velasquez... said BMI doesn’t take things like muscle mass, cardiac health, or metabolic health into consideration, which she and other experts agree are more important indicators of health. (For context, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson was considered “obese” according to BMI standards, Men’s Health reported in 2015.) “When we’re testing our service members on these standards, it’s kind of a one-size-fits-all that does not fit who we are as a nation anymore,” she said.

The tape test, which is conducted if a service member is over the regulation weight, is not much better. Lampert called it a “terrible” and “notoriously unreliable way to measure body fat.” Notably, a Military Times study of the tape test in 2013 found it was inaccurate in measuring body fat for 10 out of 10 active duty service members. Dr. Jordan Moon, the director of the Sports Science Center Research Institute, told Military Times the tape test “can vary by as much as 15%.”

“So, if your results show you’re 20% fat, that means there’s a 95% chance that you’re really somewhere between [five] and 35% fat,” Moon said.

One of the most common criticisms of height and weight standards is that they are often enforced differently depending on the unit, your leaders, or the person administering the test.

“You go in there potentially about to end your career or start the downfall, and it’s all dependent on how this person is going to tape you,” the major said. “You could have different people tape you … how are they actually positioning the [the tape]? How tight are they squeezing the tape, some people say you’ve got to put your shoulders up, or are they making you stand normal? What are they letting you get away with? And there’s so many little tricks — I’ve seen people hit themselves in the neck thinking it will kind of cause it to swell up, or they’ll put their tongue at the top of their mouth … If you can get your neck bigger and your waist smaller, then you’re giving yourself every possible advantage.”

A Marine Corps staff sergeant and Army captain echoed that view, saying that it was not uncommon for men to focus on working out their necks in the days leading up to a weigh-in to help them pass tape.

The Air Force recently became the first military service to get rid of the tape test, though it’s still unclear what a new body composition measurement would look like; the Army and Marine Corps still swear by it. And in the Army’s case, soldiers say the existing standards and tape test aren’t accounting for the service’s new fitness test, which emphasizes building muscle for test events like the deadlift, standing power throw, and sprint-drag-carry.

“Fundamentally, the Army system for height and weight is broken,” said the captain, who is assigned to the 25th Infantry Division. “And the Army has a very toxic understanding of health, weight, and fitness.”

Ironically, the methods many are using to meet the military’s height and weight standards are hurting the physical fitness they’re supposed to support, and in the Army’s case, they know it.

Army regulations factor in the possibility that soldiers may be doing things to rapidly lose weight, and even details various “unsafe” tactics soldiers may be using to do so. In AR 600-9, the guidance for the Army Body Composition Program, the service urges commanders to allow a seven day period between taking the fitness test and taking soldiers’ height and weight because some “may attempt to lose weight quickly in the days leading up to a weigh-in.”

“This practice may result in the soldier being unable to perform his or her best on the [fitness test], if the two events are scheduled close together,” the regulations say.

...The Army and Marine Corps are currently studying their body composition programs.

... None of the service members who spoke with Task & Purpose advocated for no fitness and health standards, and Lampert argued there are plenty of ways to measure those things that are accurate and actually correlate to health instead of just looking the part."

Note: there's a bunch of links within the article to more information about almost everything, so please click through and click around if any part of this interests you.

#original post #american military culture #american military #task and purpose #support our military #weight #ed tw #male eating disorders #eating disorders #us army #united states navy #marines #eating disorder #food #bmi #race in america #race and gender #mental health #ed

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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DuMont (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Elf Ranger/Male Tiefling Barbarian Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, Kobold, Half Elf, Human, Rogue, Bard, Barbarian, Ranger, Mage, Wizard, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Sex, Third Person Perspective Words: 3839

Kharis seems dissatisfied with DuMont's... performance, so DuMont intends to ask for advice from Rupert. Things don’t go as planned. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Why do you do that?” Kharis asked as she and DuMont lay in their bed of straw and furs together.

They were sheltering in a run down barn on the outskirts of the nearest town. Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman were at an inn, but DuMont was too large to fit through most doors. Kharis decided to stay with DuMont instead of enjoying the comforts of the inn, which usually meant she was feeling frisky.

“Do what?” DuMont asked, looking over at her in confusion.

She sighed. “Ask me if I’m okay every time I make a noise when we have sex? And you’re always so gentle, like I’m made of glass and you’re scared you’re going to hurt me.”

“I am scared of that,” He replied, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “I could injure you very easily if I’m not careful. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kharis sighed discontentedly and reached up to scratch his chest absentmindedly. “It’s not that I don’t like the gentleness. It’s sweet. But I wish you would lose control sometimes, take charge, be spontaneous. Just grab me and fuck me senseless without even saying anything. I’m always the one who tells you what to do, and trust me I love giving orders, but I’d love it if you told me to just shut up and suck your dick once in a while.”

DuMont grimaced. “I don’t think I’d feel right, saying something like that.”

“That’s kind of my point, darling,” She said, sitting up with a slight chuckle. “You’re too pure for your own good sometimes. It’s growing up in that church that did it, it must be. What did that caretaker of yours tell you about sex?”

“That it was mostly a trap set by women to steal a man’s money. He was rather bitter about some woman in his past, I think, though he never talked about it.”

Kharis snorted. “That tracks. Look, it’s not like I want you to treat me badly or be cruel to me. It’s not about being gross or vulgar or wanting to hurt me, it’s about being aggressive, feral, demanding. Using my body to get what you want. When that’s done the right way, it’s so sexy. And I’m giving you consent to do it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But I don’t know how to do that without hurting you,” He said, mildly frustrated.

Kharis sighed again. “I know, angel. It’s alright, don’t worry yourself too much over it. We’ll figure it out.” She rolled into him and snuggled against his body. “Get some sleep. We need to be up and moving before dawn. Love you.”

“Love you,” DuMont echoed, curling his body around hers and making sure she was as warm as he could make her.

Kharis fell asleep pretty quickly, but DuMont was unable to fall asleep for some time. He replayed the conversation with Kharis over and over in his mind, trying to parse what it was she wanted. Did she really want him to hurt her or be violent with her? That couldn’t be right. When he was violent, he killed people. He didn’t even mean to kill people sometimes, it just happened. He was still trying to gauge his strength and he often failed. How could he be forceful with her and not end up injuring her, or even killing her?

Maybe he could ask Rupert or Norman. Rupert and Sanoh were… very active… almost as active as he and Kharis were, but they both had more experience than he did. Norman was known to hire companions frequently, so he had different partners often. Norman and Rupert might be able to help.

The next day, the five of them came upon something that they hadn’t encountered in their travels: a proper bathhouse. It was lavish and resplendent and wildly out of place in this little town.

“Oh! Look!” Kharis said, pointing excitedly. “Look how big the doors are! DuMont, you’ll fit! We should splurge a little! We made a ton of gold from our last job and I haven’t had a bath that wasn’t in a cold pond in ages. Please, let’s go!”

“I’m totally down for this,” Sanoh said. “My scales have been so dry and itchy. I think I’m getting ready to molt.” She grimaced and scratched at her arm, which did look a bit flaky. “I hate molting. I’m out of commission for a solid week. It’s such an inconvenience.”

“How often do you molt?” Norman asked.

“Once a year. The good news is, once I’m done we can sell the skin for a good price. People grind it up and use it as a wound paste.”

“That’s actually fascinating,” Rupert said. “I wonder what magical properties your sheds might have.”

“Yeah, that’s great and totally not gross at all, are we doing this or what?” Kharis said impatiently.

“Sure, sure,” Norman said. “As long as we’re not spending all our money, it’s fine.”

The four of them started forward toward the building, but DuMont hesitated. Kharis doubled back.

“You okay, big guy?” She asked, patting his arm.

“Are you sure you want me to come in with you?” He asked apprehensively.

“Of course!” Kharis said. “Have you ever had a proper bath before?”

“I don’t think so,” He said.

“Then this could be an opportunity for you. Come get pampered with us. It’s fun.”

DuMont groused uncertainly, but he allowed Kharis to drag him into the bathhouse.

DuMont felt very out of place inside the pastel walls of the parlor, looking around at the delicate figurines and statues with discomfort and attempting to make himself smaller. The hostess, an elven woman, looked at him warily but greeted them all brightly.

“Welcome to the Rushing Waters Baths. Will you be needing separate rooms or a communal room this evening? The separate rooms are more private, but also more expensive.”

“One for the boys and one for the girls?” Rupert asked.

“Sounds good to me,” Kharis said. “Do you have one big enough for my sweetheart here?” She patted DuMont’s arm.

The elven woman looked him up and down appraisingly. “Unfortunately, I think the only bath that will fit him is the public bath. However, we have no other customers at the moment, so he will have it to himself.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Kharis said. “You’ll get to stretch your legs and soak for a while.”

DuMont grunted. “Thank you,” He said, addressing the hostess. His deep, low voice rattled the shelves slightly.

“We also offer laundering services,” The hostess said. “Simply leave your clothing on the shelves at the exterior of the bathing rooms and a silver for the service.”

DuMont looked down at himself and the simple loincloth he wore for modesty’s sake. He also donned a simple coat that Kharis had fashioned for him out of some large drapes for when it started getting cold. She wasn’t a great seamstress and the coat was a little haphazard and slapdash, but DuMont had treasured the gift and rarely took it off.

He had money now for the first time in his life, but there wasn’t many places that made clothing in his size. He could commission something, he supposed, but considering how often he ended up covered with dirt and blood, there wasn’t much point.

“You will need to leave your… weapons,” She glanced at the massive church bell tied to a post that DuMont used as a bludgeon. “At the door, of course. They will also be cleaned.”

“This is a strange place to be in the middle of such a small town,” Norman said.

“We’re a resort town, actually,” The hostess replied in a chipper tone that made Kharis roll her eyes.

“A what?” DuMont asked.

“It’s a town rich people build so they can pretend to be simple country folk while looking down their noses at them at the same time,” Kharis said in an undertone. The hostess frowned at her.

“How much for two private rooms and the public bath?” Sanoh asked, redirecting the hostess’s attention.

“The public bath is only two copper, and another copper for soap,” The hostess replied, still eyed Kharis while disfavor. “For two private baths, it’s six silver. Soap and towels are provided.”

“Do you provide companionship?” Norman asked.

“Wait until we get to the inn, Norm!” Rupert said. “I don’t want to be in the room with you when you have your fun!”

“Prude,” Norman sniffed.

“We actually own the inn, as well,” The hostess said. “You can book your rooms and companionship here for later, if you’d like.”

“Good, let’s do that,” Norman said.

It took a few minutes for them to iron out all the details while DuMont stood in the back awkwardly. He then waited while his friends were led to their own bathing rooms.

Before he could be taken to the public bath, he asked the hostess, “Could I visit my friends’ room? I’d like to ask their advice privately.”

“Of course,” The hostess said. “Right this way.”

She led him to one of the rooms, in which there was a flowery perfume smell. Steam emanated from under the door.

“They are undressing in the side room,” The hostess said. “You are free to wait for them.”

“Thank you, miss,” He replied. She nodded and excused herself.

DuMont stepped in and lowered his massive body into a squat-sit position, waiting patiently. The door opened after a moment, and to his dismay, a very naked Sanoh walked through. DuMont slapped his hands over his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed. “The hostess must have brought me to the wrong room! I meant to go to the mens’ bath!”

Sanoh laughed. “It’s okay, big guy!” He heard the sound of her slipping into the water. “Feeling a bit lonely? Did you want to bath with the guys?”

“No,” He replied, still covering his eyes. “Well, yes, but no. I wanted to ask their advice about something.”

“Oh?” She said, her voice piqued with interest. “Maybe I can help. What’s the problem?”

“Oh…” DuMont hesitated. “Well… It’s private.”

“It’s about Kharis?” Sanoh hazarded.

“Yes,” He responded.

“Is it about sex?” Sanoh said shrewdly.

“Yes,” He said, almost dropping his hands in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Because Kharis and I talk, sweetie,” She replied. “Look, you can lower your hands. I’m not all that shy, honey; ask Rupert. Besides, if you want to know what a woman wants during sex, you shouldn’t ask a man. Why don’t you get in and sit with me and we can talk. Kharis is getting a drink, so she’ll be a few minutes.”

DuMont slowly lowered his hands and was relieved to see that Sanoh had sunk beneath the bath, which seemed to have a cloudy, pleasant smelling mixture in it that obscured most of her body. He carefully stood up and climbed into the bath, raising the level of the water by at least a foot. He took great care not to crowd her, looking much like an oversized dog crouching in a box too small for him.

“Alright, so what’s the issue?” She asked.

“Kharis wants me to be more aggressive,” DuMont said, hanging his head. “But I’m worried that I might hurt her.”

“I see,” Sanoh said, leaning forward a little. “I mean, I like a little bit of pain during sex, but I imagine it would be difficult for you, considering your size and strength.”

“That’s what worries me,” He replied anxiously.

“Well, there are plenty of ways of being assertive without hurting anyone,” Sanoh replied. “What about just ripping her clothes off the next time you feel frisky? Ooh, with your teeth! That would be hot.”

“But wouldn’t I make her mad if I ruin her clothes?” DuMont asked, cocking his head.

Sanoh shook her head. “Trust me, do it right, and she’ll be putty in your hands. Besides, we’re flush with cash right now. Kharis can buy new clothes. Kharis is also a little bit of an exhibitionist, so she’d probably like some public sex.”

DuMont balked at this idea. “That’s indecent! And also illegal, as far as I know!”

“I don’t mean do it out in the open! Although, knowing Kharis, she would probably love that,” Sanoh muttered thoughtfully. “No, no, somewhere public adjacent, like a rooftop or just beyond a tree line, somewhere you have the potential to be caught.”

DuMont frowned uncertainly. “Alright. What else could I do?”

“You could snarl at her when the two of you are getting in the mood. Some women really love that primal, feral energy. Love bites could be good, too. I do love it when Rupert puts his teeth to my scales.”

“But…” DuMont ran a finger over his exposed fangs. “I don’t know if I could do that. What if I actually bit her?”

“Drawing a little bit of blood might be alright, just don’t go very deep.”

DuMont grimaced uncertainly, but didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, honey, I think you’re really overthinking things. You’re just a big sweetie pie! I don’t think you could hurt Kharis, even if you tried to.”

“That’s patently incorrect,” DuMont protested.

“Just try it, big guy,” Sanoh insisted. “It’s called experimenting for a reason. If it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to do it again.”

“I suppose,” DuMont replied slowly.

“Either way, Kharis should be here soon, and you should go take your bath. First rule of being a freelance mercenary: never let something you paid money for go to waste.”

With some difficulty, he climbed out of Sanoh’s bath and headed back for the public bath. It was fairly large; he was able to stretch out, still clothed, and soak his whole body with relative ease. He swam around the bath a little, using the soap Kharis had bought for him to wash his body and clothes.

In the warm water, he mulled over the suggestions Sanoh had given him. Feral, huh? Like… maybe hunting? The only time he really let loose is when he was hunting, though his intent was usually to kill. Perhaps he could modify it and turn it into a game? Would Kharis like that? He could try it.

After only ten minutes, he rinsed himself and got out of the bath, sloshing water all over the floor and walked dripping back out into the foyer, the hostess glaring at him as he exited the bathhouse. Should he try now? It certainly would be unexpected. He wanted to be more spontaneous, like Kharis suggested, and take her by surprise. She might like that.

Hide. He needed to hide. There was a grove of trees near the bathhouse, an orchard likely belonging to the inn. The trees weren’t especially dense, but the sun was setting and it would be easy enough to hide in the dark.

It was over an hour before Kharis came out of the bathhouse. She was alone, thankfully, and looking around with concern, likely for him. It was understandable; DuMont usually stuck close to Kharis in unfamiliar places.

“DuMont?” She called. “Where’d you go?”

DuMont purposefully snapped a twig, catching Kharis’s attention. She spun around and looked into the orchard, squinting, and moved away from the lantern light.

“Is that you?” She asked as she walked forward.

DuMont let a low, quiet, guttural snarl issue from his throat, shifting his weight carefully. Kharis’s brow furrowed and she laid a hand on the hilt of her short sword. DuMont moved forward slowly, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to admit, this was kind of fun.

“Show yourself!” She said. “I’m armed!”

DuMont snarled again, a little louder this time. Kharis started backing away, beginning to draw her weapon.

Now.

DuMont rushed out of the shadows of the orchard, snatching Kharis by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder, making her squeak in surprise, and began to scale the tall bathhouse building, digging his claws into the stone.

“DuMont!” She shrieked, smacking his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

DuMont didn’t answer, just continued to climb the wall up toward the roof. As he pulled himself up, he dropped her unceremoniously, pulling rope from his waist pack. Kharis watched in confusion as he tied her hands up, behind, and down to her legs.

“DuMont, what are you doing?” She asked, a slight smile on her face.

“Taking your advice,” He replied, a deep growl to his words.

Her eyebrows raised, intrigued. “Well, I’m glad, but how are you going to get my clothes off if I’m tied up like this?”

He took hold of her tunic with his hands and ripped it open down the front, exposing her breasts to the air. Her skin smelled of the rose and cardamom soap she had used.

“Oh,” Kharis said. “Well, then.”

He put her on the ground and sniffed down her body, growling low like an animal stalking prey. She bit her lip and squirmed a little. DuMont pressed his nose in between her legs and took a deep breath before taking the fabric in his teeth and ripping it, tearing a ragged hole

“Oh, fuck,” He rasped. “That’s so fucking hot.”

His tongue came out and licked a large swipe up and down, and she strained against the ropes, squealing. She was swollen and pulsing against his tongue, and he could tell she was enjoying herself.

With one hand, he picked her up and carried her to the ledge, where there was a large decorative gargoyle looking down over the courtyard. He placed her face down on top of it, so that she could see the courtyard. The way the light was directed by the lanterns, she could see down, but people couldn’t see her. Probably.

Holding her down with his hand, he plunged his tongue inside her and contracted it over and over, in and out, up and down. She moaned loudly, and DuMont answered with a snarl. The entire lower half of her body was inside his jaws, and while he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, he had to admit that the hint of danger was thrilling.

Her hips moved in time with his strokes until she lay her face down against the stone and just whimpered in pleasure. Before she could recover, he withdrew his jaws and lined himself up with her entrance, thrusting in hard.

She howled, making as much noise as she could, reveling in the feeling of him inside of her and the idea of being overheard by anyone down below. She’d always loved the idea of being almost caught.

She began to quiet down to a faint whimpering, and the interior of her body flexed and contracted as she climaxed around his cock. He slowed to let her draw out the orgasm, and then sped up again, thrusting so hard that her body rocked to and fro on the back of the gargoyle. He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and pulled her up against him, holding her in the air and pumping into her, moving her on him, using her body as she told him to. He granted her, it did feel amazing.

Her head was thrust back and she grunted with her teeth clenched, her eyes closed. Her face was flushed, a vein bulging in her neck, and she was sweating all down her body.

“Are you--” He began, but she opened her eyes and snarled, “Don’t you fucking dare ask if I’m okay,” and he shut his mouth.

He thrust and thrust vigorously, with more force than he normally used, until her body went completely stiff and she was gasping for air, then went limp in his arms. He slowed his movement to a crawl, giving her a moment to recover, before driving himself back in again, full-speed, not giving her a chance to regain speech. She strained against her restraints, not as though she wanted to be free of them, but in a manner that suggested she was trying to contract and stretch with pleasure, the muscles in her stomach and legs rigid and hard. Her face was red with exertion and sweat poured off her body.

“Cum,” She grunted at him. “Cum for me. Do it.”

He snapped his hips against hers faster still, the rise of ecstasy building in him quickly, and he roared as he released inside her. He had to be careful not to drop her as he felt himself pop finally, gushing and shooting into her. As such, he did manage to lay her down before collapsing. As exhausted as he was, he used his claws to snap the ropes free and let her body completely relax under him.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked breathlessly.

“Shush,” She replied faintly. “Let me bask in the afterfuck.”

They lay there together on the cool bricks of the roof, the evening air blowing lazily over their flushed, overheated skin.

Eventually, Kharis pushed on DuMont’s shoulder and he rolled off and lay next to her. She sighed contentedly.

“Yes, to answer your question,” She said. “That was undoubtedly the best lay I have ever had in my life. I didn’t think you had that in you, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“I wasn’t too rough?” He asked.

“No, not at all,” She said. “It was perfect. Just what I needed.” She rolled on her side and looked up at him. “You weren’t uncomfortable with doing it, were you?”

“No,” He replied. “I was uncertain I was doing what you wanted and worried I was hurting you. Did I?”

She shook her head. “I think if you had gone any harder than you did, you might’ve, but it was great.”

“Good,” He said, satisfied. “The hunting and stalking part was really fun, I enjoyed that very much.”

She laughed. “You startled me, certainly, but it was fun. Next time we’re camping in the woods, we should have ourselves a nice game of hide and seek.”

“I would like that,” He said.

“Well,” She said, hopping to her feet. “I’m starting to get cold, and my clothes are…” She looked over at the shreds of her tunic and trousers. “Well, unwearable. Can you give me a lift down to the ground?”

“But you’re naked.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got spares in my bag downstairs.”

“But you’re naked.”

She snorted. “It’s not the first time I’ve walked nude through an inn before and it likely won’t be the last. Just get me down.”

He obliged, lifting her onto his back and scaling back down the wall. Kharis drew a lot of stares as she made her way through the common area of the inn. Like normal, DuMont was too large to get into the inn, but he watched Kharis from the door to make sure she didn’t run into trouble.

Norman, Sanoh, and Rupert were sitting and drinking, staring at Kharis as she strode through the room, though Sanoh caught sight of DuMont at the door and smirked, winking at him.

If he ever needed advice in the future, he definitely knew who to ask.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Tiefling #Elf #Kobold #D&D #Dungeons and Dragons #D&D Fanfic

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years

Text

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 26

Word Count: 4,300

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Language

Notes: Here’s the next installment of NR. Hope you guys enjoy! Happy Reading!

Nervous Regrets Masterlist

The days following Christmas were like a complete blur. Tyler’s family only stayed for a couple extra days, as he was off on another road trip. Thankfully, it was just overnight. It wasn’t until he got home the next day that he decided to spring his New Year’s Eve plans on you.

“Hey babe, the boys were all wondering if we were still going to have the New Year’s Eve party this year. I told them I didn’t see why not. We can throw something together by then, don’t you think?”

“And by ‘we’, I’m sure you meant that I’m going to be able to pull this off.” Back when you first met Tyler, his parties were pretty legendary, but they mostly consisted of booze, booze, and more booze. Well, to be fair there may have been a frozen pizza or two thrown in. Being with you changed all that. The parties were less frequent, and when they did happen you always made sure there was something more than alcohol available.

“Awe come on, I wouldn’t let you do this all yourself.” He drew your body close to his and started to rain little kisses on your face and neck. “I’ll call the maid and have her come over and clean everything. Oh and I’ll also pick up all the beverages. All you’d have to do is order some food and we’d be good.”

“And get party hats, and noisemakers, and champagne.” He nibbled on the sweet spot on your neck and your knees went weak, along with your resolve. “But…I suppose that’s not too much to do.”

He full-on kissed your lips then, lingering there for a moment. “Baby, have I told you you’re the best and that I love you.”

“Mmmm…not in the last few hours.”

“Then maybe I should make up for that.” He started to kiss you again but pulled back quickly. “Oh! Did you call the doctor and ask about Cabo?” Tyler always booked a vacation once the schedule was released and he knew when his bye week was. Unfortunately, he’d booked the vacation when you were apart and before he knew you were pregnant. The vacation had got pushed on the back burner, with the new house, then it was Christmas and here you were approaching the new year, and you two still hadn’t made a decision about whether or not you were going. “It’s not a big deal if you can’t fly. We can just stay here and relax, maybe actually book a room at the Omni and have our babymoon there.”

You loved when he called his bye week a babymoon for the two of you. From day one, Tyler had taken to reading all the information for new dads that he could get his hands on, that he paid extra attention to these parts warmed your heart. “I spoke to the doctor yesterday about it, and while they don’t recommend flying after thirty-four weeks, he said since I would only be at thirty-three weeks then, and that we were only going to be on the flight for about two and half hours, he saw no problem. As long as I walk around during the flight to prevent swelling, and see him as soon as I get home. So we’re cleared for take-off.”

“Are you sure it’s ok? I mean I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby over some vacation.”

“The doctor said everything about my pregnancy has been normal, so there’s no need to worry. Let’s just go and have fun. Though I’m not putting a bathing suit on.” Once the doctor cleared you, it was the only thing that you could think of. Everyone else that would be there, would be in skimpy bathing suits splashing around in the pool, while you sat there looking like a beached whale.

“Oh stop it! It’s our friends for godsakes; you know they don’t care. Besides, I think you’d be totally sexy in a bikini with this little one showing.” He touched your baby bump, while you rolled your eyes at him. Tyler continued to say that you were the sexiest thing alive to him, even though you didn’t feel remotely close to that.

“I know no one would really care, but I don’t even have a suit.”

“What do you mean? Can’t you just wear one of your old ones?” Your eyebrows furrowed together, to give him a look that said are you serious.

“Ty, have you not noticed that I don’t fit in most of my old clothes at the moment?”

“Fine, then order some. We’re not going on our babymoon for you to sit inside all day.” When you didn’t answer, he headed down the hall saying, “If you’re not ordering them, then I will.” Of course, you followed him into the office, where he sat down at the desk and googled ‘swimsuits for pregnant women.’ He clicked on the first site that popped up. There wasn’t a huge variety on the site, but there was one that you thought would be doable, but before you could say anything he clicked the back button. “Nope, those all suck.”

“That black one was cute.”

He scrunched up his face before answering you. “What that one piece?” When you nodded agreement, he added. “Hell no, that one covered up way too much. I want to see both my babies laying by the beach when we go.”

He went through two more sites before he finally found one to his liking. It was a two-piece suit of course, with low cut bikini bottoms so that it wouldn’t restrict your belly and a low cut top that would be somewhat scandalous with the size of your breasts at the moment. “I don’t know about that one Ty. It’s showing a lot.”

“Nonsense, it’s perfect.” He clicked on your size and placed it in the basket, then went back to look at some others. Before you could protest, he said, “We’re going to be there for almost a week, you need more than one suit.”

“Fine, but can one somewhat cover me up?”

“Only if you promise not to wear it the whole time.” Sometimes he knew you better than you knew yourself, with another roll of your eyes you agreed. Spending the next hour, the two of you playfully argued over suitable swimwear for your upcoming vacation.

Over the next few days, you planned out the New Year’s Eve party. It was too late to get the party catered, which was fine as you weren’t planning on serving a meal or anything; you really just needed finger foods that people could pick up. After a few trips, you had everything you needed to make the party a success. The tricky part of this whole plan was the fact that the Stars played on New Year’s Eve. You debated about not going to the game, to make sure everything was ready for the party, but Tyler had practically begged you to go; so there you were watching the Stars game go into overtime and wondering how you were going to get all the hors d’oeuvres ready before people started coming. Tyler, of course, insisted that you go down and meet him after the game, so you could ride home together.

Jenna noticed you checking your watch for the third time before overtime even started. “Stop worrying. I’ll help you get everything ready once we get there. Besides most people will be coming after the game anyhow.”

“I know you’re right. I guess I just want everything perfect.” She gave you a look, the one that said your best friend knows you way too well. “I know, me and my anal retentiveness.”

“Exactly.” Unfortunately, the Stars lost shortly into the three-on-three period. But as luck would have it everyone cut their interviews short, so that in no time you and Tyler were back at the house, right as Jamie and Jenna followed behind you.

True to her word, your best friend pitched in, helping you get all the food out. Players, significant others and friends started arriving right away. Tyler and Jamie handled getting everyone drinks. You’d convinced Tyler that he should give up his no drinking rule while you were pregnant for one night. Part of you thought you may regret this, but about an hour into the party; he was still nursing the same beer. “Babe, it’s almost midnight. Will you get out of this kitchen and come ring in the New Year with me.”

“Really, is it that soon already?” You looked at the clock and noticed it was eleven-thirty. “I’m sorry Ty. I guess the time just got away from me.” Going up on your toes, you kissed him giving him a quick apology.

“It’s no problem babe. Let’s just grab some champagne and join in the fun.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle from way in the back.

“Ty, I know I told you to drink tonight, but I’m still pregnant, and still not drinking.” A small chuckle escaped your lips.

“Don’t worry, I got us covered. This is non-alcoholic.” He grabbed two champagne glasses from the cupboard instead of the stack you had over on the island, probably out of habit more than anything else. Placing your New Year’s tiara on your head, he took your hand and led you into the throng of people milling about your house. Most of your friends were there, so you stopped, hugging each of them and promising to catch up after the ball dropped. Tyler found a relatively quiet spot, over by the sliding glass doors in the living room with ten minutes left. It was an excellent spot, as you could see Jamie and Jenna huddled together in the archway leading to the entrance, seemingly oblivious to everyone else around them. Most of the couples were in the living room as it seemed the game room had been taken over by beer pong and other drinking games.

Tyler popped open the bottle of champagne, while you held the glasses for him to pour. You handed him his glass and he raised it for a private toast. “Here’s to all the ups and downs from this past year, and to making twenty-nineteen our year. A year of love, laughter and new beginnings.” Clinking your glasses together, you took a sip of the bubbly concoction before Tyler’s lips touched yours in a passionate kiss. Noisemakers had the two of you breaking apart, as people started to anticipate the countdown. Tyler twisted you so that you were locked within his embrace; your back firmly pressed against his chest. Ryan Seacrest appeared on screen, surrounded by a bunch of celebrities who obviously performed earlier, though you saw none of them. Tyler’s head bent low to your ear. “I love you (Y/N).” The countdown started, everyone in the house joining in. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one; Happy New Year!!!” His lips found yours instantly, turning you back around to face him. The room faded away, as your tongues entwined, each of you simply pouring love into the other.

When you broke apart, you were both breathless. “I love you, Tyler Seguin.”

“I love you more.” You just shook your head lightly at him, for it couldn’t be possible for him to feel more for you than you did him. He was your heart, your life, and your world; and you were so excited for this new year to start by his side.

“Happy New Year, brother!” Jamie said clapping Tyler on the back. The two of you breaking apart so you could hug your best friends respectively.

You clinked your glass with Jenna’s after the hug, whispering, “Here’s to this year being the best one for both of us.” The next thing you knew, you were being pulled away from Tyler by other friends. His teammates took him in the opposite direction, convincing him to play a game of beer pong. For the next hour, you mingled with everyone, chatting about everything and anything. You had just finished up, showing some of your friends the progress of the nursey, when you felt Cash rub up against your leg. You bent down to pet the pup, and that’s when you noticed how bad your back was killing you.

Walking out of the nursery, you headed down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms; Cash following close behind. Luckily, it was empty. It couldn’t hurt to just lay down and prop your feet up for a few minutes, could it? Sitting down on the bed, you slid your heels off and noticed how swollen your feet and ankles actually were. You’d never get the shoes back on, but then it didn’t really matter as you were in your own home. As you lay back against the pillows you could feel the pain in your back start to melt away. Cash jumped up beside you before you could grab the throw blanket at the foot of the bed. He laid his head between your breast and your belly with a low satisfied growl. “I know bud, it’s been a long day.” You told him stroking his fur. His eyes slowly closed, as did yours.

“(Y/N), babe…babe…” Tyler was gently shaking you. You blinked your eyes trying to get your brain to work. “Babe are you ok?”

“Hmm…” Why wouldn’t you be ok? “Yeah, I’m fine.” You finally were able to mumble out. Taking in your surrounding you noticed you were in the guest room, though in your sleep haze you couldn’t remember why. Then it hit you. You’d stopped for just a minute to rest during the party. You sat straight up, almost knocking Tyler in the head if his reaction skills hadn’t been on point. “Oh my god, I must have fallen asleep.”

“I’ve been looking for you, for the last half hour. Why are you up here?”

“I was showing a couple people the nursery and just needed to sit for like five minutes, that’s it. My back and feet were killing me. The last thing I remember I was petting Cash, I just thought if I’d close my eyes for a few minutes.” How the hell, had you fallen asleep in the middle of the party. “Oh no the party…” You moved to get up, but Tyler stopped you.

“Is fine. A lot of people left, that’s when I noticed you were missing, but it took me a while to find you up here.”

“Well, we should go back down.” There were things that needed to be done, and the cleanup…ugh. Tyler stopped you short yet again, as you swung your legs to the side of the bed. At least now maybe you could get your shoes back on.

“The only way we’re going downstairs is so that you can go to bed. I’m sorry. I should’ve thought more about you and the baby when I decided to have this thing.”

His hands were rubbing your arms up and down, the motion so soothing and relaxing. “Ty, you didn’t decide to have the party; ‘we’ did.” You put emphasis on the word ‘we.’ “And as for the baby and I, we’re doing fine. I was just a bit tired, now that I’m rested; I’m ready to go again.”

You were feeling a bit more yourself after your nap, but it wouldn’t take much too just head to bed either. “Sorry babe, the party is over for you. The only place you’re going is to bed.” He went and scooped you up in his arms then, and started making his way to the door.

“Ty, stop! I can walk downstairs.”

“I know, but I also know you, and you’ll start cleaning up the minute your feet hit the floor.” It was true, there were still people in your house and probably drinks all over the place; it was a mess you didn’t want to wake up to in the morning. He must have noticed your hesitation to argue his point, for he continued. “See even you know I’m right.”

Sighing heavily, you leaned your head back against his shoulder, as your arms looped around him. “Well…maybe you’re partially right.”

His deep chuckle vibrated through your body as he held you. “It kills you to admit I’m right; doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

He kissed your forehead, as he walked the two of you out the guest bedroom door. “God woman you’re so stubborn. It’s a good thing I love you.” A yawn escaped your mouth before you could answer him. “See you are tired, babe. We’re taking you to bed, and I’ll get the rest of these drunks to head home.”

“But what about the mess?”

“It’s not that bad, Jamie and Jenna cleaned up most of it before leaving. The rest we’ll get in the morning.” As he carefully took the stairs with you in his arms, it was definitely much quieter than when you had laid down originally. His final foot hit the landing and he headed straight for your bedroom. He moved quickly but it did give you a chance to see that your house wasn’t as messy as you’d first thought. You made a mental note to call Jenna and thank her and Jamie for cleaning up. Gently laying you down on the mattress, he said, “I think some of the guys were gonna crash here if that’s ok?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t think anyone should be drinking and driving.”

“Ok, let me go take care of a few things and then I’ll be back to cuddle with you.” You smiled up at him, for having his arms wrapped around you, was one of the best feelings in the world. As soon as the door closed, you moved into the bathroom to get ready for bed, wiping away all the makeup you had on and brushing your teeth. Baby Seguin decided to give you a particularly hard kick at the moment, letting you know they were awake; while at the same time waking you up from the sleep fog, you’d been in. Shifting your hips from side to side, you shimmied out or your leggings then removed the rest of your clothing. Now that you were fully awake, you thought that you and Tyler could really ring in the New Year, and so you decided to leave the lace bra and panties on as you headed back to bed.

Taking the throw pillows off the bed, you turned down the comforter; which is when Tyler came into the room. He took in the black lace on your body and his jaw went slack. He knew that if you were truly that sleepy, you’d already be in an oversized nightshirt. “I thought you were tired?”

“Mmmm…I was.” With a shrug of your shoulders, you added, “but not so much anymore.” You crawled up on the bed, trying to be seductive, but not sure if it was working at all. When he whipped his shirt off, you knew you had him.

“Get over here.” He practically growled as his hands went to undo the buttons on his jeans. As soon as you got close enough, he grabbed your waist and pulled you to him, molding his lips to yours. There wasn’t even a question, as you opened your mouth for him. He moaned into you, making you weak; his strong arms pressing you close to his body, as they roamed up your back. He tasted faintly of alcohol, as you drank him in. You felt the clasp of your bra pop, and Tyler slid the straps down your shoulders. He released you then if only to rid you of the garment; his mouth worrying its way down from your neck to your breast. He sucked a taut nipple into this mouth, swirling his tongue around it and pleasure coursed through your body. You couldn’t help the moan that came out of your mouth when he repeated the gesture. Your hands threaded through his hair urging him on. “You like that baby?” He whispered before tormenting your other breast.

“Mmmm…yes.” It was all you could muster out.

“You’re tits are so fucking sensitive. I love it.” He sucked hard, then gently bit down. “I feel like I could make you cum just by sucking on them.” Heat pulled in your core at his words, and you felt your legs start to tremble. “You’d like that wouldn’t you babe. Lay back.” You did as he requested, his body following yours down. He immediately latched back on, and your pussy grew wet from the contact; while his thumb and index finger tweaked your other nipple. You were panting with need, as you realized he was right; you may, in fact, cum without him even touching your cunt.

Though that’s not what you wanted right now. You craved his cock inside you. “Ty…” you said breathlessly. “I need you…”

“Tell me what you want baby girl.”

“I want you…” His tongue flicked over your nipple and you felt yourself growing closer to climax. “Your cock.”

“You sure baby?”

“Fuck…Ty…stop teasing me.” You were begging him at this point but it didn’t matter.

He kissed you hard on the mouth. “Shhh…I’ll give you want you need babe.” He stripped off his boxer briefs, then quickly discard you of your panties. Cock in hand, he stroked it once before positioning it at your entrance. He leaned down capturing your lips as in one thrust he bottomed out in you. Your back arched up instinctively taking him deeper inside, and he groaned into your mouth, before breaking apart to hiss out, “Fuck babe…you feel so good.”

Wrapping your legs around him, you urged him to move inside you. Tyler, of course, obliged you, pumping in and out of you as he built up a steady rhythm. Your orgasm was skating on the edge from his foreplay and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were falling off the edge. Legs trembling, Tyler picked up the pace; his balls hitting you with each thrust. Moans and sounds of sex filled the air. “I love you.” You moaned out as you felt your pussy walls start to contract.

“I love you too.” You kissed him passionately as waves of pleasure took over your body. Tyler’s climax followed yours, as you felt him pump one last time into you, spilling his seed. When you both finally came back to earth, Tyler collapsed beside you, drawing you close. “That was one hell of a Happy New Year.”

“Absolutely,” you giggled back at him. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a very good year if that was any indication.

He twisted your body so that you could look him in the eyes; his expression serious, which caused you to run your thumb over his frown lines as you cupped his cheek. “I have an idea that will make it even better.” You looked at him curiously. “Let’s get married.”

“Ty, I think I already told you I’d marry you.” You chuckled in return.

“I know that. I mean like now…well not now, but like this week.”

“What?” You weren’t quite sure you understood what he was saying. Well, you understood it; you just couldn’t believe he was saying it.

“I want to marry you now (Y/N).” When you didn’t say anything he kept going. “Hear me out, cause I know what you’re going to say. We’ll still have the big wedding this summer with our families, but I just want to like head to the courthouse and make it official, now. I want you to be my wife before the baby comes.” You blinked back your surprise. “I love you. I love you more than anything, but I want our child’s birth certificate to read Tyler and (Y/N) Seguin; not Tyler Seguin and (Y/F/L/N).” His eyes searched yours. You could see the gravity of the situation weighing in his mind.

He went to say more, but you pressed a finger to his lips; a smile touching yours as you said, “Yes Tyler; yes I will marry you now.” A grin broke out on his face and you could tell he wanted to say more, so you continued. “Though you promise that we’ll still have the wedding? My parents would kill me, and you for that matter.”

“Trust me so would my family. We can’t do it tomorrow, the courthouse is closed. How about the third? I have a game on the second. We could get Jamie and Jenna to stand for us.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought this all out.”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” and you could see the blush on his cheeks even in the dim moonlight. “(Y/N), I know I’ve told you this before, but I’ve wanted to marry you almost since we met. I just don’t see a reason to wait, now that you’ve said yes.”

Reaching over, you kissed his lips. “I feel the same way, Ty. I just have one question.” He raised his eyebrows in question. “Do you think we should tell anyone? I mean besides Jamie and Jenna.”

“Babe I want to tell the world that I’m married to you, but I have a feeling it won’t go over well with our families. So for now, how about it will be just our little secret?”

“Agreed,” For some reason, there were butterflies of excitement in your belly and they weren’t from the baby. You were officially going to be Mrs. Tyler Seguin in just three short days. It had been a hard road to get here, but all your dreams were finally coming true. “I guess Cabo is going to be a babymoon and a honeymoon.”

#Nervous Regrets Series #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #tyler seguin smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #hockey smut

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psychosistr · 4 years

Text

His, & ONLY His

Summary: Cavendish and Bartolomeo have been dating for a while now. Their relationship is very stable, aside from one little thing- Cavendish does NOT like the idea of sharing HIS man. Bartolomeo is his...and ONLY his.

Notes: Whew! Finally finished fic number five for my 100 follower giveaway! This one’s for the anon who requested yandere Bartodish- hope this was worth the wait and thanks for the patience ^^”

It was happening again…

The day had started out nice enough. Clear, sunny skies, calm waters, a light breeze- a day almost as beautiful as the captain of the appropriately named “Beautiful Pirates”, Cavendish “of the White Horse”. Although the weather was perfect for sailing, on their captain’s orders the pirates had docked at a port town early in the afternoon. After all, they were in need of supplies and it would do the crew good to spend a day in town relaxing.

While this reasoning was certainly sound, there was another, far more pressing reason the blonde captain was so adamant and eager to dock at the unassuming port:

The Barto Club pirates were there.

To anyone outside of the two pirates’ crews, it would seem odd that the elegant and refined Cavendish “of the White Horse” would want anything to do with the rude and crass Bartolomeo “the Cannibal”. Both the Barto Club and the Beautiful Pirates, however, were well aware of the fact that their captains had been seeing each other for a little more than a year now. Their lives at sea meant that their times together were often few and far between, so neither crew held it against them when the two decided to sneak off and have some time to themselves.

Trusting Suleiman to handle the crew while he was away, Cavendish all but leapt to the docks before taking off at a pace that could nearly rival Farul’s (he would leave his trusty steed on the ship for the time being). Thankfully the town wasn’t exceptionally large and it didn’t take long at all for the excited blond to spot his paramour- between both of them being exceptionally tall and Bartolomeo’s shockingly vibrant hair color, it wasn’t hard for Cavendish to pick the man out of a crowd.

Just as he was about to call out to the man he’d been scouring the town to find, however, someone else caught his eye. Hiding himself behind the corner of a nearby building, Cavendish peered out to get a better look at the person Bartolomeo was talking to while walking down the street:

It was a man, shorter than Bartolomeo himself (which, given his massive seven-foot-three height, made the man closer to average-size) whose brunette-haired head was just shy of the green-haired pirate’s shoulder. He had a bright smile and a pair of pretty blue eyes but, other than that, he wasn’t too remarkable in the looks department. The man certainly wasn’t as lovely as Cavendish, but, then again, who was? (Wait, no, he was getting off track!) This stranger was dressed far too blandly to be a member of Bartolomeo’s crew- besides, Cavendish knew everyone on that ship by now and this newcomer was most assuredly NOT one of them.

They were laughing, smiling, and sharing a generally pleasant mood that made the unseen blond sick to his stomach and worsened his own mood the longer he watched them. Still, he could maybe forgive this foolish stranger for getting too chummy with his Bartolomeo, as long as he didn’t-

And then it happened.

The brunette carelessly placed a hand on Bartolomeo’s arm for support while he was laughing about something the green-haired pirate said. He even had the audacity to LEAN on the taller man’s side in the midst of his laughing fit.

Fingers which had been curled around the corner of the building he’d been hiding behind now clenched hard enough to leave gouges in the formerly solid stone. Cavendish felt the urge to slice that offending hand off of his Bartolomeo growing, one hand already reaching for his sword.

No, wait, he couldn’t do it here, he reminded himself. Too many witnesses. Losing control in front of so many people would be unsightly and damage the reputation he’d been working so hard to build. As much as it left him boiling and seething inside, the beautiful captain forced himself to relinquish his damaging grip on the wall and walk away.

He would need to deal with this matter privately…

Cavendish loved Bartolomeo, he truly did. The man was crass, rough, rude, and the complete opposite of everything the former prince ever thought he would want in a partner, but there was just something about his wild, passionate, carefree attitude that struck the beautiful pirate right in the heart and made him desire the so-called cannibal more strongly than any of the countless women in his life ever had before.

That desire had grown rapidly from a simple want to a need. He needed Bartolomeo. He needed him in every way possible. His smile, his laugh, his EVERYTHING- he needed ALL of it.

Much to Cavendish’s relief, Bartolomeo was both affectionate and clueless enough to feed the blond captain’s desperate desires. He would happily give up his free time to be in his beloved’s presence. He would gladly accept whatever physical contact was given to him and return it in kind. He would (sometimes reluctantly, sometimes willingly) submit to his lover’s will and do what was asked of him.

Unfortunately for the oblivious fanged pirate, every time he unknowingly fed Cavendish’s needy side, that neediness grew and spread like a fire burning its way through a forest. Before he knew it, that all-consuming flame of passion and want and need had burned something dark and foreign into the ex-prince’s heart. It was an overwhelming desire for something he’d never wanted with any of his previous lovers, but found he craved it almost insatiably with his precious Bartolomeo:

Possession.

He longed to possess his wonderfully lovable boyfriend in every possible way that he could get away with. His time. His affection. His body. His attention.

It shouldn’t have been too demanding for him to want such things, right? After all, Bartolomeo had said countless times by now that he loved Cavendish as much as he loved Bartolomeo. And, if that were the case, then surely he must understand the blonde’s desires and would happily be his and only his. It was perfectly normal and, if he ever were to find out about Cavendish’s minor “indiscretions”, as it were, then he would completely understand, right?

Speaking of “indiscretions”, there was a rather annoying one that required the beautiful captain’s attention down at the docks just as the sun prepared to set…

Cavendish had followed the brunette who had so rudely stolen his sweet Bartolomeo’s attention earlier- he didn’t blame Bartolomeo for that, of course, the man was just too friendly for his own good sometimes and didn’t know any better, Cavendish could never hold such a mistake against him when CLEARLY it was the other man’s fault for cruelly stealing his time and attention- and waited several hours for him to finally be alone. The brunette was now standing on his own at the water’s edge, his back facing the town while he was busy speaking into a portable den-den mushi. Hidden behind some crates amongst a few tools, Cavendish was too far away to hear what the other man was talking about or with whom, but the words of a soon-to-be-dead-man were of little value to him.

Reaching into a hidden pocket in his coat, Cavendish pulled out an extremely small unmarked glass vial. After popping the top off, the pirate prince tipped his head back and allowed the scarce drops of bitter liquid to slide down his tongue and into his throat. With a shudder and a grimace, he swallowed the foul substance and placed the vial neatly back in his pocket.

Within seconds he could feel the drug taking its effect as a general feeling of drowsiness began to consume him, threatening to pull him under if he wasn’t caref-

“Another one already?” A voice that sounded too much and yet somehow not quite enough like his own asked out of the blue.

“…Yes..” Catching sight of his reflection in a saw leaning against one of the crates, Cavendish saw that his normally pristine face was currently split in half with one side still maintaining his usual lovely complexion but with a much wider orange eye, while the other half had a more ashen skin tone with a wider blue eye and a crazed grin pulling at his face with his hair floating about at odd angles- his “half-and-half” mode, as Bartolomeo liked to call it. “We need to be swift and silent..we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” This was one of the few times he would ever say those words.

“Why not?” His more sinister side, Hakuba, asked in a taunting tone. “Worried your ‘sweet Barto’ will find out?”

“No, I’m more worried about the citizens finding out and forcing us out of town.” Cavendish rolled his orange eye before looking away from the mocking half-smile reflected back at him.

A deep, quiet chuckle was his reply as the other half of his face continued to grin at him from the metallic reflection. “Still lying to yourself, hmmm?” It shouldn’t have been physically possible for that horrible smirk to grow any wider, but it certainly FELT like it did. “Next you’ll say you’re just trying to protect him again, right?”

“I am protecting him.” The pirate prince insisted, though it was hard to tell who he was really trying to convince. “He just doesn’t know it.”

“And why not?” The grinning demon continued to taunt him. “If you’re doing the right thing, then why hide it? Why not tell him? Or better yet, bring him the head of this ‘DANGEROUS person’ and tell him how-”

“Enough.” Cavendish rose to his feet, ignoring the sinister smirk he saw reflected back at him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Hakuba laughed quietly while reaching for the sword at their hip. “Hmhm, whatever you say.” His tone reeked of sarcasm, but Cavendish did not have the time to spare complaining about it. No, he had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Matters such as ridding the world of the man foolish enough to touch HIS Bartolomeo.

Cavendish may have been a little greedy when it came to Bartolomeo, but he was no fool- he knew where to draw the line. He would never lay a hand on a member of Bartolomeo’s crew, as they were important friends to him and losing even one of them would send his sensitive boyfriend into a state of depression that he hated seeing; besides, they were like his own crew in that they supported and understood their captain’s relationship and always made sure to give the two space unless there was an urgent matter to take care of. And, despite how frustrating it could be to listen to the other man gush and fantasize and fawn over the Straw Hat pirates, he would not try to harm any of them either, both because of his own life-debt to them and because losing them would quickly kill that beautifully burning flame of passion in the green haired man’s eyes, something that would break Cavendish’s heart to see.

Anyone else, though, was fair game: The drunkards who got too chummy with Bartolomeo when they went out to drink. The whores who tried to seduce him into their beds. The marines who tried to arrest him. Any person in the world who dared to touch or try taking his Bartolomeo away from him would meet their fate at the end of his blade, just as the clueless fool before him was about to.

Utilizing Hakuba’s speed, the whole thing was over in an instant. He dashed in close enough for his blade to slice the man’s throat open, then stopped a few feet away where he could view his handiwork without getting caught in the inevitable blood splatter. The poor sap was dead before his body even hit the water.

As Cavendish stood on the edge of the dock watching the bleeding corpse slowly sink below the water’s surface, leaving behind nothing but a diluted trail of crimson and a bad memory, he heard a voice speaking near his feet.

“Oi! Lieutenant! Lieutenant, respond at once!”

Looking down by his boots, the pirate prince saw the den-den mushi the brunette had been speaking into earlier. When he kneeled down to pick it up, he turned the small snail around to examine the stern face it was mimicking as well as the familiar blue emblem on the side of its shell. So it was the same as before…

A single finger pressed down on the button to activate it, the two-faced blonde’s voice low and deadly. “I’ve warned you before: Stay away from MY Bartolomeo if you value your lives.”

“!!” The eyes of the den-den mushi widened in shock and fear. “Y-You again?! Who are you?! Why are you-?!”

“Who I am is none of your concern.” One day he would find the ones running this foolish attempt at a sting operation and skewer each and every single one of their heads on the tip of his blade like a horrific kebab. For now, though, he would settle for the cannon fodder they kept sending his way and use them as a warning. “All you need to know is that Bartolomeo the Cannibal belongs to ME. If any of you come near him again, I will find where you are stationed and end you once and for all.”

“Why you..!” The snail grit its teeth as it imitated the person on the other end of the line. “We do not scare that easily! We will find out who you are and we will-!!” The voice faded into useless babble as the den-den mushi joined its former owner in the water below.

“……See?” Cavendish’s voice was more even now as he spoke. “He was a marine. I was right- he was dangerous..”

“You didn’t know that.” Half of his face reflected within the water smirked up at him. “One of these days it won’t be a marine, it’ll just be some innocent bystander…and then you’ll have to admit the truth:” That disturbingly wide smirk somehow grew a little more as a dark chuckle rumbled within him. “You’re just like me- a killer..a murderer..a MONSTER..”

“…………” Cavendish flicked his sword once to remove the blood from the blade before sheathing it and walking back towards town. “I am nothing like you..”

The words sounded weak, even to his own ears, but in his heart he believed them to be true. Hakuba killed like this- taking out weak, unarmed opponents without giving them a chance to fight back- solely because he enjoyed it. Cavendish killed like this to protect what was his. Just because Bartolomeo didn’t know about it didn’t mean that what he did was wrong. After all, what he did was out of LOVE, and no one would ever love Bartolomeo more than Cavendish.

He would make sure of it…

Next Chapter->

End Notes: Ahhhh, I missed writing yandere stuff- I just enjoy the obsessiveness and rationalized insanity of it all xD Next chapter gets a little lemony but, as always, NSFW version will be on my AO3.

#one piece #bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #cavendish #one piece cavendish #bartodish #trigger warning #yandere #yandere!Cavendish #unnamed Character Death #possessive behavior #100 follower giveaway!#His & Only His

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umbraja · 4 years

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Screaming into the Void

I write for half an hour almost every morning. Not fiction. More like a transcription of the conversations I have with myself trying to untangle whatever pressing thoughts kept me up that night. I do this because I’ve learned the hard way that people don’t want to hear what’s in my head. Or at least the ones I talk to are tired of hearing it. Unfortunately talking about it makes me feel better. It helps me process and make sense of this absurd world we all live in. So I write instead.

If I could afford a therapist I’m pretty sure she would say that’s a good thing. Healthy coping mechanism. Therapists like it when people write about their thoughts. Journaling helps get ideas out, forces you to slow down enough to actually think about them, and being written down can help you remember it later. I get that. Journaling really is good therapy and I recommend it for everyone.

I just find it hard to understand why people don’t like talking about the things in my journal. But then I also don’t understand why people do most of what they do. I am Autistic so I don’t really get “normal” things.

“I’ve spent a lifetime being told to shut up”

My journal isn’t normal either. It’s not full of hopes, dreams, or even nightmares. It rarely talks about myself or my day and then only to exemplify a broader subject. Its entries are not addressed “Dear Diary” or to my future self or even some imaginary friend. The intended audience is most often all of humanity, or at least America. It reads like a collection of academic papers or editorials on a wide range of topics. I often end up doing research for these articles, as if they might someday be published in a very strange magazine.

But they never will be. I’ve been convinced that no one wants to hear what I’m trying to say. I’ve spent a lifetime being told to shut up about it. Stop being so paranoid/alarmist/negative. It’s rude to point that out. Or my favorite - No one cares about that. So I go through life observing patterns, taking note of things that normal people are too busy or afraid to see. And I do nothing with it.

Part of me hates that. The part that hasn’t given up yet. I really think it could do some good if people would just listen to what I have to say once in a while. Not that any of it is revolutionary. I’m no genius. It’s probably all been said a dozen times by people smarter than me. But good ideas bear repeating and it wouldn’t hurt to hear them again. Especially with all the bad ideas going around these days.

“Does anyone out there want to listen?”

This will probably go nowhere. I’m just screaming into the void after all. But I wonder - does anyone out there want to listen? So I’m writing today, for a lot more than half an hour, to ask anyone who sees this if they want to read my journal. Most of it’s not even finished. I usually give up once the crushing reality that no one cares starts to outweigh my need for connection. But if anyone is interested I will gladly finish whatever article they would like to read and publish it here for the world to see.

Pick an Article and I’ll Post It:

2020: Vindication for Losing My Mind in 2016

How to Find Meaning in a World That Doesn’t Make Sense

Apparently Making Everyone Live My Lifestyle Collapses the Economy

Workplace Inequality: I’ve Hit the Autistic Glass Ceiling

The Importance of Art in Civilization: Unifying Self Expression

How to Make CBD at Home and Why it May not be Legal

The Pandemic Showed Me How Stressful Being Normal Really Is

I Hated Social Media Before it Was Cool

Generational Poverty: the Engine of Systemic Racism

Sorry State of Women’s Health: Endometriosis Sucks

Historiography of the End of Civilization: from Sumeria to Us

How to Fix American Schools: Respect Different Intelligences

How Branding Made Zoom a Household Name though Discord is Objectively Better

When Were We Great? History of American Exceptionalism

Aquaponics: Making Fish Feed the World

That’s the Way it Is: Abuse, Neglect, and ASD

How to Fix Capitalism: Recipes for Eating the Rich

The Relationship Cycle: Why I Can’t Keep Friends

American Politics: Eerily Similar to Divorced Parents

My Father the Man-child: Growing up with a Narcissist

The World Would be a Better Place if Liberals Understood Branding

Body Hair Positivity: Good or Gross?

Rose Colored Glasses Prevent Migraines - Not a Metaphor

OK Boomer: Explaining to My Parents How Much Easier They Have It

When Fanworks Were Mainstream and How That Changed

What’s Wrong with Academia and How to Fix It

Being Moderate in America: So I’m a Liberal Now?

Conservative Hypocrisy: Quantity over Quality of Life

Liberal Idiocy: Being Right Doesn’t Win the Fight

Conservative Hypocrisy: Law and Order not Protect and Serve

Liberal Idiocy: It’s Hard to be Woke When You’re Poor

Conservative Hypocrisy: What Would Jesus Really Say about America?

Liberal Idiocy: Slactivism’s False Sense of Accomplishment

Conservative Hypocrisy: How to Sneak Facism into a Democracy

Liberal Idiocy: One Size Does Not Fit All

Conservative Idiocy: Private Gun Owner vs the US Military

Liberal Hypocrisy: Social Justice Warriors

Perceived Reality: We Really Do Live in Different Worlds

Standing Still: Paralyzed by Emotional Shutdown

American Sheeple: Generations of Domestication

Depression. It’s a Lifestyle.

How to Survive in a World That Doesn’t Want You

Leave a comment to let me know what you'd like to read. If anything.

#mental health #politics #poverty #history #editorial #screaming into the void

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arshinquarantine · 4 years

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online shopping

To be honest, I don't really care for online shopping. A million little neurons fire off in my brain when I give someone money and they give me an object instantly. Who I was with, how I looked when I first tried it on, what I felt when I first tasted it, how much of a bargain it was, the feel of seams on my fingers or the weight of deckled pages in my hands, the caution I threw to the winds or the impulse that I permitted to seize me all combine in a few seconds to inject one simple emotion into my simple brain: buying shit feels good. Until recently, online shopping was utterly devoid of any positive emotion for me. I don't like computers, and they particularly irk me when they ask me to punch my credit card number or (worse) save it. I don't like waiting for boxes to arrive or dealing with going to the post office to pick them up or the endless amounts of recycling I'm going to have to do. I also absolutely do not have the time or the will or the discipline to return roughly half of what I buy because I'm picky and women's sizing for anything is a hot mess, so piles of unwanted shit pile up in my tiny apartment taking up valuable real estate. So I generally go out of my way to avoid the whole business of it all.

For the first few months of the quarantine, I lived like a purist, buying only what I absolutely needed to online. Unfortunately for me, I was living in an unfurnished apartment (the sum total of the furniture I owned was a mattress, a shitty dollar walmart desk, and a shittier dollar walmart chair) so I actually needed to buy a lot of stuff and I dragged my feet miserably through it all. It took me weeks to pick out basic white Crate & Barrel plates for my kitchen, another few months before I committed to a bookshelf that held only about a third of the books I own, and far too long to buy a bed frame. The worst crime of all was my sofa; when I think about how many months I lived with only my mattress or my floor to sit on, I genuinely wonder how far my propensity for masochism can truly go. Ordering my groceries online was simply out of the question, I remained staunchly devoted to buying them in store even when I had to wait 40 minutes in line for my turn.

Soon, the early alarming but novel weeks of covid gave way to the later mundane, claustrophobic ones. After a few weeks of regularly working out, I realized that there was no world for me to emerge into with my newer, hotter body. The comfort I got from my group chats and zoom hangouts soon petered out, and I returned to cooking my usual 20 minute weeknight meals. Stuck in a new apartment, in a new city, without a car (I can't even drive so this is actually moot tbh) my world quietly shrunk to the 600 odd square feet of hastily, partially furnished space I could call my own (now shared with a sibling) and a few blocks in either direction. I wore the same clothes, called the same people, walked the same walk, shopped at the same Shoppers, made the same complaints and wallowed in the same worries, and then I woke up and I did it all over again.

And then I decided that it was time for something new, and I've been searching for newness ever since. A "resurfacing" night cream that promised to make my skin brighter. A houndstooth blazer from an online vintage store that fit like it was tailored for me. A monstera plant that unfurled leaf after leaf under my distracted care before I finally succeeded in killing it. A bluetooth speaker to fill my home with the sound of qawwalis my dad taught me to love. The boxes would arrive days, sometimes weeks after I make the actual purchase, feeling more like a gift from an unknown benefactor than something I furtively paid for. I used to dislike online shopping for its delayed gratification, but soon began to covet it for exactly that reason, like the steady cadence of a few minutes of excitement made me feel like I was accomplishing the impossible task of feeling an emotion. A cheap rug. An expensive sofa. Baking equipment. Painting equipment. Exercise equipment. Books about best friendship, books about love, about a dying earth and dying mothers, set in Syria and Detroit, Naples and Busan, some devoured, some discarded, all read in hot pursuit of staving off how utterly dead I felt on the inside. Each box that landed on my doorstep neatly filled a hole in my life, a void that never seemed to shrink.

It felt reckless and frivolous—childish even—to allow myself to keep getting things that would make me happy. It contradicted everything I wanted to believe about myself: that I was unaffected by anything money could buy, able to achieve complete inner peace by simply "thinking good thoughts", and minimalist to my core. How positively pathetic of me, I'd think, to need a "thing" or an "item" to be able to feel happiness. Even as I searched within myself for gratitude at my good fortune, my good health, I often came up empty, and the answers to all my questions seemed for lie, for however brief a moment, in whatever Instagram thought I should buy that week, silently delivered in recyclable packaging, with a return label and a promise of brief delight.

Most people my age, my peers haven't lived through an event as seismic as this. The idea that life being irreversibly changed even after this, that it already has changed feels alien to me, a square peg trying to jam itself into the round hold where my brain used to be. Life as it used to be feels right around the corner, just a week away, just a month away, just a season away, and soon, I tell myself, I will get back the normalcy of buying four americanos in three hours to keep my internet access at the cafe I've been working at, the fun in an afternoon spent mindlessly window shopping, the stupid joy in dancing the night away in a sweet and sticky club, the relief in resting my head against the shoulder of a friend, the discomfort of getting on the subway at rush hour, the ordeal of a 15 hour flight home to see my little sister.

I lost family members this year, and I spend my weekends flitting between my numb grief and a website that sells silk pyjama sets. Sometimes, I don't speak to my father for days, afraid that he might see right through my false cheer. Sending him pictures of the first snow, my meals and paintings seems enough to me. Lately I've been waking up from dreams that range from bad to fully qualified nightmares about my mom's health. I haven't seen her in nineteen months. I ruminate over where I want to live, if I want children, who I want them with, new questions that have cropped up and firmly planted themselves on my brain. I find myself rejecting the companionship of the friends on my phone. I want them here in Toronto, so we can laugh at the past, and marvel at the present, our warm bodies pressed against one another. And I crave the thrill of deep conversation with new people who remain interesting to me for only as long as I know nothing about them. Loneliness seems to run like a thread throughout everyone's twenties, I suppose, and I'm unable to tease out where the disorientation of being 24 ends and the isolation of living in a pandemic begins. But tangled up, they are stronger together and frighten me everyday, and I surround myself with boxes and yet more boxes to ward them off.

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harveywritings92 · 5 years

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Soulmate AU: Jacob Frye x Reader 2/3

Soulmate au Chibi clone: basically when you’ve cross paths with with your soulmate a small chibi of them appears to you, it’s about the size of a guinea pig and won’t leave your side the longer you’re in denial of your feelings or until you’ve met your soulmate again, after which they disappear.

-=-=-=

Jacobs's side of the story

Jacob was grouchy, cold and tired when he finally got back to the hideout all he wanted to do was get out of his clothes and crawl into bed and sleep for like a year! He moaned relief to be off his feet and was about to take his boots off... when he saw something scurry out of sight behind a sweet jar... did the train have a rodent infestation?

No, they would've noticed until now. standing up Jacob started lifting up jars and other knickknacks nothing...He hummed confused wondering if he just imagined the whole thing due to exhaustion? Then he noticed his top-hat on the floor was slowly making it's way around the room, it turned as if realizing he could see it!

Whatever was making it move squeaked and started running, Jacob immediately started chasing it unfortunately whatever had his hat couldn't see what was in front of it and they slammed right into the side Jacob's ottoman hard seemly knocking it out.

Jacob pick the hat up and nearly passed out himself when he pulled a little person out of his hat! he staring a the tiny y/nat thing trying to figure what the hell it was? then he recalled seeing what looked like a tiny Henry running around his sister's room. (no, matter how many times she denied it...) He then thought back to when his grandmother told them about a tiny being called a fairy that would appear resembling your soulmate and follow you around until you encountered them again...

Jacob was stunned that it was true! then he looked down at the little knocked out fae in his hands. He?? at least he thinks it's a male was cute, he won't lie about that! and wondered why people were so private about these faeries? probably a society thing! the rich don't want to be bound by the poor?

He hummed using the back of his index finger to rub the passed out fae's cheek; they woke up and grumbled swatting his finger away...his lips twitched decided to show Evie.. she should still be awake, maybe she can give him a more detailed explanation?

Evie said that there really wasn't much to explain, her brother surprisingly got the gist of it. these fairies were basically fractured manifestations of your bonded one's soul, their supposed is to guide you back to your soulmate should you want to pursue them. "So what I just let him r -" Evie cut him off. "Her." Jacob's brows shot up as he looked at his sister bemused.

"Her? how do you know?" His sister cocked a brow and pointed to the counter where he set the fae down; he glanced over and did a double take when he saw mini-Henry blushing and covering his eyes!

Jacob's fae was now in only a white button-up shirt her y/hc was now down to y/hl and the button's on the shirt were down just enough to show small bust, and that they were indeed female, Henry’s fae immediately tossed a handkerchief over the compromised female who looked around tired and confused.

All while Jacob was in awe at the sudden wardrobe change. "When the hell did she change into that?!" he looked at his sister who shrugged. "I haven't the slightest Idea how they change clothes ...it just happens." Evie sighed tiredly really wanting this meeting to end so she could go to sleep.

"Now is that all you wanted to know, or did you have anything else you'd like to share?" she slurred trying to hold back a yawn her brother shook his head and got up and carefully picked up the little lady off the counter she yelped surprised by the sudden motion and looked up at Jacob clearly wary of him.

The hazel eyed assassin took notice of this and made a point of gaining her trust before convincing her to help him find the woman with his fae double, who the real Jacob might add is one lucky little bastard to sleeping next to the real... his face dropped It just occurred to him has no idea what his soulmates name is! that detail sort escaped him in the excitement. "Oi." the the fae in his hand tensed up at looked at him.

"You don't have to be afraid me, you gotta name?" he asked gently as the y/hc color fae tilted her head Jacob frowned wondering if she could understand English? and winced trying to remember those french lessons his father tried to teach him. "urm...q-Quel est votre nom?" he stammered hoping that was right! Again the fae just stared before making a gesture like she was writing.

Jacob’s eyes widened and set her down on his bed and looked around for her to use be for settling on some ink and paper, he watched the little y/sc woman dip her hand in the ink and used her hand to write, while he got ready for bed. while taking his shirt off he heard her chirp and looked over to see what she'd wrote down.

[Y-O-U-R-N-A-M-E ...L-A-S-T-N-A-M-E] Jacob repeated the name a few times it's was kind of odd... but hey! If that's her name then that's her name! He asked where she lived [Whitechapel.] he frowned knowing exactly what goes on in Whitechapel and though Y/n didn't seem the type to sell her body, looks can be ...He was brought out by Y/n huffing and puffing while stomping her foot; her face was red with embarrassment. [I'M NOT A PROSTITUTE!] was messily slathered on to the paper.

Jacob blanched started apologizing as the tiny woman crossed her arms and humph'd at him. Jacob on the other hand mentally sighed relieved that his soulmate wasn't being used in some brothel. "Well what exactly is your profession?" The assassin pressed the y/hl fae eyed him before writing down [Lampworking.] Jacob cocked his head to the side intrigued that's a word he's never heard before.

"You work on lamps or make lamps?" He asked perplexed as he tried to imagine a woman welding a light-post together or making house lamps... the tiny fae chirped and he looked back the paper [It's Glass smithing for beads, marbles, paperweights...] the hazel eyed assassin hummed impressed marbles have their own blacksmiths?... Huh, go figure.

He took a small box he had stored under his bed it had little gifts and bobbles the children had given him as thanks for saving them, and took a small purple marble out of it this was a test; he had to see this for himself.

"Can you tell me what this is?" He handed Y/n the marble which was the size of a football to her, she scrutinized it giving a serious though as she brought it up to the light letting it shine through the glass as if looking for cracks or impurities and wrote.

[A puple Purie* with an ash-gold swirl, nicely made but not by my shop!] She handed it back to him and Jacob hand her a broken black glass bead with half golden bird on it, the y/hc fae examined it for a few moments and looked stunned the up at him excitedly [I know this, I made this!] Jacob blinked taken aback. "Are you sure?" she nodded pointed at the broken bird.

[See the rook? that's my signature.] the hazel eyed assassin took a breath to process what she had said and almost burst out laughing at coincidence, seriously what are the chances they'd both pick a rook as a symbol? the y/ec fae seem to pick up on his giddiness and wanted to be let in on the joke?

[What's so funny?] She raised an inquisitive brow at him. "Tell me lass have you heard of a gang called the Rooks?.." She shook her head a smirk appeared on Jacob's face oh boy was the little fairy in for wake up call, by the time Jacob had given y/n the run about the Rooks, Blighters and Templars the tiny fae had passed out exhausted.

Jacob carefully cleaned her hands and let her use his cap as a bed, He settled down for night somewhat somber as he stared at the tiny fae knowing he can't out right peruse the real at Y/n at the moment... it was too dangerous right now! and if the Blighters or Starrick figured out he had a soulmate they'd kill her or use her to get to him, Jacob can't let that happen, For both their sakes!

He reached over and carefully readjusted the handkerchief she was using as a blanket then caress her cheek with the back of his index finger then rolled over and drifted off to sleep.

Y/n's side

The following weeks were relatively normal for Y/n would go to the glass-smith she used to take Mini-Jacob/M.J with her (as long as he stayed hidden), however he'd get all jealous and stand offish towards her when one of her friendlier co-workers approached her, particularly the sales girl up in the jewelry store upfront, It was obvious the blond haired woman fancied Y/n.. or rather YM/n act and the other male worker knew this and would often tell their younger co-worker to 'Go for it' despite the Y/n's protests and obvious disinterest towards the woman.

This caused a bit of hostility towards her males started getting ideas that YM/n wasn't interested in women...and was more interested in one of them, Luckily the boss shot them down pretty quickly noticing the fae the y/hc woman had snuck in.

He grabbed him much to M.J's distress and wrapped a rag around him making it look like a dress, then snapped. "Look here ya lazy sods!" they looked over at the old man as he held the protesting fae, luckily it was dark enough in the forge that they couldn't get a good look at the little guy.

"The lad's obviously not interested because he's lookin' for his other half, So butt out!" he huffed as the men stared in awe at for a tick before breaking down into snickering and congratulating Y/n who let out a sigh of relief! That could've ended badly, she nodded at her boss who grunted back at her.

Needless to say that was the last time she brought the fae with her! He'd thrown a fit when she left him at home, but it was for the best! the last thing she wanted was being ganged up on due to a misunderstanding...

It's was another slow day it felt oddly cold despite the forge being on, which should've tipped Y/n off that today wasn't going to end well... But she shrugged it off to just waking up earlier then usual Jacob was oddly excitable this morning she couldn't figure out why?

The fae was literally jumping off her walls with so much energy, it was like a squirrel on caffeine! It also took her a while to realize that he was wearing different clothes! large coat, a green vest and a top-hat! She'd be lying if she said he didn't look good in it, It made him seem more mysterious if anything.

She could hear M.J. squeaking and playing around with that Rook bead he's seems oddly attached to it, maybe she should turn it into a necklace or bracelet? He'd probably like that! The Y/nat woman finished getting dressed and put her jacket and hat on before turning to M.J.. "I'll be back at around noon to check on you alright?" the fae hummed before gesturing for her to come closer.

The y/ht woman blinked and complied and was surprised when the Hazel eyed fae gave her a kiss on the cheek! Y/n's eyes widened her face felt hot/looked like a cherry as she gawked M.J. who gave her cheeky grin as she stammered out a goodbye! and ran across the road!

Unbeknownst to Y/n the story of YM/n finding his soulmate had reached the salesgirl's ears and went crying to her older brother who was a Blighter, she spun him a tale of a shameless womanizer who broke her heart and humiliated her! of course the girl's brother ate it up without hesitation, And decided some revenge was in order, He snuck passed the rooks patrolling the area and into the shop he using his sisters directions he found and sabotaged one of the stations; YM/n's station. of course Y/n didn't know that

...All she remembered was lighting her forge than a flash going off! Her boss later told her how he heard a huge explosion! she was sent flying out of the building and into the back alley adjacent to the shop!

when he got to her she was bleeding pretty heavily from her left eye at least he thinks it was her eye? and holding her right arm while attempting to get up before letting out this god awful wheeze and went slack! he though she was dead! Apparently so did salesgirl saw the whole thing who being dragged away bystanders.

Started screaming and crying hysterically "I just wanted to scare him! I never wanted This!" Whatever else she was screaming was soon drowned out by the police and rescuers showing up showing up to control the crowed and Y/n was whisked away to a doctor.

All in sight of Jacob's fae who didn't notice he was crying as he dropped his bead...

[A purie is a cheap clear glass colored marble, they come in various colors and names like Blood Rubies, deep sea blues, green ghosts.]

#assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed syndicate #jacob frye x reader #soulmate au #chibi! Jacob Frye #Chibi! Reader

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advernia · 5 years

Text

fic: the world in her heart, her heart in his hands

— there’s uncharted territory on the far side of the moon, like that forest near some village and that cottage on a hill. - the queen of hearts/alice the second.

1: yEEHAW you're welcome + thank you for requesting such a cute prompt!!! hope you enjoy this one! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ — additional post-reading notes here!

t h i r t y —

They land near a tree.

He lands first, light on his feet and grass crunching under his weight. When he raises his head to look up at the sky, there's a whole canvas of twinkling stars high above his head; but a mess of dancing blonde hair and multiple layers of blue cloth are about to fall upon him instead.

So he extends his arms and opens his hands, and within seconds there she lands - one arm comes across the fabric of her blouse and fingers grasp firmly onto the shape of her shoulder, while the other arm now supports her skirts and the back of her knees.

"Really now," he sniffs, looking down at her face that's covered by her hands, "is that what you're supposed to be doing when falling down from the sky? Close your eyes and wait for an inevitable impact?"

An eye tentatively cracks open, peeking out from lithe fingers. "Maybe - I mean, people normally don't just fall from the sky, Jonah."

"Do you realize that your statement loses all credibility when it's you of all people who says it?"

She huffs, a comeback at the ready but then the unfortunate oak tree behind them abruptly cries out in anguish: something crashes through its many fine layers of flourishing leaves, breaks loudly through a series of its branches, then announces its grand landing with a triumphant thump on the ground.

The pair just stare at the object for some time, stray leaves now floating about and around them.

"... What exactly did you pack into that suitcase?"

t w e n t y n i n e —

The clock tower she calls the Big Ben is a magnificent structure - it stands impressively high and complete with a spire that could reach the heavens, whatever mechanism keeping half the building alight makes its copper paint body shine a regal gold, and each detail of the four clock faces it has are visible from even quite a distance. He watches the hour and the minute hands of the clocks meet at the twelfth hour, and what happens as a result is a resonating chime from the tower that he's sure could reach every corner and alley of the city.

The deep boom echoes reaches deep in his ears and echoes in his very being, not so insufferably loud but the bell's melody that pours out from the tower is almost spellbinding. He's standing very still until she tugs lightly at his sleeve, taking the opportunity to slip her hand into his and twine their fingers together.

"If you keep on staring with your mouth wide open," she giggles, urging him to move forward, "something might just land on your tongue!"

He wrinkles his nose, a touch of heat spreading in his cheeks. He pulls their shared suitcase along, and they continue with their trudge through the otherwise empty cobblestone street.

"Wha - could you not exaggerate? My mouth was not wide open at all!"

"Yes, yes. Now, let's try finding an open inn first, shall we? It's nicer if we tour the streets of London during the day, and even better if we're both well-rested!"

The first inn they find is run by an aged couple - she's asking about the rates while he takes a look around the place, starting with the room's general structure.

Four wooden walls surrounding him, floorboards under his feet, lamps attached to a high ceiling - it's nothing new but at the same time it is, with how everything appeared... inexact, rough around the edges. If one would take time to observe the carpentry, nails on the same board took a different alignment to that of the other boards surrounding it, and every board didn't share an equal standard of security or alignment to the floors or walls at all. Then there's the ceiling, with some parts of its expanse decorated by planks over planks creating odd patch-like shapes... were those meant to cover holes? If so, it was a temporary solution at best, and it sacrificed any semblance of aesthetic in the process.

A true result of manmade labor, he supposes. The Land of Reason wasn't familiar with the luxury and convenience of magic, after all.

Even the sheets and covers drawn over their bodies were a touch different to his skin too - it wasn't a lack of warmth or comfort, but perhaps an issue of sensation. The air he breathes feels a tad too thin in his lungs, the noises outside their window unfamiliar and borderline grating, beams of weak light that managed to pass through the curtains forming shadows that were rather odd and suspicious.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her face coming into his line of view and slowly edging closer. The crease of her brow and the blue of her eyes are big and wide, and somehow it makes him wonder.

Is this what you felt the first night you fell into Cradle?

"I'm fine," he whispers, body moving closer to her side of the bed. "I was just wondering if you have an itinerary prepared, that's all."

"I wouldn't say it's an itinerary, but I do have a couple of locations in mind," she grins from ear to ear. "I've been thinking about them for a while now, and I think they're places in London that would interest you the most!"

"Is that so?" a mild discomfort ebbs away into a tinge of amusement, giving way to memories of staged dates that make him smirk. "Are you truly going to impress me this time?"

She seems to have understood his reference, because she's grinning more like a loon now. Her forehead presses lightly against his, her reply oozes with a nice confidence.

"Of course I will - just you wait and see!"

t w e n t y s e v e n —

It's their third day, their third sunrise in London - he finds the complementary teas that the old couple brew during breakfast to be quite wonderful, and he's wondering about what blend would be served today when she suddenly pulls him over to sit in front of the vanity, a question on her lips.

"Can magic crystals alter appearances - of course they can! Why are you..." he trails off with a frown, brows knitting together as arms cross themselves across his chest. "... Wait a minute. Are you suggesting I alter my appearance?"

Her smile reeks of guilt. "Maybe I am? Look, I know you intended to use those crystals in case of an emergency - "

"So are you implying that how I naturally appear is some form of an emergency now?"

"Ahhh - you saw what happened yesterday when your hat was blown away by the wind! People couldn't just stop staring at you and the color of your hair, even when we were practically running away from the Trafalgar Square!"

"Ah, that? Can you blame them? If anything else, I'm delighted to have effortlessly achieved that kind of effect on the citizens of London!" he shrugs casually, then his lips quirk upwards. "Hm, by some chance... are you also jealous of the attention I received from all those women?"

"Jeal - I am not!" she huffs, turning her head to the side. She's mumbling something to herself as her arms cross themselves across her chest too, and that makes him chuckle.

"... Really?"

"Really!"

"Hmph. Alright then, can you at least explain why - " he leans forward, one hand reaching out to gently take hold of her chin and turn her head to face him, " - your cheeks are as red as a rose?"

He holds his gaze and his grip on her with a smug smile lighting up his fine, very fine features.

Despite the embarrassment burning even further in her cheeks, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

The group of ladies seated at the table right behind them are staring while chatting, most definitely. She puts her teacup back down on its saucer and the china rings out, maybe a bit louder from what was considered to be polite - of course, he catches onto this and looks up from the newspaper he insisted on reading daily, those golden eyes set on her.

You and you alone, he promised.

"What's wrong?" his voice calls, bringing her back to the present.

She glances at that eyebrow, at his hair - what used to be silver was now a lustrous shade of inky black, a normal color to be seen walking around the streets of London. But that, combined with his ever so-noble bearing and a form-fitting suit of dark navy blue, made him seem... much more striking to the public eye, for some reason. The occasional passerby would even stop in their tracks and gaze at their direction with pointed looks, voices loud enough to be heard!

Royalty, she heard some say. A dapper gentleman, others would coo behind their feathered fans.

So much for being inconspicuous, she muses. Despite the not-so-subtle attention though, something like pride bubbled inside her.

"Nothing," her expression smooths into a smile, then she directs her energy and attention to her food instead.

t w e n t y t h r e e —

They end up in the London Library two hours after breakfast.

It's a curious establishment open to the public that smelled of aged paper, dried inks, and cheerful sunlight streaming from large windows - occupying both sides of the room and reaching as high as the ceiling, every section of tall shelves that extended from the entrance to the end of the hall are filled with books of various shapes, spines, and sizes; and positioned carefully in the middle of the room are two long rows of chairs and desks waiting to be used. They go through each topic and sections of every shelf, made possible with the aid of a ladder - she points out what's fictional and what's not, and when he pulls out a book and goes through its contents out of sheer interest, she reads along with him in silence.

They fail to realize that they spend their time reading well into the afternoon.

"Alright - so from my understanding, you're saying that the current monarch, Queen Victoria, rules over these group of countries; and as a whole it's referred to as... the United Kingdom?"

"That's right. And in this part of the map, in the country of England... here's London! It looks pretty small, doesn't it?"

"It really is... and to think that London is just one of the many areas around the country! Have you gone to other places around England?"

"Mm... just a few. Okay, let's start around here - there's the towns of Taunton, Bridgwater, and Glastonbury that are pretty close to the village I was born in, and..."

e i g h t e e n —

Repeated clanging of high-pitched bells rattle the group of birds that roost on tree branches, and the great noise is accompanied by the sharp squealing and creaking of metals till only the faint hiss of steam being released into the air remains. She pays no mind to the sudden disturbance to the peace of their sunny picnic in St. James Park, and instead proceeds to taking a bite out of her sandwich.

He's quite intrigued, though.

"Another mechanical beast has returned to the station, I see."

She manages not to choke on the lettuce.

"It's called a train, Jonah."

"I know. And if you have to be so technical about it, it's also called a steam locomotive, powered by a mechanism known as a steam traction engine."

"... I'm sure I asked this a few times now, but do you want to ride one?"

"Well! Since you keep on insisting, then I guess it wouldn't hurt to ride on that just once. Do you have a destination in mind, though?"

"Hmm... that's a tough question! Going up, we can visit Cambridge, Peterborough, or if you're alright with a longer ride, Nottingham! There's also Brighton, Winchester, and Southampton below... oh, or maybe Swindon, Gloucester, or Bristol! There's a chocolate industry in Bristol that I've always been curious about, and..."

"Anywhere sounds fi - oh, wait. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the town of Glastonbury is close to Bristol, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Oh, but there's a train that goes from London to Glastonbury, you know - do you want to take that one instead?"

"Not exactly. You see, I've been thinking about this a few days before we were to visit the Land of Reason..."

f o u r t e e n —

Her hand, warm as always, touches his forearm. When he turns his head to look at her, she's smiling softly.

"Are you nervous?"

He clears his throat, takes hold of her gloved fingers and squeezes. "Maybe. At least tell me that is going to be nothing similar to that terrible bus ride last week."

Her laugh sounds kind - she rests her head on his shoulder, thumb tracing soothing patterns onto his hand.

"Riding a train is much more comfortable than falling down from the sky, though. Oh, and it's better than teleporting using magic, too! No dizzying side effects."

"That's simply because you're not used to it," he rolls his eyes, but his lips are no longer a taut line. "Perhaps when we get back to Cradle, you should try getting accustomed to it."

She hums for a bit, but it's soon drowned out by a simultaneous ringing outside of their coach - seconds later there's the angry hissing of steam that joins the chorus of bells, shouts, footsteps; and on impulse he finds himself sitting straighter in his seat.

She chuckles, pointing to the blinds drawn over the windows. "Is it okay if I pull them open?"

He takes in a deep breath before nodding firmly.

"Yeah - it's fine."

n i n e —

Above and beyond his reach is the seemingly neverending stretch of a vibrant blue sky, no clouds drifting about and a bright sun leading their way.

Surrounding him are open lands of verdant green; from the swaying grass growing all around the mountains to the strange plants forming unkempt bushes away from the paths and to the groups of trees with their leaves clumping around each other. On occasion there would be a house standing tall or the body of a train moving towards some distance, but those sights would eventually be replaced by more views of the nature landscapes.

His boots follow the traces of a well-worn path that had long imprinted itself on the ground, each step a dull thump to the soil. Walking beside him, her boots make the same sound too; light and matching his pace.

They suit her better, modest blouses along with those skirts that go just a little further past her knees but not extending to her ankles or length on level with her feet. The fashion that women from London and Bristol adapted were skirts that were domed and bell-shaped, along with those tight bodices that would reach high up their necks. He has to admit though, seeing her dress similarly to the trend for weeks was unusual and... fascinating, especially when she started smoothing her hair into a neat bun that would rest at the nape of her neck.

The high ponytail she donned right now made her look equally adorable, too.

"Okay, now that we're walking from Bristol to Glastonbury, just like you asked..." her voice adapts a sing-song tune, "What do you think of the countryside?"

"It feels better, somehow. I don't mind the hustle and bustle of busy streets, but it's also comforting and necessary to have a change of pace," he turns to her, watching her blonde hair bounce along to her movements. "Are you really okay with walking all the way, though? That Bristol innkeeper mentioned that we would take at least eight or possibly ten hours on foot."

She puffs her cheeks and chest out with pride. "Of course I am! I'll have you know that I prefer walking to riding buses, carriages, or trains!"

"Is it because the fares can get too expensive?"

"There's that, but it's mostly out of personal preference!"

"Hmm, you sure sound confident. Does that mean I don't need to carry you even if you get tired?"

"Don't be silly - we can stop and rest in the villages we'll come across along the way! Besides, carrying me and pulling the suitcase along in this heat? That would be terrible!"

"Are you underestimating both my strength and stamina? I've gone through worse trials - why, I wager that I can carry you and the suitcase all the way to Glastonbury without a single stop for rest!"

"...! As if I'd actually allow you to do that!"

s i x —

There must've been some sort of celebration going on.

It's late and they're about to return to the inn, but then ecstatic voices, lively claps, united stomps of feet, and a happy number played out by the strings of guitars and violins catch their attention and have them looking their way to the Glastonbury town square; eyes wide open as they watched the spectacle not so far away from where they stood.

Pairs of men and women dance to the beat of the surrounding audience's encouragement and to the melody of a song, nimble footwork and spins of cloth all seemingly in sync. It's the pair in the middle that catches her eyes, though: she notes that the man is dressed in a dark suit, while the woman in a flowing dress of white with a veil on her head that's as long as her hair.

It's a wedding, she mouths.

That would explain the petals of colorful flowers thrown in handfuls, the great smiles and pelts of laughter, plentiful tables of food and tankards of ale on the sides, pretty lanterns and gas lamps burning their brightest to illuminate the whole square. The blanket of stars in the night sky seemed to agree with the occasion too, with even the smallest of constellations twinkling in their best light to congratulate the newlywed couple.

Jaunty steps and lively music played on as they continued to watch from afar - children close to the square catch them staring though: without even realizing it, they've been surrounded by the chirpy munchkins that tug at their hands and push at their backs, and they don't stop their assault until they've stepped into the square and are swept into the flow of the dance.

He had to hand it to those little brats, they went away as quick as they suddenly came.

"... Is this a dance commonly performed for weddings here in England?" he whispers as he mimics the movements of the pairs nearby - three quick steps forward, a dramatic sway forwards to draw one's face teasingly close to their partner's, then an abrupt retreat backwards in five strides. She chuckles as she chases after his trail in a series of twirls, and when she extends a hand to rest on his left shoulder, she also draws her face close and together they sway sideways.

"No," her voice is airy as he spins her once, and when they're facing each other again she's grinning. "This is a folk dance."

The men began to let go of the hands of their partners, and he finds himself doing that same motion too - her fingers slip away from his grasp and he watches her twirl away from him this time; her loose hair, skirts, and stray petals billowing around her frame as she went.

He doesn't need to glance at the pair across from them to know that he was to follow.

f i v e —

This is it.

They've arrived.

The wooden walls of the cottage on the hill are painted by the deep hues of sunset reds and golds.

Together they stand in front of a closed thatched door: she lifts her right hand up, curls it into a fist, knuckles about to rap on the surface.

But for some reason she stops halfway, lips pursed and gaze downcast. He waits for a few seconds before reaching out for her left hand, squeezing lightly.

She looks at the fine silver strands of his hair, the gold of his eyes, the confident smile on his lips.

He nods once, slowly but surely. She takes a deep breath before nodding back, then her knocks echo on the wood.

They wait for the door to open.

They wait for their future.

When the door creaks open and a middle-aged man comes into their view, he hears a year and a half's worth of emotion catch in her throat.

"Father," her voice cracks.

z e r o —

Her parents did tell him that when she was younger, she enjoyed camping by the village's woods.

A long time has passed since then - the little girl had grown into a lady and the woods have flourished even further too, but it doesn't surprise him at all that she seemed to still know her way through and around the winding forest paths. They leave the comfort of their shoes and a roaring campfire behind them for all that matters now is the grass and soil under their bare feet, slivers of moonlight passing through the numerous crowns of seemingly endless trees, and the touch of her hand pulling him along to her whims.

It's almost shameful, how he just allows himself to be swept along by another's pace. But in this forest and in this world; no one recognizes him as the Queen of Hearts of Cradle's Red Army or as the rightful heir to the Clemence family's long-standing legacy. Here and now, he's just a man named Jonah Clemence; a mere visitor to the Land of Reason, a man who willingly chose to stumble into the world - the wonderland - of his beloved.

He chose to fall because he wished to see the beauty of her world with his own eyes, to stand in the park that had changed her life and explore anywhere else beyond that point. And well enough, he's gone through a city and towns of various shapes, sizes, and stories to tell. He beheld and found himself fascinated by preserved landmarks and proud monuments even if he couldn't properly comprehend their exact significance, stared at paintings and sights bursting with all sorts of colors and depth that he's never encountered before. He witnessed variations of how the sun of her world would rise higher and higher on the horizon, observed how the stars would gradually take their proper places in a dimming sky.

He chose to fall because he wished to gain an understanding of her world and to see how different it was from his own, to surrender himself to the culture of a land where magic didn't exist and science reigned instead. Many, many, things have baffled him and caught him off-guard; ranging from all sorts of areas like social standing and etiquette, currency and pricing, languages and speech patterns, beliefs and philosophies, and the list went on and on each day that passed by. Books, newspapers, observations, and her explanations could only tell him so much, and when he finds himself at a loss and no closer to a satisfactory comprehension; he develops a greater appreciation for the similarities in both worlds that he always managed to discover when he's at the peak of his frustration.

He chose to fall because he wished to have a taste of the flavors she enjoyed the most, to know the origins of the occasional odd recipe she would cook up. It's strange how even something plain like water tasted and felt different from how his tongue recalls it to be; and there began his exploration of various cuisines, treats and desserts, beverages, aromas and textures that were as vast and variable as a painter's color palette. Each meal or snack brought about another interesting point of craftsmanship and consistency to ponder about, carved new flavors and aftertastes that made themselves memorable in his mouth.

And most of all - he chose to fall in hopes of seeing the place where she was born and raised, to walk the road leading to that cottage on the hill and to finally meet her parents.

A month's worth of time - years worth, even - simply wasn't enough for him to fully experience, see, feel, and savor whatever her world had to offer.

It wasn't enough time for him to learn, too - he's still in the process of pronouncing all those new words right, forming a clearer picture of the Land of Reason's extensive history, wrapping his head around the starkly different perspectives on what was called religion, analyzing the workings of the militaries throughout every country and continent.

But he's been welcomed into her village, introduced to and was warmly accepted by her parents - so that felt like more than enough time well-spent.

He's running in the woods.

The air rushing by is cool against his flushed skin, grass brushing against his toes soft and tickling, heartbeat roaring almost pleasantly in his ears. Tonight he relives the brief period of freedom he had as a boy, blood singing with the revival of childish enthusiasm and youth.

He's chasing after the fluttering ends of her white summer dress, after the locks of her blonde hair and her moonlight-touched skin, after the echoes of her giddy laughter and lighthearted taunts. It's like she's reliving her time in the woods too, and in an instant she is fleet-footed and so charmingly carefree.

He jumps over the roots of aged trees; she swings away using tall branches. She attempts to crouch and hide behind bushes and tree trunks, but he's already running towards her even before she can try. There were those close calls where he was sure that she was within his reach, but then she always managed to surprise him and slip away from his grasp.

They forget how their chase began in the first place and lose track of how long they have been running and running, but eventually they find themselves right back where they started: back in the clearing where their shoes are neatly set beside each other and where their campfire weakly burns, fireflies have appeared in their absence and taken residence around the area. They're a rowdy bunch that keep frisking up and down then left and right, go up in the sky then swoop close to the ground, and she becomes the first onlooker to the odd motions of their dance.

The moment she stops and stares is the moment he rejoices in the sweet joys of his victory - he finally, finally, gets to hold her; reaching out quick and circling his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and pressing her back flush against his chest. He buries his head on her shoulder and in the canopy of her hair, breathing in her distinct scent mixing with sweat and ears ringing with the sound of her surprised yelp. She squirms a bit but it's not enough to make them stumble and fall to the ground, to make them land on their unfurled sleeping bags that he insisted to be put very close to each other.

They just stay like that for a few seconds.

"You..." he breathes out when he finally lifts his head, and when he does she turns her head to see his face. "... you'd better not start running away from me again."

She giggles, resting her arms on his own. "I won't. I'm all yours, Jonah - and I always will be."

The bright full moon shines down on her face and illuminates her smile, highlighting the loving sparkle to the blue of her eyes.

There they were, standing in the middle of a sudden firefly-infested clearing, man and woman acting like silly children: they're both slightly out of breath, their skin is all sweaty, their hair and clothes are in mild disarray, and the soles of their feet caked in greens and browns.

She's a mess - the both of them are.

But that doesn't stop him from pressing his lips against hers, relishing her taste on his mouth, on his tongue - as if giving them some privacy, a modest cloud drifts by and covers the prying eyes of the moon, making the groups of fireflies silent witnesses to a love that transcended two separate worlds, swords and magic, conspiracies and a war, and most of all, of judgement and status.

When the cloud floats away from the moon their lips pull apart too - they share a knowing smile before they simply lean on each other and cuddle close to their mingling warmth, his arms still around her waist and the tips of her fingers drawing shapes on his skin.

They bask in the comforting silence, in the light of the moon and in the midst of jittery fireflies until his ears catch a play of strings - they're gentle and almost languid, the brief pauses in between plucks building up into a crescendo that smoothly shifts to the pace of an adagio, only to recreate the playful effect of the crescendo just a couple group of notes later. It's another tune he's unfamiliar with, but he supposes that it isn't unpleasant to his ears.

She could hear it too, her feet starting to tap along to the melody - seconds later he feels the shift of her waist as she sways, so he releases his hold on her and instead spins her around to face him.

The sound of the guitar still creeps into the forest, fireflies still flicker around the clearing with enthusiasm, their sleeping bags are still cold and their campfire has gone out.

"I recall someone saying that she would teach me the steps of her village's folk dance," he chides lightly.

She blinks for a moment, then a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth.

"Someone has a sharp memory!" her hands draw themselves together into a soft clap. "Well then, does the good sir want to start learning now?"

He lets out a laugh, executing the elegant flourish of a bow before taking her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles.

"Only if the lady would be so kind as to start teaching me," he says with a wink.

The laughter that tumbles out of her lips sounds like bird song.

30 days remain before the next full moon...

#ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #jonah clemence #ikerev alice #awawa posted thru mobile bc i forgot to queue this yesterday sobs #i'll go over this after my rounds... tumblr mobile might've botched formatting lmao #on another note: i do hope everyone + loved ones are doing well & making an effort to stay physically + mentally healthy! please take care!

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