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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

Text

500 Year Long Identity Crisis (Yandere!SAGAU Various/Reader)

A/n: Advanced happy birthday Ayaka/2nd anniversary everyone!!! I put quite the effort into this fic to celebrate lol.

Characters present in this chapter: (Main Focus) Traveler!Aether, Baizhu, Dainsleif. (Briefly Mentioned) Yelan, Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, Venti, Abyss!Lumine, Enjou

Cw: yandere self-aware genshin au, "impostor" reader, gn!reader

Unreliable synopsis: The traveler received a strange commission indirectly from a government official. Although, it seems their azure-glasses-wearing guide is far more interesting than the quest itself.

Hysteric Humanoid (Yandere!SAGAU):

Side Story I - The Longest Devout Believers (this short story will be uploaded in a few days.)

Chapter 1 (You're here)

—---

"He who leaves a good name does not die poor. Remember that well, Your Grace!"

------

Everyone you encountered in your travels wondered what you would look like without your azure-tinted sunglasses at some point in their lives. Whether it be random passersby or your "closest" confidants, not a single soul knew what you looked like underneath the accessories you wore. This eccentric trait of yours made plenty uneased, for each time someone tried to pry into your privacy, you were quick to quip more riddles for them to lose sleep over.

As expected, today's appointment with the traveler was no different.

Aether couldn't tell what to make of you when you entered the restaurant. You covet too many cultural accessories, more so than Tighnari's infamous mess of a getup. Yet the only somewhat recognizable article of clothing was the fur scarf around your neck. However, this is only because a certain Mondstadt cavalry captain wore something similar. Only this time, this scarf had more love put into its handiwork than Kaeya's.

At least you balanced his abysmal first impression by offering to pay the bill.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. They call me "Jianfeng". I'm a temporary tax accountant here in Liyue. It's a pleasure to be working with you."

The traveler noticed your gloved hands extended. Almost every part of your body was covered, indicating that you made a concerted effort in covering everything up. He couldn't tell what color your eyes were underneath those glasses. You don't fit in in the bustling main metropolis of Liyue Harbor, let alone Wanmin Restaurant, and Aether doubted that you'd be able to blend in anywhere else.

You looked like an eccentric Fatui Agent. Almost. But even bad guys in uniform had better fashion sense. Are you trying to look worse than criminals?

The traveler didn't like you right off the bat.

If he were to guess, people “call you Jianfeng” because they don’t know your real name.

"It's... Nice to meet you too." Aether hesitantly shook your hand. His eyebrows furrowed.

Your hands were as cold as Albedo's.

That fact alarmed him.

Not long ago, he discovered Albedo's true nature as a homunculus and met his clones. In that handshake, he felt your flesh holding his, and he might dare say that you have unique human characteristics, yet your rigidness makes you appear more like an entity. Aether eyed you quietly.

What if you were one of them? What if behind your blue-tinted glasses, your eyes are composed of chalk?

Aether doesn't believe you are human. He had already concluded who you were after this little discussion. You're either a doll, a clone, or an exuvia. However, he couldn't explain why he thought it was the third guess.

"They call you Jianfeng? So, is that not your real name or...?"

Paimon asked what he was afraid of saying.

He didn't even notice that you already pulled your hand away. Aether's hand was trembling.

You used up all the self-restraint you had left so you won't narrow your eyes at her. He's already suspicious enough. You know that look well. His sister had that expression, too. Their faces bespoke knowledge and experience that free-spirits have. This is no time to let your guard down.

The traveler is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You felt a tiny hand grabbing your hood.

"Do you need to wear all these clothes? You're not weak to the cold, are you?"

You flinched as you came face to face with a starry-eyed "pixie" tugging your earrings like a newborn baby. You gently smacked her away with one hand. Have you been slacking on training so much that Paimon, of all people, nearly yanked your hood off? You must have given her a menacing look since the cowardly critter scurried behind the traveler right after.

She's a lot nosier than you guessed.

"P-Paimon!!!"

Aether's eyes went wide as he slammed his hand to cover his traveling companion's mouth, not even bothering to look behind him. If he wasn't already a famous figure, you would've noted that the two traveled adequately enough for him to hit her lips intuitively.

He may appear shocked, but he is nothing but calm in assessing your character.

So, you don't like it when people grab your clothes. You're hiding something.

"I'm SO sorry about Paimon!" The blonde man squeaked. "She can be a bit tactless."

"No, no. It's fine. I enjoy talking to blunt people." You chuckled. "Makes my job run a lot smoother, especially during busy seasons. Though, I would greatly appreciate it if neither of you would strip away my clothes. We don't have an intimate... friendship."

You shook your head, realizing that your reply sounded like something Kaeya would say.

"I hope you're not assuming that I'm here to talk about tax return preparations. I won't press you about anything related to taxes. Besides, I'm a bit off schedule and I don't have time snooping into your business."

Paimon audibly sighed, Aether not so much.

"So you're not going to ask about tax evasion...?" He muttered.

You didn't quite catch that. "What?"

"N-Nevermind that!" Paimon giggled suspiciously. You've heard the traveler had done around Inazuma and for the sake of keeping his heroic ventures alive, you turned a blind eye in this case.

It's not like you can jail a video game protagonist for tax fraud anyways.

"I asked for your audience because I would like to hire you for a special commission."

You cringed for a brief moment before clearing your throat.

"Actually, no, that doesn't seem right. SOMEONE from The Civil of Ministry Affairs wants to hire you for a special commission, and I happen to be nearby for SOMEONE to dump this workload without consent. I have a life of my own, so expect me to make this quick."

"Civil of Ministry Affairs..." The traveler glanced at Paimon.

"Ooh! Ooh! Is it Yelan?!"

The small creature loved to hog the conversation, but her slip-of-a-tongue proved to be quite helpful in this instance.

"Yes, precisely. Huh, I thought I'd have to make a roundabout excuse as to why I can't disclose who your client is."

You slid the files onto the table's surface. Aether didn't seem phased by the enormous red CONFIDENTIAL text stamped on the folders and quickly took a look without your authorization.

"You have three days to decide. Look for me at Bubu Pharmacy at around six to ten pm. See you then."

Yelan often visits the pharmacy in disguise, so if she ever doubts you, you might as well prove her wrong. You stood up. You can't be bothered to stay longer, lest you want Mingbo's ire.

"H-Hey, hold on, Paimon can't understand this!"

"Then hire someone that can. Yelan insists that it's an important mission. It's imperative that you must perfect this task."

Your departure was as quick as your arrival, and you spared not a single second more to entertaining the traveler's questions.

Was it out of false confidence that he could decipher scholarly pages or pure indifference? Neither Paimon nor Aether knew. What bugged them more was not the fact they couldn't understand the files without Paimon reading through a dictionary for the foreigner, but the proverb you whispered right before you disappeared.

"Remember to paint the dragon, then dot the eye."

-----------

Cursed hands roamed the severed threads of your hood... until they slowly traveled down your neck, squeezing lightly.

"Your hair, your face, your body, your eyes..."

You shivered.

As you've heard, eyes are a telltale marker of neoteny. It speaks for how you've aged without saying a word and expresses everything humanity desired. Nonetheless, you did not pay attention to these sermons. What you heard is nothing more than a dirty craving for eternal youth, similar to a corrupt man's desire to deflower what is absolutely still and Celestia's desire to demolish a prosperous nation.

Man or Heaven– it did not matter which, they all wished you gone.

All you have left is him. For he remains as your soft glow at dawn and the sword at your side.

He spoke into your ear. Strands of his light hair stroked the nape of your neck, enticing you with his closeness. He shades your view of the burning nation in front of you with one gloved hand. Someone as frail as you, in his opinion, should not squander their eyes viewing a despicable final act.

His somber voice was an epilogue– a closing narration to humanity's greatest achievement.

And Khaenri'ah's end starts with you.

"Every inch of you is under my protection."

His breath was uneven, much like his tearful visage. You did not permit him, but his head rested on your shoulder, soundly defeated. From that moment forward, you were the only person he could touch without feeling guilty about his curse, for better or for worse.

"But we must continue this path. It's far too late to stop…

"I beg you, My Lord. Don't go anywhere without me."

-----------

"Are you sure the traveler will say no? I must say though, you're very bold for tampering with Yelan's files, (Player Name)."

"Stop calling me that," you gritted your teeth. "You know damn well I despise that name, doc."

The person who asked you was a slim doctor who ground some medicinal herbs on the countertop. Considering how he says the name (Player Name) without any thought of divine retribution, he's a bit of a heretic, like you.

The doctor's name is Baizhu, renowned for his work in the Bubu Pharmacy.

He appears fragile but make no mistake: disagreeing with his methodologies is futile. Baizhu is by no means a friend but you wouldn't want him as your enemy. He's the only one who knows of your "unique" constitution, and therefore the only one who can tinker with your body. At least, the contract says so.

Baizhu met your eyes with a small, scheming smile.

"In all honesty, Jianfeng, your hatred for The Creator will bite you one day. You can't hate them forever."

You grunted.

Yes, yes you can.

The crest of Khaenri'ah rests in your pupils, daunting and pure. Looking at the mirror feels awfully naked without your glasses since your reflection haunts you. The symbol weaved in your eyes echoed the voices of those who were there long ago.

You were naught but a primordial being shaped like the one that played behind the "screen". You were a Khaenri'ahn offering, an homage to this "player" figure you'll never understand. This flawed birth process is your bane. You were molded into their ideal human Lord, one who wielded power beyond the Archons and Celestia itself...

The Creator.

(Player Name).

Your homeland revered this one entity. In fact, your master made you in their image, not as a person but as a walking sculpture. Nonetheless, you aspired to be The Creator whom anyone would be glad to share a room with. You worked hard to be considerate and kind... But playing the role of a saint is pointless in the nation of agnostic men.

Khaenri'ahns do not rely on Archons or their doctrines, but they recognize that your very existence was blasphemous.

It would've hurt less if you hadn't deluded yourself that you had a chance. It didn't matter how much love you offered when those sentiments did not reach the masses' hearts.

Because you'll never be their image of (Player Name). Even if you inherited their intellect and insights of the future.

You would've loved your countrymen as they grew wrinkly and unrecognizably older. You would've given them the kindness they deserved. You would've forgiven them for all their flaws. Because you know you see them as who they were.

But why couldn't they have thought the same for you?

Oftentimes you wondered if it was their eyes that stalked you when you first left your cage. More often than not, you lie awake at night wondering what made (Player Name) so valuable and what made this human, an imperfect and mortal thing, more adored than you will ever be. Try as you might in racking your head for an answer, dead men tell no tales.

And where did all the love that you gave got you now? Scared of your own faux body. Paranoid and pitiful.

You just want to be loved.

By anyone.

"... Jianfeng? Are you crying?" Baizhu said in disbelief rather than concern.

You sniffed and hastily smudged the tears behind your glasses. Baizhu made his way towards you with a hand that eagerly patted your head. Changsheng, who's normally abrasive, slithered on top of your shoulders and gave you a cold hug. They didn't ask why you were crying. You spilled your heart out to him long ago, and he's not a forgetful person, unlike his little helper.

You snickered weakly.

By the looks on both their faces, you could tell that they know your true identity.

But you don't care.

After all, it was Baizhu who gave you your new name. And "Jianfeng" suits you just fine.

"Me? Crying? You need new glasses." You sniffed.

"Hmm? Oh but darling I think my diagnosis is spot on."

"If I was crying, shouldn't you realize that you're the problem?" You half-heartedly quipped.

His smile faded. Before Baizhu could say anything witty in response, Qiqi, with her stubby legs, opened the door in her tippy-toes.

"Jian… the traveler is here…"

You gently patted Changsheng's head, silently motioning her to go back to her master.

"Will be there in a sec."

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

Aether was curious as to why you chose this to be your meeting place, but after seeing Baizhu trail behind you, he formed a concrete assumption as to why.

The doctor had a hand draped around your shoulder. You two must have an "intimate friendship."

"Before we give you an answer, Paimon has a few things Paimon wants to ask!"

You expected as much. "Sure, go on then."

The traveler sat in one of the free chairs and you did the same.

Baizhu took a seat behind the counter. Given his frail constitution, he isn't the most imposing man in the room, but his look was something else entirely. The doctor observed the traveler and his companion stealing your attention.

Paimon may be dense, but Aether isn't.

Aether couldn't speak when Baizhu's snake-like eyes tilted like a blade under his chin.

"Are you from Mondstadt?"

"Huh? Er... No. Why did you think so?"

"You have the same scarf-thing like Kaeya– he's The Knights of Favonius’s Cavalry Captain."

You've met him. The Creator knows him as well. They frequently controlled his body before swapping to someone else after "wishing." Aside from that, you two correspond letters frequently. Kaeya sends notices whenever a certain fellow countryman concocts drinks at his brother’s tavern. Hence, you consider him a close confidant.

But you'd rather not share that information.

Kaeya likes to keep his friendship with you as one of his dirty little secrets.

Last time someone found out about you, the cavalry captain knocked him out. You never saw Connor again after that.

"Maybe we have similar tastes. I did visit old Mond before, but that was because I wanted to see the Great Wolf, Andrius..." You sighed.

Paimon quickly moved on. "Are you sure you're a tax accountant? The traveler hasn't seen you on Liyue's list of graduates."

They must have obtained the information through Keqing. That lady has reservations about everything, from your golden shrimp balls to Rex Lapis and The Creator. You were skeptical of her at first, but she welcomes any criticism that borders on blasphemy. It made you wonder why she only revealed that information now and never interrogated you before.

"This carp had jumped the dragon's gate before you arrived in Mondstadt, pal. I studied in Fontaine and got my license a few years ago." You sipped your chamomile tea, lazily pointing at the papers on the table. "See? I'm rather upfront about what I do."

Except for the fact you graduated nearly fifty years ago, under the name "Faust."

"Paimon thinks it's because you don't exactly look like a government worker, Jianfeng..."

"What do I look like then?"

"Well, uhh... Paimon can't say..."

"Exactly," you sat up straight. "A man cannot be judged by looks, much like seas cannot be measured by a cup."

"Another Liyue proverb..." Aether muttered.

Jokes on you, they DID hire someone to simplify the documents. In addition, he asked Zhongli what your departing words meant moments prior... Admittedly, Aether's not ready to sit through another thirty minutes of him discussing what you meant this time. One literacy lesson is enough for one week.

You wouldn't know about all that. You avoid Morax– he calls himself Zhongli nowadays– like Hilichurl camps. His new appearance does little to fool you. Based on The Creator's insight, he had faked his death. The last time you had talked to him, he tried to kidnap you, so the only Archon you have the slightest semblance of trust for is Lord Barbatos.

Speaking of Lord Barbatos, you're sure he'd love what you'll say next…

"Do you want a Fontaine proverb? Sure, here's one."

The travelers muffled their groans. Baizhu laughed heartily while Paimon pressed her head on her palm.

You chuckled.

"The robes don’t make the monk. If you can't label me from my looks then I shall do it for you. You're travelers, yet you've not seen all of what Liyue has to offer. This is what Jianfeng, a humble tax accountant, looks like, and other people in my profession can appear similarly if they chose to. What matters more is how we perform. The end."

The two travelers looked dumbfounded.

Good. What you said was total horseshit.

"Paimon doubts it's as complic– umm, easy as that..." She droned on.

The Creator's insights were right. Paimon is the noisest character in this "game." By then, you couldn't care much about what more she had to say. Instead, you handed the traveler a pouch.

There's no other choice than to send them on a wild goose chase.

"Yelan told me that you have no deadline in tracking The Creator down," you squinted. "But I'm no kind person. As the Liyue saying goes: return a loan on time and borrowing again will be easier. I'll only give you a daily allowance for two months. That's the only favor I will grant you."

Paimon floated near you, a lot cheekier this time. "But won't that be a pain for you?"

"How come?" You tilted your head.

"You're... Joining us, right?"

You went silent.

"Huh?"

Baizhu chuckled. He and Aether sidelined the entire conversation, yet they caught on rather quickly.

The traveler spoke, his voice was subtly smug.

"Mx. Accountant, Yelan put your name in the contract as our travel guide. And you already signed it."

------

Great, now you’re part of the wild goose chase too. Damn you, Yelan. Damn you, Wupei, for dressing up as a Good Hunter delivery boy. You can't believe she outsmarted you. Why did you even sign it– food deliveries don't ask for signatures and Mondstadt is miles away. Just because you've seen most of Teyvat for the past 500 years does not mean you have the qualifications as a travel guide– much less for a place that's a giant underground cave full of unanswered questions. Or a cave where the souls of your countrymen loitered, more specifically.

Baizhu was concerned about this and, uncharacteristically, offered to accompany you. You explained that he would be a liability if he joined, and he reluctantly agreed. But not before doling out an inordinate amount of medical herbs to make you smell ancient (and you are.)

Nevertheless, the three of you squandered the hours skulking around the cramped confines of the Chasm. So far, you've provided minor historical context and directed them to a few shortcuts as the traveler brandished his weapon.

It's also worth mentioning that, when compared to his sister, Aether's swordplay falls short. As Lumine would say, "Aim for the neck." He swings more defensively than she does, and his range is shorter. You're no expert, but after more than a century of traveling with two fierce sword masters, you couldn't help but nitpick.

You grilled him about his sword abilities a few times, and he responded with sugar-coated remarks about your unusual outfit. His attempts to discredit you were poor, but hearing him speak is a rarity enough. You didn't mind his comments. In comparison to Lumine's snarkiness, he is more straightforward and pleasant.

"The coast is clear– This should be the place the Creator was last seen," you muttered. "Allegedly."

"Ooohhh!!! Paimon is so excited!"

Aether grunted, sharing her sentiment as a typical voiceless protagonist. His childlike wonder makes up for his lack of speech as he walked past you.

You watched him run without looking back for both you and Paimon.

Unsurprisingly, he was most excited– he's the twin The Creator chose. You would be ecstatic too if the person who set you out on an exhilarating journey came returned. The difference is that you would probably curse them for it.

"You don't look happy for someone who's gonna see The Creator, Jianfeng," Paimon said. She nearly tugged your hoodie before stopping herself when she noticed you glaring.

"Um. You okay?"

"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean that– I'm fine." You palmed your forehead. "Just a bit light-headed."

"Do you wanna take a rest for a while? It's not good to force yourself. We can't greet The Creator if we're exhausted! You gotta look like your best self! You don’t want Them to see you like this, do you?"

You smiled weakly.

Just shut up, Paimon.

"Right. Right."

"Hey, is this the location?"

Aether pointed to a place with a light source.

You gulped.

“That's right.”

“Oh wow! Paimon heard that They like these mysterious white-blue flowers! Paimon doesn’t know what it's called though…”

As Aether knelt to examine the odd flower meadow, you attempted to mask your uneasiness. The flooring in this spot was soft and fragile; approaching the flowerbed risked breaking it. Yelan's reports were correct, but they shouldn't have been. After all, these are--

“Inteyvats.”

Paimon and Aether looked at you.

Your eyes didn’t tear away. You were frozen from your spot.

“These are called inteyvats.” You said, lips trembling. Your forehead creased and you grabbed your arm while looking at the batch of flowers, tense. “They are Khaenri’ah’s national flower… They're a symbol for wanderers far from home–”

Your face paled and your hand began to sweat.

It seems like the Chasm-Yaksha story quest happened before "Requiem of The Echoing Depths." But why?

How come Aether knew who Yelan was, but doesn't know what inteyvats are?

You shook.

Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

If they’re here then... Maybe That “Creator” is actually around here too.

You've never met Them before. Strange how not once did you both cross paths when you supposedly share the same face. But just because you haven't met them yet doesn't mean you want to.

All your muscles tensed up while your eyes squinted as if searching for a dead nation from far away.

You stepped backward.

"Hey, watch out!"

You had a mini heart attack as the steps gave in. Aether reached out. You were unable to grab his arm and Paimon's futile attempt to pull you up by your hood failed.

You tripped.

Unsteadily kneeling up, you unusually saw the world had taken colors way beyond an azure hue. It took you seconds before realizing your predicament.

You went completely still.

Your azure spectacles are cracked and out of reach. Your hood was lowered. All that was covering your head was a cotton face mask. The luminous stones gave your (h/c) hair an unwanted spotlight and your imperfect (e/c) eyes displayed fear in full view.

They could see your eyes– your face. No words were further spoken.

… Oh.

Aether's eyes widened and his chest sank as it heaved at the realization of who he was blindly following into the depths. He stepped forward and his dull blade clanged, subtly reminding you of his repertoire.

"JIANFENG IS THE FAKE CREATOR?!"

It all happened way too quickly.

Paimon screeched as she lividly floated beside Aether. She had been stomping on air with her clenched fists. Neither of you truly heard her.

Because from then on, you were enemies.

…

Aether unsheathed his dull blade.

You drew what you thought and hoped was your last breath. It had been more than 500 years, and you longed for a moment of respite.

If you were just another body that got in the way between the protagonist and his goals, then so be it. You'd gladly throw yourself into his blade and die as you've been dutifully commanded by the threads of fate.

"Jianfeng…" The traveler spat your fake name with malice as he sprung toward you in a single step.

He managed to slice your thigh.

"I shouldn't have trusted you."

You winced.

You've compared how different he acts compared to his sister the entire time, but this was the first you've seen their startling resemblance.

Aether looks just as numb as Lumine when placed into the role of a villain. He didn't look like an animal that wanted to tear you to shreds– he looked disappointed.

You reluctantly walked backward, gritting your teeth as he skillfully slashed in your direction. His attack on your leg stung, and your hand flew to conceal the wound.

As expected from a silent protagonist, he seems to know that the smallest sentences bite the most. But his words are meaningless. You knew Aether only said it because of the rumors about you. He wouldn't know the wishes of those who died with lingering regrets as much as you and your previous traveling companions.

All he has is lip service and surface-level heroism. A facade that is slowly deteriorating ever since Inazuma.

You could dodge his attacks easily. In one flick of the wrist, you could bounce him off, but…

Many moons ago, you made up your mind on how you wished to go. You will not cower away and accept judgment with resolve. Retribution is coming to pass and with livid breaths, you'll let Aether draw his blade. You longed for the sweet release of death to be under this world's rightful protagonist.

…

However, in a blink of an eye, a fluttering grey cape obstructed death's view.

CLANG!!!

Blonde hair.

A dark violet mask.

Unmistakable starry eyes.

And a long, pointed cloak.

"How... How did you get here?" You whispered breathlessly.

He must've emerged from the wormhole below this platform.

The blonde gave you an all-too-familiar look that says he knows all that he needs to know.

The traveler froze in shock while the third person dashed in to capture your waist before he scooped you up in one quick motion. His body felt cold against yours, much to your dismay.

He briefly exhaled through his nose; his stamina unaffected. "I'm always watching."

"Tch."

You'd call him out for being arrogant, but you know he's telling the truth. This man gathers knowledge as if his life depended on it- and you wish you had a better comparison because there is no life within him other than an amalgamation of pure jadedness.

The blonde man keeps this world's secrets, and no amount of proverbs will make you more seasoned and knowledgeable than Dainsleif, the Bough Keeper.

And this all-knowing yet curious individual appeared both pissed and enamored.

First and foremost, he is furious at Aether for performing such an atrocious "stunt." To draw a blade against the one to whom he vowed vassalage served to make his heart race for the worst reasons. Yet, Dain still has his patience, courtesy to his immortality, and you by his side.

His eyes searched yours. Longing for some shred of blissful recognition you might've felt after meeting him again but couldn't ignore the engulfing dread that settled in your irises. You could tell he was fighting hard not to melt under your touch.

Dainsleif promised before that he would never disobey his lord’s commands. He was true to his word and never once appeared in the past few centuries

But seasons change.

He made his choice. Dainsleif pulled away.

"My memories have all but faded, but I know that underneath those clothes, you're still the same person, my Lord."

His gaze was smoldering. The Bough Keeper did not take one step closer, but the way he stared at you already felt suffocating. He didn't and he won't come close. His Khaenriah'n eyes sufficed in expressing the loneliness he dealt with when he traversed Teyvat without you. He didn't have to hold you tight. His presence is intense enough.

You thought you were the one monitoring his actions through Kaeya, but Dainsleif had always been the better stalker.

You don't know the hell you put him through by leaving him on his lonesome.

Dainsleif smiled delicately. Had you never traveled with him, it would've been an unpredictable expression. As much as you hate reminiscing about that era, you know that he reserves that look for you alone. He was elated when he saw you wear the scarf he gave you.

Skinning that cryo abyss mage was a lot of work.

You should've thrown it away, but you couldn't, not when it was one of your good memories with him and her. Not when he worked tirelessly to master sewing just for you.

Now there's no way he won't assume that there's more to it than keeping warm.

"Lord (Y/n)..."

Dainsleif's voice was still soothing.

Aether gave him a strange look. He didn't think of him as the kind to address someone by that title, but then he remembered that Dainsleif was once an honorable knight. He just didn't know that the Twilight Sword used to serve you. Nor did he know that (Y/n) was your real name.

"Stop." You commanded, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

You haven't heard that name in a long time.

"... At last. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Dainsleif awkwardly spoke as if you both lacked time.

How dull. The three of you always had enough time.

And you have already picked a route to follow. Having the Creator's wisdom already gave you an advantage in predicting what would happen, and each day made you wonder when your paths might diverge. You didn't deny fate when it arrived. Lumine chose the Abyss Order, while Dainsleif seek to oppose it.

They were both suffocatingly possessive. If Khaenri'ah shunned you as a heretic creation, Dainsleif and Lumine prized you as their hysteric humanoid. They both desired you, but neither was willing to share. They tugged and pulled as if you were not capable of thinking for yourself.

And what did you do? You opted for a strategic retreat. You have no malice against Teyvat but no will to save it either. After knowing that your old companions represent these two sides, you wanted nothing to do with their metaphorical coin.

As a creature abandoned by its nation, can you be blamed for having no plans of carrying the burden for those who died and survived?

You shook your head.

"You reek of corruption, Twilight Sword."

He grunted, and yet he pretended not to hear you.

Dainsleif pushed you behind him, eyebrows knitted together as he glanced at your leg.

"Don't act tough," he said, despite tracing traces of his curse with his free hand. "Stand back, you're hurt."

Aether struck first.

"HIYAH!!!"

Dainsleif parried effortlessly.

He smiled, realizing what he had done.

When alone, he's the Bough Keeper, but with you, he stands firm as the Twilight Sword.

"Why are you helping them...?" Their swords clashed against each other in a temporary stalemate. "They're the impostor! They're dangerous!"

Despite his grievances, you were somewhat proud that Aether took your advice to heart when he swiftly aimed for Dainsleif's neck. Even if his efforts were futile.

He's no longer angry, just confused. Aether thought to himself that if Dainsleif is keen on protecting you, then are you his sister’s enemy as well?

But Aether wasn't sure if his views aligned with his sibling.

"Not to brag, but your form is poor." Dainsleif retorted, pointing vaguely at Aether. He pursed his lips, unamused, before slashing Aether's defenses in one strong cut.

Dainsleif kicked him down, forcing him to gasp sharply. His heel dug into the flesh of his cheek. Paimon shook afraid as she watched her companion weakly grab his opponent’s heel.

The Bough Keeper’s eyes darkened. He only had one thought in mind while Aether pathetically wormed under him.

Any man who believes in baseless rumors does not deserve to bask in your presence.

"If my memory serves, My Lord could barely pick up a claymore or hunt a boar. It would be hopeless for them to try and beat you in a spar.” He said with a faint but recognizable teasing lilt. “I'm simply standing in for them."

You could disagree with his claims if you wanted, but he'd reply with a subtly sarcastic "that would be a miraculous development, indeed." Dainsleif never trusted that you can protect yourself because that's what he was there for. But you're done using his services.

Aether pushed Dain away and distanced himself. His bruised cheek and bloody nose could not deter him from his new mission.

The traveler tilted his chin upward. “Dai–”

"Kill me, traveler."

The men flinched.

You walked to your fallen enemy, not caring for how Dainsleif caught your wrist.

"Take my life– before he tries something funny."

After sending Dainsleif an accusatory glance, he pushed you aside forcefully.

"Traveler, your battle is with me."

“I’m your target!"

Dainsleif's face hardened, glaring at you.

You smirked. You can't help but wonder how much 300 years alone had impacted him. He used to be so careful not to offend you and so remorseful when he did. Seems like the captain would bare his fangs with just about anyone that stood in his way. Including his old master. You were happy about this development, yet sad all the same.

You’ve grown tired of everything too, haven’t you, Dain?

"Paimon is so confused, please stop it!"

No one listened to her.

“Traveler, you’re looking for the Creator, right? They’re not here. I lured you here to kill you.”

Dainsleif sneered. “They’re lying. It's possible that everything is under your sister's orders to redirect your path.”

“Lumine has nothing to do with this. I’ve lied about many things but this is not one of them.” You lied nonchalantly.

Aether faltered.

"You know Lumine?"

Dainsleif gripped your shoulder. “(Y/N).”

You huffed and elbowed him. “Shut it, Dain. Your corruption is beyond saving. Don't butt in like this is about you."

"Ngh..."

Dainsleif's eyes softened, visibly stung by your words. He bit his lip and looked at the floor for a brief moment.

Aether and Paimon were speechless. They did not expect you to speak so harshly nor did they expect to see him look hurt.

You looked back at the traveler.

"Traveler, why don't you prove yourself worthy of being the main character and take us both out?"

Paimon shrieked and palmed her cheeks.

"W-Wait! Why don't we all just talk instead?!" Paimon screamed.

"Paimon's right."

Aether sheathed his sword back. You and Dain met each other's eyes, before staring at the traveler, confused.

"Jianfeng..."

His hand shakily pointed to your leg.

Saturated blood oozes from your open wound. No means a regular sight and unwise to call it a vibrant hue.

Your blood glitches.

It spills, yet evaporates into thin air. You stared at your wound as if it wasn't yours. You forgot that you were supposed to cover it, but–

Would a normal person's blood look like red-black cubes?

There's only one other person Aether knew had red-black cubes.

And it was the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles.

"Was I wrong…?"

Aether's knees buckled, shaking. His eyes stared up apologetically, mouth agape.

"Are you… The real Creator?"

...

Dainsleif went rigid. He felt the air shift but he needn't look behind. The Twilight Sword knew you didn't like that question at all.

Your expression dampened.

The Traveler had successfully provoked you.

"My Lord, please stand back."

…

The silence was unbearably long.

And then, you clicked your tongue.

"No." You said firmly. "No, I don't think I should."

You stomped your foot.

And the Chasm trembled.

The floating mushrooms scurried for a place to hide as the unstable foundations of the upside-down city crashed their weight down. The floating debris shook and fell in the sudden momentum– asphalt slimes shriveled and the cave's miniature plateaus slipped like pencil shavings with a thunderous thud.

Rubbles echoed every moment or two, threatening to collapse.

You can't think of a better way to answer him than this.

In one stomp of your foot, the underground mines shook as much as an ancient dragon's tantrums. There was no visible effort put into causing this phenomenon.

The air began to weigh heavily.

You stole Dainsleif's sword without him noticing before pointing it beside Aether's neck. You looked down on him with your chin up.

There was no divine work in play, no illusions, no elements. Every Archon both dead and alive knew that your measly power cannot summon the elements.

But gravity is in your hands.

"Enough." You commanded, voice cold and piercingly authoritative. "Just kill me, traveler. Kill me and go on your merry way, before I end this game right here– before the Chasm crumbles."

"Your Grace–"

Aether begged, kneeling on small shaky pointed rocks.

You let out a guttural groan, exasperated. He heard your throat strain itself as you answered him bitterly.

"WRONG. I am Their Impostor. Teyvat had abandoned me long ago. I bore no "divine" power nor "will" of my own, instead, Rhinedottir molded me to Their likeness."

If you told him that at the restaurant, Aether would've believed you. Your aura was akin to Albedo's, but there was something the chief alchemist lacked.

Divine blood.

You inched the blade closer. The blood that spilled from his neck was unlike yours. It was red. It was shapeless. They were not cubes.

"T-That doesn't sound right!" Came Aether's shaky reply. "You HAVE to be The Creator, Y-Your Grace! No one else can replicate your blood– and the way you shook the Chasm just now it's–"

Aether speaks like Lord Barbatos.

"And so what?"

"H-Huh?"

Enough.

You've heard this multiple times from Kairos.

Your blood began to boil.

Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

"So what if I look like Them? If I have Their powers?" You said, eyes lifeless.

"So what if I'm The real Creator? Do you think I'd come back? After how this world had treated me? That I would graciously fix this realm's problems. Am I a tool? A plot device like you? Do you think I'll motivate the Knights, help Morax find a replacement, reverse Inazuma's grievances, reinstate Rukkhadevata's form and dignity with the oh-so goodness of my heart?"

Aether gulped. He did not speak. You were right.

The Chasm continued to shake.

You gritted your teeth. "The greed in your eyes disgusts me. You've traveled far enough, surely you know how inherently selfish this world is? Aren't you tired, Traveler?"

There's one more thing hidden within his eyes that you forgot to mention.

Aether cried.

It was regret.

You put away Dainsleif's sword, clanking it down the floor. You smiled crookedly and cupped Aether's cheek,

before reaching for his neck.

"If you can't bring yourself to kill me, why don't we both stop breathing, together?"

"(Y/n), that's enough!"

Dainsleif ordered.

The vibrations stopped.

You didn't know what came over you. Was it survival instincts? Baseless hope? The desperation in his voice? Or a fragment of trust you had left from when you traveled with him?

Dainsleif reached his hand out. His frown was not a display of toughness, but genuine concern.

"It's no longer safe here. The Abyss Order has sensed our movements and I can tell they're heading our way. We'll leave. Now."

His hand looked welcoming, warm, and enticing, but your heart was not in it.

Your eyes wandered elsewhere.

You recalled a distant memory from long ago. Barbatos often told you that "He who leaves a good name does not die poor." and you wondered why. And so, you foolishly lived more than a hundred human lives in search of a proper answer. Immortality devours the soul, and you expected that after the fifteenth life you may not grasp the true meaning behind his ramblings.

But at that moment, you looked at Aether’s pained eyes and got your answer.

Ah.

"I got it."

You took a step back near the cliff's edge, facing the two men. Dainsleif gradually prepared himself for a sprint. The faint crunch of your shattered glasses resonated through the cave, and if you took another step, you'd fall.

Yelan's reports state that there should be a portal below this platform. It should be the same place Dainsleif warped from.

You're uncertain that it's still open.

But hey.

Haven't you always wished for something that only has a 50/50 chance?

"This is my farewell as Jianfeng, a tax accountant."

You jumped off with a big stupid grin.

For a brief moment, Dainsleif felt as if icicles were pressed against his internal organs. His eyes widened.

"LORD (Y/N)!!!"

He did not hesitate– your most loyal retainer dashed forward like a wild animal and jumped with you.

Aether watched how his Creator sank deep into the Chasm from above in pure horror.

You lost yourself.

This was the stupidest asspull you've ever done in the past 500 years.

You roared with laughter as Dainsleif pulled you close to protect you from the fall. He longed to hear your laughter, but this sound was disjointed and airy– an inexpensive imitation. Dainsleif closed his eyes and groaned almost inaudibly. He's been starving for your touch, and he can no longer hold back.

Dain snuggled against you, his fingers tangled in your hair. You smelled like violetgrass.

"I'll never leave you alone again." He whispered desperately, wanting to add that this was his new oath but couldn't due to lack of air, something you had plenty of. You did not hear it. All you heard were the flaps of his cape.

The air pressure prickles into your skin. As you both plunged into something similar to the abyss, his hands roamed around your back, keeping your scarf in place as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. You did nothing to stifle your misplaced laughter.

You wanted to tell her that you finally understood Barbatos' proverbs, his everything.

The portal should close soon, but you'll both make it.

Should your body rot away in the depths of Chasm's shallow wind, you hope to witness the endless cycle of life again without those azure-colored lenses–

"You can't leave me. Never."

–as no one else but Lord (Y/n) (L/n), and their most loyal retainer, Dainsleif, the Twilight Sword.

—-----------

“Your Highness, it appears that Dainsleif had captured Your Grace.”

“Traitor, but he kept his promise.” She spoke, not in a way that betrayed any emotions. The Princess said it as what it was: a fact.

In one hand, the Princess poured herself a glass of wine, elegantly gulping the contents in one go. She couldn’t be bothered to hold it with both hands when the other held a priceless artifact. Once she placed her empty glass on the silk-covered table, she lazily beckoned the Abyss Lector forward.

“Burn all the inteyvats left in the Chasm.”

The Lector, Enjou, hesitantly raised his head. “But Your Highness–”

“I did not cultivate them for my brother to find.” She said, looking at the cracked azure shards sitting on her palm. “It was for Them, and you failed to lead Them there.”

The Abyss Princess lovingly kissed the broken shards.

“I wonder…” Lumine looked up.

"What is it like to finally see the world without these glasses, Your Grace?"

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alvoskia · 1 year

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Welcome!

FAQ:

1) What is Alvoskia?

Pitched as TDP x ATLA x Six of Crows, Alvoskia is the over arching name for the planned series. In-universe, it’s a fictional country in the West of Vita’s Land, ruled by a democratic monarchy and boasting variety of kingdoms and independent states. It is very socialist in its structure and shares its borders with just about every other people, including elves, wolf-human shapeshifters, giants, and their primary rival / long time enemy, Kilvoskia, the two countries largely splitting the continent in two. It is, therefore, also the main setting, loosely, for most of the book(s).

2) What is an Infran?

One of eight reincarnated protectors, each bound to their own cycle and with their own unique power set consisting of 3-4 abilities. The Infrans are as follows: Life, Death, Water, the Moon, Fire, Knowledge, Time, and Blood. Their abilities include but are not limited to shapeshifting, elemental manipulation, death and shadow magic, dream sharing, telekinesis, and healing.

3) Who are the main characters?

All of the main core cast (seven in total) are important, but the main protagonist throughout is Ally, a resourceful if insecure Infran of Life who has lost access to her abilities and is trying to get them back (an ‘unchosen’ one if you will). The other two leads of the first book is her twin sister Jamie, the Infran of Death and an asshole with a heart of gold (think if Kaz and Inej from Six of Crows were one person) and their mutual friend, Flames, a prodigal Infran of Fire with an equally sunny personality and a dark past to run from. Things take a turn when Alvoskia is threatened with war/invasion, but with hope that the peace treaty can still be renewed.

4) What inspired the premise?

A lot of things, but growing up as a very ATLA obsessed kid, I always wondered how people in the Avatar-verse knew that the Avatar would, without a doubt, be a good person, as well was what it would be like if there was more than one Avatar running around, and they could disagree with each other. Thus, Infrans was born with a strong mythic foundation as well as a desire to subvert typical fantasy tropes over how certain tropes like elves, dragons, unicorns, and indeed chosen ones, are typically portrayed.

5) Themes?

A focus on the complications of friendship (jealousy, resentment, trauma, found family), religion (religious trauma and reclamation, chosen one status), war (what is worth fighting for vs knowing when to yield), and trauma (acceptance, grief, healing).

6) Representation?

Everyone in the main cast is a person of colour except for Bill, the resident healer. Everyone in the main cast is canonically queer (featuring bi-ace, bi, pan, genderfluid / nb, trans, aspec characters) except for Isuri, who I picture as cishet but can honestly easily be read as arospec. She is Islamic coded as well and wears a hijab equivalent. Ally’s journey with her abilities is allegorical for growing up ND in a lot of ways; she and Jamie belong to an in-universe minority religion somewhat reminiscent of Yazidism. Flames is canonically Autistic and uses both she/her and he/him. One of their main instructors is an amputee and more characters become disabled over the course of the series.

7) Triggers?

TW: death, some mild gore and blood, mentions of abuse and indoctrination, body horror, and very minimal mentions of animal abuse/death. If you read The Hunger Games or Six of Crows, you’re probably good here. There are is no SA, racism, homo/transphobia, or religious discrimination, although the series does touch on xenophobia sometimes (think TDP).

8) Where am I publishing wise?

In late March 2023, I received an offer of publication from an indie press I had queried the previous year. I have accepted this offer as of September 2023 and signed paperwork as of October 2023, with an expected March 2026 release date. More details will follow and some of the journey will be blogged about here under “dragons’ publishing adventures”!

Thank you for checking out this blog, reading this post, and potentially following this blog. I’ll probably post here a few times a week with word counts for revisions I’m making in my own time, playlists, some edits/moodboards, and small snippets of writing. I’m still working on the characters page but the ‘about’ and ‘writing’ is done for now. Feel free to send in any questions or DMs, I would love to hear your thoughts!

#ya lit #dragons rambles #alvoskia #representation #indie author #tumblr #writeblr

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rominadrawsart16 · 1 year

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Johnny Test: Ultimate Showdown!

After explaining basic stuff about main characters and the world where my spinoff takes place,now it's time for side characters!

Strating with the returning ones!

Sissy: Now this is the character that I wanted to redesign for a while ( which I did and it's on my Instagram if you haven't seen it), her design is somewhat inspired by Cherri Bomb from Hazbin Hotel, she now wears a lightning bolt earrings, a spiky collar on her neck, black t-shirt with dark red opened jacket, gloves with black and red stripes also with spiky bracelet, short dark pants with a belt and chains, different colored socks with one being gray with holes and the other with purple and black stripes and dark bots to give off more like "phonk" vibe. She is somewhat older than in the original series, being around 15 or so. Her personality is still the same with both being a rival and a friend to Johnny. And yes I brought her dog Missy back. Missy is topically the same as in original but the major difference being is that her dislike for Dukey is relatively low than usual but still sees him as a rival. Much like Johnny, she does manipulate lightning as well ( although she wears her necklace if it's necessary or in a battle)

Mr Black and Mr White: not much to say about them other than that they are same as in both revival and the original. You know the usual drill. They "spy" on the gang but only to fail in the end. They're designs are still the same but with more techniques and mutant powers. Since both of them are not humans even though they look like they do since in the first season explained the ropes coming out from they're hand. Other than that that's pretty much it for both of them. Since they do have mutant powers they don't wear necklace as others do.

Gil Nextdoor: His design and personality is roughly the same as in revival and in the original. Most of us remember this guy being a complete monkey in the show which he still is in the spin off as well. His "ideas" can mostly cause everybody ( minus Johnny, Susan and Mary) to get irritated by him even the villians. But that doesn't bother him much. And yes Susan and Mary are still lovestruck on Gil which is left unchanged. So far he's the only character not to obtain the necklace since because of his lack of intelligence, he will have a hard time controlling his powers which would lead into mass chaos. Individuals can obtain this necklace only if they now how to control they're powers, in his case he doesn't.

The General: he would be left unchanged and will still have his duty to be the government of the (well still unknown what town but somewhat same as the Porkbelly). His job will still remain the same as in both revival and the original.

Eugene Hamilton AKA Bling Bling Boy:

He would be slightly older than in revival and the original around 14 or so. His personality is roughly the same but mixed with revival and the original. Since this world is somewhat mixture of new modern technology and prehistoric life, he would quickly adapt to it to make his inventions more sustainable and upgraded. And with that he would start making any kinds of new weapons or invention just to impress Susan ( which it will fail). His "obsession" with Susan is remain present. His powers will most likely to be mixture of gold and light ( since most of the shinny objects are do contain light in it) however despite having powers, he can't summon his wings in order to fly, consider that you need to be "lightly-billed" in order for your wings to lift your body into the air, making him the only individual not to have the ability to fly due to his weight. But regardless he created a jetpack that allows him to fly without his wings.

With that being said now it's time for the elemental guardians!

Starting with:

Tupi the Tapejara: This guardian is described as a pterosaur with a large crest over his snout and a small crest on his jaw and has light blue eyes. His skin color is white with grayish clouds that was all over his body to symbolize as a wind element. His crest and wings were somewhat light blue. His species name Tapejara comes from a dead languages Tupi (which is his nickname that the locals refer to) which means "old being". He is relatively small pterosaur with his wing span being around 4.0-4.3 ft. Due to him being a guardian he like his other allies are immortals and lives high up in the sky though his shelter is on a highest top of a mountain which contains the wind orb. He is considered to be the most "matured" one but very much quiet. Though his element is wind he can summon tornados or any kind of storm to block his opponent's attack or just to keep them away. He will be one of the guardians to team up with Johnny in order to stop the villians.

Blitz the Deinonychus: Blitz is a small dromaosaurid being around 3 meters long. He is checky and very playful guardian and always up to challenge. He is described as a small dromaosaurid with his entire feathered body being yellow with white underbelly and has yellow eyes. He has black lighting bolts that behave like stripes on his body from head to tail and also on his arms as well. Some parts of his legs are not really feathered but has gray legs with black claws with only his second toe being somewhat "hook-like" claw. As his yellow body suggest he is lighting guardian which manipulates lighting and storm. This is why Tupi and Blitz are very good with each other. It is said to live on a mountain that contains the lighting orb. Because of him being a lightning type and has long legs,he can run pretty much fast. During any battle he mostly does the zig-zag move to fool his opponent which gives him time to tackle. He will also team up with Johnny in order to stop the villians.

River the Baryonyx: River is described as a big spinosaurid with his head being similar to the modern day crocodiles. His skin color is dark blue and his underbelly being light blue that are wave-like and has light blue eyes. He is the water element guardian that lives in a water cave deep below where the water orb is located. Much like Tupi, River is also bit matured guardian then Blitz. If any intruder comes by, River would unleash powerful waves, vortex hell even tsunami to stop them. Despite him being very much territorial, he can he understandable and kind if you don't mean any harm. He would team up with Johnny in order to stop the villians.

Pyro the Pyroraptor: Pyro is described as a small dromaosaurid similar to Blitz. Her body is red with only her hands and leg being mixture of orange and yellow and has yellow eyes. She is said to be the fire element and lives inside of an volcano were the fire orb is located. As a guardian she protects the orb from any intruders including Johnny and his gang. She is relatively calm but can get aggressive is she's frightened. Much like Johnny, she can trap her enemies in a ring fire or summon a fire wall that blocks the upcoming attack. She will be joining Johnny and the gang to stop the villians.

Edna the Edmontosaurus: Edna is described as a hadrosaurid (duck-billed dinosaur) and she is one of the largest hadrosaurid to live on this planet. Her skin color is green with light green underbelly and legs and has emerald green eyes. She resembles the grass element. It is said that she lives in deep yet beautiful forest cowered with all different kinds of flowers and plants were is the grass orb located. She is kind and peaceful guardian but can get disturbed with any loud noise considering that she lives in the most peaceful area on Earth. Since most of the herbivores including hadrosaurids are protrayed in different documentary's and films as weak and an easy pray, however these herbivores on this planet including Edna are capable of defending themselfs from any predator and danger (don't listen to the pop culture). Although her powers are not as powerful as other guardians, that doesn't mean she can take you out in a battle. One of her powers consist trap spells that can easily trap her opponent's, it may not do a lot of damage but it can hold her opponent's so tightly that eventually they won't be able to move at all. Aside from trap spells, she does have healing spells that can heal her injured friends, as well she has sleeping spell which knockes her opponent out (in another words they become unconscious due to her powerful flower smell). She alongside with her allies will join with Johnny and his gang to stop the villians.

And that's all about the side characters! Next post shall be the villians, new and old ones!

#johnny test #spin off #spin off series #concepts #side characters

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harper-collins · 2 months

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An Afternoon Alone

The Twins, The Triangle And The Magic oneshot!

Fluffy, a slight bit of angst and a small piece.

Set at the beginning of Year 5

The hustle and bustle of the house was getting a bit irritating, and although Dipper was pleased they didn’t have to stay at the Leaky Cauldron again, he did want to get out of the stuffy environment. Thankfully, he had just the right person to do that with. The brunette turned to look at a mirror to slick his hair back the way he used to. He knew the London weather would probably mess it up when he left the building, but he couldn’t help it.

A noise was made from behind Dipper, which made him jump, causing him to turn and see the almost adultified Bill Cipher in his complete form. He looked a lot more humane nowadays; he’d lost his edge, and although he wasn’t softer, he felt nicer to look at due to the organic way that he presented himself. He was still wearing fancy clothing outside of Hogwarts, but the blonde had grown and developed his human form so that Dipper couldn’t help but feel attracted to him all over again.

“I do feel a little bad about leaving Shooting Star with the grief she’s feeling right now, but I think it’s time that we let you walk around without her,” Bill grimly replied, moving towards the door. Dipper kept his eyes away from the blonde as he opened the door. “I feel the same way, but I just can’t sit next to her all the time. I can’t stay in the house either; it’s suffocating with grief,” Dipper replied, watching Bill shut the door to Grimmauld Place.

Dipper briefly reviewed what the demon had said before frowning and looking up at him. “Hey, I can leave the house by myself just fine!” he sharply replied, giving the other an angry push. Bill cackled for a moment before coming to his senses. “Still, Pinetree, I’m not letting you wander the streets of London without me. Voldemort is back, and even if we are trying to kill him, it’s probably a good idea to just be safe and protect ourselves by running away for the time being,” he murmured back, raising an eyebrow at the brunette. Dipper couldn’t tell whether the other eyebrow was raised, which made things slightly tricky.

“I’m not a child, Bill. I know how to handle myself,” he turned to look at the demon with a darkened expression, but Bill was merely shaking his head at Dipper. “You may be an adult mentally, Pinetree, but you are no match against an all-powerful wizard that even Dumbledore’s nervous about facing,” Bill chirped, walking towards a van selling food. Dipper blinked a couple of times, staring at the other. “Dumbledore’s nervous about facing Voldemort?” He repeated back.

“What?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bill carefully replied, a slight twinkle in his eye as he spoke. Dipper grumbled quietly; of course, the other was still keeping secrets. When wasn’t he? He moved on regardless, and the two approached the food van. Dipper let the demon pick an assortment of foods for them to share between the two of them. It was costly, but Bill didn’t seem to care about the prospect of money—only gold.

They continued walking into a small park they’d found nearby and frequented throughout the summer, regardless of the year. They sat down, opened their respective packets of food, and began to take in the summer atmosphere—while it lasted. Being in London was better than living in most of the UK, but it still got rainy. They took their time eating, which was the only logical thing to do when you had clear air. Or, at least, as straightforward as you could get in this day and age.

Dipper turned towards his partner and warily began to take in everything about him, all the details. First, there was his calm, relaxed expression as he ate. He seemed to enjoy their little trip, probably thinking about how they could blag it later. After all, no one knew about Bill yet. They just thought he was very weird. Despite his facial expression being quite relaxed, his body was less so. It was tense as he tightly held the sandwich in his hand. The other was holding his head as he awkwardly sprawled across his part of the bench, facing Dipper. The brunette could still tell that there was something wrong with the demon.

A thought then occurred to him. He had witnessed the death of Cedric Diggory just as much as Harry had. Yet… He wasn’t nearly as traumatised as an average individual. Although it felt pointless to point out that Bill wasn’t your standard individual, it felt like the other should still react. It wasn’t like he was soulless or anything. The brunette hesitated momentarily. Was he going to bring this up? Especially when they’d left the house to escape this exact subject.

Maybe… Maybe it was a better idea to ask later. As Dipper nodded to himself a little, moving without thinking, he looked back to the demon who was watching him with a quirked expression. He was intrigued, confused, yet interested. Dipper tried not to pay attention to his stare as he glanced away to stare at the trees further away from them, and Bill only chuckled slightly at the movement. Dipper tried to refrain from looking back at him, but the soft feeling of another’s skin touching his face made him look back at Bill, who gave him an empathetic expression.

Dipper moved back towards Bill, who kept his hand trailing across the other’s cheek, letting it slowly roam around the other’s face as if trying to memorise the other’s features. Dipper let it happen for about a minute before he put his hand on the other. Bill, who had gone dazed as he memorised Dipper’s features, jumped a little at the touch before relaxing and giving the grin he always gave. He took his hand off the other’s face. The brunette caught his hand before it dropped adequately.

“Your smile,” Dipper murmured to the other. “I want to see it.”

Bill smirked, not giving the response that the brunette had been wanting. Dipper only rolled his eyes at the display. “You know that’s not what I meant,” he pressed, watching the other’s expression as Dipper tightened his hand on the blonde. “I know, but you’re not getting me that easily, Pinetree,” he teased, tightening his hand around the other. The young male turned away, huffing and taking his hand back. The other’s grip had been getting too tight anyway.

“Awwww, c’mon Pinetree! Are you being a wimp?” He teased lightly. However, Dipper could only scoff and stand up, not disputing it and not saying anything to protect himself. Bill cackled as he followed the brunette’s train of thought before observing him. His expression had grown misty as if he could tell something was wrong. “It… It might be a good idea for us to head back now,” Dipper mumbled, glancing at the demon sharply.

Bill hummed for a moment before returning to the direction of Grimmauld Place. “Maybe… But there is something I’d like to talk to you about later,” the demon replied, retaking the other’s hand as he began to walk. Dipper didn’t say anything in reply to this. He just let himself be dragged with Bill. It was slowly getting cloudy as they trekked back to their temporary home.

With the world becoming the way it was, Dipper couldn’t help but feel that the weather was beginning to reflect the moody and scary place it was becoming. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much longer until they could finally get home. It was an unrealistic, wishful thought, but better than nothing. The two walked back reasonably quickly, and in a few minutes, they found themselves back in the dark and saddened environment. The two quietly went back inside, awaiting their fate for the evening.

#its a harry potter setting in a harry potter world #we are only focusing on a bigger branch #set at the beginning of book five #established relationship #having a walk #bill cipher keeping secrets #dipper pines is a bit avoidant but we ignore that #fluff #only angsty in the way that something has happened to bring the overall mood down a bit #but it doesnt directly affect the fic in that way #hope those tags make sense lol its been a while

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dannyphantom-rewrite · 3 years

Text

Timekeeper's assistants AU

Alright y'all! This is gonna be my info dump post for the Timekeepers assistant Au- buckle up cause it's gonna be a long one!

Inspired by @queendibz post here

The entire purpose of the assistant squad is to keep all the time lines running smoothly- this can range from stopping a world ending event to making sure things misplaced by natural ghost portals get put back into the right time and place.

So First up on the crew list,

Dan:

-Dan definitely isn't a homicidal maniac anymore but he's not 100 percent "redeemed" either.

-I mean he's probably still a bit of sadist but he tries not to be?

-The best description I can give is that he's in recovery, basically.

-So, Clockwork knew that Dan would eventually bust out of the thermos just because it wasn't built to hold a ghost of his power level for a prolonged period of time. But beyond that?? He has no idea about anything in regards to Dan. Since Dan's creation was averted, his timeline doesn't exist anymore. He's a paradox that exists outside of time, and unfortunately, that means he's the one entity in the multiverse that exists in Clockwork's blindspot. There's no way for him to know what Dan's going to do next.

-Anyway, Dan eventually breaks out of the thermos fully intending to Fuck Shit Up, And Clockwork makes a point of informing him that if he leaves the clock tower he will cease to exist. (Like Dan, the tower exists outside of time, so he's safe there.)

-Dan is the first member of the assistant squad. Granted, it took a while for him to come around to the idea of helping Clockwork but he got there eventually.

-Dan is an entity that was born out of the rage and grief of two very broken people and he has so much shit he's working through as a result

-One of the first things he had to do was recognize and accept that he's an entity that's completely separate from Vlad and Danny. He might have all their memories and the weight of their mistakes on his shoulders, and on top of that, the atrocities he himself committed because of them. The first step is realizing that he doesn't have to be defined by the people that made him.

-It's a really fucking difficult thing to do tho and he's got a lot of weird emotions in regards to Vlad, Danny and the Fentons as a result. A near constant identity crisis, self loathing, daddy issues, something that could arguably be called an Oedipus complex, (FUCKING THANKS, VLAD)

-Cannot stand the smell of fast food, it makes him nauseous and the sight of Nasty Burger sauce alone is enough to make him vomit Ectoplasm.

-He's just a hot mess all around y'all

-He tries to keep his interactions with the Danny's as minimal as possible at first bc of this. The first time he meets them in person he shape shifts into Danny like he did in TUE and just pretends to be one of them. Some of them have had interactions with their respective Dan's already and would be super wary of him and probably pretty freaked out otherwise.

-Dan is eventually allowed to leave the clocktower for supervised "Field missions" with the aid of a time medallion to keep him from poofing out of existence, but it takes a while for clockwork to build up that level of trust.

-Dan's shapeshifting ability Actually comes into play a bit on a lot of those missions, since he can Mimic Danny it also makes sense that he'd be able to impersonate Vlad in the same way. Granted he's not incredibly comfortable taking on either of their appearances but it does help him hone his shapeshifting ability to the point where he's able to pick and choose features from both Vlad and Danny and sorta make his own human disguise.

-Most of the time he acts as the eye in the sky from the tower, monitoring for timeline anomalies and then notifying the appropriate member of the assistant squad.

-He has a room under the clock tower that he operates from. I kinda like the idea of there being like, catacombs down there? Anyway he's got all kinds of monitors and view screens and he very rarely leaves. It also doubles as his "living space." He doesn't need to sleep but he's got a big mess of a pillow fort that he crashes in regardless bc sometimes you just NEED to be unconscious for a while. The catacombs are also absolutely full of those little blob ghosts that wander around the zone bc They're attracted to the ecto energy the tower gives off. He's really annoyed by them at first but they grow on him after a while and now he just dotes on them.

-There's a specific throw pillow sized one that likes to hang out in Dan's room a lot and he ended up getting a little over attached to the stupid thing. His name is Dorian. Bc he's a gift.

-SIR THATS MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT BLOB

-Dan's appearance has changed slightly. He wears his hair loose now and it's kinda just this big fiery mane when it's not contained. His cape is more of a cloak now, it has a hood and he wears it sorta pinned together at the shoulder so the DP logo is covered.

-Dan's relationship with the rest of the Danny's is kinda weird, and a little strained. He has a hard time being around them for very long because, well, he used to sort of be them? Except not really? He does care about them tho, and the last thing he'd want is for one of them to end up like him.

-His relationship with clockwork definitely starts out pretty familial, after he becomes his assistant, anyway. There's room for that to develop into meddling minutes but I'm not entirely sure if I'm gonna go that route yet.

-The Danny's only ever hear his voice for a while before he finally let's them meet him for real, so they end up calling him Charlie for a while as a joke. Cause Ya know. Charlie's angels. Even after Charlie still ends up being his designated name on missions.

Mer! Danny:

-Was recruited bc a lot of the shit that gets sucked through natural portals ends up in a body of water somewhere and when that happens he's on call to retrieve it.

-Is Actually not at all ghostly! Mer Danny's situation is basically the plot of H2O (just add water), or if you haven't seen that, Aquamarine. And by that I mean he's only a merfolk in water.

-He's an electric eel

-His Jack and Maddie are marine biologists, with a particular interest in marine cryptids

-We're taking sea monsters baby!!!

-Not entirely sure how this Danny ended up half mer yet but I'll figure it out, lmao.

-14 years old

-His nickname/ designation is "Moray"

Crown Prince! Danny:

-Nickname/designation is Prince / Princey

-16 years old

-Not allowed to go anywhere in the zone without the Fright knight bc of some ancient ghost law bullshit, so he has a constant babysitter.

-He's next in line bc he sealed away Pariah, but can't take the throne until he is both, A) at least 18 years and B) Completely deceased

-Vlad is his Regent bc he did have a part in the whole sealing the previous king thing, but he's also not completely dead so his power is super limited there.

-As Prince Danny has the crown of fire in his ghost form, although now the name is kinda ironic seeing as it's completely frozen over. It's blue now and it smokes like dry ice.

-As Regent, Vlad has the ring of rage for "safe keeping"

-Vlad and Danny are pretty much constantly at each other's throats, fright knights probably had to shut down more than a few of Vlad's attempts to usurp the crown from Danny through combat.

-Princey deals with the timeline issues that involve the ghost zones' internal / political affairs, and he's gotten very well versed with dealing with the Observants.

Winged! Danny :

-15 years old

-Mallard duck wings

-His Vlad is a swan

-Comes from a family of waterfowl, Jack is a goose, and Maddie is a white swan. Both he and jazz are ducks bc of their grandparents.

-As Fenton his wings are white, like jazz, and as phantom they turn black with a green iridescent sheen.

-He's trans

-Nickname/ designation is inviso Bill. Bc ducks have bills haha get it-

-Ghostly wail?? Nah son he's gotta killer QUACK

-Absolute besties with Mer!Danny/ Moray, sometimes they go swimming together after a mission.

Clone! Danny:

-Physically he's a 12-year-old, but he's only been alive for a few months.

-Alt universe where Vlad manages to stabilize the perfect clone with his own DNA.

-Dani still exists, and the original danny from his time line also rescued the other problematic clones.

-Doesnt like the fact that he's a clone, and very much wants them all DEAD. Bc them running around is a reminder that he's not the real danny.

-Human half looks the same aside from the widows peak and the mallen streak. His ghost half takes after plasmius. Blue skin, and the Hazmat kept it's original white colors.

-Probably has fangs and a forked tounge.

-Not so much a member of the squad as he is someone that they need to be keeping an eye on.

-Does NOT get along with them.

-Dan enjoys making him uncomfortable.

-Designation is Masters / the brat (not to his face tho)

Family Breakfast AU! Danny:

-A BABY

-The boy is a fucking overpowered todler okay. He's an 8 year old.

-The biological son of his Vlad, was born a Halfa. Jack, Vlad and Maddie got their shit together and are in a healthy poly relationship.

-Got separated from Vlad one time in the zone and inadvertently adopted by the assistant squad and clockwork.

-His Vlad is aware of the squad and just. Dad's the crap out of the Danny's as a result. It makes for some..... interesting interactions.

-I can't think of a nickname so I'm just gonna be lazy and say he gets to be the one Tru Danny bc cute little kind privileges lmao.

Full ghost! Danny:

-15 years old, will always look 14.

-Nickname/designation is Toast

-Died in the portal accident and got fucking FRIED.

-He always smells like somethings burning.

-He's really bright and sorta sparks a bit, you can see his bones glowing through the hazmat.

-He still leave the zone to protect his version of amity, but lives with clockwork full time.

Canon Danny (NOT PHANTOM PLANET COMPLIANT) :

-Basically show Danny, except phantom planet never happened fuck you

-Joined the crew after the events of de stabilized

-Also he's trans fuck butch

-Franken! Danny

-Yall remember that Headless Danny Au? This is my take.

-Is Actually 20 years old, but physically stuck at age 14. Bc he's a walking corpse :)

-Came from a timeline that was directly parallel to Full ghost! Danny. He dies in the portal accident, but jack and Maddie are in the lab when it happens and manage to sort of bring him back using a combination of science and freaky ghost junk.

-So he's basically possessing/ stuck inside of his own dead body. Which, is thankfully not rotting or going into rigor mortis bc Ectoplasm is rather similar to formaldehyde, but he's not the most durable thing and bits and pieces fall off from time to time.

-Like his head. For example.

-He's pretty desensitized to it at this point and if he loses a leg after a ghost fight he doesn't see anything wrong with sitting down on the curb of a main street to stich it back on. His being dead isn't exactly a secret.

-Don't ever ask him to "give you a hand" bc he can and will not hesitate to pop one off and Chuck it at you.

-Said hand and any other body part will continue to function just fine even if it isn't attached to anything, btw.

-Nickname/ designation is Adam. Bc. Ya know. that's the name Frankenstein's monster gave itself.

Post Phantom Planet! Danny:

-A very jaded 22 year old who is driven only by spite and enough caffeine to kill a horse

-Very, very tired of the hero thing.

-Being a global celebrity isn't all it's cracked up to be.

-Decided to follow Vlads lead and fuck off to space for a while. Partially to get away from everyone and also partially bc he kinda feels responsible for the fact that the only other person like him and probably floating DEAD in the void somewhere? And yeah Vlad fucked up all on his own but what if he'd tried harder to get through to him things could have been different-

-Joins the crew after a natural portal opens up in space and decides to help out and use clockworks resources to try and track down his Vlad.

-Nickname/ Designation is Polaris, aka the north star.

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greenhappyseed · 3 years

Text

BnHA Ch.318 - Comparisons and parallels

Hey, did you hear Bakugo was back? I kid! Of COURSE everyone on Tumblr heard the collective BKDK screams. :) While the gremlin ex machina is the big news, a lot of other good stuff happened too.

We open the chapter with more Endeavor chitchat. He’s turning out to be a good coordinator, an insightful investigator, and all around worthy of being a top pro…except he’s still a crap father and still doesn’t seem to care about human beings. Even here with Deku, he appears to express concern over Deku’s wellbeing but immediately follows it up with:

Yup, he only cares about Deku as the OFA holder, not the kid who saved him in the war, the kid who used to intern for him, or the kid who’s friends with his kid. Ugh.

Deku swears to Endy that he’s fine because he’s still on his feet, but that’s a pretty poor standard. I mean, he’s wobbling and needs Blackwhip as a literal crutch. The vestiges agree with Endy and start to gang up on Deku, so Deku, in all his tired teenage wisdom, decides to ghost them. Apparently you CAN ghost a vestige, and Fourth is not here for it.

Holy heteromorph discrimination! All the villains we see Deku fighting are heteromorphs (some are even dressed like Spinner). We also see Deku fighting a gigantic shark-headed villain in the water, presumably because Gang Orca and Selkie were busy.

I LOVE the panel of Deku thinking of his family, his teachers, and Eri. This is what he’s fighting to achieve, but Deku’s perceptions (goals?) don’t necessarily line up with reality.

His mom is first (awwww) and she’s cheering for him like she did when he was little. NOT worried, not crying, just pure joy for her hero son, like he fantasized when he was a quirkless boy.

Gran Torino in his hero outfit, smiling and eating — NOT as Deku last saw him in the hospital.

Proud Dadmight with a genuine smile, NOT hero All Might. Also, All Might appears to be wearing his track jacket, not a business suit, so presumably Deku is thinking about a more casual training moment with his mentor. This is an interesting contrast to Gran Torino, who Deku DOES picture as a hero even though Torino handed his cape to Deku in the hospital.

AIZAWA GLARING WITH BOTH EYES AND HIDING HIS MOUTH, because THIS is how Aizawa looks in Deku’s happily ever after. But we all know Aizawa is probably hiding a sly smile under under his capture weapon, right??

Eri, finally smiling freely, because she’s learned how.

Also, it looks like Deku is again fighting heteromorphs at the bottom of this panel, although one of the kids he’s defending appears to have a duck bill, so we have some positive representation too.

Deku says he wants everyone to live their lives in peace and safety so they can smile together. Wow, where have we heard an idealistic kid say that before?

As Deku thinks about the ideal he shares with All Might, he arrives at Kamino, the place where “All Might” ended. Deku nearly collapses and meets his end when he sees a villain called Dictator, who was sent by AFO. Yup, Nagant wasn’t the only one sent by AFO, she just thought she was (and AFO didn’t prep her well — by comparison, Dictator received a full briefing about Deku). But look carefully at how Dictator uses different insults than AFO. He doesn’t call Deku useless or a boy (as both AFO and Nagant did), even though the imagery throughout this chapter points to the “what can you even do?” bit from Chapter 1. Instead, Dictator calls Deku reckless, impatient, and a loner.

“Rampage” in particular, calls back to this AFO/Yoichi exchange during the vestige battle, where AFO decried “rage” as being ruled by emotion and out of control, but Yoichi praised it as a form of passion.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I think AFO is increasingly afraid of Deku. AFO is putting more effort into prepping his assassins, and his pass-through insults are sounding more like the taunts he hurled at All Might. AFO is now referring to All Might as useless and Deku as reckless. If, somehow, we see Dictator in the next chapter, I’m curious if he’ll explode or bust out a second quirk…..He does say taking Deku to AFO will bring him security, so I think AFO explicitly threatened him. All I’m saying is, it’s weird that a villain named Dictator has no mission statement or political end he’s trying to reach. He seems to be acting purely on AFO’s orders or ELSE, which means AFO is getting desperate and doesn’t have time for games. By contrast, AFO persuaded Nagant the boy would stop hero society from collapsing, therefore her goal and AFO’s goal were aligned. Unlike Dictator, she wasn’t aware there was an “or else;” she didn’t know she would explode if she exercised “free will.”

Deku snaps out of his stupor long enough to challenge Dictator to give up AFO’s location. Dictator says if Deku wants a fight, he’ll give him one, which echoes a line from AFO in Kamino:

There’s no more “come quietly if you want to keep your limbs,” it’s straight to “let’s fight!”

FINALLY! We. See. Bakugo! I adore how Deku is piled under bodies, twisting his tired brain around, thinking “I need a strategy,” and Bakugo is just, “VILLAIN GO BOOM!” with a precision blast. He knew exactly how to get the villain while keeping civilians safe. Perfect victory (assuming Dictator is truly done). Also, Bakugo’s “that punk” could apply to either the villain or Deku. :) It’s a nice callback to the final exam when Deku can’t think of a strategy to win against All Might and Bakugo was, “I choose violence against my childhood idol.” Both times, Bakugo’s right — sometimes a little rage is necessary to save and win.

I have thoughts on AFO and the “my body moved without thinking” bits that I’ll post separately. As for my next chapter hopes and dreams:

More Bakugo and UA kids. Plus All Might and Stain. And some LOV love pleeeeease.

Figure out why Second is being sus. He says saving everyone is the right path for Deku (contrary to AFO, who calls Deku’s path “thorny”), and that inaction is not an option for OFA holders. We also know Second believes victory = life and defeat = death, so it makes sense he’d push Deku towards victory no matter the cost. Second also says there’s something that can bolster Deku, which is presumably Bakugo and friends. However, when Bakugo arrives, Second doesn’t look pleased. Assuming he’s standing the same way against his throne chair as he is at the start of the chapter, then in the panel below Second is looking over his LEFT shoulder AWAY from the other vestiges and towards the expanse of the OFA mind realm. (Earlier in the chapter he looks over his RIGHT shoulder to speak to Yoichi and Third.) WHY YOU LOOK AWAY FROM VESTIGE FRIENDS WHEN WHEN BAKUGO APPEARS??? ARE YOU ON THE LOOKOUT FOR AFO TO ARRIVE??

Although the arrival of foreign heroes has been promised for a bit, and I’m ok with some background forces to bulk the hero ranks, I’m not keen on new cannon fodder cameo characters that will show up for 4 chapters and then disappear. A Captain Celebrity appearance would be fun, but let’s be honest, he likely noped out of going to Japan to fight villains gone wild. If Death Arms quit, there’s no way Captain Celebrity would keep going!

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thefemdomenchantress · 3 years

Text

The Enchantress: the Century Woman

The hero has a specific maneuver for whenever he encounters a sudden possible threat. He does not react offensively, not willing to bear the tragedy of slaying somebody who meant no harm. He simply raises his shield in a manner that anybody would recognize as a threatening way. This defensive maneuver protected him if the possible threat was, indeed, a threat, but allowed non-combatants a chance to explain themselves.

This maneuver was not perfect as it was still possible to interpret the raising of the shield as a promise of battle, but nine times out of ten it prevented an unnecessary fight against a non-combatant.

This time, however, the noncombatant...attacked.

The hero has spent ten minutes fighting the being: a humanoid woman twice as tall as any man. A creature the hero has never seen before in his travels...

Her visage is unnerving. Eyes larger than normal. Her hair silver, but with bright orange ends, and a some evidence of blue strands. Large shoulders beneath her gown of royal blue, and large tentacles for arms that she uses to bludgeon the hero around the abandoned house. Instead of buttons or lace the front of her gown seems a sideways jaw full of sharp fangs. The rare moments the hero got to see her legs beneath her full length gown he saw two long, muscular thighs and calves.

But her voice... her voice is that of a regular woman in her fifties or so. Her cries of battle hold no malice, only fury.

The hero would parry and escape her blows, but he finds himself unable to harm her. His instincts tell him she is fighting out of fear and indignity. He is an intruder, after all.

Hero: Please! Let’s stop fighting! I’m sorry for intruding, I was only here on a job!

The blows stop. The creature woman looks at him. The hero lowers his sword, but does not leave himself unprotected. His shield remains up.

Hero: Recently... the will of the owner of this estate, a duke who died one year ago, has been read. His family was shocked that this summer villa was left not to his descendants but to an unknown woman. I was hired by the family to investigate...

The large eyes of the creature grow at the mention of the duke.

Hero: . . . Is the woman you?

The creature nods. The hero lowers his sword slightly.

Hero: . . . You’re a shape shifter?

She nods again. She sits down on a tall desk, letting documents drop to the floor. It creaks slightly against her weight. She mutters...

Shape Shifter: My lord... left me this house...

Hero: He also left you four hundred silk bills. Enough to live on for quite some time...

The shape shifter looks up at the hero.

Shape Shifter: Money, too? I’m...

She sobs into her tentacles. She seems so human despite her appearance. The hero places his sword against the wall and reaches for a pouch full of money. He approaches the shape shifter but she is too distracted to take the money

Hero: . . .My lady. . . Just to clear things up, may I ask. . . What is your relationship to the late duke and his family?

She calms down, although her story is told between sobs.

Shape Shifter: I have no... no relationships to his family... They have no knowledge of me... I... I was... His alone...

She stands up and ceases her crying. She looks down at the hero.

Hero: This form... is it your original form?

Shape Shifter: No. I am a century changeling. An immortal race who live our eternal lives in one hundred year cycles. At the beginning of each of our one hundred years we take new shapes... But I can not change perfectly. With each form we take there are parts we cannot discard until the end of the century, where we shed our old forms and begin anew...

Hero: Then what is this form?

The changeling smirks.

Shape Shifter: Would you believe me if I told you that fifty years ago I took the form of a regular woman? I was homeless and the duke found out about my race. He took me in, allowed me to stay in this estate, as long as he lived. All he wanted out of me... was my body...

Hero: You... were his mistress...

Shape Shifter: You’re too flattering. He treated me as more of a concubine... Not that I minded...

The hero cannot believe the story. But the way the tall changeling towers over him... Her strange large shoulders were off putting at first, but now that she stands over him they make her look regal...

Her gown is modest, but he notices her rather large bosom...

But everything else! The large eyes... The tentacles... The teeth dress...

Shape Shifter: You have questions... At first he was a plain man... But soon he began to realize the potential of my powers in our sex lives...

Hero: Oh Gods...

Shape Shifter: You know how bizarre men can get. Vanilla sex began to bore him after our first ten years together... He had wants, and needs. I was a good concubine. With just a little encouragement and prying I made him admit some of his fetishes. They were tame at first... He wanted me taller... Shapely, muscular thighs... But as he grew bolder his fetishes morphed. Encouraged by my shape shifting, he wanted stranger things. Tentacles. Technicolor hair...

Hero: That’s almost reasonable compared to the... the um...

Shape Shifter: The dress? Yes, for some reason he wanted my gowns to “swallow him” into sex. Strange and perverse, but I complied.

The changeling’s dress mouth “opens up,” revealing her shapely nude body beneath. The sight causes the hero’s imagination to stir. He shifts awkwardly, hoping the shape shifter does not notice.

Shape Shifter: At first my shoulders were just a natural consequence to support the tentacles, but he soon wanted me to keep them... I never understood that. I suppose it was in fashion for queens and princesses to wear padding beneath their shoulders a few decades ago. He must have been watching those royal dames... The dirty old pervert...

She pronounces “pervert” with a strange fondness...

Shape Shifter: With each strange fetish my body was permanently changed. Large eyes, small fangs, a long dextrous tongue... Now I have become... THIS as a result. I did this all for him, but I was fine. I was fine because he loved it. He lavished my body with praise, and drew such satisfaction from it, and I felt loved. And now he’s gone, and I’m stuck like this.

She wraps her body with her tentacles, as though ashamed... And although she is crying and the hero desperately wishes otherwise, her monstrous form has begun to captivate him...

Her shapely hips, her bright eyes, the handsome curvatures of her mature and aged face...

And as for the parts of her that are not human...

her tentacles are thick and powerful...

her height so domineering...

her bizarre dress that opens and closes like a mouth, so dangerous and yet there was something exciting and arousing at how it can turn from modest but form fitting to lewd and revealing... and could gobble him up...

the shape of her large, muscular shoulders were the hardest to latch onto, but the hero has found himself aroused even by them, longing to touch them...

Shape Shifter: I can’t leave this house! I can’t change into something normal now. I’m trapped. Even with the money he’s left me. For a year I came close to cursing his name. How could I not? I never knew he cared enough about me to mention me in his will... I... There’s no one out there who could appreciate this body but him... No one can love this bundle of strange, ghastly fetishes... My only hope being that it is almost time for my form to renew...

The hero’s body seems to disagree. Behind his shield he hides a barely controlled erection. He takes a step back, praying she will not notice... Notice that he is weakening...

Hero: I’m sure it’ll all work out...

Not good. The changeling looks down at the hero. She noticed the nervousness in his voice. Her tentacles unravel around her body, her gown opens slightly. She approaches him...

Shape Shifter: Young man...

Her tentacle easily whips his shield away... He tries to hide but she holds him still... She gets a good look at his blushing face... and very visible lump in his pants...

Shape Shifter: It can’t be...

The hero can see her nude body within the toothy split of her dress... The duke must have at one point had normal desires, as her breasts are large, though they droop and there are visible veins like any regular human at a certain age. But they are still beautiful...

Her waist is large and round...

Her legs are muscular as tree trunks.

The hero is utterly captivated. The changeling’s “grotesque” and “inhuman” face that he once feared looks down at him. There is a light smirk, a brightness in her large eyes...

Shape Shifter: Young man... please take off your clothes...

The hero’s panic and attempt to flee is short lived as the tentacles bind around his limbs tight. He can’t resist as she pulls him closer... Her dress’s mouth opens wide and he sees her bare body.

Shape Shifter: I can’t believe you, boy... You’re just as depraved as my young lord, and at such a young age...

She pulls his face to hers and kisses him. Her long and dexterous tongue invades him and it is wonderful. He squeals in protest, but also in passion.

Her tentacles pull his pants down, his shirt off... His belt falls to the ground with a clunk of tools and coin pouches. His light armor and trousers as well. His bare body is pulled toward the grotesque and horribly arousing body.

He passes through the dress’s jaw. The teeth, although sharp, are pointed inward. His restrained body comfortably slips right in, but could never get out. He ceases struggling, partly to avoid being hurt by the fearsome gown mouth, but also because his entire front half is pressed against the shape shifter’s gorgeous feminine body and he can think no more...

Her breasts smother him, his cock pointed to the side, pressed against her crotch, his balls bullied and teased by the tips of her tentacles... She allows his hands to cling to her muscly shoulders. He can feel the smooth skin, the hills of strong muscles...

Finally, she lets his cock slip into her vagina.

But it feels different... the inside of her vagina is... tighter. Tighter than normal... And ribbed... And her hips begin to vibrate inhumanly fast... She whispers into his ears...

Shape Shifter: Oops... I did not mention, did I? As he grew older his cock needed more... support...

The hero is not paying any attention as he is too busy screaming in ecstasy...

But she slows down before he cums...

Shape Shifter: How resilient are you, boy?

She looks down at his face half buried in her cleavage. His eyes, moist from passion, meets hers. Large, wide, and bright. He becomes lost in them.

Shape Shifter: It doesn’t matter... I’ll make you last.

She brings her prisoner up to the bedrooms.

*** *** ***

It is mostly riding. Her heavy weight atop his small human body, her form expertly molded to squeeze pleasure out of an old man... The hero’s young and perfectly virile body stood no chance.

She pries out his fetishes, his secrets, and takes advantage. Her strange, seemingly disgusting body, is a perfect match for his repressed imagination... Binding tentacles, a hungry gown, and mighty muscles... The hero is defeated against all of these.

Her vagina feels like a sex toy, designed for pleasure. But make no mistake, it is fully sensitive and she feels everything. In fact, she cums more than he does. She does not let him become too excited, letting him orgasm at the end of one hour long cycles of play.

They have sex long into the night, all the way to morning...

*** *** ***

The hero is exhausted, his eyes open with difficulty. She strokes his hair lovingly with her tentacle...

Shape Shifter: I didn’t believe there was a man in the world who would get hard for me like this... let alone one so passionate...

She chuckles.

Shape Shifter: I almost don’t want to let you leave.

She stands up. The hero watches as she retrieves the bag of money she inherited. She smiles at him.

Shape Shifter: Boy... tell the family of my lord they may have this house. I will need it no longer. I’ll be taking the money, however.

Her body begins to glow as bright as fire.

Shape Shifter: Thank you. For letting this form experience lust one last time.

There is a prolonged flash, and then it dies down. Her body is the size of a normal human now. She is silvery, with no face aside from two glowing eyes. Featureless and sexless and beautiful. Holding her pouch of in her hand she gives a curt nod and walks toward the exit.

The century changeling leaves to begin its next century.

The End

***

[This is how I picture sex with an alien would be like]

#NOT SFW #changeling #the enchantress

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route22ny · 3 years

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Survivor stories: Death, loss and selflessness during the pandemic

By Jacqueline Cutler / New York Daily News

Those days when the word corona made you think beer or crown feel like long-gone innocence.

So much happened during these 18 months that how we’re reacting to different phases of the pandemic and how survivors are coping are worth documenting.

“Voices from the Pandemic: Americans Tell Their Stories of Crisis, Courage and Resilience” is a powerful reflection on the last year and a half. Pulitzer-winning journalist Eli Saslow has managed the near-impossible: He makes you want to read more about the pandemic.

This doesn’t bother with maps of where the virus is spiking or death tolls. It can’t be of the moment. Instead, it’s the story of all of us — those who have taken every precaution and those who refused to acknowledge COVID’s deadly path.

Done in the style of the late great Studs Terkel, these are oral histories as the history is happening. Each section has people sharing their stories in their words.

Sure, it’s edited for clarity, but there’s no spin. It’s unfailingly fair: When a tenant recounts her eviction, the next entry is from a landlord who exhausted her savings trying to not evict people.

Even though we think we know the stories of the pandemic, we can’t – at least not all of them. And we never may. Saslow carefully selected a cross-section of people; some who have since died, some who recovered, some who never may.

Saslow reminds us of the first whisperings. On Jan. 4, 2020, there was news about what was considered a pneumonia outbreak in China. Five weeks later, it had a name, COVID-19.

A month later, life as we knew it stopped.

“She’s dead, and I’m quarantined,” Tony Sizemore, of Indianapolis, says of his love, Birdie Shelton, in the first entry from March 2020. “That’s how the story ends. I keep going back over it in loops, trying to find a way to sweeten it, but nothing changes the facts. I wasn’t there with her at the end. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I don’t even know where her body is right now, or if the only thing that’s left is her ashes.”

With that gut-wrenching opening, we’re off. We meet dozens of people we’ve never heard of, which is precisely the point. Everyone knew when Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson were among the first celebrities to get COVID.

But this book introduces Bruce MacGillis, a man in an Ohio nursing home. He refused to let temp workers who couldn’t wear masks correctly get near him and isolated himself until he was vaccinated.

“I’m a hard-ass about this stuff, and I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he told Saslow. “I can’t afford to take chances.”

Some who tell their stories are the superheroes of the pandemic.

A shift leader of a nursing team in Detroit, Sal Hadwan, recounts insane shifts. While we celebrate and honor health care workers – now more than ever – the dire conditions they were working under were horrifying. Remember garbage bags serving as protective gear? Some had one mask per shift.

In April 2020, Hadwan said: “We’re basically handling the most severe cases in the ER, which is not our training. These nurses don’t have a second to relax. You’ve got one patient’s oxygen running out and another whose heart rate is going wild. All you can do is try your best to hear the alarms and then sprint as fast as you can from one emergency to the next. You hope you make it in time. Sometimes you don’t.”

Naturally, it’s bleak. But there are also stories of humanity at its best.

Burnell Cotlon of New Orleans (pictured above) turned his grocery store in the Lower Ninth Ward into a food pantry. He couldn’t afford to, but some of his neighbors couldn’t afford to eat.

As he said in April 2020, “Last week, I caught a lady in the back of the store stuffing things into her purse. We don’t really have shoplifters here.” He knows the customers in his two-aisle market. The woman swiped a carton of eggs, hot dogs, and candy bars.

“She started crying,” Cotlon told Saslow. “She said she had three kids, and her man had lost his job, and they had nothing to eat and no place to go. Maybe it was a lie. I don’t know. But who’s making up stories for seven or eight dollars of groceries? She was telling me, ‘Please, please, I’m begging you. How are we supposed to eat?’ I stood there for a minute and thought about it, and what am I going to do?”

Colton started running tabs – for the first time. He went from having zero customers on credit to 62 within a month. He kept giving to neighbors until he fell three months behind on his mortgage.

In a postscript, Saslow adds that when Colton’s generosity became known, online fundraisers brought in $500,000. Naturally, he put it to great use: forgiving his customers’ debt and beginning construction on a subsidized apartment building. “He also gave out free school supplies and turned his store into a free vaccination site for the community.”

Every page in this is sobering. Every story chilling, relatable, and absolutely forthright.

For those who lost their jobs and who were living paycheck-to-paycheck, rent became impossible to pay. To lose your job, your health, your relatives and now your home is unbearable. Granted, the news often focuses on the tenants, while many of us assume landlords only take time out from counting their money to harass tenants.

It’s a lot easier to feel for the tenants, who are doing all they can.

Saslow interviewed Tusdae Barr, evicted during the pandemic. Although money was tight before COVID, Barr was making rent with everyone in her family chipping in — until work dried up. Barr eventually found herself ousted, then in cheap motels, and finally with relatives.

If you never thought you could sympathize with a landlord, meet Jayne Rocco of Deland, Fla. She became a landlord 25 years ago when broke, reeling from a divorce. Rocco found a lender, bought and fixed up a cheap house, then flipped it and bought two houses. She continued doing this until she had 10 properties, none fancy. Rocco’s profit was about $40,000 a year pre-pandemic.

Trying to help her tenants and pay her bills, Rocco exhausted her savings. She’s still trying, and still has troubles. With some of the people featured, their troubles are financial. For some, such as a newlywed, former athlete Kaitlin Denis, of Chicago, the effects of long-term COVID, are medical. She’s drained and can barely get out of bed.

And some trying to help, such as Amber Elliot, county health director in Farmington, Mo., found herself threatened with anti-vaxxers posting photos of her kids online.

The book ends with a leading voice of science. Stanley Plotkin, 88, a virologist, “developed the rubella vaccine that’s now in standard use throughout the world.” He’s worked on other life-saving vaccines and consults for the World Health Organization.

“Parents can expect their children to grow up, and that’s a relatively new thing,” Plotkin told Saslow in January. “It shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

If this pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that nothing can.

(source)

#life during covid #NYDN #eli saslow #voices from the pandemic #get vaxxed

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elmidol · 3 years

Text

Dirt You Created [Tyki/Reader] NSFW

originally written October 23, 2013

A/N: As stated, I am going to be posting a few of my older one-shots on here from DGM. I do plan on writing some new ones rather soon here, beginning with Tyki/RC. I am scheduling a batch of them now, which will all include this A/N.

These ones are unedited and include (y/n), which I no longer use in my current writing. Nothing wrong with it; just a personal preference. I do also want to state that there may be instances of mentions of face reddening and such, which I now know is not inclusive.

Fic Warnings: contains rape (not from Tyki; the Tyki/Reader portion is consensual); sex; canon-typical violence; slight plot;

Title is based on the song “Whore” by In This Moment

It had been a great honor to even look upon the gentlemen and ladies who entered your masters' home. You, a lowly servant girl, had been cleaned and primmed to look presentable. Still, you were not to speak to a single soul save for when you were spoken to, and even then short, simple answers were to suffice. Perhaps that was what had sparked your interest the most. The inability to speak to the man who garnered so much attention from the gathered guests. Even the hosts, your employers, paid him special attention.

Accustomed to being treated as nothing more than furniture, you were unsurprised and only slightly affected at the sight of the mistress's daughter emerging into your room along with the attractive gentleman. Their lips were locked together, smacking noises issuing from the pair as they further entered what the young lady referred to as a 'closet' and made their way to the bed. The girl placed the man's hands on her chest, his hands groping and caressing the mounds that were hardly concealed by the front of her dress. Why, if you had had such an outfit, you thought, you would have treated it with far more respect. As it was, you averted your gaze and set about to sorting what rags you did own from your position on the floor.

It was nice to be tucked away in a corner while the two enjoyed themselves on your bed. You shuddered at the idea of such sullied sheets you would be forced to occupy. Your eyes wandered about the ground. Perhaps you would slumber there for the night. You continued your silent nature when the master's daughter slipped out from the gentleman's embrace. You did not doubt there had been a lack of penetration; such young ladies kept their virginity intact even if every other part of them were whored out. She left your room after whispering to the man that her parents would doubtless be looking for her.

The gentleman chuckled, stretching out on the mattress and watching as the door was closed behind the female with whom he had just enjoyed himself. You paid him little attention, although your eyes did dart towards a certain portion of his anatomy. You had never before seen one so large despite the many lovers the young lady had brought into your room. The task of sorting out your clothing complete, you raised your head to observe the man. He had reached behind himself, slipping his arms under the pillow that he moved around his head. He paused, his brow furrowing, and withdrew a tattered photograph.

"Please put it back," you said, your voice cracking initially from its lack of use.

The man, clearly startled by your presence, did a double-take. His eyes widened and a hue of red crossed his features. He returned the photograph to its previous position then quickly set about covering himself up. As he tugged up the zipper, you moved over to the side of the bed and took the photograph. Clutching it to your chest, you watched as the man kept his eyes trained on you. His gaze wandered up and down your body a few times before returning to your face.

Not once did he speak a single word to you. You were quite used to this as well. Most aristocrats regarded you as nothing more than the help; as though that made you less of a human. Instead he was much too preoccupied with fixing his clothing, ensuring that he looked quite presentable. The man was nearly finished with this task when two of his male friends poked their heads into the room. They teased him for his latest bounty quite a bit before the shorter of the pair caught sight of you. He shifted into the room, walking over to you and touching you, appraising you as though you were cattle.

You stood with your chin slightly raised in the air, not uttering a single word. To do so would only incur punishment; be it from this man or from your master later. It did not surprise you that there was only minimal protest from the two other gentlemen present when their companion began tugging at his belt. He undid the front of his pants and wrestled you onto your already dirtied bed. You stared up at the ceiling, aware that the two other male parties in the room were watching as your virginity was taken by force. You refused to cry, to do more than grit your teeth and wait for it to all be over.

Likewise, when after the guests had all left and you were alone with your master and his family, you said nothing as your master berated you. His daughter had used you as a scapegoat to get out of punishment yet again. She had said that she had caught you entertaining men in your room. And your sheets had been her proof. When your master had his wife shove two fingers into your opening, she withdrew them to find, indeed, a man had been inside of you.

For weeks did you struggle through their punishments. Perhaps such cruelties would have continued had it not been for strange men appearing at your master's door, stating that you were to be taken away. That you were a potential. Potential what, you hadn't the slightest idea. Nor did you particularly care. You followed them out of the home you had known for a good portion of your life.

In silence did you endure your first years within the Black Order. Training to become a better fighter, to prove that you were indeed worthy of the Innocence that had chosen you. All the built-up frustrations from the years in your former master's home and your rape, you used it all to fuel your resolve. Those in Central even commented on how you impressed them. Regularly they began to have you sent out on missions. You learned to defeat akuma, the creations of the Millennium Earl.

When news of the Noah family arrived, you were not the least bit concerned. In your mind, you would view them as nothing more than an enemy to defeat, much like the akuma. Your first encounter, however, had left you nearly dead.

You had not believed that you would ever see his face again, much less in that sort of setting. The gray-skinned gentleman's countenance was unmistakable. Your knees had buckled when he had stepped into view, the organ in his hand being consumed by the carnivorous butterflies known as Teez. He had mocked you in a lilt, stating that you were quite young to be an exorcist. Too pretty, he had said.

Gritting your teeth in the anger that consumed your heart, you had launched yourself at him in a fury. The Noah, eyes wide, had just enough time to block your attack. The mace-like Innocence that you had nearly met the side of his head on your next attack. He ducked at the right time, his hand thrusting forward. You had felt the limb enter your body--go straight through your body as though you were made up of nothing other than air. This was it, you had told yourself. I'm going to die.

The instant he had looked up into your face, however, his hand--which had been on its retreat, ready to snatch an organ--froze. You stared at him, your face quite expressionless, and your eyes were trained on his. "...you recognize me, don't you?" you asked, your voice quiet and neutral. "You don't have to stop on account of our past, Mister Mikk." His limb trembled while inside you, his face assuming a morbidly amused expression. He reminded you quite of a Jack-o-lantern. "Or would you prefer to just stand aside and watch...an akuma could do it."

Tyki straightened his posture, covering the bottom half of his face--his twisted grin--with his free hand. It took him several seconds to get himself under control. When he had, the man removed his hand from your body without stealing a single cell. "I had been told your contract was terminated for promiscuous behavior." You snorted. You pretended his words fell on deaf ears even though your heart ached at the memories they invoked. "When I told Earl Markuson of what had occurred, he had said it didn't matter."

"It doesn't," you said in a deadpan. Tyki blinked at you, his lips twitching then pressing tightly together into a frown. "Oh, I see." You rolled your eyes. "You had a shred of decency in you and were able to feel guilt."

"I--"

"You don't even know me." You cocked your head to the side, adjusting your grip on your Innocence. "And besides, Mister Mikk, we're now enemies." Your mace had met his arm with a sickening smack.

By the end of the battle, it was you who had been injured the worst. A broken arm, several lacerations on your legs. Your Innocence had been damaged, although you had managed to keep it from being destroyed. Komui had fussed over it but repaired it all the same. It would not be the last time either. On five different occasions did Tyki Mikk damage your Innocence and leave you injured. During each occurence, the man had tried to start up a conversation, met only by your silence.

This sixth incident had you baffled. Tyki Mikk had approached you wearing his human skin. He had offered to pay for an outstanding bill the hotel you were vacationing in demanded you settle. You, having no money to your name, could only watch in silence as Tyki handed the coins over to the manager. You pressed your lips tightly together and frowned. Once the bill had been paid, you turned on your heel and left without a word to the Noah. Tyki swore under his breath and hurried after you, much to your dismay.

When he caught up, his hand seized your wrist and tugged lightly so that you were forced to stop. Without looking over your shoulder, you listened to what he had to say. "I had thought you'd done it before." You were not quite sure to what he was referring for several seconds until the realization dawned on you. You snarled; as though whether or not you were a virgin made rape any less brutal! You snatched your arm away. "Look, it's...(y/n), right?"

"Nope."

Tyki made a noise of confusion that had you turning your head to look at him. A light blush came to your cheeks upon noticing how flustered he had become. He looked nothing of the suave gentleman you had seen at your former employer's estate. You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head and hating yourself for even speaking to him.

"Look...what the hell do you even want? Forgiveness? It doesn't even matter anymore."

Tyki sighed, withdrew a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. He puffed a few times on the smoke stick while watching you. You raised a brow. "I'd been worried he had knocked you up. That it was the reason you were forced to leave."

"Oh." You rolled your eyes again. "Your friend doesn't have some bastard child out there, you don't have to worry." He was frowning again. For some reason this was beginning to annoy you. "If all it is is that you can't get over the fact you only watched, forget about it. I was nothing more than dirt to you, right?"

He started to protest then, reluctantly, admitted that this was true. You nodded. It hurt to hear the words aloud like that even if you had always known them to be true.

"Alright, so--"

"You were just so pretty. I was going to do something, but then..." His words had the effect of silencing you. Your mouth was open mid-sentence yet no words were coming out. Feeling suddenly dizzy, you moved over to the wall of a building and steadied yourself by placing your hand upon the brick.

Tyki closed the distance between himself and you. His mouth met your cheek. When you did not push him away, he grew bolder and sealed your lips with his own. This shocked you out of your reverie. You jerked backwards, earning a moan of disappointment from the Noah. All the same, Tyki backed away from you without another word. He tipped his hat to you then left.

You had switched hotels after that, hopeful that the man would not track you. When, however, you continuously received gifts during the remainder of your vacation, you were at a loss of what to think. Sometimes you cried, sobbed and screaming into your pillow, at the roses and jewelry Tyki left for you. Other times you could only stare at the items. Once or twice you managed to throw away the gifts into the garbage without a shred of emotion.

It drove your comrades absolutely insane the way the Noah would flirt with you, would leave you trinkets, roses, and invitations to parties whenever you were on missions. You had attempted several times to get it through to Tyki's thick skull--via your mace--that you were not interested--maybe a little, although you refused to admit this--in his romantic feelings. Your comrades, likewise, interjected whenever the dark-haired man would so much as speak a single word to you.

After a mission, while your comrades were at either a strip club or sleeping, you had ventured to a bar. Upon entering, you had caught sight of a familiar gentleman, who was sulking despite several women attempting to gain his attention. You wove your way past the flirtatious ladies, ignored their protests and swears, and tapped the man on the shoulder. Tyki disregarded the contact, no doubt assuming it was from one of the other women who were around.

Sighing, you said, "Hey. Mister Mikk."

His head whipped around. Tyki visibly perked up at the sight of you then, after a moment, frowned, and turned away. So he was back to sulking, was he?

"You do know Akin was teasing you, right? He and I aren't a couple."

Tyki turned again, sliding off the barstool and grabbing you by the arm and led you out of the bar. A few of the women groaned audibly, while others lived out their disappointment quietly. "Are you still mad at me, (y/n)~?" he asked, a playful lilt to his tone.

"I have...never really cared enough about you to be mad," you stated honestly. He frowned at your answer. You averted your gaze and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Don't get all upset, Mister Mikk. You said yourself you thought I was nothing but dirt."

"You were just a maid," he argued.

You jerked away from him as though he had burned you. And, with his words, he sort of had. "So that makes me less human? Man, I'd hate to know your thoughts on the homeless."

"That's..." He fell silent, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, that's a good point. I care for the homeless."

"Just not maids?" you asked, incredulous.

Tyki smiled sheepishly at you. "I do now."

That day had been the start of several less violent meetings. After missions, regardless of who was the victor, Tyki and you would meet at a neutral location. He would deal a hand of poker that the two of you would play. From time to time the pair of you made it to ten hands before one or the other had to leave. During the games you were mostly silent, although you did speak to him on occasion.

When next Tyki deigned to kiss you, you did not pull away. Nor did you return the gesture. Since your rape, and possibly due to it, you had not been intimate with a man. His hands were gentle yet venturous, although he was careful to respect your body language; at the slightest tense of a muscle, he would back off from you. This was perhaps one of the reasons why, after nearly a year of knowing Tyki as a Noah, you returned one of his kisses.

Shyly, clumsily, you pressed your lips back against his. Tyki made a noise of startlement that preceeded a moan of delight. You allowed him to lead you to his hotel room, to begin to take off your clothes even though the actions made you feel ill; you could not help but remember the previous occasion of fornication. He, however, sat on the bed with you standing in front of him when the two of you were stark naked. His eyes ran up and down your naked body, a stream of compliments leaving his lips.

"Mister Mikk..." You swallowed, fighting off the feeling of nausea. Your eyes were glued on his erection, which had your legs tensing in apprehension.

Tyki blinked. "Oh, (y/n), you can use my first name~"

"T-Tyki... I..." You placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself when the world around you spun. "Oh, fuck, I feel so sick..."

The Noah released a frustrated sigh when you leaned over to the side and vomitted on the ground. "That really...killed the moment." All the same, he held back your hair and moved behind you, rubbing your back soothingly. When the contents of your stomach were emptied on the ground, you leaned back against him. You could feel proof of how turned off your throwing up had made him. His flaccid cock pressed against your thigh, where it twitched and began to enliven as you cuddled closer to him.

Tyki wrapped his arms around you, scooping you up and tucking you into bed with him. The man climbed under the covers with you. You said nothing as his hands wandered about the contours of your body. You could only look at his face, watch his eyes, which were glued on yours. He started to move closer, his lips searching for yours.

"My mouth probably tastes like vomit, Mister Mikk," you said. He groaned, raising a hand and massaging his forehead.

"You're killing me, (y/n)!"

All the same, he backed off. You later supposed that you had fallen asleep first. When you awoke, you found that during the course of the night Tyki had wrapped his arms around you as well as hooked one of his legs over yours. You attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, felt him tighten his hold, and then stopped moving. You watched the man as he slept for several minutes, slowly but surely untangling his limbs from yours.

When at last you were freed and dressed, you took the pen and complimentary notepad provided by the hotel, and wrote Tyki a short note. You placed the note where you hoped he would easily find it then snuck out of the room.

A month transpired during which time you did not see the man again. It was when your mission was complete and you were sinking into your bed to sleep that you encountered Tyki Mikk. You openly gawked as he used his ability to choose to enter your room. Startled, you chucked a candlestick at his head. Tyki ducked, held up his hands, and said:

"Hey, hey, (y/n)~ Don't be like that~"

You held your blankets up to your chin, quickly moving to hide your Innocence from view. "Make sure the door is locked." He blinked. Growling in frustration, you motioned towards the door that connected your room to your comrades'. "Lock it, would you, Mister Mikk?"

Tyki turned and did so. This gave you just enough time to stow away your mace in a location you doubted Tyki would search. With that task complete, you drew your knees to your chest and watched as the Noah closed the distance between the two of you. He climbed onto your bed, soon showering you with kisses. First on your forehead, next your eyelids, your cheeks, and finally your lips. He nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue swirling along it. Face red, you began to return the gesture.

You could feel him reaching past your covers with his ability, could feel your clothes being pulled from your body. The blankets shifted as he moved under them, his bare skin touching yours. Your hands shot up, palms flat on his chest as he shifted between your legs. Your eyes were wide. His erection brushed against your lower lips, and you swallowed hard.

"Mi-mister Mikk, I--"

He silenced you with a kiss. Pulling away for air, he said, "Tyki~"

"Tyki, I don't think--"

"That's not my strong suit either~"

You furrowed your brow, confused for a moment, your mind being preoccupied by other things, namely the way his body felt pressed to yours.

"Look, I'm an exorcist and you're a Noah--"

"--we'll worry about fighting tomorrow. I'm only aiming to destroy the Innocence~"

"You...you've broken my bones several times, and--"

His tongue thrusting forward into your mouth effectively shut you up. Tyki's fingers began to slowly explore your body as his tongue probed the contours of your mouth. You ran your tongue along his, your hands running up and down his chest before sliding towards his abdominal muscles. His fingertips ghosted over your entrance as one hand teased your breast. You shuddered, gasping loudly when his fingers found your clitoris. He rolled the nub with his thumb, which he had slickened with your juices.

"Ty-Tyki!" He groaned at the sound of his name coming from your lips. The man wrapped your legs around his waist and rocked forward. His erection slid against you, along your lips and clitoris, in a way that had your body aching. Your lips quivered and your eyelids fluttered. Again did he roll his hips into yours. This time you bucked up against him.

Tyki wiggled a single finger then a second into your entrance. He scissored you, stretching you to accomodate his size. You moved against the fingers that thrust in and out of you. Your hips rolled against his digits as they curled and uncurled. When he removed them, you released a disappointed groan. Tyki soon silenced you, practically knocked the air out of your lungs, when he thrust forward, entering you with his cock. It hurt initially. You rested your forehead against his shoulder as he adjusted his position and moved in and out of you a few times. His hands, massagining every portion of flesh they could grasp, helped to ease your pain.

The next time Tyki ventured to visit you in such a manner, you were crying in your pillow. When you saw him, you hissed with anger and rage. Your nails dug into his back, you swore at him, you whispered words of hate as he angled you onto his dick. "You killed him, you fucking bastard!" you said through grit teeth, your hands pulling at his hair.

Tyki said nothing in response, only kissed you as you abused his body. You knew that he could choose to forgo the pain, to only delight himself with your body. That he could use his ability to ensure your nails and teeth did not dig into his flesh. Yet somehow you found that he respected you too much to do so. You bit at his collarbone as you rode him, your walls clenching around his erection, which was buried so deep inside of you. The sensation of him moving within you, of his hands on you--this man who had mere hours ago murdered one of your comrades--had you hating yourself for a moment. You felt sick--you felt like you were less than dirt; a product created by the man you were fucking.

After the two of you had come down from your orgasms, you told him to leave. Tyki, after a kiss on your shoulderblade, obliged.

Such was your relationship with the Noah. The two of you fought one another, never moving in for the kill, always for the injury or insult. And each night afterwards you would comfort one another with your bodies. What made you feel as though you were more than dirt, more than a piece of furniture, however, were the gifts Tyki would leave for you. Not always materialistic objects either. At times his words would touch your heart. The way he remembered your birthday when not a one of your comrades had.

Resting your head on the man's chest, you allowed yourself to close your eyes. No doubt he would be gone by morning and a note would be left for you to read. That was how it had to be, however, lest your comrades discover what you did with your enemy.

"Mister Mikk," you whispered.

"Tyki," he said with a sigh.

You rolled your eyes, flicking your tongue out against his nipple. You heard and felt his moan from your position. "I love you too."

Tyki flipped you onto your back, his body soon engulfing yours. You could tell how happy you had made him by how thin the line between his white self and black self was as he made love to you.

#tyki mikk x reader #tyki x reader #d.gray-man #dgm #dgm fanfic

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swordandquill · 3 years

Text

Leverage Writing Prompt #31

Title: Future Tides

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: Nate has been keeping a secret from the team, but an inopportune explosion forces him to reveal it.

This is a prompt fill for @leverage-writing-prompts. I actually submitted this prompt back in July, but only got around to finishing it now.

In honor of the beautiful (and also occasionally creepy) mer-May art I still have circulating on my dash: Parker (or Nate) is secretly a merperson. When a job goes wrong, they’re forced to reveal their secret.

@rinahale did a really fun fill for it already with Mer-Parker.

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Author’s notes: The merrow are Irish merfolk who require a magical cap to move between land and sea.

Bone and Sickle podcast by Al Ridenour did a really great episode on the Kraken (Ep 65: The Kraken & Other Marvels of the Northern Sea). In its earliest renditions, the Kraken was a sea serpent. It was only later that it became associated with first giant octopi, then the giant squid.

*************

Nate knew as soon as the explosion knocked Eliot over the railing of the pier that he only had one option. Eliot was strong swimmer, but not stronger than the turbulent currents under the pier, particularly if he was unconscious. Nate hadn’t been able to tell in the split second it had taken to register him going over.

Even as he was yelling for the rest of the team to get off the burning structure, he was shucking off his shoes and jumping over the railings. He hoped they listened. The rickety structure was going to collapse, with or without another explosion. Getting to Eliot before he got bashed into the pylons was going to be enough of a challenge without having to worry about the rest of the team ending up in the water.

By the time Nate hit the water, his fingernails had hardened into claws, and he used them to tear the rest of his clothes off so he could finish the change. There was something euphoric about settling into his other form. He hadn’t changed since before Sam was born, and it was like finally allowing himself to scratch an itch that had been burning its way through his skin.

There wasn’t time to think about that though. Nate blinked his second eyelid closed, and the murky water sharpened into black and white, the fire above reflecting through the water in bright, washed-out streaks. He had to fight the chaotic currents rushing under the pier to stay still long enough to spot Eliot.

He had already been swept under the pier, probably already been driven into the pylons at least once, and was limp in the water. Nate flicked his tail and pushed into the current, using it to reach Eliot before he could be driven into the pylons again, but he wasn’t able to get them clear of the pier before the next surge. The best he could do was curl around Eliot and turn them so his back hit the pylon instead of Eliot. He was going to be bruised, but it was better than Eliot hitting again.

He pushed hard across the current and surfaced a good four meters from the pier. Eliot started coughing as soon as they broke the surface. The shear relief of it left Nate drifting for a moment, Eliot’s head tipped back against his shoulder and the rip tide pulling them out. There was blood fanning across Eliot’s face from a cut at his temple, and he wasn’t quite conscious, but he was breathing, and for now, that was enough.

Nate cut across the rip to escape it, then brought them into shore, doing his best to keep Eliot’s head above water, although there was no doubt he had breathed in more water by the time they reached the shore.

Changing back was not as easy or simple as the change to had been, but Nate had known it wouldn’t be, known he couldn’t deny his body something it had been craving for so long, then expect it to just let go of it so quickly again. It meant he had to drag Eliot up onto the beach with a tail, which was less than ideal and required more arm strength than he was used to using in either form, but he managed it.

He turned Eliot on his side in the sand as he continued to cough up water. Part of him wanted to leave him here for the team to find and make a break for it before they saw. Eliot was unlikely to remember anything, and Nate was sure he could make something up that would appease them. Then nothing would have to change.

Eliot’s eyes fluttered open, and he shifted fitfully, his whole body shaking with cold and shock.

“Just lie still,” Nate brushed the wet hair from his face with a webbed hand, “you’re alright.”

Eliot blinked up at him, and Nate waited for the reaction, but Eliot just gave an unsurprised “oh” before another coughing fit had him curling back into himself.

Nate let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He couldn’t wait to hear what “distinctive” thing about him had tipped Eliot off to what he was.

Someone yelled his name, and he looked up to see three silhouettes, framed against the light of the burning pier and racing towards them. It was a relief to see them, but Nate couldn’t help the unease as they got closer.

Parker reached them first, too focused on Eliot to pay much attention to Nate. She dropped down in the sand next to them, grabbing Eliot’s shoulder and shaking him in the Parker version of gentleness. Eliot batted at her weakly, but curled closer to her none-the-less. It wasn’t until Nate brushed her hand away when she tried to poke Eliot that she finally looked up at him.

Nate braced himself for fear, or disgust, or any number of negative reactions, but her face lit up like she’d just received a bag of non-sequentially numbered bills.

“You have cool teeth!” she told him brightly.

Nate’s world snapped back into place and all the unease drained out of him.

“Thank you, Parker,” he said drolly, just managing to not run his tongue over the points of his teeth.

“Oh my,” Sophie stopped short as she reached them, and Hardison almost ran into her.

“What is it?” the hacker demanded anxiously, “is Eliot…”

Hardison trailed off, mouth open and eyes wide at the sight of Nate’s tail.

“Nate’s a mermaid,” Parker announced gleefully.

“Do I look like a maid to you?” Nate groused.

“Maybe if you had a feather duster,” Sophie was giving him a look that said they would be having a long, unpleasant conversation later, “and a frilly little French smock.”

“Mermaids are real?” Hardison sputtered.

“Merrow,” Eliot corrected hazily, then curled into another coughing fit.

Nate was never going to hear the end of this from any of them. The fast-approaching sirens were almost a relief.

“Get him out of here,” Nate helped Parker to sit Eliot up, “don’t let him tell you he doesn’t need a hospital. He’s got water in his lungs.”

Hardison ducked down and helped Parker get Eliot to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and the two were quick to get his arms around their shoulders and take his weight.

“What about you?” Sophie gestured towards his tail.

“Changing back takes longer,” Nate made a shooing motion, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You promise?” Parker demanded, refusing to be dragged in the direction Hardison was trying to usher both her and Eliot, “not like the little mermaid; you won’t turn into sea foam for loving humans?”

“No, not like that,” Nate assured her with an eyeroll, “hurry up and get out of here so I can too.”

“But you promise,” Parker refused to budge, “you’ll catch up later. You won’t disappear.”

“I promise,” Nate snapped, “go already.”

Parker grinned and turned back to help Hardison with Eliot.

“Don’t think I won’t send a trawler after you if I have to,” Sophie threatened, then turned to follow the rest of the team in the direction of the waiting van.

Nate didn’t doubt she would, and that they would find him, but he didn’t have any intention of making them do that. For now though, he pushed back into the water and let the waves carry him back out towards the open sea.

**********

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were a mermaid,” Hardison hissed, voice low in a futile attempt to not wake Eliot.

“Merrow,” Eliot mumbled groggily.

Futile because Eliot wasn’t sleeping. Exhausted, still feeling chilly if the truly ridiculous number of blankets piled on him were any indication, and a bit out of it from a not insignificant head injury, but not asleep, at least not at the moment.

“You know, I googled that,” Hardison groused, “just because Nate wears stupid hats all the time doesn’t mean he’s some kind of Irish shape-shifting sea creature.”

Sophie snorted indelicately.

“That’s not…” Eliot started to protest, only to be cut off by Parker, which was probably for the best given how soar his throat sounded.

“You can’t have your hat back,” Parker pulled Nate’s hat down farther on her head; she must have picked it up after he dropped it at the pier, “just in case.”

Eliot moved restlessly in his hospital bed, and Nate, sitting on the edge of it, dropped his hand down to pat the hitter’s wrist. He left his hand there, fingers resting lightly against Eliot’s pulse point.

“You can keep the hat, Parker,” Nate said easily, “it looks good on you.”

Parker beamed at him from the foot of Eliot’s bed.

“It’s a con anyway,” Nate continued dismissively, “someone made it up centuries ago to trick fishermen and it stuck.”

“You really are a merrow,” Hardison deflated, as if the reality of it had finally sunk in.

“Yes, Nate,” Sophie sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair regally, looking for all the world like a queen reigning over her court, “do tell us about being a mythical sea creature.”

Parker leaned forward like a child eager for a bedtime story.

“Well…”

Nate was interrupted by Eliot reaching up with his free hand to try to pull his oxygen cannulas off. Again. Nate caught his hand and lowered it back down to rest on his chest.

“Leave that be for now,” Nate gave his hand a pat.

“I don’t want it,” Eliot shifted, movements agitated and unsure, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do, “we should get out of here. It isn’t safe.”

“I’ve got it all taken care of, man,” Hardison reassured him patiently, “we’re safe.”

“Security’s not…” Eliot started to protest.

“We’re security,” Nate let his hand fall back to Eliot’s wrist and left it there, “we’ll check in with the doctor this afternoon and reassess, alright?”

Eliot grumbled, but settled down again.

There was very little chance of Eliot being released before tomorrow. He was responding well to oxygen, and the CT had looked good, but he had been unconscious underwater, and that wasn’t something any of them wanted to take lightly. He was having trouble focusing and keeping track of what was going on around him, and it wasn’t because of the relatively mild pain meds he had been given.

Better to keep him where he could get the care he needed, at least while they could. Nate wasn’t kidding about reassessing. If the situation changed, and they needed to go to ground, they had other resources they could tap into to make sure Eliot still got taken care of. For now, though, this was best.

“Nate,” Parker was looking at him intently, “Sophie said I should pick something besides money that I want for my birthday.”

Nate turned to face her, resigned to whatever was coming.

“I like gold and gems too,” Parker grinned, “shipwrecks have lots of gold and gems.”

Nate gave a long-suffering sigh, and pointedly ignored Sophie suppressing a snicker.

“It wouldn’t even be like stealing,” Parker pressed, “it’s not like anyone really owns it anymore.”

“There are plenty of countries that would disagree with you on that,” Nate said dryly.

“Only if they know we have it,” Parker shrugged, “so can we go diving for treasure for my birthday?”

“You have to commit to a date for your birthday first, sweetheart,” Sophie pointed out, “also, if we’re diving for treasure, there is the platinum reserves Spain dumped into the ocean in the 16th century. Probably not enough to make the expense of an actual expedition worth it, but if you could just swim to it…”

“No,” Nate said firmly, “absolutely not. We are not treasure hunters.”

“But we could be,” Hardison smiled impishly, “we do need alternative revenues streams after all.”

“Not Spain,” Eliot murmured sleepily, “’s guarded.”

“By what? A kraken?” Hardison scoffed, then paused, “wait, there isn’t a kraken, is there?”

“No,” Nate said firmly at the same time that Eliot said “yes.”

He glared at the hitter, who gave him a tired, shit-eating grin.

“It’s not a cephalopod,” Eliot looked far too pleased with the way Hardison started to sputter.

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, they were never going to get Hardison near the water again.

“You’re making that up,” Hardison balked, “there aren’t sea monsters.”

“How would you know?” Eliot countered, “you don’t even swim.”

Hardison opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Nate interrupted him.

“What I want to know, is how you knew what I was,” he gave Eliot a curious look.

It would be good for him to know what had tipped Eliot off so he could fix it. The fewer people that could tell what he was, the better. Maggie had known, had seen him change once before they were married, but he hadn’t wanted to split his life between two worlds. He had chosen the land, still chose the land. That remained where the things that mattered to him were.

“You bled all over me when you were shot,” Eliot said, “your blood is different than human blood. It’s distinctive.”

Not something he could do anything about then, although it was interesting to him that Eliot hadn’t bothered to say anything about it sooner. As with all the random and far-reaching knowledge Eliot had, Nate was caught between wanting to know how he knew and feeling it was probably best not to ask.

“That’s just nasty,” Hardison grumbled.

“So we’ll go to South American, and Hardison and I will track down the shipwreck sites,” Parker continued as if she had never been interrupted, “you can search the shipwrecks, and Eliot can help me update my dive certification.”

“Whatever you want, darling,” Eliot yawned.

“Do I get a say in this?” Nate asked.

“Probably not,” Sophie looked thoroughly amused.

“It will be like a family vacation,” Parker grinned, clearly excited by the idea, “you and Sophie keep saying I’m supposed to try normal people things that I haven’t done before.”

Nate knew a lost cause when he heard one. He sat back and listened to Hardison and Parker plan, keeping half an eye on Eliot as he finally drifted off to sleep. Sophie alternated between encouraging the pair with much too much enthusiasm and giving Nate thoughtful side glances. He was grateful she didn’t push for more information. Not yet anyway.

He had told Maggie before he had proposed to her. It had seemed unfair not to. And Sam… Sam had been so young. Nate was never sure he really believed it was more than a fairy story. Maybe if he had lived longer… gotten to be older… who knew what could have happened, what potential had never been unlocked. It hurt to think about, made him want to reach for a bottle and try to forget all the things his son should have been, should have had.

Eliot reached for the cannulas in his sleep, and Nate caught his hand, bringing it back down to his side and holding onto it.

Nate had a future here. Different from the one he had so badly wanted, shaped by different tides, full of unexplored depths and currents, but still good. He was learning to live with that, slow though the process was. It wasn’t the catastrophe he had always thought it would be, having them find out.

If the trade-off for this new future was the occasional treasure hunt, Nate could live with that.

*********

Parker continued to be non-committal about choosing a birthday, but there was a lovely 16th century gold and ruby pendent necklace tucked under the tree for her at Christmas.

#Leverage #Nathan Ford #Eliot Spencer #Parker #Alec Hardison #Sophie Devereaux #Isabeau's writing

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therealsaintscully · 3 years

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Mary and butterflies - the inevitability of death, murderous calling cards and collectors

Some ramblings with links to other people’s excellent meta, in which I suggest that butterflies (and/or moths) symbolize Mary as Moriarty’s reincarnation and or calling card, while also hint at her inevitable death.

Disclaimers: credits are below the cut. I’m not an expert in any of these topics. Thank you, @thewatsonbeekeepers for the beta. In this post I’ll be using moths and butterflies interchangeably, apologies to any entomologists.

Mary’s appearance in the show brings with it new imagery we haven’t seen prior to The Empty Hearse - butterflies. Once Mary’s in the picture, there are butterflies in some very strategic locations, all are either visually or subtextually leading to her. The show has done that previous to season 3; Moriarty is connected to some well established symbols like magpies, apples and IOUs.

When I first started reading meta I used to think these themes were a bit of a stretch, but I’ve since accepted that this is a show that puts barely noticeable phoenixes in a restaurant scene that shows us Sherlock rising from his death.

Here are some of the butterflies I spotted so far:

Butterflies (and in the case of this piece of meta, moth) symbolize most commonly resurrection, change and renewal. Behind the symbolism stands the transformation of a small, ungainly creature into something full-grown and unbound. In that case, in the simplest way, one could argue that butterflies were chosen to symbolize her because the ‘Mary Morstan’ persona was a stillborn’s identity that was stolen and used ‘reborn’ to create a new person.

But more than this simplistic idea; butterflies carry multiple symbolisms. When it comes to Sherlock, I and many others tend to look at Victorian symbolism, considering the detective’s Victorian roots.

I find the appearance of butterflies interesting in Mary’s context, much like I find the skull interesting in Sherlock’s. The skulls, in Sherlock’s case, serve plenty of purposes, but one of them is the idea of memento mori.

Memento mori (Latin for 'remember that you [have to] die') is an artistic or symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death. These are representations that can appear in any form of art such as paintings, literature, poetry etc. It’s a concept that existed in many ancient cultures but is also deeply rooted in early Christianity. It serves to remind people of the inevitable; that even if we choose to ignore it, not think about it, it’s always there lurking, and the purpose is not to scare us but to encourage us to make good use of our time when we’re alive. Memento mori was the philosophy of reflecting on your own death as a form of spiritual improvement, and rejecting earthly vanities.

Victorians were obsessed with the concept (weren’t Victorians obsessed with everything?). They would take photographs of the dead and keep locks of hair of those who died in mourning brooches. It is said that they found these practices comforting.

Another expression of the ‘remember that you must die’ concept was vanitas art; vanitas is a symbolic work of art showing the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. The Latin noun vanitas (from the Latin adjective vanus 'empty') means 'emptiness', 'futility', or 'worthlessness', the traditional Christian view being that earthly goods and pursuits are transient and worthless. It alludes to Ecclesiastes 1:2; 12:8, where vanitas translates the Hebrew word hevel (הבל), which also includes the concept of transitoriness.

This concept reminds me, most especially, of the skull used in The Abominable Bride, which is actually Charles Allen Gilbert's 'All is Vanity' Illusion art.

Back to butterflies - butterflies are a staple component of vanitas art - paintings executed in the vanitas style were meant to remind viewers of the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. They also provided a moral justification for painting attractive objects - in a way, it’s a justification for the vanity, or the human need of enjoyment of beautiful things. Below is a vanitas by Jan Sanders van Hemessen:

But butterflies are also considered an omen of death:

“Butterflies and moths were associated with death, sometimes merely as omens, sometimes as the soul or ghost.” These butterfly omens came in many ways. For example, in the nineteenth century United States, some people thought that a trio of butterflies was an omen of death.” [x]

Oh.

But I also think there’s more to the butterfly symbolism than Mary’s imminent death; I suggest that, in keeping with @loudest-subtext-in-tv M-Theory (suggesting that Mary was planted in John’s life by Moriarty), they symbolize Mary as Moriarty reincarnated following his death in TRF. That Moriarty had indeed not disappointed Sherlock - there was a posthumous game after all! That Sherlock was supposed to understand that while one form of Moriarty died on that roof, another had emerged, continuing the mission of burning Sherlock’s heart. Mary is Moriarty’s calling card, left behind in the crime scene. They’re different, but not separate, which is why Sherlock is so obsessed with Moriarty between HLV-T6T; he’s both wrong and correct at the same time.

So far, what I’ve suggested is that in Sherlock, skulls are Sherlock’s symbolic memento mori - the skulls are associated with Sherlock in some very significant ways.

However, Mary’s character was doomed from the start - she dies during Sherlock’s hiatus in ACD canon. I believe many fans assumed Sherlock’s Mary expected the same fate when she was introduced to the show. Although the story of Samarra is told by Sherlock, who expects his own death in T6T, Mary is the one who ends up dying.

Butterflies in ACD canon

Searching for the significance of butterflies in the ACD and BBC canon led me to a number of interesting directions in meta written by others.

The first and probably the best place to start is this meta post by @tendergingergirl, which I strongly suggest you read in full: Butterflies, Sexual Deviancy & The Bloodline Theory in The Hound of The Baskervilles.

Stapleton also has a hobby. He collects bugs…Butterflies, to be exact. This can often be seen as purely academic, but depending on the actions of the hobbyist, they can indicate more disturbing things. That of holding something vulnerable captive, treating it as your hostage, pinning it down. The torture of animals has come to be a good indicator of someone who would do this to a human. He had already shown callousness by laughing as he recounts to Holmes of ponies wandering onto the Moor, becoming trapped, and dying. In 1974, there was a release of a new edition of Sherlock Holmes stories, with the forward of The Hound of The Baskervilles written by British author, John Fowles. He is responsible for several well-known works, including The French Lieutenant’s Wife. Another, was a novel that Mason finds himself wondering why Fowles doesn’t mention in his introduction, since the villain is such a close parallel to Stapleton.(but as we have learned through the study of ACD, most writers will not come right out and say where they got their inspiration. They like for you to guess!)

A lonely young man, works as a clerk, and collects butterflies, becomes obsessed with a pretty young girl, Miranda, an art student. He chloroforms, and kidnaps her, taking her to his cellar basement, to add Miranda to his collection. That book was called The Collector. But what else does it sound like?

“So yes, I googled. From an article on the release of the movie’s Documentary. "The docu proves a poor reference point for anyone who wants to understand the literary and movie links for “Lambs.” There’s no mention, for example, of how Harris partly based the butterfly-loving Bill on John Fowles’ kidnapper in “The Collector” …And here I thought Mofftiss added allusions to Silence of The Lambs into Sherlock just for fun. SMH.”

@tendergingergirl also added this photo to their post:

So what we have here is a chain of metatextualities/inspiration, starting with ACD’s THOB, where Jack Stapelton inspires a book about a disturbed butterfly collector (The Collector by John Fowles), which inspires a the author of Silence of the Lambs in creation of his character Buffalo Bill, a serial murderer who inserts a death's head moth into the victim's throat because he is fascinated by the insect's metamorphosis. Silence of the Lambs served as inspiration for Sherlock as analyzed by @garkgatiss in Bond, Hannibal, and Holmes (I suggest you read the whole Hannibal section) .

Let’s look again at some imagery from His Last Vow. Mary shoots Sherlock’s heart, essentially burning his heart out, and who does Sherlock meet in his Mind Palace in a very cocoon-like straightjacket? Yes, the dead dude who encourages him to die already (“one more push, and off you pop”).

What’s the next thing we as an audience see once Sherlock opens his eyes? Mary coming to the hospital to hear that Sherlock had, in fact, survived. And what is she wearing? Her butterfly scarf, one which will another appearance later in the episode, during the tarmac scene.

I also find it interesting that in the context of Sherlock and Silence of the Lamb, there’s an element of gender-switching between Moriarty and Mary. Buffalo Bill, the murderer from Silence of the Lambs, skins bodies of women to create himself a woman’s 'suit’; in Sherlock, Moriarty is a man-villain who transforms into a female-villain in the form of a bride and/or Mary.

By the way, who else is obsessed with his suits?

Also, let’s not forget the worms, maggots and other such crawlers in the grave scene:

Now, let’s go over some of the photos I included in the beginning of this post a bit further.

Mrs. Hudson’s butterfly tea set is first shown in TEH - she uses it to serve John tea when he comes visiting her and tellis her about Mary. We also see it near John’s chair on the day of the wedding. This isn’t Sherlock’s set - his set is different, featuring the British Isles. Moriarty drinks from it in TRF. The next tea set we see, now that Moriarty is dead, is the butterflies one. In TLD, Mrs. Hudson uses Sherlock’s tea set - the butterflies are gone.

Mary’s bedroom wallpaper is very feminine, with flowers and butterflies, both complementing symbols while also very common in vanitas art. Much like Mrs. Hudson’s wallpaper in Baker Street, Mary’s wallpaper is supposed to show the contrast between Mary’s flat/Mary and Sherlock’s flat/Sherlock.

There’s an interesting moth reference in The Empty Hearse, which in my opinion, is Mary & Moriarty related. In short, in a previous piece of meta I wrote, I suggested that the Jack the Ripper case in TEH is subtext alluding to Mary’s skeletons, which Sherlock ignores because he’s upset by his reception by John. And what’s one of the first things Sherlock notices about the skeleton? New mothballs smell, hinting at an attempt to get rid of moth/butterflies - maybe a hint to the fact that Sherlock has a chance to discover the truth about Mary but misses it. Also, in the context of Mary and the Jack the Ripper case, notice this transition:

Transitions are important on Sherlock - they’re nearly always there to draw our attention.

This, I think, is perhaps the most telling about a possible connection between Mary and Moriarty: we have both magpies (a Moriarty hint) and butterflies together here. This isn’t the only hint of Mary’s past we get in the wedding; there is, after all, the telegram from CAM.

Mary’s scarf is colorful, and it appears by the time Sherlock’s subconscious suspects Mary. Mary’s black butterfly dress - an ominous dress, I’d say - is the one she wears during the labour scene in the car. The third photo is a behind the scenes photo uploaded by Amanda Abbington, although I’m unsure whether this necklace is AA’s or Mary’s (but I couldn’t pass on including this).

Interestingly, the butterflies do not appear in Rosie’s context - either because it’s a telling sign that Mary won’t be with us much longer, or because Rosie is spared being considered a part of the ‘burning Sherlock’s heart’ plan. Sherlock, on the surface, seems to love Rosie and accepts her.

Also, another BTS photograph I came across during my research which I’ve never seen before and ties nicely to the vanity topic is this one (found here):

The Death's-head hawkmoth and ‘Death with Interruptions’

You’ll recall that I referenced The Collector and Silence of the Lambs, both featuring butterflies on their cover art.

The Silence of the Lambs cover features Acherontia atropos, otherwise known as the death's-head hawkmoth. It gets its name from the sinister-looking skull shape on its back. In many cultures it is thought to be an omen of death. In a bit of another coincidental but stunning piece of symbolism, all three species of the Death's-head hawkmoth are commonly observed raiding beehives of different species of honey bee; A. atropos only invades colonies of the well-known western honey bee, Apis mellifera, and feeds on both nectar and honey. They can move about in hives without being disturbed because they mimic the scent of the bees and are not recognised as intruders.

Anyway, the use of Acherontia atropos reminded me of the book ‘Death with Interruptions’ by Jose Saramago. Interestingly, this is another book about a deathly collector with a butterfly on the cover:

In Death with Interruptions death is a woman, and she falls in love with one of her future victims. She decides to spare his life: Every time death sends him his letter [notifying him of his imminent death], it gets returned. death discovers that, without reason, this man has mistakenly not been killed. Although originally intending merely to analyse this man and discover why he is unique, death eventually becomes infatuated with him, so much so that she takes on human form to meet him. Upon visiting the cellist, she plans to personally give him the letter; instead, she falls in love with him, and, by doing so, she becomes even more human-like.

It’s pretty common to read theories about Mary who maybe was one of the assassins due to kill John both at the pool and in front of Barts. So we have a death harbinger trying to kill someone twice and failing. She then falls in love with him.

But how does the butterfly fit in?

Well, at some point in the story, death (that’s her name, sans a capital d), contemplates that using the death head butterfly, instead of a violet piece of paper, would have sent a much stronger message to those whose death is coming for.

And here’s another last bit of coincidental reference to Sherlock: I’d argue shades of purple, among them shades of violet, are associated with Mary and her secrets. There’s the purple dress she wears in TEH, her bridesmaids’ dresses include various shades of purple (including what I would argue was a violet sash) and let’s not forget:

Oh and, by the way, remember the song Donde Estas, Yolanda from TEH, about a woman called Yolanda? Always thought it was a bit of an odd choice for a song?

Yolanda is a female given name, of Greek origin, meaning Violet.

Thoughts?

Credits: thank you @lukessense for directing me to @tendergingergirl meta about butterflies. Episode screenshots are from kissthemgoodbye.net.

@sarahthecoat @tjlcisthenewsexy @devoursjohnlock @inevitably-johnlocked @shylockgnomes @possiblyimbiassed @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @waitedforgarridebs @helloliriels

#mary mosrtan #butterflies #silence of the lambs #the collector #meta #sherlock meta #tjlc #johnlockendgame #jim moriarty

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

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Dance For You

(This entire photoshoot wrecked my life and my soul actually left my body how can one human be this fucking sexy it isn’t fair)

Mark Tuan X Stripper Reader

Genre: This one has all the good shit (So much fluff, tiny bits of angst and SMUT SMUT SMUT)

Warning: Rated 18+

Oral (both male and female receiving), edging, choking, face riding, breast play, degradation, doggy style, cowgirl, daddy kink, dominant Mark (one can dream)

Word Count: 11.5K

Summary: Becoming a stripper was the last thing you would have ever saw yourself doing as a job, but because you had so many financial responsibilities, you were willing to do whatever it was to get a large amount of money in a small amount of time. There were many pros that came with being a stripper; not only were you paid excessive amounts of money that you weren’t able to wrap your mind around, but your job is what also led you to meeting the actual love of your life; your devastatingly handsome boyfriend of three years Mark Tuan.

A/N: I wrote this over a year ago (I don’t know what inspired me to write this but the idea of Mark dating a stripper got me all sorts of fucked up and one of my favorite youtubers is a stripper and I just grew curious about what it would be like to have a boyfriend while being an exotic dancer) so this came out. If I’m being honest, I had to tweak this story A LOT; I was actually cringing at how bad my writing used to be I’ve come a long way guys--happy reading!!

Being a stripper was not an ideal job. They were always frowned upon by most people and ridiculed for selling their bodies in order to make money. But what most people didn’t understand, was that pole dancing and stripping was an art as much as it was sexual entertainment. When you first started stripping, it was to help pay for college, your apartment and your car. You told yourself you would quit stripping once you graduated from college and paid off all of your bills. However, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy the money you would bring home almost every single night you worked.

The club that you worked at was one of the most popular strip clubs in town. It was always packed to the point where people would have to go on a waiting list or could only get in if they had connections. Most dancers at your club were practically family to you and they made sure you knew that you were the reason everyone would come to that specific club. You were always quick to shut down their compliments because you didn’t think you were all that special. From the time you were a little girl, you’ve always loved to dance.

Whether it be ballet, jazz or hip hop, you would dance any and everywhere there was music. As you got older, you got so busy with both work and school that you no longer had the time or energy to continue doing what you loved so much. When you graduated from high school, you decided to attend college thousands of miles away from your hometown to your parents dismay. They were very helpful when it came to paying for your college education. However, because it was your decision to move away and be an out of state student, they told you that you needed to help pay for your tuition.

After months of working boring, low paying jobs, you overheard one of your classmates talking about how much money she gets paid from her job. When you asked her about it, it was then that she admitted to being a stripper and offered to get you an audition with her company in order to get a job there. At first, you were contemplating on doing so. You were raised to be very modest and anyone who sold their bodies to people for money whether it be prostitutes, hookers or strippers were frowned upon by your family. However, the income strippers received is what sold you.

You didn’t care about the consequences that came with being an exotic dancer—you just wanted life to be easier. When you went for your audition, everyone was blown away by how graceful your movements were and you were immediately hired on the spot. For the first week after being hired, your managers had the other strippers teach you the basics. Even if you were a dancer, dancing in heels and lingerie was not something you were used to. Although you had a fit body from dancing for so many years, you didn’t think you had the breasts nor the butt to be a stripper.

Seeing your fellow coworkers bodies made you very insecure from time to time, but you were very quick to learn that this was a cutthroat business. There was no room to have a low self esteem. Even if you were close with almost every stripper you worked with, things weren’t like that in the beginning. Strippers were some of the most competitive people there were and you couldn’t blame them.

They all wanted to be the best in order to attract more customers. Sure, there were times where you would regret becoming a stripper—and the guilt would eat you alive every time your mom called you to ask how college was going. But there were more pros than cons that came with being a stripper. You loved your job; the management was very lenient with your schedule, you made more money in one night than you did in two weeks at any of your previous jobs and because it was stripping that introduced you to the actual love of your life—your boyfriend of three years, Mark Tuan.

On the night you and Mark first met, he had just turned 21 years old. You were 19 at the time and you had already been dancing for a couple of months. For his birthday, his friends decided to take him to a strip club; telling him that he needed to experience such wild and fun things while he was still young. Mark wasn’t the type to go out to clubs, parties and bars. All he really cared about was school and video games; until he met you and that’s when everything changed. You were getting ready to perform when you were requested for a one on one session. It wasn’t uncommon. Men would request for a one on one performance with strippers all the time, but you had yet to do so yourself.

You’d hear stories all the time from your coworkers about how scary it could be, even if it paid more. The club charged more for one on one performances only because they could be making more when the dancer performs for a crowd rather than just one person. You told your management that you didn’t feel comfortable performing for someone alone because of the countless horror stories you heard about men getting physical and even trying to rape the dancers. However, after the few incidents, the management made sure that whoever entered the club had a quick background check before they were able to enter.

“Y/n, your customer is waiting for you in room 7. Go easy on him. He’s really cute. Oh, and wear that cute red suit you bought the other day. Trust me.”

You did as you were told and put on the very tiny, leaving no room to the imagination lingerie set while slipping on your Louboutins. After a taking in a few deep breaths and whispering words of encouragement to yourself just like you did almost every night, you made your way outside to his room. When you walked out on that stage and your eyes landed on your customer, you felt your heart rate increased. Your manager wasn’t lying when she said that he was cute. In fact, that was an understatement. He was gorgeous. Extremely handsome. Probably the most attractive man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

For a second, you felt flustered and you were worried you were going to mess up because you were obviously very much attracted to the man sitting just a few feet away from you. But once you took a quick look at yourself in the side mirror, you marched down that stage like you owned it. Seeing him gulp as you made your way towards him only increased your confidence and soon, you found yourself sitting on his lap.

“Hi there. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like the type to come to a place like this.” He nodded his head while you ran your hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t. It’s my birthday and my friends forced me to come. But if I’m being honest with you, I’m very glad I came. You’re extremely beautiful.”

You giggled at his words and you were very grateful for the fact that the club was dark or else he would see you blush. Nobody who came in here has ever called you beautiful before. It was always either derogatory terms; “sexy” or “hot”. Hearing him call you beautiful, only made you want to hear him say it to you again and again.

“Thank you. Oh, and happy birthday. What’s your name?” He smiled politely at you while hesitantly bringing his hands to your hips.

“I’m Mark.” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek before standing up and seductively making your way to the pole.

“I’m y/n. Let me dance for you birthday boy.”

His eyes never left you and your body the entire time. Even if it was dark, the very prominent and large bulge in Mark’s pants didn’t go unnoticed to you—it made you feel even more confident and sexy. Slowly, you walked over to him and found your way back on to his lap. You dragged your thumb against his bottom lip all the while slowly grinding yourself on top of him. Hearing his moans and seeing him bite his lip only made you go faster.

“Fuck—you’re so—fucking sexy—please—don’t stop—“

The other dancers would always tell you about how they would do more than just give somebody a lap dance during these one on one sessions. A lot of them slept with their customers willingly in order to make more money. You were never one to want to do that—you were here to dance, not to have sex with people. However, with the way Mark was looking at you with so much lust in his big, brown eyes and holding you all but gently, you wanted nothing more than to please him in anyway possible. You brought your hand down to his very thick and long cock; stroking him through his pants, earning yourself multiple moans and whines from his pretty lips.

“Can I give you a birthday gift? Would that be okay?” He quickly nodded in agreement and before you could even process the entire situation, you found yourself getting on your knees. Once you unzipped his zipper, his sigh of relief when you pulled him out of his pants sent warmth to your already soaking clit.

“Fuck—I—holy shit—just like that baby. Oh god—mmmmm—so—so so good—“

Only seconds after relieving him from the constraints of his boxers, you dragged your tongue along his slit while circling his tip. His breathy whimpers and wanton moans only motivated you to go faster; you brought him completely in to your mouth and bobbed your head up and down his length, taking him down your throat as much as you possibly could all the while fondling his balls. He pulled your hair in to a makeshift ponytail and continued to thrust himself deep down in to your throat.

“So warm and so tight. Fuck. You’re so beautiful. So fucking pretty. Look at you, taking this cock. Do you think I could fuck your face princess?”

You nodded earning yourself a raspy groan. He started roughly pushing your head on to his dick but you were too busy trying to pleasure him to even think about the pain. His cock grazed the back of your throat in the most delicious way. You tried your best to go as rough and as hard as you possibly could; licking and sucking on him while pinching on his ass cheeks. Your eyes began to fill up with tears, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop—mainly because it was adamant that he was enjoying feeling your mouth wrapped around his cock.

But you were genuinely having a good time yourself. Watching his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit down on his bottom lip sent chills down your spine. He was so damn hot. After a few moments, you felt his white, creamy liquid fill your mouth and you swallowed it entirely. Seeing him throw his head back and the fact that he came in less than 5 minutes sent fire through your bones; it was an indescribable feeling.

You weren’t one who really cared about giving head; most of the guys you’ve been with never cared whether or not you were comfortable and it unfortunately ruined your entire outlook on sex—but something about this boy made you want to perform oral on him every single day. He pulled you up off of the ground, back on to his lap and roughly connected his lips to yours.

“Holy shit. You’re not real. You can’t be. Where did you come from? I can’t even describe how amazing that was. Shit wait, are we allowed to do this? Am I going to get in trouble for letting you blow me? Nobody can know I’m here right now my parents would probably have a fit-“ he sounded so cute getting flustered over the thought that he might get in trouble for having fun with you. You shook your head in attempts to keep his mind at ease and began leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

“You’re totally fine. Don’t worry about it.” The vibration coming from his phone broke the two of you out of your little world and he hid his face in your chest after reading the messages from his friends.

“They’re looking for me. Apparently we’ve been here for three hours. It doesn’t even feel like it’s been that long. They’re not kidding when they say time flies when you’re having fun. That was the best birthday present ever. I’m really glad I came. Literally. But I should get going. I um—can I—your number—“

As devastatingly handsome as Mark was and no matter how much you wanted to see him again, strippers didn’t get in to relationships nor did they have any sort of human interaction other than with the customers. You didn’t want to burden Mark with the fact that you were a stripper; you didn’t want him feeling embarrassed if he ever had to introduce you to people. After placing a long kiss on his lips and running your fingers throughout locks, you started making your way towards the curtains.

“Come back again soon and we’ll see about that.”

Mark stayed in your mind for the rest of that night. You couldn’t stop thinking about him—how gentle yet rough he was. How he held you as if you were such a fragile piece of glass. How he looked at you so softly, with so much adoration in his eyes. How thick and big his cock was and how you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. But you couldn’t do that to him. You wanted to be selfish and give in to temptation by calling him and seeing where it goes between the two of you, but you didn’t want to end up hurt. You’ve heard one too many stories from your coworkers about how they’d get their hearts broken because the boys they were interested in weren’t accepting of their choice in occupation.

Just a few days after that erotic night together, fate brought you two together again; but not in the way you had hoped. You were late to class one morning because you overslept seeing as how you got home from work at almost 4 in the morning. You were so focused on your notes that you failed to see someone walking towards you until you collided with a body.

“Oh my God I am so sorry I really should be looking where I am walking—Mark?” Your eyes widened in shock at the sight of him and the grin that rose on his face filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Hey princess. I’ve missed you. I’ve been planning on going back to the club just to see you again but I haven’t had the time-“ You brought your hand up to cover his mouth and made sure no one was around to hear about what you did to make your income.

“Please don’t say anything about that. Nobody here knows that I’m a stripper and I’d like to keep it that way. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You began walking away in the direction of your building when you were quickly pulled in to his chest.

“Mark I’m late for class as it is please let me go.” He released a long, frustrating sigh and you were genuinely very embarrassed with how harsh you were acting towards him. Especially because he didn’t do anything to deserve such hostility.

“Your number. Can I please have it? I regret not trying harder to ask you for it. I’m sorry if I’m coming off rude or creepy, but I would really like to take you on a date if you’d let me. If I’m bothering you, just say the word and I’ll never speak to you again. I just hope you know I can’t get you off my mind. And before you start assuming, no. It’s not because—well—yes—you gave me the best head of my life but there’s something about you that intrigues me; something about you captivates me. There’s something mysterious about you and I can’t stop trying to think about what it is. The way you move and make that dance floor yours. The way you touched me and ran your fingers through my hair awakened something animalistic in me and I knew that wasn’t going to be the last time I saw you. The way you have so much confidence allures me and I can’t stop touching my lips because of how much I miss the feeling of yours against them. It probably meant nothing to you, but it meant a lot to me. I promise I’m not some weirdo, I have pure intentions please believe me.”

You gave him a small smile and then motioned for him to give you his phone so that you could enter your information. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t hung up on him. This is what you wanted. You were secretly hoping he’d come back to the club with the thought of continuing where you both left off from last time, but you knew why you were hesitant on taking things further between the two.

“Are you free tonight?” You sadly shook your head—you wish you were; you wanted to see what he had in mind for the two of you.

“I work from 9-3. But I’m off tomorrow. So I’m all yours.”

He grinned in excitement at your words and the two of you soon said your goodbyes. Before you let him completely walk away, something inside of you—maybe the confidence he had mentioned earlier made you grab at his wrist and pull him in for a chaste kiss.

“See you soon.”

You went to work that night with the biggest grin on your face and couldn’t wait to see where things would go between the two of you. You and Mark started texting back and forth as you were preparing for work and during your break. He told you he had the entire date planned and to say you were excited was an understatement. When you first got in to stripping, you pushed away the idea of a relationship to the back of your mind because you knew most guys wouldn’t be quite happy with the fact that their girlfriend is a stripper. But Mark didn’t seem to care and although you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up, you couldn’t help but feel like he was going to be someone special in your life.

If he didn’t want to be with you because of your occupation, he would have said so much earlier. The next day, the only information he gave you was that he wanted you to be ready by eleven and that he was taking you somewhere fun. You decided to wear a cute sundress and lightly curled your hair. You applied a small amount makeup in attempts of concealing the dark circles that developed under your eyes in the last week and decided to watch some tv while waiting for him. Mark texted you that he was on his way and you found yourself heating up at the mere thought of him.

It’s been quite some time since you were involved with another guy, let alone one that you were genuinely interested in. You were hoping that things would work well between you and Mark because he seemed like a genuinely nice person who fit the standards you were searching for in a significant other. When your doorbell rang, you tried your best to stay calm and pretend he didn’t have such an effect on you.

Truth was, you never felt this way about anyone before. You had yet to experience a real relationship and it wasn’t like you had feelings for your any of your customers or fellow classmates. Even if you hardly knew him, you found yourself wanting to learn more about him and you could only hope for things to go well for the both of you. Once you opened the door and your eyes landed on him, your heart rate increased. He had to be some sort of Greek God in his past life. There was no way someone could be this handsome.

“Hey. You look very beautiful. Not that I’m surprised. Ready to go?” You nodded as he reached for your hand and led you to his car, but not before connecting your lips together.

“Mmm, I think I’m addicted to these pretty pink lips of yours. I��m addicted to every little thing about you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks once again and he chuckled at the sight. This boy was honestly going to be the death of you. He was quick to intertwine your hands together and led you to his car—like the gentleman he was, he opened your door for you and helped you get settled in to your seat, stealing a quick kiss from the corner of his mouth.

Once he made his way to his side, he turned on the radio and absentmindedly placed his hand on your lap. The car ride was quiet in the beginning, both of you having so many things on your minds but neither of you had any idea what to say. Although you enjoyed the piece and quiet, there was so many things you wanted to learn about him—however, you didn’t want to be the first one to start the conversation. After a while, he finally spoke up.

“What are you majoring in?” From that question on, the two of you were complete chatterboxes and the conversation continued until he reached the destination. Your smile rose tenfold when you realized where he brought you.

“I hope you’re fine with the beach? I just love it here and I thought the weather was nice. If not, we can go somewhere else. I’m fine with whatever you want to do.” You shook your head and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I love the beach. I actually haven’t been to one since moving here for college.”

He beamed up at you and gently squeezed your thigh. When you got out of the car, you quickly noticed the basket in Mark’s hands and smiled even wider than you already were, if it was even possible.

“I packed us a picnic basket. I wasn’t too sure on what to get because I have yet to learn what you like, but I hope this is all okay.”

Seeing him get all shy, completely different from just a few nights ago when he was shoving himself down your throat made butterflies swarm in your tummy. He reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers while leading you to a secluded area. He placed the blanket down and motioned for you to sit down. Before you could take a seat next to him, you were being pulled on to his lap. You were about to object until he placed his lips against yours in order to silence you.

He ended up feeding you and the thought of him wanting to take care of you made your head spin. The two of you continued to talk about pretty much anything and everything your hearts desired and in the few hours you got to spend with him, you learned a lot about the shy and extremely kind hearted boy. For starters, he was a huge fan of the Los Angeles Lakers, yet he had not once stepped foot on a basketball court before. He also wanted to go in to architecture; he had a passion for drawing and he also loved anything that had to do with buildings and construction, but his mom talked him out of it in fear of something happening to him while he was at a construction site.

His favorite food was Hawaiian pizza—a fact that you were quick to tease him about, but he was quick to defend himself and it made you fall even harder for him. Once the two of you were done at the beach, he took you to an arcade: somewhere you learned he spent most of his time at. Seeing him get all excited over playing race car games and skeeball brought warmth to your cheeks. You were quickly growing fond of Mark and you knew in that moment you were screwed.

As soon as you both realized it was getting late, you made your way back to his car and he started heading back to your place. A part of you didn’t want to leave him just yet—his presence alone made you feel safe;comfortable. Even if you haven’t known him for too long, you loved the way he made you feel and you knew you could get used to having him around; that’s why you didn’t find it surprising when you invited him in for some coffee. Although, the both of you knew coffee was not going to be involved in the plans for the rest of the night. Mark wanted to be a gentleman and take things slow with you, but he knew he couldn’t—you had such an effect on him that he knew he would do anything you’d ask him to and the thought excited him more than it scared him.

The two of you found yourselves tumbling in to bed together. It wasn’t a surprise, you knew sooner or later you had to have him. If he didn’t have to go so soon just a few nights ago, you were sure you would’ve let him take you against the stage or hell, even up against the pole. With the way he was leaving rough kisses all along your body, you knew he was quickly losing his sanity too. After bringing you to heaven twice with his head between your thighs in less than half an hour, the two of you relished in your newfound relationship.

He took you in your bed, against your kitchen counter, on your couch and finally in the shower. He couldn’t get enough of you and it was evident that you felt the same way about him. After finishing up in the shower, he helped you prepare for bed and even gave you his shirt to wear as he slept in only his underwear. He held you tightly to his body and whispered sweet nothings in to your ear before finally asleep. It had to be one of the best nights you had since moving to California.

From that day on, the two of you were inseparable—like magnets. Wherever you’d go, he would follow and vice versa. The two of you could never go without one another. You found yourself falling in love with him in just a few months of dating and although the two of you weren’t together for too long; you were sure he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Mark wasn’t a jealous boyfriend—he knew you were his and his alone. At first, he was kind of insecure with dating you, especially because he was well aware that you’d continue being a stripper even if you were now in a relationship.

It wasn’t that he asked you to quit; nor did he try to make you feel bad for continuing your profession. He was proud of you for working a full time job and attending school at the same time and your boyfriend knew you were your own person before you were his—plus he trusted you. Mark knew you loved him just as much as he loved you. It wasn’t you he was worried about, it was the men who would come to the club. Knowing that you were one of the main dancers only worried your boyfriend because he was afraid that people would try and take advantage of you when he wasn’t around to protect you.

He’s been to the club countless times since the two of you started dating, and it took every bone in his body not to fight anyone who tried to lay their hands on you. You would reassure him that you were fine, and that he was the only one you would have one on one sessions with. You made sure to tell your manager you were in a relationship and did not feel comfortable performing for someone alone knowing your boyfriend was at home, waiting for you to finish work.

One thing Mark did that made your heart flutter, no matter how many times you told him you were fine, was that he would pick you up every single night that you worked—no matter what time it was. He never failed to come get you and always told you it was because he wanted to make sure you got home safely. Just a few months after the two of you started dating, he had asked you to move in with him.

At first, he was afraid of rushing things—he was afraid that he would scare you away if you weren’t ready to take that further step in your relationship, but he craved your presence and loved being around you. Plus, it was easier for him to pick you up and drop you off to both work and school. He accommodated you in any way you needed. Before you could bring over your things, you noticed he had purchased a lot of the things you needed including your shampoo and conditioner, a jewelry box to put all your jewelry in, some face masks and other skin care products and he even bought you a vanity for your makeup.

Dating Mark was a dream. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend and more. He was patient, extremely funny, generous, always put your feelings first and had one of the kindest hearts. You only fell for him more and more each and every day. He scheduled his classes so that he could take you to school and finish around the same time you did; and not that it was the main focus of your relationship, but since you started dating Mark, the both of you had a sexual awakening.

What he didn’t know, was that although you were a stripper, you’ve only had one sexual experience before him and you regret not making him your first. He took such amazing care of you when it came to sex and always put your needs before his own; he made sure you came before he did, only moved when you told him it was okay and tried out any position you wanted to. He would do anything you asked him to and made it known to you just how much he loved you both physically and verbally.

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first fight just hours ago. Neither of you remembered how it started, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how it ended. Some mean words were thrown about and you both said things you knew neither of you meant, but it was too late and the damage was done. You took your things for work and decided to find your own way to get there. You knew your boyfriend was upset when he didn’t come after you.

As soon as you walked out the door, tears came streaming down your face and you were about to call in sick for work, but you refused to let this argument get the best of you. Once you arrived to the club, you threw your earphones on and started to get ready. Your phone began to vibrate so you ultimately turned it off; it didn’t take a genius to know who was contacting you.

Other than your parents, your boyfriend was the only person you ever really called and texted. You released a long, frustrated sigh and continued to apply your make up. When you were done with both your hair and makeup, you put on your outfit and prepared yourself to make your way outside. You were not in the mood for any sort of human interaction, but there was nothing you could do. it was going to be hard, but you had to separate your work life from your personal life and right now, you had to put on a fake smile to prevent anyone from realizing that something was bothering you.

When you made your way in to the club, there were at least fifty men already crowding the stage. You tried your best to push all thoughts of your boyfriend to the back of your mind and started strutting your stuff down to the pole. Right as the music turned on, you swayed your hips to the rhythm and made sure that all the guys were dropping their jaws at the sight of you. Hearing the crowd roar at your raunchy movements and seeing all the money being thrown on stage only gave you more confidence to put more effort in to your dancing and soon the entire argument was forgotten in that moment.

To your dismay, only two hours in to your shift, some men had a little too much to drink—meaning a few people were beginning to jump on stage and your anxiety was starting to build up. You could feel your chest fill up with worry and it was getting hard for you to breathe. The only thing you could really do was move back in attempts to get as far away as possible from the drunken customers.

Before you could process the entire situation, you saw fists being thrown and when you realized one of the men involved was Mark, your heart both sank and fluttered at the sight. Your boyfriend wasn’t the most built guy out there, but you knew he could take on most of the guys in that club because of how drunk they all were. However, one guy grew angry with the way Mark was being aggressive towards him and started to fight back; seeing him sock your boyfriend in the face worried you.

You quickly ran over to the two of them and started punching and slapping the guy in attempts to get him to release his hold on your boyfriend. This was not the way you would have expected the night to go. It felt like you were begging for help for the longest time—yet no one seemed to be coming to your rescue. Finally, after what felt like hours even if it was only a couple of minutes, the security guards pulled Mark away from the now bloody man and threatened to call the cops on him even if he was clearly trying to save you from being harassed.

“He’s with me. It’s fine. I’ll take care of him.”

You got off the stage and brought your boyfriend to the back, earning yourself a couple of boos from the crowd, but you didn’t care. Mark was all that mattered in that moment. Once you reached your dressing room, you sat him down on the couch and searched for a first aid kit. When you finally found one, you quickly walked over to where Mark was sitting and immediately started applying medicine to his cuts.

“Stay here, I’ll go get ice.” Before you could walk away, he was pulling you on to his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“It’s fine babe. I’ve been through worse. I’m just glad you’re okay.” You frowned at him while gently grazing his cheek. Tears started forming at your eyelids and he was quick to kiss them away once he saw them.

“Why are you here? And why would you put yourself through danger? The security guards would’ve handled it Mark. Now you’re all beat up and if those guys remember what happened in the morning they can press charges.” He shrugged indifferently while running his hands through your hair. It was obvious he was not worried one bit of the entire situation.

“Let them. I honestly don’t give a fuck. It was worth it. Nobody messes with my girl. I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help myself. Seeing them trying to reach out at you already got my blood boiling. But once I saw them jumping on stage, I had to get involved. I know how you can get anxiety sometimes and I didn’t want you having an attack. And I’m sorry for earlier. I was planning on talking to you on your break and I was going to wait till you were done to take you home. I don’t care if we fight, I’m not gonna let you go home on your own. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. You know I didn’t mean anything I said right? I was just mad, but that was no excuse. I’m not ashamed that my girlfriend is a stripper; if anything, I find it so fucking sexy. Nor would I force you to quit knowing how much you love it here. I hate fighting with you. I shouldn’t have let you leave while you were upset but my pride got in the way. I’m so fucking in love with you it’s not even funny. I couldn’t stop thinking about the pain on your face as you walked out the door. Please forgive me y/n. I don’t think I can handle you being mad at me. Scream at me, punch me, hit me, call me names even. But please, don’t be mad at me anymore.”

Your heart broke when you heard his voice crack and you found yourself connecting your lips together. Mark was a very sensitive person; he would cry at the smallest of things and although his friends would tease him about being too much of a softie, it was a characteristic of his that you were extremely fond of. He was hesitant at first—he was still upset with himself for making you cry in the first place; but when he felt you relax in to him, he wrapped his arms around your waist. You cupped his cheek and depend the kiss; swirling your young all but gently around his, earning yourself a couple of deep grunts. All too soon, Mark pulled away to catch his breath and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m not mad at you baby. I’ll admit, I was a little hurt by what you said. But I said some things I didn’t mean either so I’m just as in the wrong as you are. I’m sorry by the way. Everything that I said was in the heat of the moment. You’re not a bad boyfriend. You’re the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for, you know that right? I’m very thankful to call you mine. Just the mere thought of you brings a smile to my face and when I’m not with you, I feel empty. That’s why I couldn’t stop crying when I left. I really don’t like fighting with you. I love you Mark.”

He placed multiple kisses along your face and quickly wiped away your tears. His fingers were featherlight against your face; he smiled at you while tracing your features with his index finger. Honestly, it didn’t matter that the two of you were sitting in the dressing room of a strip club; it honestly did not matter where you were, you wanted to spend as much time in the moment that time would allow you to.

After a few moments, you heard a knock on the door and freaked out when you saw your manager. You were afraid of getting in trouble for what happened but released a sigh of relief when she told you to go home early. You quickly packed your things and walked over to help your boyfriend up.

“Let’s go.”

He intertwined your hands together and the two of you walked over to his car. Once he helped you get settled in and got himself buckled, you both drove home. For the first couple of minutes, everything was quiet, other than the playlist he had put on. However, about ten minutes in to the drive, his hand absentmindedly found your thigh.

It’s not like you weren’t used to him touching you like that. On most drives, he would either hold your hand or place his on your lap—however, he began slowly tracing patterns against your skin causing goosebumps to rise. He brought his fingers closer to where you needed him the most; the coil in your stomach was twisting to the point where you had to cross your legs in attempts to form any kind of friction in between them.

To your dismay yet his delight, your boyfriend ultimately pulled away before he could do anything to help soothe the fire that was overtaking your entire body. You saw him laughing to himself and mentally cursed him before grunting in irritation.

“You’re gonna get it Tuan I swear to God.” He looked at you as if he had no idea what you were talking about and simply shrugged.

“Just you wait baby. You’re going to regret teasing me.” He bit his lip seductively while finally pulling in to the parking lot.

“I don’t know what it is, but I can’t wait.” Once he parked his car, you made a bee line to your apartment and didn’t even care whether or not he was following right behind you. You brought a chair from the kitchen in to your bedroom and took off your clothes, leaving you in the extremely tiny outfit you were wearing earlier.

You knew it was Mark’s favorite and seeing you wear it tonight is what probably riled him up and got him to fight with other people. When you heard the door close, you sat there and waited patiently for your boyfriend to enter. When he did, his jaw dropped at the sight of you and his gulp did not go unnoticed—in fact, it only turned you on some more.

“Holy fuck. Y/n—“ He reached out for you but you quickly backed away—earning yourself a breathy and extremely sexy whine.

“I’m going to give you a lap dance. However, I have rules. My body is off limits. Absolutely no touching. The minute I feel you touching me, I’m going to make it stop. If I feel your hands on my body even just once, it’s over with.”

Your boyfriend quickly nodded in agreement, willing to take whatever he could get at thus point and motioned for you to start. You turned on your speakers and soon your room was being filled with The Weeknd. Slowly, you sauntered over to your boyfriend, bringing your hands up to his face and caressing his cheek all the while grinding in to him. Seeing him bite his lip to the point where you knew there was a chance it would start bleeding, trying his best not to make a noise nor touch you made you laugh quietly to yourself.

You brought your hands in to his hair and gently pulled on it, earning yourself an exhausted groan from your boyfriend. Leaving chaste kisses along his jaw and neck made Mark shiver and you could tell he was about to lose all his sanity pretty soon. You turned around, giving him a view of your round and plump ass—you purposely dropped one of your bracelets on to the floor so you had an excuse to bend down.

Hearing him take in a breath from how much of an effect you were having on him only made you want to take your time; you wanted to break him. When you felt his hard on against your ass, heat went straight to your core. Slowly, but very roughly, you grinded yourself against his thigh and smirked when you saw him squeezing both sides of the chair in order to prevent himself from touching you.

“Mmm, someone’s excited.”

He glared at you and the growl that came from the back of his throat did not go unnoticed—you could feel yourself growing wetter and hornier by the minute. The sex was going to be mind-blowing; you just knew it.

“I’ve been hard since I walked in to the club and saw you wearing this. Fuck baby. You don’t know what you do to me. Y/n. Please. Enough. I’m dying here. You’re actually lethal, do you know that? I’ve been a good boy long enough baby let me fuck your brains out, I’m begging you.”

You bit your lip at the sound of his dirty words. Mark was a very soft spoken and gentle guy. Around his friends and anyone he was close with, he could talk up a storm. It always made you smile seeing him comfortable enough to talk with people without getting nervous or stumbling on his words. However, when it came to sex between the two of you, he was very dirty and rough—just how you liked it.

His naughty words and raspy voice never failed to send shivers down your spine. You decided that your boyfriend had enough of your teasing and with the way he protected you tonight from all those drunk and rude assholes, he deserved a little treat. When he saw you get on your knees, he let out a content sigh. Although you were seconds away from fulfilling his carnal urges, you were extremely excited to finally have his dick down your throat.

Giving Mark head was just as fun for you as it was for him. Slowly, you unzipped his pants and released him from his underwear; the sight of his hard and throbbing cock sent warmth to your core. First, you kitten licked his tip and ran your tongue all along his cock—licking back and forth, dragging your teeth along his veins before ultimately bringing him in to your mouth. The noises; his grunts, moans and cries of pleasure that were rapidly falling from his mouth only drove you crazier. You were bobbing your head at an exceedingly rapid pace; trying to bring him as far down your throat as you could without gagging all the while looking up at him with your soft, doe eyes.

“Ba—baby—fuck—just—just like that. Ah fuck. You’re so good to me. You were made to suck my cock. Faster baby please. Your tongue—I can’t even—fuck.”

Your hands found purchase on his hips as you forced him deeper in to your mouth. No matter how much it hurt and how tears were forming at your eyelids, you loved being about to pleasure your boyfriend and you knew he loved it when you blew him. He ran his fingers through your hair and bit his lip in attempts to prevent himself from moaning loudly. Whatever you couldn’t fit in to your mouth, you pumped with your hand.

Every now and then, you brought his balls in to your mouth; sucking and grazing your teeth against both testicles. It was obvious with the way he would throw his head back that his balls were even more sensitive than his actual cock and you used that you your advantage.

“Baby—I’m gonna come—fuck y/n—you always get me to come so fast you’re so fucking sexy baby. Just like that—ah fuck.” Once he came in to your mouth, you were quick to swallow it entirely; milking him of everything he had and before you could process what was going on, your mouth was yanked from off of his tip and you were being pulled in to his embrace.

“You’re not real. I know I’ve said this many times but I have a hard time believing you’re real and that I’m the lucky man who was blessed with you as my girlfriend. You’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world baby. Fuck. Your mouth does wonders. You’re an ethereal being and I’ll do anything you ask me to. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I’m yours. Do whatever you want with me baby.” You turned around to face him and connected your lips together while bringing one of his hands to your core.

“Fuck y/n, you’re soaking. You’re honestly going to be the death of me you know that right? You’re so fucking sexy. My beautiful baby girl.” He took you off guard by shoving two fingers in to your heat. As soon as he started pumping, you hid your face in to the crook of his neck and tried your best to silence your moans. However, your boyfriend quickly but gently pulled you away and lifted your chin so that you were making eye contact with him.

“Don’t hide those beautiful sounds princess. Daddy deserves to hear how good he’s pleasuring you. All those men tonight can only dream of seeing you like this. Don’t get me wrong y/n, it’s so hot when you dominate me. But we all know at the end of the day, whose the real boss when it comes down to it huh? You thought you could tease me with this extremely sexy little dance while wearing my favorite lingerie of yours? You’re gonna get it I swear to God. I’m going to make sure everyone in this apartment structure knows how good I’m making you feel tonight.”

He quickened the pace and watching his facial expressions while he was pumping his fingers inside of you sent you closer to your release. His fingers were warm and the callousness of his digits only did wonders against your pussy. It didn’t take long for him to find your g-spot; during many of your love making sessions, Mark made it a habit to learn a knew thing about you. Your likes, dislikes, preferences, positions you wanted to experiment in, where your clit and g-spot were located; he just really wanted to please you and loved knowing that he was the only one who had that kind of effect on you.

“Mmm, we’ve already had multiple complaints Mark—maybe we should—FUCK.” He brought his fingers against your clit and flicked it; pinching your nub causing you to moan louder than expected.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to be doing. All night baby. Get ready to call in sick because when I’m done with you, there won’t be any feeling in your legs.”

He knew exactly how sensitive you were and always took advantage of the situation. You continued to grind yourself against his fingers in hopes of finally reaching your orgasm—but all too soon, he pulled away. When you whined at the loss, he simply giggled.

“Mark what the fuck? I was so close!” He definitely was not going easy on you tonight. Your boyfriend was going to make it known that he owned you—that he was the only one who could bring you sheer ecstasy just by his fingers. He loved tormenting you when it came to the bedroom and after that fight earlier, he was excited for the kinky, hot sex he had planned for the two of you. He motioned for you to get off of him and brought you over to the bed.

“You’re going to sit on my face with that pretty little pussy of yours and I’m going to eat you out until you’re numb. Got it?” You nodded in agreement; excited for what was going to happen in just a couple of seconds. As he lied down, he pulled you with him, having you hover over his face.

“Sit.”

Both you and your boyfriend weren’t strangers to face riding, but you were always afraid of crushing him. However, Mark was always vocal about how hot he thought it was eating you out while you were sitting on his face. He always tells you that his face is your throne and wants nothing more than for you to sit on it when you both have the time. His hands found their place on your ass and he grinded you against his tongue. As much as you loved giving head, you really enjoyed receiving it—especially because Mark was a professional at eating you out. He knew exactly what to do to make you scream, cry and beg him to hurry up and bring you to your orgasm. When you felt his fingers graze your clit, you know you were done for.

“M—Mark—Mark—baby please.”

Your hands found purchase in his hair, pulling and tugging on it as he continued eating you out like a man starved. His wet muscle felt amazing against your folds; his pace was relentless. He continuously licked stripes against your entrance; biting gently and sibling on your overly sensitive nub. Hearing him moan and hum against your cunt made you want to scream. When he pulled away, you let out a loud whine and you were embarrassed seeing as how needy you must’ve looked but you didn’t care. This was the second time he edged you tonight and you were sure it wasn’t going to be the last.

“That’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you my pretty slut. If you want me to continue, you know what to say.”

Hearing him call you such a derogatory name only brought you closer to your end. There were a few times where Mark would degrade you during sex—but it always turned you on. He brought his tongue back up to your entrance and continued his ministrations.

“Da—daddy—fuck—so so good. You’re always so good to me—just like that daddy please—please let me come—”

When you felt him nibble on your clit, the coil in your stomach released and you came all over his tongue. Your boyfriend lapped up all your juices, making sure to slurp up every last drop and hummed against your pussy. Feeling him sigh and him against your soaking core only made you wetter at the touch—as much as you were enjoying the way he gripped on your ass and smashed his face against your pussy, you needed more. When he felt you get off of him, he was confused and a little bit worried.

“Baby I wasn’t done. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want me to slow down? Y/n I’m so sorry—“

You connected your lips with his and wrapped your arms around his neck before you began to leave soft kisses along his jaw. Although he could be rough and dominant when it came to sex with you, he always made sure you were having a good time. He hated the thought of hurting you in any way.

“I’m fine babe. That was amazing as always. You’re always so good to me. And I love how dirty and kinky you get during sex. You become this animal—it’s so fucking hot and I just—need you inside me. Right now.” He nibbled on your ear and licked a trail down your neck. Your words made him hard again; honestly anything you did never failed to make your boyfriend hard as a rock.

“Fuck y/n. I’ll do anything you ask me to. As much as I love eating you out and as much as I love how you taste, I want to fuck the living shit out of you. Fuck baby you taste so good I could eat you out for hours. But feeling how tight and wet your cunt is, I want to be buried inside it.” He yanked off his pants and threw them against the wall all the while bringing his hands up to your round mounds and squeezed the both of them.

“These. These right here are my favorite body parts of yours. Well, other than your extremely pretty face—and thick thighs. Don’t even get me started on your ass babe. Everything about you is simply perfect, I can’t get over it. But your tits—fuck. So big and so pretty. I could spend an eternity sucking on these things.”

He licked and nibbled on one of your nipples while squeezing the other breast with his free hand. He did this in attempts to distract you from when he finally enters you. Although the two of you had sex almost every single day, you would never get used to the stretch every time Mark would enter you. It always felt so good, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt.

Your boyfriend was thick and long—you had a hard time believing someone could be that perfect. Even if you considered penises to be very ugly, something about Mark’s was addicting—it never failed to make your mouth water and you loved the feeling of it buried deep inside of your pussy, between your breasts and in your mouth.

“Let me know if it hurts okay? And tell me when I can move my love.” He reconnected your lips together, melding his lips perfectly with you and finally entered you, eliciting breathless moans from the both of you. You gently tapped his shoulder, letting him know that it was okay for him to move.

“You know, for someone who claims he’s going to make me immobile for the next week, you sure are very soft for me.” He chuckled and let out a content sigh.

“I’d beg to differ. I’m hard as a fucking rock for you.” You playfully slapped his shoulder as he hid his face in your neck.

“I just don’t wanna hurt you. I’m very protective over you y/n. Even from myself. You’re so delicate in my eyes. I’d do anything to keep you safe and make you happy.” You didn’t even realize a tear fell from your face until you felt his fingers gently brush them away.

“You asshole. Professing your love to me is not the reason why I should be crying during sex. But I love you too. And I’m in love with you. Madly in love with—mmmm.”

Hearing those words fall from your pretty lips only made Mark crave you in a way that he needed to have you now or else he was sure he would actually go insane and he couldn’t help himself—he needed to move. He started off slow, bringing himself in and out of you as gently as he could—but he was quick to pick up the pace once he felt how amazing your walled wrapped around him. His fingers roughly grabbed your waist and you were sure there were going to be bruises in the morning, but you didn’t care.

You loved seeing his little marks that he left around your body; it would only remind you of the amazing night before and the fact that you were his. He lifted your legs up and placed them both behind his head so that he could be closer to you while ramming himself in to you. You absentmindedly clenched around him; the feeling of him stretching out your walls made you want to scream. The sensation obviously had an effect on your boyfriend because he stopped moving and roughly grabbed both your wrists, bringing it up along the sides of your face.

“Stop that. You know exactly what that does to me. I’m going to come right now and I refuse to come before you do. Fuck baby. You’re so fucking tight and wet I can barely stay in. I would fuck you every single day if I could.” He brushed some of your hair behind your ear and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I could never get enough of you. I want you for the rest of my life. I hope you’re well aware that you’re stuck with me. You’re mine y/n.”

No matter how many times he would confess his love for you, you were never ready to hear it and your heart would always melt in to a puddle when he did so. You knew by the way he was groaning and roughly kissing you, that he was close to his release. Therefore, you gently squeezed his hand to get his attention.

“Baby.”

He looked at you in curiosity. You motioned for him to get off of you but before he could ask what was going on, you turned around and stuck your ass out in front of him. Out of all the positions, doggy was your favorite. There was something so erotic about how animalistic Mark would get in this position. He was rougher and his movements were so much faster in this position. It also turned you on even more when he would shove your face in to the bed sheets. When he realized what you were asking for, he moaned quietly to himself.

“My dirty little slut wants me to fuck her from behind? Fuck baby. I’m going to fucking wreck you. Get over here.”

He pulled your ass up against his pelvis and you moaned in sync at the feeling of his hard cock rubbing against your drenched folds. When he brought his hand up and spanked you, you could feel your orgasm building up again. Mark brought his lips up to your neck and started leaving multiple hickeys against it, you were his own personal canvas and he loved knowing people saw that you were spoken for. You pulled on the sheets and quietly screamed in to your pillow as he made his way back inside of you.

This time, he didn’t give you a second to prepare before roughly thrusting himself in to your cunt. His pace only quickened now that he could reach further in to your soaking pussy. The sound of skin on skin slapping could be heard throughout your room and every so often, Mark would whisper dirty things in your ear. His hands wouldn’t stop lingering everywhere along your body.

Your boyfriend always needed to be touching you. A lot of times, his touches weren’t even sexual; Mark had a hard time believing you were real and all his to love. Touching you was like a safety blanket to him. It only made him accept that you actually existed and that he was the proud owner of your heart. His hands were one of your favorite body parts—his fingers were long and skinny and you loved how they felt wrapped around your neck, your waist, against your lower back and buried inside your pussy. You also loved how they felt squeezing both your ass and your breasts.

You brought his hand up to your neck, hinting to him that you wanted to be choked. Although choking was a huge kink of your boyfriend’s, Mark was always very nervous and hesitant because he didn’t want to hurt you. But God, did he love the effect it had on you.

“Fuck! Did you just get tighter? You’re already soaking and tight as hell baby please tell me you’re close.” You nodded and he gently twisted your head so that he could kiss you.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much baby.” Soon, his warm, creamy liquid was filling you up to the hilt and he let out an exhausted whine.

“Baby I’m so sorry—“ You shook your head and asked him to pull out. Mark had a tendency of reaching his orgasm before you did, but it was understanding. It also did wonders to your confidence knowing that you could have him reach his release in just a matter of minutes.

“Let me ride.” The look on his face sent shivers down your spine. He was quick to lie down against the pillows and pulled you on top of him.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this breathtaking view but I would do it again and again if I had to if it meant getting to love you in every single lifetime.” You smiled down at him; his heartfelt words sent warmth to your cheeks and you knew in that moment that you would do anything he asked of you—however, your smile was quickly replaced with furrowed brows as you bit down on your lip and moaned as you sank down on his dick.

“Mmm—Daddy—please go faster. Aw fuck—just like that—harder—I’m so close baby.”

He sat up so he had a better view of your face and took this time to suck on both of your breasts. The feeling of bouncing on him while he was licking and nipping on your breasts brought you closer to your end. You sank up and down on him at a relentless pace; the feeling of his cock gliding against your walls, his fingers gripping on your ass as he helped guide your body against his and the way your ass slapped against his pelvis was a sensation you would never be able to form in to words. His tip kissed the back of your cervix with each and every bounce—and it was beginning to become too much for you to handle. Before you knew it, you were coming all over his dick with him following just seconds after.

“You’re not real—you can’t be. You’re so perfect y/n what did I do to deserve you?” You shook your head before bringing your hand up to his face and cupping his cheek with your palm.

“It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. I’m sorry again for earlier. I know it’s inevitable that we’ll fight again, but promise me that most fights will end like this.” He chuckled while flopping back down on the bed and bringing you with him.

“Trust me, I love making love to you at all times, but fucking you after fighting with you is a mind blowing experience. Should we fight again tomorrow?” You rolled your eyes and playfully pushed his shoulder.

“I can’t feel my legs. You win. You’re calling in sick for me tomorrow.” His laughter engulfed the room and you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

“Do you want to take a shower? I’ll carry you to the bathroom. Or I can even run you a bath if you’d like.” You shook your head—the thought of having to get up, even if he was going to carry you was exhausting.

“I just wanna go to sleep. I know you babe—we’re only gonna have more sex in the shower. I’m too sensitive for more sex tonight.” He pouted in to your neck but knew you were right. Mark would never be able to get enough of you and he wanted you to be completely recharged when he decided to have his way with you again.

“Hey, you said tonight. So tomorrow morning—“ You punched his shoulder as he giggled at the action.

“You are the horniest human being I know.” He ran his fingers up and down your back while leaving lingering kisses along your cheeks.

“I mean, have you seen yourself? And your body, God I hate the fact that you’re so insecure about it. Your body is perfect y/n. I love your thick thighs and your curves. And I don’t know why you think your breasts are small, I can barely fit one in my mouth. Oh and this ass, fuck. I cannot get enough of it. I could write a book about how much I love your body alone. Imagine if I were to talk about the love I have for you in general. A fucking novel. I never used to be this soft before. Your love made me all sappy. But it was worth it. You’re worth it. I’d do anything for you. Be anything you want me to. I’d do anything to make you happy. You’re my entire world y/n. I love you.” Tears fell from your eyes and he was quick to kiss them away.

“Come on my crybaby, let’s go to bed. Since you’re calling out sick tomorrow, I’m planning on having a lazy day—for the most part. At some point I plan on making love to you against the kitchen counter and on the couch. Maybe both. We’ll see if you’re up for it. Goodnight princess. Sweet dreams.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark #got7 smut

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Not sure if you’re still taking prompts but can you maybe write something about Billy and Steve and the 5 love languages please? Thank you!

1. Giving and Receiving Gifts

Steve just stared at the box.

He had found it in his mother’s closet, obviously placed in there by a maid.

His birthday was next week, and his parents were giving him a record player.

The same one they had given him last Christmas.

Steve figures his father’s assistant picked it out. He’s had four since Christmas.

He sighed at the box. Maybe he could sell the record player, maybe he could buy himself something with the money.

He knows he’ll end up giving it to Dustin, or maybe Will.

There was a carton of cigarettes on the kitchen table.

Unopened Marlboro reds. Next to a plate of pancakes. Susan’s yearly peace offering.

Billy slid into the table quietly.

“Thank you, Dad.”

Neil just hummed.

2. Physical Touch

Steve sighed as he sank into the crisp sheets.

His parents’ bed was huge, far larger than two people needed.

He had sprayed his mother’s perfume on one of the pillows, curled up in their silk sheets.

If he pretended hard enough, he could imagine being held.

Someone caring for him enough to touch him, run fingers through his hair, pet down his back.

He set up one of the down feather pillows behind him, felt like someone was there.

Billy spat into the sink.

His tooth had chipped, but hadn’t come out completely.

His lip was split and he could feel the bruises forming on his back.

He rinsed the blood out of his mouth, cataloging dark fingerprints on his wrist.

He should head to the quarry, be alone for a little bit.

He pushed out of the bathroom, nearly colliding into Max on his way to the door.

She reached for his wrist, the one already marked by another hand.

Billy dodged out of the way, kept going to his car.

3. Acts of Service

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency-”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. You know I never mind driving him.”

Mrs. Henderson sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. You’re a life saver.”

It was true though, he really didn’t mind driving Dustin around. Gave him something to do. Helping felt good, made him forget about things for a little while.

He had only been in Max’s room once before.

It had been to yell at her about stealing his Walkman.

It hadn’t changed since then, still just as cluttered, still as California beachy as before.

He placed the skateboard on the unmade bed.

He noticed her wheels were getting torn up on the shitty roads, installed new ones for her.

It was as close to an apology as he could get.

4. Quality time

Steve’s house was empty.

And he hated it.

No matter how loud he turned on the television, no matter how much music he played, or how many lights he turned on, it was still an empty house, with no one but a sad lonely boy rattling away inside.

Billy doesn’t like sitting in silence.

He guesses Susan doesn’t either, as she shakily tries to fill the dinner table with a poor anecdote from her day.

Billy smiles where he should, and eats quickly, but not too wuickly, and compliments Susan’s cooking, and only leaves the table when his father dismisses him.

He retreats to his room, listening to music to drown out whatever game Neil’s watching in the next room.

5. Words of Affirmation

“You’re not stupid.”

Billy’s brows were furrowed.

“Yeah, I am. But it’s okay though I’m-”

“No, you’re not.” He said it with an air of finality. “Your mind just works different. But you’re really smart.” Steve smiled weakly. “I mean it. You’ve got this creative brain, always thinking outside the box. You have a knack for detail other people miss. You’re smart”

It was the first time anyone ever told him that.

Fitting, as he’d had a lot of firsts with Billy already.

“You’re not a monster.”

Steve’s voice had an air of authority. His eyes were wide.

“Steve, I, I hurt-I killed so many-”

“You weren’t you, though. You were, were possessed. You couldn’t have stood a chance against that thing.”

“I should’ve fought it sooner.”

“It took all your energy to fight it off. And you did, in the end. You saved us all. You’re not a monster. You’re a hero.” Billy’s nose twitched. “You’re selfless, and brave, and a fucking hero.”

4. Quality Time

Steve’s house wasn’t empty.

And he loved it.

Billy seemed to take up every room, fill the space with snide remarks about the decor in Steve’s house, or laugh loudly at family portraits.

He had put music on in the living room, and turned on lights as he looked through his house.

Steve felt warm, and for once, for fucking once, he didn’t feel lonely.

Billy likes the quarry, although he would never say that to another human being.

It’s quiet there, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend the water lapping at the rocky shore is the ocean, that he never left California.

But then he looked to his left, and smiled at the sight.

Steve was always pretty, but something about moonlight made him ethereal.

He was quiet, looking out over the water.

Billy liked that Steve knows when to let the moment sit, when quiet is okay.

3. Acts of Service

“Noticed your breaks were starting to whine, so I changed your break pads. Ended up doing the oil and wiper fluid, too.”

Steve stared at the car.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Good for pt.” Billy’s hands were working much better, he had more articulation these days.

And rebuilding things, fixing things, it made him feel better than any talk session ever had.

It was nice seeing Billy like this, a little closer to his new self.

It made Steve’s stomach flip over.

“I finished unpacking your stuff while you were out applying places. I don’t know how you like things organized, so you’ll probably want to redo it I just thought-” Steve was rambling away, all nervous.

“Thanks, Stevie. I appreciate it.” Steve’s face went red.

They had moved into a two-bedroom apartment in the shitty part of town. Billy’s window opened onto a dingy parking lot, while Steve’s showed the gas station below.

“I was just finished, thought I would move your along, too.”

He tamped down the way his gut rolled, the way his heart pounded against his ribs at Steve’s slight flush.

2. Physical Touch

“Do you, uh, do you think I could sleep in here?”

Steve felt like he was going to throw up his heart, hands still shaking from his nightmare.

“‘Course.” Billy’s voice was gruff in the darkness, but he held up the side of his blanket.

Steve slipped underneath it with him.

He was still breathing too fast, stiff as a board on Billy’s bed.

“It’s okay.” And then Billy’s arm was around him, and his back was against a warm, solid chest, and it was all too easy to melt into the touch, maybe let a few tears fall.

Billy was warm, and grounding.

And Steve felt a tiny bit better.

Billy tossed himself down onto the couch.

It was two small for how both of them sprawled across it at once, their bodies pressed together.

Steve wiggled his way out from under Billy, leaning against his side, legs tucked up under his hips.

“Long day?”

Billy never replied.

He turned his head to look at Steve, and he was so close, his breath fanning over Billy’s cheeks, dark eyes nearly going cross eyes as they dropped down to look at his lips.

His hair was soft as Billy sank a hand into it, guiding their kiss.

It was a long time coming, the soft brush of their lips.

Steve pressed his body closer to Billy, who let out a desperate whine.

Steve’s hands were soft and warm, one cupping his cheek, one gripping his wrist.

They took shaky breaths after parting, still close enough to feel the other’s breath, neither boy wanting to break their soft little bubble.

They kissed all night.

1. Giving and Receiving Gifts

“Happy birthday, you pain in my ass.”Steve laughed as he accepted the small box from Billy.

“You’re a terror.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Billy’s cheek.

It was Steve’s first birthday since they moved to California.

He tore open the wrapping paper, tossing the lid of the box onto their bed.

He gasped.

“Bill, this is, thank you.”

It was Billy’s necklace. Steve didn’t even realize he wasn’t wearing it.

“Wanted you to have it. Since you’re my guy, and all that.” His smile was dazzling, lazy and warm.

Steve turned around, placed his palm over the pendant as Billy clasped it for him.

“I love you.” Billy pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, right over the clasp.

“Love you too, Pretty Boy.”

“Uh, here.”

Steve’s cheeks were flaming as he pushed the small box into Billy’s hands.

“Happy Birthday.”

Billy just smiled up at him, taking his time with the neat wrapping.

It was a ring, a simple gold band.

“You know, it’s been eight years since we got together. And I know we can’t get married, or whatever, but I thought, we could, we could have this.”

Billy was fucking speechless.

“Sorry, it’s dumb.” Steve reached for the ring, but Billy clutched it to his chest.

“Do you have one too?”

“Yeah. Matching set.”

“Go get it.” Steve looked nervous as he re-entered their living room with a matching gold band.

Billy took it from him. He took his left hand, slowly sliding the ring on his finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

Steve barked a laugh, happy and bright. He slid Billy’s ring onto his finger in the same fashion.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Billy’s smile was hurting his cheeks.

“Now with the power invested in me, by the great state of California, and the fact that no one can tell us fuck all, I pronounce us, husband and husband. Now gimme a fuckin’ kiss!”

They both laughed into the kiss, the sun setting outside their apartment, dousing the little makeshift wedding in gold.

#i don't really know where the timeline is at for any of this lol #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove drabble #harringrove ficlet

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

Always made to break (S.M.)

Summary: Shawn meets someone who reawakens his soul and makes him question his choices in love.

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 4k

A/N - I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, so I decided to post it and see how you guys like it, so let me know if you want more.

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''Were you ever going to tell me?“ She practically growled at Shawn as she threw a magazine in his lap, the tone she used scaring him enough to look up at her face, the beautiful features now twisted with rage and disappointment, something he never wanted to see her direct at him.

''I don't unders-'', but then he saw just what she meant, seeing his face attached to Camilla's on the front page of a random gossip magazine. He knew why she was looking at him with such fire in her eyes, and not the kind he expected to see in the bedroom, but the purest form of hatred mixed with pain.

''Not only did you poise as some poor photography student, but you also claimed you're single?! How stupid can I be, right?“ She put her right hand on her hip, using the back of her left one to wipe under her nose although nothing was there but a fathom sensation of coldness he had caused her insides now manifesting on the outside as well. She didn't shed a single tear yet, her anger not allowing her heartbreak to show.

It is better to hate him for his lies than to feel sorry for herself, she decided.

''I didn't want to...“ Shawn trailed off, unable to find the words. He, a man of many words, a person who had always managed to put his emotions in the most eloquent of ways had found himself speechless at a time he needed his words the most.

''Didn't want what? To tell me you're rich and famous? That you're dating a star? Huh?!“ She huffed, her eyes burning him with the intensity of the unrestrained pit of bursting flames within.

''What was this to you? Huh? A joke? Did it make you feel good to make me the fool?!“ She shouted, the raw emotion ripping her throat like a thousand razorblades.

Bowing his head down, Shawn swallows thickly, his eyes filling with tears he knew would only anger her more in this moment. He doesn't get to cry over breaking her heart, he just doesn't.

At the beginning

It was supposed to be a calm, ordinary Monday morning for Shawn. After months on the road, it was nice to be back home for a short break from the stage and screaming fans, just him and his earplugs and a good cup of coffee. It was supposed to be a regular, lonesome morning to start the day off right, but things never really work out the way we want them to.

Whether he meant to sit in that particular café, in that particular chair, with that particular song playing as he lazily glanced around before taking the first sip of his coffee, Shawn had started a chain of events that would lead him into a world of trouble, yet unimaginable love and heartache.

In that lazy glance, Shawn had managed to catch a young girl's eye, his curls falling over his eyes obscuring his vision. She had merely smiled at him, so sweetly, so shyly, enough for Shawn to return the gesture. Her eyes fell back on her phone and he assumed she was likely sending a message to all her friends about seeing THE Shawn Mendes, probably posting a sneakily taken photo of him in his moment of supposed tranquility as well.

It's not as if he's not used to it, but Shawn really hoped he'd have this morning to himself, a moment to put his thoughts in proper order and a second to breathe. He's been having his picture taken every day, multiple times by fans and paparazzi, especially since he started the whole agreement with Camila and her team.

Shawn was tired of it, drained, so when he hoped for a moment of his own and lost it? He truly didn't feel at ease anymore.

He looked back at the girl once more, angrily with eyes narrowed. She seemed oblivious to his newfound outlet as she kept scrolling on her phone. She was beautiful, Shawn couldn't deny that. In fact, it's why he looked her way in the first place – it's why he sat in this particular café, outside on such a cold morning to have his coffee, all because she caught his eye as he was passing the street. However, whatever drew him in had now pushed him away as he scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

That's when she looked up from her phone and trained her eyes on him again, a confused look passing her features as she stood slowly, setting herself on a path toward him.

Rolling his eyes, Shawn reminded himself to be nice for his image is kindness and never random rage outbursts on young girls who want a photo with him. He drew in a short, quick breath of fresh air before he looked up at her when she stopped a few feet away from him, prepared to fake it if need be.

"I’m really not in the mood.” Shawn says before he can stop himself, mentally face palming when he sees the girl’s eyebrows furrow, her bottom lip sinking between her teeth as she cleared her throat.

“I wanted to ask if you needed something aside from the coffee considering you’ve been looking at me this whole time. I just assumed you were annoyed because my colleague hasn’t been out in a while. I’m sorry for making the wrong assumption and bothering you.” She wasn’t harsh or rude, making Shawn feel even guiltier as he paled. Finally realizing she’s the waitress, Shawn’s paleness is quickly replaced with a crimson shade that he could never truly hide.

The girl didn’t get a chance to walk away as he stood up abruptly, knocking the table up in the process with his thighs, some of his coffee spilling over.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so rude, I just…I do want something.” Shawn exclaimed, hoping he can dig himself out of this deep hole he managed to dig for himself in a matter of seconds. “A bagel! And a brownie, please?” Shawn gave her an awkward smile, running his hand through his messy curls as she studies him with care, unsure if she should say something about his odd behavior or just take it like she usually does.

There are worse customers than him, she thinks.

“Sure.” She sighs, placing her phone on his table before whipping out a small notepad to write his order down, walking away right after.

Sitting down, Shawn sighed heavily at his stupidity, chuckling at himself. Rubbing his forehead to soothe an oncoming headache, he opens his eyes only to find her phone is still on the table, unlocked at that!

He stared at the gadget with great interest, wondering if he had assumed more than one thing wrong and if he had to change his opinion of this girl entirely. He didn’t want to take the phone and search it, but what’s the harm in peering over his cup to see what app she’s got open, right?

“Most common complications of a bowl resection?” Shawn reads under his breath, his eyebrows knitted together as he stares at the words that quite frankly sound like they came from a Grey’s anatomy episode.

“What are you doing?” A sweet voice startles him into a small yelp, the girl chuckling at this tall hunk who seems to be so clumsy and presumptuous that she can’t quite figure him out yet.

“Oh, I…Uh…I’m a simple guy, really. I see a phone screen and I have to sneak a peek, except I can’t understand a damn thing written on there.” Shawn rubbed the back of his neck nervously, sure as hell that his face is tomato red by now. He hates tomatoes just as much as he hates his treacherous cheeks for betraying every emotion he’s ever had.

Giggling, she places his order on the table, pushing back a strand of hair behind her right ear. She takes her phone swiftly, pocketing it in a single move.

“Yeah, I’ve got an exam to prepare for. Been working the night shift! Lucky me!” She exclaims sarcastically, her lips pressed together before she places the bill on his table too, turning around to go.

She isn’t even wearing a uniform, Shawn realizes, watching her as she takes her bag and begins to pack her things from the table she was sat at before. She took his order even after her shift ended. Biting down on his bottom lip, Shawn could sense a war is brewing between his head and heart, each arguing why he should or should not go after her.

Shawn’s always been a heart guy, deciding to go ahead and listen to it once again.

Jumping to his feet, Shawn moves toward her on instinct, not quite ready for her to go. He’s got too much accumulated guilt over judging her and assuming things about her that he was clearly wrong about and while she didn’t know it, he still wanted to make amends. Shawn needed to do something nice for the girl who had been kind enough not to cuss him out for being inexcusably rude to her.

“Where are you going?" He asks before he could stop himself. His head cocked to the side, his eyes shifting from the ground to the unknown girl. He barely knew her, hell, Shawn didn’t even know her name, but his heart stopped and he could barely breathe when she decided to leave.

She looked up in wonder, observing him with slight worry in her eyes, another thing he found endearing.

“I have that exam in an hour. Gotta get to my bus on time.” She shrugged, giving him a tiny wave as a means to say goodbye.

Shawn needed more time with her. He needed to talk to her, to get to know her, to at least find out her name. For some reason he couldn’t even fathom, Shawn felt drawn to this stranger, this girl who didn’t seem to know or give a damn about who he is. She is the type of people he surrounds himself with – people who are grounded and will keep him human. He wouldn’t admit to it, but she was also a beauty he couldn’t part with for reasons not of the mind, but of the heart. He knew it wouldn’t be a smart idea to get involved with someone now, not when he was under contract to be with someone else and so publicly.

However, when she made a move to leave, Shawn had to react before his heart completely stopped.

"I'm guessing you need a ride?" His voice was soft-spoken and mellow, sending a warm glow throughout Y/N’s body.

"Taking the bus won’t kill me, but thanks for the offer." Y/N smiled, waving at the café’ window. Shawn grabbed a twenty and left it on his table quickly, pointing at it in hopes of someone coming out to take the money for he had no time to pay for it right now. Shawn had decided to get in his car and chase after the girl who had started her walk to the nearest bus station, her determined walk noticeable and distinctive.

“You said you’ve been working all night, right?” He talked loudly, needing her to hear him, as if she could miss a car like his slowing down beside her or the doe-eyed guy nearly shouting at her through his open window.

“Yeah. So?” She stops, crossing her arms over her chest, uncertainty in her eyes. She looked at Shawn with such confusing emotion that he could hardly breathe when he allowed himself the luxury of staring into her eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she knew him for years, that they have history, that they’ve met in a previous life. The look in her eyes and the feeling he’d get in his heart when he’d meet her gaze? It felt like more than two strangers talking.

“Don’t want to fall asleep on the bus and miss your stop, now do ya?” Shawn tried, unsure how to convince her to let him drive her.

“I’d also prefer not to be killed by the seemingly kind stranger who offered me a ride.” She cocked an eyebrow, starting to walk again which forced Shawn to press down on the gas pedal lightly.

“My name’s Shawn and I promise I’m not a killer, just a big supporter of education who has nothing better to do than help a girl who looks like she could use a kind gesture after a hard night.”

Y/N stops again, rolling her eyes at the sky before letting out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. Was it wise to get into a car of a man she knew for less than an hour? A handsome stranger that could easily turn out to be a Ted Bundy she found herself attracted to?

Definitely not wise, she thought as she opened the passenger door and sat inside.

"Cute name." she smiled shyly.

“I’m Y/N.” She tells him, putting on the seatbelt before looking into his whiskey brown eyes.

“Your name is cuter.” Shawn’s crooked smile made her heart flip. The wind gently brushed his curls as he kept his window open, the breeze grazing his face, almost soothingly.

This is what he needed though, some adventure. Some risk. Some danger. Giving a ride to a girl he met didn’t constitute as adventure, risk or danger, but being seen doing so? Definitely.

She types in the location in his GPS, leaning back in her seat as the radio fills the silence. Nearly choking on his own saliva, Shawn changed the song he had recognized just by the first few beats, before Senorita could blast through the speakers.

“So, uh…what kind of music do you like?” Shawn asked awkwardly, feeling her gaze upon him not a second later. It’s as if being set on fire, but not in the way it hurts the skin, rather puts the soul on a path worth taking.

“Classical mostly. Old rock music too.” She responds, receiving a hum from Shawn in response. He relaxed visibly, knowing there’s a much lesser chance that she’d know he’s Shawn Mendes if he’s not what she usually listens to.

“You seem like a pop-rock kind of a guy.” She assumed, lifting her left eyebrow quizzically, waiting for him to agree or deny.

Shawn couldn’t hold himself back from smiling widely, nodding before sparing her a quick glance. “Nice guess.” He adds, noticing her cheeks redden, not nearly as bad as his, but enough to know she’s not indifferent.

“So, you’re a med student or a method actor?” Shawn chuckled, catching her playfully rolling her eyes at him and his stomach flipped at the gesture. She looked cute even annoyed with him and he knew he’d love to annoy her for a really long time if she’d let him.

“First one would be right!” She exclaimed, pressing her lips together as she turned to the side, looking out the window instead of him.

“That’s pretty impressive! Beauty and brains? It’s every man’s dream.” Shawn told her honestly, at least from his perspective. He had already found himself on her hook, wanting more and more all the while knowing he’ll soon have to leave her at the university and in less than a month, he’d leave the continent as well.

“You might be the only guy thinking that. It feels the day I started med school, I signed some invisible contract where I was doomed to be lonely and friendless. I never have time for friends or relationships. When I’m not in class, I’m working or studying. If I do have free time, I’m usually exhausted to the point of just curling up and watching Netflix. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” She bit her lip, eyes everywhere but on Shawn.

She didn’t know why she told him this, something she’d been carrying around on her shoulders for so long. She barely knows him, yet Shawn just oozes good vibes and trustworthiness that she couldn’t help herself. It’s been a while since she had someone to be genuine with, so what’s the harm in oversharing with a stranger she’ll likely never see again?

“If you’re passionate about something, it will often demand you abandon all else. There will be times where you’ll wonder why you ever did it, why you’ve made such a decision as if you didn’t know it would be like this…you did, I know you were aware it would be hard and let me tell you, all the good things in life are hard and demand sacrifice and once you’ve got it, you’ll be reminded just why you chose it. Something happens and you’re reminded and you’ll be back in the right mindset.” Shawn tightens his hold on the steering wheel, aware he’s telling himself the same.

He’s lost the passion he used to have for music in the circus his team imposed on him and now he’s here, in the car with a girl he just met yet felt so incredibly connected to in comparison to the girl he’s supposedly dating that it was hard not to feel like life turned on him.

When he started writing music and playing it live, Shawn never realized how fake the public persona he’d have to create would be. He always thought musicians had free reign to be who they are, to enjoy life, but he’s received a cold shower of pure facts in the past year and he’s still struggling to come to terms with it.

“I really hope so.” She smiled, reaching out for his hand. She laid her palm gently on the back of Shawn’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it quickly.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of bummed we’re already here.” Shawn sighed as he parked, looking over at the girl he wanted to stay more than ever. She wasn’t a stranger anymore, not even close. In his world, the rule states you’re no longer strangers if you’ve:

A) gotten drunk together

B) had a heart to heart.

“Bet you say that to all the strangers you give a lift to.” Her lips pulled to the left into a crooked smile, one Shawn wanted to make wider, brighter.

“Just ones I really like.” Shawn countered, smiling as well. It’s hard to resist a smile when she’s got her angelic lips spreading into the smile he wanted to see.

“You like me, eh?” She teased, coyly lifting an eyebrow as she lets her lips pucker.

“Never denied it.” Shawn raised his hands in a mock surrender, chuckling.

Then he moves closer with those eyes that look so deeply into her own, as if he could see who she is underneath all the layers she’s created to protect herself from the hurt. It’s like he sees her soul, the real Y/N and never in her life had she felt seen like she did with Shawn. He made her feel like she’s the only girl in the world and she knew then she’d never find that gaze in any other man’s eyes, never such intensity, raw emotion and understanding.

“As long as we’re clear on that.” She smirked, moving away slightly, not ready for what his eyes were telling her.

“Are you feeling better about the exam now? About everything? Because I meant what I said. You’ll be okay, even if it feels otherwise.” Shawn decided to diffuse the situation, the tension growing too fast for her to be comfortable with it, he could tell.

“About the fact that I’m not sure if I’ll ever find love or be the girl a guy would go to the ends of the world for?” She shrugged, chuckling dryly.

It’s much easier to make fun of what bothers her than face it head on. She’s been feeling so lost for such a long time that her coping mechanisms weren’t quite something most people are used to. But Shawn? He doesn’t even blink at her darkness. He doesn’t look away or shows he’s tired of her already. He doesn’t push her away for being so gloomy, he’s doing the opposite. He listens as if her words are golden, some elixir he's been waiting all his days to hear.

From what he says next she can tell he is thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that's several moves ahead of her. And in his words is a kindness, a concern that is so quick that, for him, it is natural. This attentiveness is a part of who he is and that is the most attractive feature Y/N’s ever seen in a man.

“You are though. I’ve known you for an hour and I’m already thinking just how badly I want to take you out and shower you with affection. You’re so beautiful, so raw, so fucking oblivious to your qualities that it makes me both angry and stubbornly certain that I want to change your view of yourself.” Shawn takes her hand in his, clasping it between his palms as his left hand, the one with a swallow tattoo, closes over hers. A tattoo like that would be hard to forget.

“I’ve found out that you’re intelligent, hardworking, ambitious, funny in a nonconventional way, incredibly brave for setting out on this journey, extremely good and devoted to helping humanity one person at a time, caring and you think of others even when you don’t have to. You were kind to me when I wasn’t to you, honest and open with your heart and mind…And that’s all within an hour of knowing you. And I desperately want more as creepy as it may sound.” Shawn’s words have made her eyes gloss over and she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling too.

When a woman’s sure she’s destined to be alone and that her perfect man isn’t real and then finds him when she’s given up on the notion – it’s a shock to the body. His smile alone burnishes her soul into a beauty it could never have achieved on its own. Before they met, both Shawn and Y/N were one, now they’re each a half, yet somehow so much more than they ever were before.

“I’m really glad I met you, Shawn. It’s truly an honor.” She managed to say before she leaned in so swiftly he had no chance to even move. Her lips brushed his for no longer than a moment, a single breath yet long enough to make him crave more, so much more. Just as quickly as they warmed his heart, her lips were gone and so was she.

He watched her walk away, her head bent as she stared at her shoes in thought, his heart slamming against his ribcage helplessly. He’d have ran after her, but he couldn’t afford some of the students recognizing him and snapping a photo. He couldn’t risk the world knowing he was living a lie, dating Camila on paper but already in love with a woman he was destined to fail in the long run.

Shawn should have let Y/N become a sweet memory he’d return to when the nights became too cold, too lonely to brave on his own. He should have let it be a fantasy, but he couldn’t. Whether he wanted it or not, Shawn was drawn to the same café the very next morning, hoping to run into the medical student who had captivated him.

#shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic

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