#I recently started swimming again and my whole body is sore

[wrathfulrook]

Wrathling - Chapter 4

Series rating: E

Ship: John Seed x Patience Ekner (deputy oc)

Word count: ~4.7k

Series masterlist

Read it on ao3.

Patience woke once again with her head lolling down, her neck sore, and her head in splitting agony. She opened her eyes to a harsh red lighting, initially so bright it hurt. The large room smelled like sweat, blood, and something worse. Trash bag and duct tape wrapped bodies hung from meat hooks like giant, sleeping bats. Dark puddles of mystery liquid had collected in places on the concrete floor. And directly across from her, bathed in the ominous light from an overhead antler chandelier (And really? A chandelier? Here?) sat Joey.

Joey who she hadn’t seen in weeks. Joey who had apparently been here that whole time, without reprieve.

The deputy tried to get her eyes to focus on her friend, watching her form waver back and forth as she struggled against her bonds. Joey’s hair was matted and tangled, likely not having been taken out of its braid since her capture. Tear streaks ran down her face, disappearing under the strip of duct tape that secured her mouth shut. There was a strong chance the ‘something worse’ odor she smelled was Joey.

Joey’s struggling became more frantic as Patience’s vision began to clear and she heard a faint, whistled tune. Joey screamed from behind her makeshift gag and pulled at the ropes securing her to the chair until Patience could see from across the room that her wrists were chafing. Following her friend’s panicked gaze, Patience turned to her right and saw none other than John Seed, himself.

He stood in front of a worn work bench, his back to the bound deputies while he whistled a tune Patience felt confident she could place had she not suffered a recent blow to the head. He opened a toolbox that she could not see inside of from her angle. Between the whistling and the relaxed, habitual seeming movements of his exposed forearms, John Seed exuded a casual ease and comfort that filled Patience with dread.

He stopped whistling, turned around, and leaned back against the bench. The genuine smile on his face unsettled her even further.

Joey’s cries turned to whimpers. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Seeing her always strong, often stoic colleague brought to tears by just his presence… It made Patience fear John Seed more than anything he, himself, could be doing.

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the Power of Yes,” he began casually, conversationally, as if he didn’t have the two of them secured to chairs in a literal torture chamber. “One night, they took me into the kitchen, and they threw me on the ground, and I experienced pain after pain after pain…

“And when I didn’t think I could take anymore- I did.

“Something broke free inside. I wasn’t scared, I was… clear. I looked up at them and I started to laugh. All I could say was ‘Yes.’ I spent my entire life looking for more things to say ‘yes’ to. I opened up every hole in my body and when those were filled, I created more.”

Patience carefully kept her face still, unexpressive. But, honestly, what the fuck?

“But it was Joseph who showed me just how selfish I was being. Always receiving. Always taking. The best gift isn’t the one you get. It’s the one you give, and giving takes courage.” His voice was becoming less conversational, more proselytizing. “The courage to own your sin. To etch it onto your flesh and carry its burden. And when you have endured, when you truly begin to atone… To cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see…”

He took a heavy breath, seemingly blown away by his own speech.

“My God, that’s courage.”

John Seed leveled his eyes with hers, and she swallowed at the weight of his full attention. He spoke directly to her, as if Joey wasn’t even in the room anymore. His volume rose as he spoke, not in anger, but in excitement. “I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say ‘yes’ so you can confront your weaknesses, confront your sin.

“You will swim across an ocean of pain and you will emerge… free! For only then can you truly begin to atone.”

He pulled his gaze from her and glanced between both women, picking up a long icepick from the work bench and brandishing it before them.

“So who wants to go first? Hmm?”

He gave them a chance to volunteer. Well, gave Patience a chance, really, as Joey’s mouth was still secured shut. She opened her mouth, whether to ask to go first or to tell John Seed to fuck off, she wasn’t sure. But in any case, Joey’s wet eyes met hers and she shook her head frantically. The message was clear: Don’t.

“Which one? Hmm?”

Patience deferred to Joey, given that she’d been here longer, and knew more about how he would react in any given situation than she did. So she snapped her mouth shut and stayed silent.

“This is lesson number one.” His voice was getting harder. It was almost imperceptible, but he was losing his patience. “Someone’s got to choose.”

He turned between them, waiting for an answer, but both deputies kept quiet. He raised his eyebrows in question, but the rest of his face hardened. Patience felt her pulse quicken.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” He yelled, turning and flipping the bench onto its side. Joey cried out from behind her gag, and Patience felt her stomach sink with the unique and familiar fear of a man’s rage directed her way. “We’ll start with you!”

He advanced toward her, bending low so that his shining blue eyes met hers, all traces of his recent outburst gone. “You won’t regret this,” he said to her, so lowly she doubted Joey could hear. “I promise.”

Rising again, he announced to the room, “Now, before we begin, I think it’s only proper that Deputy Hudson goes back to her room.” He grabbed the back of Joey’s chair, wheeling her towards the door behind Patience. “Confessions are supposed to be private after all.”

Joey screamed and fought against her bonds again, and she was tempted to do the same. She’d give anything not to be left alone with this maniac.

“Shh, shh, shhhh,” he hushed Joey. “I am not here to take your life. I’m here to give it to you.”

Patience heard the door open, heard him hand Joey off to another person with orders to return her to where she was being held, followed by the door closing once again. She loathed him for what he’d done to her friend. She hated herself for the fearful tears that pricked at her eyes when she heard his footsteps approaching once more. She quickly blinked them away.

He walked past her, moving to the work bench. He worked to right it, grunting lowly with the effort. His lean muscles strained through his dress shirt, and she realized just how screwed she was. When the bench was righted, he leaned casually against it once more, and offered her a small smile, his hand over his heart.

“My apologies for the outburst.”

She scoffed, but immediately regretted the action. She didn’t want to anger him further. If he noticed, he didn’t let on.

“It’s difficult for me, how resistant you are to accepting my help.” He raised a single brow, cueing her to speak.

She didn’t.

He crossed his arms across his chest, amusement clear on his face. “You’re much more demure in person than over the radio, Deputy.”

“Well, I’m in a bit of a bad situation right now, and I’m trying not to make it worse.”

Don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass.

A smile tugged at the creases of his eyes. “You think you’re in a bad situation?”

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

She stayed quiet.

The mirth drained instantly from his features. It was terrifying how he could do that. “This is not a bad situation, Deputy. This is the first good thing to happen to you in a while, I’d wager. There will be pain. But the pain is necessary to confess, to atone. And in the end, when you are free of sin and filled with clarity, you will look back with nothing but fondness and gratitude.

“Nothing you can say will make this process any worse for you. In fact, you should be as candid as possible throughout your confession. You need to be honest with yourself, with me, with God. You need to truly confront your sin in order to be free of it.”

“And what if I don’t want to be free of my sin?”

He smiled kindly and spoke gently, “Sinners often cling to their sins. That’s why you need a baptist to help you. That’s why I’m here. It’s natural to be afraid. Though it will hurt, you won’t be permanently harmed, and you won’t be killed.”

She fought against the urge to roll her eyes, her ire at the man nearly overcoming her fear of him. “The only reason you won’t kill me is because you can’t. Joseph said that I had to be saved, or you wouldn’t get to ‘walk through Eden’s Gate.’ You can’t kill me without risking your immortal soul, or whatever.”

John Seed glared at her, and she wished she had never spoken.

“There are fates far worse than death, Deputy.”

He turned his back to her, rummaging through the implements he’d replaced onto the bench, settling for the long, pointed icepick that he’d brandished earlier. He offered her a kind smile that she didn’t trust for a second before he strolled over, pulling a chair behind him. He sat across from her, much too close for comfort while he twirled the icepick through his fingers. He leaned close, bringing his mouth to her ear, his dark facial hair scraping against her sensitive skin as she pulled away as much as she could while tied down.

His whispered lowly, almost seductively into her ear, “You will confess to me. Every sin you’ve ever committed, no matter how small, no matter how petty, no matter how you justified it at the time… You will confess.”

Before pulling away, his hot breath still on her skin, he drove the icepick into the meat of her left thigh. Then he pulled back slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, watching her react.

Patience had never been stabbed before. Not anywhere, not by anything. She’d once gotten a puncture wound from a sharp stick while running on the beach as a girl, but that was nothing. Nothing in general and nothing compared to this. She’d managed to make it through her fight with the cult so far with only bullet grazes, and one shallow bullet wound. She had never experienced anything like this.

She couldn’t exactly feel the metal that was stuck in her flesh. Her brain had no way to process it. But the area felt both ice cold and too warm for comfort. The pain felt both sharp and dull. Nausea was involved, somehow.

Her eyes were blown wide, watching John Seed, the man who had just stabbed her, lean back in his chair. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t scream. In fact, no sound at all came out. He didn’t react to her shock, and so she turned her gaze downward. The blue plastic handle of the tool stuck almost straight out of her leg, with only about two inches of the metal shaft outside of her leg with it. She was amazed at how it had pierced so cleanly through the denim of her jeans, the light fabric only barely stained red around the metal.

She was dimly aware that that was a stupid thing to be preoccupied with. Was this what shock felt like?

As she stared dumbly at the scene, a tattooed hand crept into her field of vision, wrapped its long fingers around the weapon, and yanked. He did not yank it straight out, and Patience noticed it snag on the hole in her jeans, and then so much dark blood spill out, before she felt any pain.

And then she felt the pain.

And this time, she did scream.

She screwed her eyes up tight, threw her head back, and wailed. This pain felt more tangible, less abstract, and she felt her awareness slam back in full force.

“FUCK! JESUS FUCKING-“ She gasped and opened her eyes, glaring at the man across from her. “Fuck you! FUCK!” She squirmed against the ropes and breathed harshly through clenched teeth.

“Now, Deputy, there’s no need to start with your biggest sin. We have all the time in the world.” He smiled as though he’d made a particularly clever joke. “We can start small. Ease our way in. Work our way up. So, I’ll begin with a simple question: What is your name?”

Her name? “What?”

“Your name, Deputy. I’m afraid that Sheriff Whitehorse had yet to push your paperwork through the system, to where our Faithful on the inside could access it.”

Fucking Nancy.

“So, I don’t actually know your name. I have almost no information on you, as compared to your fellow deputies.”

He gestured to the corner of the room, where a small stack of file folders sat. Nancy had actually passed the personnel files along to the cult, that bitch. Except for hers, apparently. She’d only been on the force for about two weeks before they went after Joseph. Here���s to Earl and to procrastination.

“Your name, Deputy?”

“Friends call me Rook. You can call me Deputy.”

He laughed.

“What do you have to lose by telling me your name?”

“Deputy,” she repeated.

In one swift motion, he rose from his chair, knocking it to the floor, and backhanded her across the face so hard that her ears rang.

When her ears stopped ringing and her head stopped spinning, she looked up to find him standing over her, fuming.

“Is this worth it to you?” he hissed. “Is the fate of your soul less important than keeping your name from me? Are you so prideful? Is that your sin, Deputy? Pride?”

She did not respond.

“Tell me,” he began, picking up a small knife, “is your soul worth so little to you? Why do you insist on refusing my help?”

“Help?!”

He dropped to a crouch beside her, grabbing her hand in one hand and forearm in the other.

“Yes. Help. The world is coming to end, my dear. The souls of the Project will be safe, underground, ready to enter the world again, into the New Eden.” He manipulated her arm in its bonds, so that the inside of her arm was facing up. The rope around her wrist was tied so tightly that it bit into and burned her skin as she was forced to rotate it. “Those who refuse the Father, well… They’ll burn.”

“And what if I don’t believe the world is ending? What if I don’t believe in souls?” She stared into his eyes, trying to bore a hole through him the way she felt he’d done to her.

Picking up the knife again, and bringing it to the thin, sensitive skin of her arm, he said, “I’m sorry to hear you aren’t a believer.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. He placed the blade against her skin, a few inches below her elbow, and pushed until it just barely bit into the skin, hardly deeper than a papercut. Patience had to look away when he, slowly, carefully, began to drag the blade down towards her wrist, making a long, shallow incision.

She pulled in a sharp, stuttering breath.

“Truly, I am. Those who believe in something, a god, souls, at least a caring universe, they find it easier. Easier to see the light, to confess, to atone. I take it if you don’t believe in souls, you don’t believe in God?”

The knife curved a bit, causing a turn at the very end of the incision. Strong, cold fingers gripped her jaw, too tightly, and brought her to face his cold blue eyes.

“Answer me.”

Patience paused before giving in. “…No. I don’t.”

“Hmm. Then this will be hard for you.”

The knife was brought back to its original position, and he pressed it back into her about a half inch to the side of the first cut. He made an identical incision, so, so shallow, parallel to the other. When he finished, he curved the knife the other way, forcing the two slices to meet in a v just above her wrist. She worked to control her breathing, to push through the pain, while he took the edge of the blade and dug under the point of the incision, poking and scraping until he suddenly stopped.

Patience heard the knife hit the floor and looked from his face to her arm. He had pulled up the v-point, until it was a thin, raised flap of skin. When John Seed produced a pair of pliers, she felt a flash of terror.

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that. No one, not even John fucking Seed, could come up with something so horrible. It was simply the panic at her situation that made her think that-

He moved to stand beside her, grasping the flap with the pliers. She froze, too afraid to squirm, even, to hurt herself by moving the wrong way. He adjusted his grip on the tool, and Patience was moved to begging.

“Please, please, don’t. Please, god, don’t-!”

He smiled. “I thought you didn’t believe in God?”

Then he pulled.

Patience screamed. She screamed so loudly that the sound reverberated around the room, so loudly that the noise hurt her ears. The pain was sharp. Searing. Indescribable.

Through the blur of her tears, she looked down to see the entire strip of skin between the incisions missing, going further even than the start of the cuts, up to the crook of their elbow. Small rivulets of blood ran down the sides of her arm.

“Yes!” he whooped. “Yes! The pain will bring you clarity. The pain will save you!”

He braced his hands on her arms in order to lean into her space, mindless of the agony that shot up her injured side as he did so. His eyes were wide and bright, searching her expression.

She spit into his face.

He laughed manically as he hit her again, almost toppling the entire chair with her this time.

“Ohoho, Deputy!,” he crooned. “I see you.” He paced back and forth in front of her, waving the pliers he still held as he gestured. “I see you! I see your sin. It’s so plain, so clear! Your sin… is Wrath.”

Patience mulled it over through the throbbing of her arm, leg, and head. If she had to pick one, which she really very much did not, wrath might be the best fit. She smiled at him through her pain, trying to match his jubilant expression. She made a show of turning her head to think it through, despite how that exacerbated the pulsing ache.

“…Could be. I certainly hate you. I love destroying your things. I may have guessed lust with the way the sight of one of your silos exploding makes me want to cream my jeans… but wrath makes sens-“

She was cut off when his fist collided with her mouth. The metallic taste of hot blood flooded her tongue.

“You,” he seethed. “You filthy fucking sinner.” He spit the word at her like it was a curse.

He hit her again, and she wasn’t sure whether she passed out or not. The next few… what? Minutes? Hours? Days? Were a blur of pain and disorientation. Sharp, glinting knives. The floor rushing up at her. Bruising fingers. John Seed’s manic laughter. She didn’t know what she said, what order she said it in, what prompted her to say it. She floated in and out of lucidity…

~

“…cut them out, Deputy?”

“Wh-what?” Her mouth felt too heavy.

“Why did you cut your extended family out of your life?”

~

“I want to go home,” she softly sobbed to the man in front of her.

He gently shushed her, brushing whisps of hair from her sweaty brow.

“Soon, my dear, just a bit more,” he soothed.

She nodded. She believed him. He would take her home.

~

“Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry…”

~

A single long, cool finger ran underneath her black choker, teasing the skin underneath.

“Choose your next words carefully, Deputy,” he warned her.

She didn’t know he wanted to hear. What did he want to hear?

~

She couldn’t breathe. John Seed threw her to the floor with a strength she would have never thought he could possess and now she couldn’t breathe. A shock of pain through her torso threatened to tear a scream from her throat.

The added kick to her ribs didn’t help.

She tried again to pull in a breath and found herself still floundering, the dark edges of her vision creeping in again…

~

Patience came to on the floor.

“Ahhh, Deputy, you’re back.”

She lifted her head to see John Seed, wiping down the tools he’d used on her. He met her eyes, made sure she was really paying attention before he continued.

“That is your sin. Wrath. To see it, feel it, externally… Do you see? Do you recognize it?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he shushed her instead. He came to her, helped her up, and deposited her back on the chair she had started in. She winced as her open skin pressed into the seat.

“Shh, shh, shh.” He smoothed back the hair that had fallen into her face. “Can you tell me, my dear, honestly, that you don’t recognize the wrath within yourself?”

Patience didn’t think she was overly wrathful. She did what she had to do. She was protecting the people of the county against the cult that would torture and kill them. Wrath had nothing to do with it. Whether she enjoyed it or not, she was doing what she had to.

She did enjoy it, though. Not the killing. Not really. But the destruction. She reveled in it. She enjoyed watching shrines and silos fall. She loved watching trucks go up in flames. She liked knowing she was the one doing it, and that the cult was suffering for it. She enjoyed that when she was pushed, she could push back just as hard.

Maybe that was wrath.

But it didn’t matter.

She told him as much.

“Of course it matters. If you can accept your wrath, if you can confront it inside you, then you can confess. And when you confess, you can begin to atone.

She shook her head weakly, the motion hobbled by pain. “The confession doesn’t matter. Even if I confessed to you, told you everything wrong I’d ever done in my life, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t believe in souls, or god, or the concept of sin. It’s not real.”

His eyes never left hers as he crept even closer, his face taking up her entire field of vision.

“Have you ever done anything you’re ashamed of? Something you still think about, that still bothers you inside? Even something small, something so inconsequential no one else even remembers, but still bothers you?”

They sat quietly while she thought. She kept her eyes on his. They seemed so earnest, so hopeful.

Of course they were. He was a hairs breadth from getting her to give in. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But more than that, she wanted this to be over.

“Once a little old man cut me off in traffic. Not a driver, just a guy. He stepped out onto the road to cross, and I had to brake. He was in a crosswalk but it wasn’t his turn. I was pissed. I flipped him off and yelled. He looked really surprised, like he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. He probably just thought he had enough time to cross without me having to slow down.”

He just stared, slowly nodding. Listening intently.

Patience looked straight ahead, eyes dull and voice deadened. “I’m still kind of embarrassed.”

“That is the power of a true confession. Whether or not you felt you confessed to God is irrelevant. You confessed to me. And in doing so, you confessed to yourself. You confronted a wrathful moment in your life. And I feel confident it won’t bother you again.

“The goal is for you to be faithful. Without sin. Worthy of Eden. But faith does not have to be the first step of that journey. It is possible to become closer to God, to live a less sinful life, without believing. You can confess.

“Will you accept your sin, Deputy?”

She looked back into his eyes and could almost feel the excitement rolling off of him. She felt that she shouldn’t give into him. She didn’t want to give into him. But she could be done. She could feel better. She wouldn’t even have to compromise her beliefs, or pretend to have converted. She could just confess and be done.

He had asked her before if it was worth her pride. It was just one word. One tiny word.

“Yes,” she said.

He swooped in, placing a firm kiss on her forehead, before pulling back with a Cheshire grin.

“Yes!” he repeated, gleeful.

He produced a wet sponge, wiping and dabbing at her chest. When he was satisfied, he wheeled over a small table on which sat a tattoo gun and replacement needles and ink. He flicked the gun on, and Patience braced herself. She’d never gotten tattooed before, and didn’t know what to expect. Getting rapidly poked with a needle over and over… it probably wasn’t great. But compared to what she’d already been through…

When the needle touched her skin, she jolted. John firmly scolded her with a “Be still,” but didn’t look up from his work. She thought she should be bothered that he was staring down at her exposed chest, but she wasn’t. She was just hurt and tired and done.

She wanted to be done.

She managed to sit still through the rest of the tattoo, only marginally bothered that she’d now have the word ‘wrath’ on her skin for all time. She expected, and hoped, that she’d be angrier after she’d had food, water, and sleep. The process did hurt, but in a different way than she’d anticipated, almost as if he was pressing too hard.

“Tell me, Deputy,” he said as he finished, stepping back to admire his work. He rifled around in his toolkit once more, and she took a deep breath. It was almost over. Some more pain. Some more confessing. Then she’d be done. “What is your name?”

Power. Pride. It all seemed so stupid now. So not worth the energy.

“Patience.”

He spun around, forgetting his kit and the implements inside.

“Patience?” he asked through laughter. “Really?”

It was an uncommon name, sure, but laughable?

“Patience Ekner.”

He laughed again.

“That is too good to be true! Wrath herself? Named for its tempering virtue?”

He continued to laugh as she stared dumbly at him.

Composing himself, he explained, “Each of the seven sins has a corresponding virtue. One that counteracts it, so to speak. Sloth’s virtue,” he tapped his chest, “is diligence. By eschewing sloth, I become more diligent. But practicing diligence I can ward off sloth. Wrath’s virtue is patience.”

That did ring a bell, actually. She had heard that somewhere once, or maybe read it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Patience. Now, let’s really get to know each other,” he said as he reached back into the toolkit.

As he pulled out yet another means to torment her, the door creaked open, and John whirled to face whoever dared interrupt him, only to find the Father, himself.

“Joseph?”

But the cult leader ignored his brother, his herald, instead rushing to the deputy’s side. His eyes scanned her form as he spoke, but his words were directed to John.

“The Voice- I misunderstood- What did you do to her?”

Chapter 5

#my stuff #wrathling #john seed #oc: patience ekner #john seed x patience ekner #fc5 #far cry 5

[shadowonaqua]

The Power of Mackerel (Free! Dive to the Future - Episode 9 )

Yo, I’m back! So I know the title of this post may seem odd, but I have a reason for this! Before we jump in, however...We have some new people to meet! Let’s go! Time for my rambling all of my inner thoughts on the latest piece of the story.

(A little note, however. There is more in this episode with Asahi, Ikuya, Hiyori, and Makoto (Makoto’s sweetness is amplified at least a million times here. If he doesn’t become the #1 choice for imaginary husband for y’all, I don’t know who else can), but what I’m about to touch on is content that made even a transition episode such as this one that much more powerful for me.)

(Also, I’m in love with the image below. My heart cried in happiness.)

Now I’m ready.

So at the start of the episode, we finally get to meet two unknown characters who showed up in the intro song to every episode and whose identities we did not know at all until today. But, the first character gave me some heartwarming feels (and brought back some comical nostalgia too).

Meet the newest Mikoshiba member, Isuzu Mikoshiba!

She is not only a female swimmer, but also a passionate gamer and a leader. I did not see this coming, but I am glad that they placed a seemingly strong-willed female character into the series. After seeing her, I wish that they introduced her earlier in the series (especially because she is the first female swimmer that we have been personally introduced to during the entire franchise), but I am excited to see just how good she is. Plus, she noticed Haru’s triceps as well! Perhaps... she’ll be Gou’s new best friend? I won’t be surprised if that happens... After all, both of her brothers like the young lady!

(And Haru’s imagining all three Mikoshiba siblings laughing in their usual Mikoshiba manner... I feel you, Haru).

I do look forward to seeing what role she plays in the rest of this season, especially because we do not really see her do much aside from ask Haru whether he can compete with her (and I bet Isuzu and Momo bond over their older brother locking them with his arm and most (probably) putting them through a hell-of-a swimming training, haha).

However, the first time we meet Isuzu is also the first time we meet this super blonde, purple-eyed tall guy: Albert Wahlander.

This gigantic foreigner creams Isuzu in gaming, which at first didn’t leave much of an impact on me until he is in the water. On that topic, during this entire episode, I loved that there were multiple clues floating around that suggested his prowess. Some were explained to us through the other characters in the series, and others seemed more symbolic. So, let’s list the ones that weren’t blatantly mentioned by the rest of the cast, because why not?

1) He goes for mackerel as his meal.

Alright, so now you see where my title came from, eh? Well, Haru, being the now smiley version of himself, helps out a lost Albert when it comes to ordering food. More specifically, mackerel, since the tall guy seems to want to eat it. And, this new character is so darn cute with his usage of chopsticks that I was wondering for a moment what his role was in the episode/series. But, back to this topic at hand, he and Haru begin to form a bond through their both eating mackerel (despite their massive language barrier, which really wasn’t a barrier since they oddly understood each other. This made me smile, so much.)

2) He is good with his hands.

He not only uses his finger dexterity to beat Isuzu in gaming, but also learns how to handle chopsticks in seconds after first not knowing how to pick things up with them. And Haru, being the sweet boy/young man he is, goes to get a spoon and fork for the guy, but then is amazed that the tall, blonde foreigner dude would master chopsticks in one go? This makes me think back to when Haru was carving a massive amount of Iwatobi-chans in high school, haha.

3) He floats around in the water like Haru does, but he is ahead of Haru.

So this is where things became interesting for me. During the episode, we find out that Haru is one of three Hidaka University Swim Team members to enter the strengthening camp in preparation for the All-Japan Meet (in addition to the older Mikoshiba and Isana Kiryuu). In the middle of swimming, Haru sees Albert swimming next to him, and then we flash to the two of them floating underwater like Haru did for the last three seasons.

But, Albert is ahead of Haru the entire time.

Why does this mean anything? For the entire franchise, we have never seen anyone swim ahead of Haru. This makes sense, because Haru was known for his affinity and love for the water, unclouded from the influences of competitions, friendly rivalries, and societal expectations. More commonly, we saw Haru’s friends follow behind and try their darnedest to reach his level. Haru is the hero that his friends needed during troublesome, lonesome, and confusing times, and Haru is also a source of strength for young men like Rin, Ikuya, and Makoto to strive for their goals. To do this, Haru has to be ahead of them in the water.

Now that we see this difference with Albert’s appearance, even if you haven’t watched the episode and read this post first instead, you may be able to infer what happens when Albert, Haru, and other swimmers at the camp have a friendly 200m freestyle race against each other.

And this is where our latest cliffhanger begins.

We don’t know how Haru reacts to this loss, as it is the first time that someone out swam him by so many bodies that I won’t even try to count. I mean, the guy was out of the water by the time Haru reached the wall . Knowing Haru, he might react in one of two ways. 

One, he may be devastated. After all, freestyle is his forte, and for his entire life he has been known as a prodigy in this specific stroke. It is okay if Haru lost the IM in the last episode; after all, he does not regularly compete in backstroke, breaststroke, or butterfly, and Ikuya has more experience in this specific event than Haru does anyway. But, when it comes to freestyle, the only characters we have seen who are on-par with Haru are Rin, Ikuya, and maybe Asahi, but nobody has surpassed Haru to this degree. As such, no wonder everyone in the pool is shocked by this revelation, including Makoto, who ran in just as this scene unfolded. Losing to this extent for the first time his life can be upsetting and frustrating at the same time, and I wonder whether Haru will express such a natural human response.

Two, if Haru is as positive as Asahi is, then Haru may see Albert as someone to look up to and strive for. Although this is less likely, purely because the human psyche does not always work this way, I sincerely hope that this is the way he reacts to his loss. For all of Haru’s life, he has had companions, rivals, and supporters who have been by his side, but never has he had someone to directly look up to. In particular with swimming, Haru has been in his own world this entire time. Why? He is the only one of his friends who has an innately keen relationship with water, and it is Haru’s affinity with water that Albert picks up on immediately after swimming/floating together. 

Haru has never had anyone float so freely with him in the water until now (we could potentially count the pool scene with Makoto in the High Speed! movie, but that was part of their reconciliation. This scene, however, is purely one of connection). Also, the fact that Albert sees swimming as fun is refreshing and an epiphany, both for Haru and for us as viewers. It not only implies that Albert may have just as strong as an affinity with water as Haru does, but also that Albert’s love for water may surpass that of Haru. Should this be the case, then Haru may be forced once again to confront his own beliefs with regards to his love for swimming, his skills, and his ability to swim on the global stage.

I wish the best for Haru. After all, Ryuuji (who we find out is an Iwatobi High School Swim Team alum, thanks to Gou’s amazing muscle-identifying skills) has mentioned before the Haru still a ways to go with regards to improving, and Albert may be the key to unlocking that potential. Plus, Albert honestly seems like a nice person, so I hope that he and Haru can get along. The fact that Haru still has that much room for growth, maturity, and progression, both literally in his swimming and figuratively in his own life, is what truly kept my attention with the latest episode of “Free!” and is allowing me look past some of the other flaws with this season. And, I hope that this tidbit is enough to keep you guys interested in the series and in the boys’ story as well.

(Albert, despite his size, reminds me of a little boy. Perhaps his personality truly is that of one, since he seems to be drawn to old arcade games and finds everything fun. He even whines like a boy when the waitress rips the meal ticket >.<, which is just so endearing and makes me want to hug him)

So, now that this ramble has finished, I’ll add these cute little GIFs because I internally squeal whenever I see a baby, and my heart beats faster every time I see a man playing with one:

(And Nitori... way to give us a total plot-twister this episode! Rin was thrown for a shock there, I’m sure.)

(I can’t wait for the next episode! But honestly, the event I’m looking forward to the most is the 100m free at the All-Japan Meet since it’s going to have so many of the characters we love in it. Anyone else with me on this one?)

#free! dive to the future #free dive to the future #haruka nanase #nanase haruka #albert wahlander #Isuzu mikoshiba #mikoshiba siblings #swimming anime #haru loves mackerel and so do i #now I'm getting hungry #free! dttf #episode 9 analysis #I recently started swimming again and my whole body is sore #thank you free! for giving me the motivation to start exercising again haha #will eating more mackerel help me swim faster?

[genderqueerpositivity]

I guess I'll go ahead and do a 5 month HRT update today, because a few folks have asked how that is going. On Friday I'll officially be 5 months on T, which is just unbelievable???

CW: changes from HRT, talking about periods, eating habits, changes to body parts and gentials, sex drive, etc

My dose increased in June, so I've been applying daily .75 ml of a 100 mg/ml cream since then. I can't say that I've noticed an increase in how fast things are happening since increasing my dose. Some changes are still happening slowly and steadily, while it feels like others have backed off a bit.

My voice hasn't changed significantly since I last posted screenshots from the voice analyzer app. I'm fine with that? I really like my voice how it is now. It would be great if it drops more in the future, but I think I would also be fine if it doesn't?

My voice has gotten me he/him'd and sir'd a few times. My voice is now my most visibly trans feature and it's a powerful one. I recently showed someone my driver's license (which has not been changed) and filled out paperwork with my legal name (also not changed) and I was still consistently called he and sir the entire time, and I wasn't making any special attempt at passing, not even wearing a binder.

One thing I do wish is that I could get back to being able to speak as loudly as I did pre-T. In loud areas it feels like I'm constantly being told now that I need to speak up. Especially at work, it's difficult to lead meetings and even have one on one conversations. Being loud enough to be heard over background noise takes a lot more effort than it did back when I had a naturally high voice. Trying to force a louder voice for long periods of time leaves me with a sore throat. I think this is because I haven't gotten the hang of the whole "speaking from my chest" thing.

Body hair is still happening steadily. I have so much back hair now. Toe hair. Hair on the tops of my hands. Sideburns. Hair on my upper arms and upper legs. Butt hair, chest hair, and belly hair. Really this is getting ridiculous but I actually really like it. I had a diagnosis of hirsutism pre-T but now I see that my pre-T body and facial hair was nothing compared to this lol.

I've still been shaving my facial hair pretty regularly, because I wear a mask for 8 hours a day and it itches my face a lot. But I'm starting to really want to grow it out for a few weeks to see what it looks like on me. I'm a little nervous about what other people might think, and also about it possibly looking patchy and weird. But I also really want a break from shaving irritation and ingrown hairs, and I want to see if I'll like having my face unshaven or not.

Either I've gotten used to it, or my skin isn't as oily as it was at first. My skin is definitely still breaking out in places though. I didn't have this much acne during my first puberty. I definitely sweat more than I used to, but also it's August here so that could just be the humidity lol. I've noticed some changes to my shoulders, upperarms, and forearms for sure; they look more masculine and I've gained some muscle there and I like it. I've surprised myself with my own strength a few times, which is pretty cool.

*skip the next three short paragraphs if you don't want to read about periods or vague comments about bottom growth and sex*

Sadly my period hasn't stopped yet. I'm tracking it with an app, so I do know that they're happening less frequently now, are shorter (which means only 7 days and not 9+) and are lighter than ever before. I have fewer PMS symptoms now, and less pre-period sensory issues. Even my cramps are and feel different now; they seem less sharp and more manageable.

I'm actually really disappointed that my bottom growth appears to have stopped. I was hoping for more of that. I hope that what I've gotten so far isn't all there is, because I know that it varies a lot by person. I don't really know what would be considered an average amount of growth at this point, and I don't know what to expect personally overall.

In related news, I understand now why so many transmasc people complain about their sex drive increasing on T....because that is definitely a thing. And let's just say that things work kind of differently down there now, and I like the changes. I've also had a few experiences lately that have caused me to question my gray-asexuality a bit, so that sure is...something. Sexual attraction is odd--and this keeps happening to allosexual people, like forever? Sounds fake.

Other minor stuff:

I haven't noticed a change in appetite since starting T, but I do think I have less of a sweet tooth. Even when do I crave sweets now, I want less than I did before. And it seems like I'm more likely to have a stomachache after eating them. I don't really know why this is or if this is entirely HRT related.

I haven't lost any hair and I don't think my hairline has changed any yet. I have so much gray hair now though wtf.

I can still cry. I've cried today in fact (they were happy tears, no worries). I think I am quicker to get an attitude now though? I've had a few moments lately where afterwards I was like...."damn I really said all that out loud, huh".

As much as all of this is, I feel like I look the same as I did pre-T. The changes to my appearance haven't been drastic at all. I expected that by 5-6 months, I wouldn't be able to hide the fact that I'm on T anymore, but it looks like that isn't the case. I'm not out at work at all, and if anyone has noticed the changes, no one has said a word to me about it. Apart from the week or so around the time where I lost my voice (it was assumed that I was sick), and a single comment making fun of my facial hair (which I already had some of pre-T), not even my parents have caught on to what I'm doing. And regardless of how that all turns out in the end, I'm not going to regret doing this. Choosing to move forward with HRT has been one of my best life choices so far.

I've realized that I definitely feel more positive about my body now than I did pre-T. Showers and baths are more enjoyable. I went swimming last month for the first time in years and it was a blast. This has all been so worth it.

My next HRT appointment is in less than a month. And I've just realized that I'm might have to reschedule it, so that's fun. Anyway, if the lab tests come back good and I'm given the chance to increase my dose again at that appointment, I'm going to take it.

#hrt journal #hrt diary #genderqueer #transmasculine #ftm #op #personal #menstruation tw #gentials tw #food tw

[hiccanna-tidbits]

okay, okay but hear me out!

Hiccanna, Moanida and Jackunzel (and maybe someone else if u want) going on a holiday trip together (it could be sea or lake or just swimming pool).

And that three couples playing "chicken fight game"~ When u have to sit on partner shoulder or ridding piggy-back and knock down or separate the other couple!

sksksks just imagine the fun and the chaos!! hahaha

Okay SO I recently watched Palm Springs so I’m just imagining The Gang going to like…a fancy pool resort in like Arizona??? SURE LET’S GO WITH THAT

I’m imagining the only resort the gang could afford to stay at is someplace out in the middle of Arizona or something

It takes a LOT of persuading to get Jack to go, because he haaaaates deserts. Rapunzel basically has to beg. Moana finally managed to bribe him with really good homemade ice slushies. (She’s used to making smoothies for Merida, so how hard can slushies be??? Just throw in some ice!)

Rapunzel offers to help Moana with the slushies, since she gave Jack SO many puppy dog eyes to get him to come. Since they’ve got two people working on them, they’re REALLY good slushies. Jack approves.

Anna also tries to convince Elsa to go, but the perpetually-single Elsa is just like “Um, deserts? Sunburns? Being indefinitely stuck with gross couples doing gross couple stuff?!? Yeah no thank you”

Hiccup tries to wake everyone up at like 6 am to go hiking because "that's when the desert iguanas are out guys!!! C'mon, we have to go!!!" Anna is only persuaded to go after Hiccup makes her coffee--she really wants to make her bf happy, but also mornings can suck her dick. Rapunzel is more than happy to go, because she loves mornings anyways!!! And oh my god, IGUANAS!!! Jack, Merida, and Moana are like "oh FUCK no" and put the pillow back over their head, shoo Hiccup away, and go back to sleep.

On their hike, Hiccup just goes "!!!!!!!" about every reptile he sees. Snake, lizard, horny toad, literally anything with scales will send the boy into an excited frenzy. Rapunzel has similar reactions. Anna could not love both of them more.

At one point, they stumble across a gila monster sunbathing, and Rapunzel is overtaken with the unwavering desire to adopt him. She gets Hiccup on board, and he tries to lure the lizard over with a dusty piece of a snake carcass he found (Anna tried to tell him he really shouldn't touch that, but he was not to be swayed and Anna ended up figuring he could just wash his hands really well when they got back). Anna finds herself in the unusual position of having to be the Voice of Reason, having to be like “hey uh I think this might be illegal and stuff??? Also aren't they poisonous???”

(I know what you're thinking. Bold of you to assume Anna knows the difference between poisonous and venomous.)

Rapunzel literally CANNOT stop gushing to Jack about all the wildlife she saw when she gets back! Jackrabbits! Kangaroo rats! Roadrunners! Peccaries! Centipedes! Jack has only mild to moderate interest in desert ecology, but loves hearing his gf gush so he listens attentively anyways. 

Anna and Rapunzel definitely hit up the gift shops in the resort town at some point, and go ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT HOGWILD buying gifts for everyone. They probably max out their credit cards. It's embarrassing, really. But Anna gets Hiccup an absolute shitton of those little wall lizard things and he nearly cries tears of joy when he sees them, so it's all worth it, really.

Moana will not leave the pool like. The entire time. The girl is just obsessed with being in the water, honestly. She gets restless, though, and can't just stand in the pool and vibe--she needs to constantly be moving and swimming around or she'll explode. Merida is more than happy to indulge her by hanging out in the poor with her, but Merida is also constantly challenging her to swim races--a very dumb idea, considering Moana is on the high school swim team and water polo team. Merida, naturally, is an extremely sore loser and is not above excessive pouting, splashing, yelling in angry Scottish, and dunking her girlfriend in revenge. It's at least entertaining for all of their friends to watch.

Jack keeps fucking taking huge buckets of ice from the ice machine and dumping them in the pool. At first he only does this because he keeps griping about the pool not being cold enough (this boy will accept nothing less than sitting in the goddamn arctic ocean), but after her figures out that it pisses off his friends, he takes to pouring said ice directly over their heads. Merida has threatened to murder him several times for this.

Hiccup and Anna's main pool activity is just lazing around on their pool floaties (Anna has a duck one, Hicccup has a dragon one because obviously), sipping cocktails, and just generally vibing. Through some ungodly mixture of pure charisma and a fake ID that Rapunzel helped photoshop, Jack manages to talk his way into getting the whole group access to alcohol. Hiccup is a sangria or Moscow Mule kinda guy while Anna usually gets a Pina Colada or a Sex on the Beach (she's aspec, so she literally will not stop joking about the irony of this). Merida makes a game out of attempting to tip over their floaties and dunk them. Jack, chaos gremlin that he is, puts aside his usual rivalry with Merida to join in. They have a surprisingly strong dunking alliance.

Hiccup and Anna try to form a syndicate of their own, and try to lounge on the same floatie so that they can protect each other while fighting off Jack and Merida together. Unfortunately neither of their floaties were made to hold 2 peoples' weight, so the one they're on ends up tipping over, spilling their cocktails everywhere and dunking them anyways. Jack and Merida consider this a Win By Default.

Moana of course loops everyone into playing water polo at some point. Unfortunately some idiot decided it would be a good idea to let Merida of all people pick the teams, which means of course that they are incredibly rigged. It's Moana, Merida and Anna vs. Jack, Rapunzel, and Hiccup, so basically The Jocks vs. The Nerds (although admittedly Anna is more of a softcore jock--she's nowhere near on Moana or Merida's level, but she's still more naturally athletic than Hiccup, Rapunzel, or Jack). Naturally, Jock Team absolutely whoops Nerd Team's ass. Jack gets salty and demands a rematch. ...Jock Team kicks Nerd Team's ass again.

Throughout all of this, no one thinks to just...rearrange the teams a little. Merida was counting on this. All according to plan.

In the titular chicken game (yes, I remembered, don't worry!), it's Merida on Moana's shoulders (Moana swims and has a lot of upper body strength, what can I say?), Hiccup on Anna's shoulders (I mean...Hiccup's a twig, and Anna HAS to have a fair amount of upper body strength from throwing busts around and punching men off boats and such), and Punz on Jack's shoulders (Jack's pretty lithe and good at keeping his balance while jumping around, so he's their best candidate for not just falling over).

Jack and Rapunzel actually manage to stay in the game longer than anyone expects--their primary strategy is “be good at dodging and staying out of the way while Merida and Hiccup duke it out.” And it works! As limber as Hiccup is, Anna's not nearly as coordinated as Jack and is no match for Moana's sturdy footing. Also, neither Anna nor Hiccup are prepared for how goddamn ruthless and determined to win Merida is. Even though they really, really should have been. I mean...have you met Merida???

When it comes down to Merida-Moana and Rapunzel-Jack, Mer feels a little bad for having to go up against Pure Sweet Punzie. Unfortunately, Rapunzel turns out to be a very hardcore fighter when she puts her mind to it, and Merida is much more evenly matched than she initially thought and realizes she must use her Full Power. It definitely helps her snap out of Going Soft when Jack starts brutally roasting Merida in particular (as per usual). Merida gets a rage-fueled Second Wave, and finally manages to knock Rapunzel over in one foul swoop. Merida and Moana are victorious!

Moana and Merida basically always shower together after a day at the pool. They claim it's because they both know how to handle curly hair in chlorine, and just like to wash each other's hair, but the rest of the gang is pretty sure that's not all that's going on in there.

One day, Anna hits up the resort town alone to buy some kind of secret gifts for her friends with what little money she has left (this girl seriously has no chill when it comes to buying presents).  She goes past this huge, fancy ice cream shop and she's like “!!!! OMG!!! I'm gonna surprise all my buddies with pints of their faves!!!” She just gets super hyped and buys everyone ice cream, getting so caught up in the thrill of it that she forgets that she'll have to like. Drive all this back all the way back to the resort in the rental car. In like. You know. 110+ degree weather.

By the time she gets back to the resort, the ice cream is, of course, goop. Poor Anna, feeling incredibly dumb and like an utter failure of a friend, just kind of bursts into tears. Like damn. This is too much. She was gonna make all her pals so happy, and all for naught! Jack just kinda shrugs and throws all the melted ice cream cartons in the freezer anyways. Once they're (partially) re-frozen, Rapunzel and Moana make slushies with them. They actually come out pretty decent. Anna is substantially cheered up.

Moana prepares some tropical fruit platters for everyone to snack on. Rapunzel tries to “improve” them by adding chocolate sauce and nutella to half of them. Sometimes it works (I mean...bananas and strawberries with chocolate and/or nutella is pretty solid). Other times it just tastes...very weird. Merida gest frustrated and yells at Rapunzel for “ruining all of her girlfriend's good mangoes.”

Jack just thinks this whole thing is so funny, and decides to swap the chocolate sauce with barbecue sauce to cause further chaos. Absolute mayhem ensures. Everyone has a bad time. Except for Anna, who apparently is just a freak who enjoys eating pineapple slices dipped in barbecue sauce.

At some point, Merida gets really drunk on appletinis or some shit and signs the entire group up for a local archery competition. Much to everyone's chagrin, it's no refunds. Naturally, basically everyone sans Merida does terrible. Rapunzel and Hiccup very nearly shoot themselves, while Jack and Anna come very close to  accidentally shooting a group of referees (although Jack might have done this on purpose). Moana gets the farthest, if only because Merida's taught her how to shoot a bow at some point. Merida actually ends up winning--although unfortunately, the prize is $20 and a very cheap plastic trophy (which Merida STILL manages to find a way to break before the trip is even over).

The rest of the group is much more amicable to the concept of going on hikes when said hikes are in the evening. Hiccup and Rapunzel are still excitedly chattering about the local ecosystems the entire time, and Jack and Anna are just kind of looking at their nerdy SOs like “<3 <3 <3″ Moana and Merida, meanwhile, are just kinda vibing in the back, passively listening in and watching the desert sunset.

Rapunzel manages to capture Mer and Mo's interest and gets them to participate more with geology, of all things. Merida just thinks rocks are cool (especially when they can be thrown at people bothering her!), while Moana likes learning about the physical history of places--how water can carve out landscapes, and all that. Hiccup and Jack just kind of exchange a look like “I had no idea that they were into rocks, but...the more you know, I guess???”

Jack makes fun of every reptile they see, mainly to piss Hiccup off. Unfortunately it has the opposite effect, and Hiccup can't help but be entertained--mainly because Jack's insults are so weirdly specific and over-the-top that they loop around to being hilarious. Seriously, he keeps saying shit like “Those are the lamest scales I've ever seen. Absolutely drab, and not nearly shiny enough to prove that nature is beautiful. 0/10.” and “Ohhhh, this fucking rattlesnake think's he's so scary, with his dumb percussion instrument tail!!! I could be more intimidating with a mean look and a large pair of maracas!”

At some point, a bunch of tourists riding donkeys pass them. Anna, Rapunzel, and Merida just absolutely lose their shit fangirling over how cute the donkeys are, thus exposing all three of them as the unabashed Horse Girls they are. Hiccup, Jack, and Moana find this extremely amusing, and definitely aren't above teasing their girlfriends about it. Hiccup asks if next time they take a couples' vacation, the Horse Gang (as Moana insists on nicknaming them) would like to go to a ranch instead.

Anna gets like. Obsessed with palm trees. Like they're just so pretty and exotic and tropical!!! OMG!!! And they definitely don't have them wherever the gang is from in this AU. (Also if griping about Elsa not having "tropical powers" is anything to go by, she DOES canonically like the tropics!) She has to take a picture of like...every palm tree on her phone. And considering the gang is in Arizona, that means Anna is stopping to take a picture like...every 2 minutes. Rapunzel catches onto the fact that Anna likes them, and paints her a picture with some when Punz has the time. Anna definitely cries when she sees it. Hiccup can't do nearly that good, but he does buy her some little plastic figurine ones in a gift shop that she can put in her room. Anna also cries about this. She just cries whenever any of her friends indulge her random fixation on palm trees. Surely she doesn't deserve such niceties!!!

Rapunzel is just. In love with the desert landscape tbh. Like the huge funky cacti!!! The shrubs!!! The desert wildflowers!!! The mesas!!! All of it!!! So of course she needs to pull out her easel and paint it. Jack walks by one day and sees her working on it and, partly just to troll her, he's like “put some snow in it!” As he walks away, Rapunzel just stops like “wait...that'd actually be such a great idea for a surrealist-type fantasy piece!!!” After she finishes the main landscape, she adds an overcoat of little puffs of snow on top of everything, and has some clumps falling off of the cacti. When she shows Jack, he just about cries tears of joy, but frantically tries to hide it. She gives the painting to him as a present at the end of the trip. He hangs that shit front-in-center in his room and cherishes it forever and ever.

At some point, Jack gets the ingenious idea that he's going to prank Merida by catching a tarantula and leaving it in her room. It's one of the harmless ones--Jack fact-checks this by offhandedly asking Hiccup and framing it as a casual interest in local etymology. Still, Merida screams far louder than is at all dignified, and also probably loud enough to wake a neighboring country. Rapunzel later has to physically hold Merida back to keep her from absolutely beating Jack into a pulp. Rapunzel also manages to get the World's Largest Sheet of Cardboard and the World's Largest Cup and somehow manages to get the damn thing back outside.

#rotbtd #rotbtfd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #jackunzel #hiccanna #moanida #jack frost #rapunzel #merida #hiccup #anna #moana #headcanons #hcs #vacation au #my askbox

[twilightdruig]

why did it have to be me?

pairing: bill weasley x fem!reader, slight ron weasley x fem!reader

summary: (part 2 of mamma mia! series) after y/n’s intimate night with ron, she’s off to greece in search for her destiny and future. too bad she misses her boat.

warnings: mamma mia!au, muggle!au, alludes to sex, reader has mommy issues

words: 1.8k

a/n: unedited!! , this is the second part of the mamma mia! series, next is sam aka donna’s 3rd lover. hope you enjoyed this!

y/n successfully snuck out of the small hotel room of ron weasley. the two shared an intimate night only a few hours ago and here she was leaving for greece.

she arrived at the pier, met with a short, bald man who was checking for their tickets.

“hey” she slid her ticket and id into the booth he was sitting in. he looked very uninterested and drowsy.

she sighed before the ticket man inspected her ticket and id. “you grew your hair. it’s longer now.” he bellowed with a french accent. it reminded her of fleur a bit who was full french.

“it is a bit. yeah.” she sighs, looking back at the boat she was supposed to be in “we could totally talk about that but, um, i’m kind of in a hurry. the ferry leaves any time now and this trip’s very important, you see—“

“i prefer it shorter.” he retorted.

the ferry departing the dock now. y/n felt as though her destiny was departing with it.

the ticketman stamps her ticket and gives it back to her. before he knows it she was running, trying to catch the boat who wasn’t at the dock anymore.

“wait! wait!” she cried out, not caring about half of her wardrobe falling out of her trunk “please! don’t. oh, god!” she dropped her baggage and felt like she wanted to drop dead as well.

she was about to before she heard another person behind her.

“this is great.” she turned around to be met with yet another ginger man. this one was tall, had a few scars on his face, had a (what looked like) a shark tooth necklace and a black earring. “i’m just gonna follow you everywhere. by the end of the day, i’ll have a whole new wardrobe.” he laughed.

this brightened up her mood a little bit. this man, quite attractive as well, holding multiple of her clothing items and was laughing.

“i don’t think that’ll suit you” she tilted her head and giggled.

“oh trust me, love. i can make this work” he winked before trying to put her clothes ; specifically a two piece top, on his muscular body. he was different from ron. he may have been ginger as well but this one looked cool, earring, long hair, leather — no, snake skin? boots, he was lanky and almost the exact opposite from ron.

“ugh,” she groaned “i really wanted to catch that ferry”

“i’m sure there’ll be another one tomorrow” he assured.

“thanks.” she turned her head back to him while smiling sarcastically.

he jumped to another boat. a private one. y/n wondered, maybe this was his. he wouldn’t mind taking her to wherever she was going right?

“right, uh… but what would be really great… today, not tomorrow… is if, uh, somewhere in this harbor there was a guy.” she tested the waters.

“young, tall, dashingly handsome?” he interjected.

“he’s probably passive-looking, but… he has a boat.” she continued.

“and a couple days free before he takes part in a sailing race.” he was swinging by one of the ropes now.

“so maybe, maybe. he can take me where i want to go?” she urged, rolling on the balls of her feet.

“he’d love to” he consented, grinning.

“but, the… um, sad fact is… this-this isn’t my boat; i just wanted to impress you” he finally stood still, trying to act serious, until he chuckled.

“oh, okay” she was about to turn around and leave, before she even got to that she heard fits of laughter coming from the man.

“i’m kidding!” he waved his hands in the air “hop on, i’m bill”

she scoffed and laughed. she jumped on the boat, put down her things and tried to get comfy.

bill led her to where the beds were. “i actually have an elderly relative on the island who helped me buy this beauty.”

she nodded as he explained.

“well, it certainly is a beauty” she ran her hand over the details of the small boat.

“thank you” he pretended to tip a hat.

“well, there are two beds down here. unfortunately, one’s a little bit… full” he gestured to the certainly full bed against one side of the small room.

“huh… convenient” she rolled her eyes.

“well i’m lucky this trip isn’t long enough for you to shatter my heart into pieces” he teased.

“ugh” she moaned “i get it. i’m attractive and charming” she winked.

he paused before talking again “you’re one of them” he smiled.

her face contorted into a look of confusion “one of who?”

“there are two,” he put two fingers up “kinds of seducer.”

he paused again, “first doesn’t actually like women, so he wants to assert his power and dominance over them. second one, far, far more dangerous, is the guy who falls in love every morning just to fall out of love the next.”

she chuckled at his explanation.

“but as you run away, you tell her you’re the one in pain and she’s just too much for you to handle” he smirked.

y/n was trying to tidy up the bed she will supposedly sleep in.

before she could actually get any work done bill pulled her back up to the deck.

“bill!” she exclaimed then giggled excitedly.

bill played some music on his radio before the two started dancing on deck. technically, he told her to while he steered to wherever they were going.

multiple minutes or hours passed. she couldn’t tell how long it has been. she had been talking and giggling with him for way too long.

what y/n was unaware of is that her most recent ginger boy toy (before george) was on the harbor trying to catch the boat he thought she was on.

ron rushed the ticket man to scan his ticket and check his id. “your hair. it’s short now”

“well… yes, i had to cut it for work” he politely smiled, slightly shaking from nervousness “uhm… i wonder, could you hurry up a bit? uh, you see i’ve followed a girl all the way from paris. she wrote me a note. a very kind note… saying goodbye.” he sighed.

when the ticketman didn’t reply, he continued “but, when you’ve found the only girl you’re ever gonna love, it’s gotta be worth one more try! don’t you think?”

“it’s better short” the ticketman returned his things. ron ran off to the edge only to find the boat far from the pier.

ron felt helpless. he really liked loved this woman. he really thought he had a chance with her.

back to the boat where y/n and bill were bonding, “you’re really funny, you know that?” she complimented, “and you’re very attractive… and charming” he complimented her back.

“listen… we only just met”

their faces grew hot and they were nearing each other’s, noses bumping against one another, just about to kiss until a faint yell was heard from a distance.

“hey! help!” they heard a masculine voice who sounded like they were drowning.

“do you hear that?” she pushed him away.

“what? no. that was um.. a seagull now, where were we?” he pulled her close to his chest once more.

“anyone on that boat?! help!!” the voice yelled again.

“there it was again!” she pushed his chest to see where the gurgled voice was coming from.

he groaned “we’re coming!!”

“hi!” y/n greeted. she found a man on a still boat.

“just checking to see you’re not in danger, which you’re obviously not, so… we’ll be off” he tried tugging her arm but she wouldn’t budge.

“uh.. my engine is not working” the man gestured to the non moving vehicle.

“oh, that is bad luck” bill scratched his head “i-i’ll radio someone for someone to come and help. they should be along soon.”

“bill.”

“please, please!” the man pleaded “there is a woman waiting for me on main land. her family, they not want her to marry simple man like alexio. they want rich man. ugly, big, fat, mole but rich.” he frowned “but she… she want me. and i love her with all my heartness” he smiled at the thought of his lover “please help, kind sir and beautiful lady”

y/n laughed “well obviously we’re doing this” she turned to bill.

they turned back to alexio “yes” they said at the same time.

they sailed for a few minutes until the saw dry land and a few people waiting on it. men in suits and a lady in a white wedding dress.

“i see them. okay, everyone, we’re nearly—“

“apollonia!!” alexio yelled, cutting off bill’s sentence.

bill went to speak up again until alexio jumped off the boat “apollonia!!!” he yelled again.

“woah!” bill was surprised by the man jumping off. y/n was just laughing on the floor.

“what are you doing? we could get you closer” bill roared with laughter.

“if you love someone, you’re willing to die for them!” his voice was gurgled as he might’ve swallowed water.

“apollonia” he yelled again.

“alexio?!” she turned around “alexio!” she started running to the edge of the pier, ready to jump off.

“aah! apollon..!” his head dunked underwater.

“he’s just swallowed a big mouthful of water, but the basic point he’s trying to make is that he loves you!” bill screamed for alexio.

“what?” she screamed back.

“he loves you!” both y/n and bill yelled. both of their throats getting sore.

“apollonia!” alexio screamed for the umpteenth time.

apollonia jumped into the water in her wedding dress, trying to swim to her unrequited lover.

faint and distant ‘apollonia!’s and ‘apollonia no!’s came from the men in suits she was previously with.

“apollonia!”

“alexio!”

“oh god, i don’t think she can swim either” he began to take his own shirt off.

“well, she’s wearing a dress”

bill couldn’t hear her when he already jumped in the water to save the couple.

bill dropped them off at the second nearest dry land, away from apollonia’s relatives.

—

sooner or later, they arrived at y/n’s destination. the island of kalokairi.

“hey,” bill grabbed her attention once more “you sure you’re okay here?”

“yeah” she smiled at him “i’ll be fine”

“i’ll come back after the race” he reassured her “although it wouldn’t be for a few weeks, but i do promise to come back.”

“look at this place” she gushed “it’s so beautiful”

“it is, yeah.” they admired their surroundings while nearing where bill would drop off y/n.

“what? what’s wrong?” she noticed his expression.

“storm’s coming” he murmured. this worried herself. but all that worried faded when she noticed the clear sky.

“shut up, it’s a clear sky” she rolled her eyes.

“trust me,” he paused “actually, don’t”

“but i know i’m right. i’ll still be fine. i got a very good feeling.”

“bye, bill” she hopped off the boat, dragging her trunk on the wooden floor.

“see you soon, yeah?”

“yeah. thanks a lot too!”

“anytime, love” they waved at each other until bill was out of sight.

#bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #harry potter #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley one shot #bill weasley x you #bill weasley fic #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fluff

[thegryffindorprincess]

Twin Size Mattress//Draco Malfoy x Reader

She hopes I'm cursed forever to Sleep on a twin-sized mattress In somebody's attic or basement my whole life Never graduating up in size to add another And my nightmares will have nightmares every night Oh, every night, every night

A/N: Based off of ‘Twin Size Mattress’ by The Front Bottoms. So this song is one of my absolute favourites and I think it’s so sad dude. However I thought this would make such a beautifully sad draco x reader. Just to let you know: requests are open, I have a new Draco series coming & a Lucius imagine out super soon! Anyway enjoy!

Set: Golden Trio era into Post War

Word Count:1,989

Warnings: honestly so much sadness bro 

This is for the lions living in the wiry broke down frames Of my friends bodies When the flood water comes, it ain't gonna be clear It's gonna look like mud

But I will help you swim I will help you swim I'm gonna help you swim

To Draco, she was a roaring lion with a mane of perfect hair and a will stronger than anybody else’s. He’d noticed her long before she’d noticed him. He watched her as she got weaker throughout the years, the darker the wizarding world got. She was a muggle born, so he guessed this was a hell worse than she’d ever expected to experience. Y/N’s body became weaker over time and the lion like prowess stopped as Draco looked after her from afar. She stayed too close to Hermione for him to ever speak to her. But he wanted to. He got to one night, when he was taking a late night stroll around the grounds to clear his mind in his fifth year. Dumbledores army had just arrived back to the castle, Harry had met Voldermort again, this time at the Ministry and everyone was scared. That’s when he saw her standing on the edge of the Black Lake, swaying on her heels. He’d approached quietly, playing with his hair as he came closer. When she saw him she flashed him a gentle smile. Draco finally plucked up the courage to stand next to her. He flicked his wand so that a gentle, silver glow lit the river bank. Y/N looked up at him through her thick eyelashes.

“Are you scared Draco?” She asked gently. They’d never spoken, but she laid her head on his shoulder then as if they’d been friends for years. He raised his hand to her head and gently played with Y/N’s hair, thinking of an answer.

“I’ll protect you.” Was all he said as they stood there together in peace. “I will protect you with everything I have.” She shuffled closer to him then.

“The floodwaters coming Draco...” She huffed as she looked at the water in front of them. He took her further into his arms and kissed her forehead.

“I will help you swim.” 

This is for the snakes and the people they bite For the friends I've made, for the sleepless nights For the warning signs I've completely ignored There's an amount to take, reasons to take more

They’d decided to be together after that night, in a secretive way, but still devoted. He’d snuck out of the manor at least three times a week so she could show him muggle London in the summer holidays. Draco adored the time he spent with her, but in the back of his mind he knew it was coming to an end. You see, unlike Y/N, a beautiful lioness, Draco was a snake. In the recent months, things were becoming darker. Instead of running away though, he was losing any shred of bravery he had left. He was friends with all the wrong people. Back at Hogwarts, he sat at the Slytherin house table, the dark mark he’d acquired burning under neath his robes, he looked over to her. Drowning out the conversations of his friends about mud bloods, he watched Y/N laugh with Harry, Ron and Hermione as they sat huddled together and it stung. Why couldn’t he be like them? 

Draco cuddled her to him as they lay in bed, thoughts of what he had to do swirling through his head. Y/N was peacefully asleep, while he lay wide awake. He was wearing long sleeved pyjamas even in the heat as he couldn’t let her see what he’d done. As he lay looking down at the girl, he thought about all the warning signs at home he’d ignored, he should’ve prepared for this war, got away, joined the order, moved as far away as possible. That was all just dreams now. His mistakes were piling up on top of each other and he couldn’t take anymore. Draco kissed her head as he jumped out of bed, sliding out of the room silently, praising merlin that his girl was a heavy sleeper. He made his way out into the corridor towards the room of requirement. 

It's no big surprise you turned out this way When they close their eyes and prayed you would change And they cut your hair, and sent you away You stopped by my house the night you escaped With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay You said, "Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way!"

Y/N awoke to screaming in the halls. She slipped unnoticeably out of the Slytherin common room, getting lost in the crowds. Hermione appeared then next to her, concern spread across her features. She pulled Y/N with her as they jogged out into the courtyard. Hermione and her pushed to the front. There lay Dumbledore, dead. Harry was bent over his body sobbing, his shoulders heaving as he held his hand. The school raised their wands to the sky, Draco was no where to be seen. People began to leave then, one by one going back to their common rooms, until the four of them were left.

“This was Draco.” Harry spat. Y/N looked at him in slight shock, struggling to regain composure. “He let them in. He’s one of them. He has the mark. Snape had to kill Dumbledore to save Draco. This is his fault.” Rage began to sore through Y/N’s body. She briefly dropped to the ground to give Harry a hug, before getting up and leaving the three be. She ran, as fast as her legs would carry her, up to the Owlery tower. She stood on the edge for ages, bent over in agony. She never thought she could hate him, but he’d proved her wrong. Y/N was knocked out of her thoughts by a familiar hand on her shoulder. Draco smiled down at her, tears brimming in his eyes. She simply shrugged him off.

“Show me it.” She demanded, crossing her arms and standing opposite. He looked at her wide eyed. “Show me it, now.” Draco took a deep breathe and began to roll up his sleeve, showing her the mark that adorned his pale flesh. She scowled at it. “It’s no big surprise you turned out this way, really.” She whispered at nobody in particular. Draco stayed silent, pulling down his sleeve again, hiding the mark once more. “I just prayed you would change sides.” Y/N looked at him now. He guiltily stared at his feet. “Did you escape?” She asked gently, watching how he nodded so slowly it felt like it might of not happened. “Are you going to fight against the school?” She asked, her tone emotionless. He nodded again, looking up at her with big, sensitive eyes. Y/N glared at him, and turned on her heal to walk away. Draco, with tears in his eyes went to chase her. 

“Stay?” He begged, droplets of water rolling down his cheeks. Y/N turned to him, placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and shook her head.

“Hey man, I love you.” Draco looked up a little eagerly, but was met with her pained face walking away from him once more. “But no fucking way.” She spat. 

This is for the lake that me and my friends swim in Naked and dumb on a drunken night But it should've felt good, but I can hear the Jaws theme song On repeat in the back of my mind

The war was over. The right side had won. Draco’s family had all charges against them dropped. He should be happy, he thought to himself as he stood by the side of the large river in front of him, Blaise and Pansy splashing eachother already swimming. Draco stripped from his clothes and dived into the cold water. He felt alive for the first time in a few years. The group swam together, laughing, all of them naked. The water felt so relaxing over his skin as he sunk deeper into the river. But still, in the back of his mind he knew something was still wrong. It was on repeat, the sense of loneliness, which he tried to push away. That was the moment he decided to start to drink. Everyday. To feel alive again. 

Make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face There are lessons to be learned Consequences for all the stupid things I say And it is no big surprise you turned out this way The spark in your eyes, The look on your face I will not be late

He’d passed out again. It was only three pm, but he was laid on his sofa in his flat, eyes closed. They fluttered open at the sound of ringing. Draco flung his arm to reach for his phone. The number was unknown. He groaned, before swiping and answering.

“Who is this?” He snapped down the line.

“Jesus Draco,” A familiar voice spoke, “kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face.” The sentenced ended with a slight tone of amusement. Draco’s heart began to flutter as he realised it was Y/N. 

“Lesson learnt.” He groaned. “I’ll take the consequences for all the stupid things I say.” She laughed gently.

“Are you drunk?” She asked quietly. Draco nervously paused. 

“Yeah...” Draco whispered. Y/N sighed.

“It’s no big surprise you turned out this way.” The words stung as Draco remembered the last time she’d used them. “Anyway, do you want to see me? It would be nice to see you. I’ve missed the sparks in your eyes and the look on your face when you see me.” Draco swallowed loudly. 

“Please,” He sighed, “I will not be late.” 

I wanna contribute to the chaos I don't wanna watch and then complain 'Cause I am through finding blame That is the decision that I have made

Draco staggered into the bar. He knew he’d fucked up before he’d seen the disappointment painted on her face. His breath stank of fire whiskey, his clothes were dirty and he could barely walk. He sat down opposite her, and she simply blankly stared back. He’d gotten nervous. He’d contributed to the chaos in his brain by poisoning himself. He didn’t want to watch himself be lonely just to complain. 

“Am I to blame for this then?” Y/N spat at him as he swayed in his seat. She looked beautiful Draco thought, absolutely radiant. Draco simply shrugged as she asked. They sat in silence for a while, taking eachother in. 

“I’m about to be made homeless.” Draco said, with a slight laugh to his tone. He decided to laugh so he didn’t cry. She just stared back at him.

“I’m going.” She announced breaking the silence. “I’m not letting you ruin my life again, i’ve decided.” And Y/N left Draco sitting alone. 

She hopes I'm cursed forever to Sleep on a twin-sized mattress In somebody's attic or basement my whole life Never graduating up in size to add another And my nightmares will have nightmares every night Oh, every night, every night

Draco laid on the mattress on Blaise’s floor. He stared at the ceiling as his girlfriend Astoria laid next to him asleep. He wondered what Y/N was thinking about. Probably the fact he deserved this. To not have a permanent home. He clung to himself. He didn’t want to sleep. Draco knew when he did his nightmares would get worse. His nightmares had become so violent, he thought his own nightmares were having nightmares. And that’s where he’d stay. On his twin sized mattress he used to share with her, just now without her warmth. And that was how it would be. Every night of his life. 

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x reader fluff #draco x reader angst #draco x reader sad #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader fluff #draco malfoy x reader angst #draco sad #draco fluff #draco angst #draco fanfiction #frontbottoms #songprompt

[ghostnebula]

Okay please do a part 3 of the waterpolo au where Richie does walk Eddie to his dorm after practice one time OR maybe they have a swim meet out of town and have to stay the night and they end up rooming together and Eddie maybe did something to piss Richie off and he ends up getting the dick appointment of HIS LIFE (featuring lots of lovely aftercare, that part made me so happy when you included that)

God omg omg okay (I love this sm)

[part 1]  [part 2]

Okay so here’s how this goes: The swim team and the water polo team both have events out of town on the same weekend, in the same place. As such, they’re going to travel together, and both coaches are like “Yeah they practice in the same room all the time and a lot of members of both teams seem to be friends and isn’t it great that our teams get along so well? Isn’t that wonderful?” (Eddie would beg to differ but he also doesn’t want to tell his coach he let that tall hot dickweed from the water polo team fuck him even though he definitely doesn’t get along with him and overall the current relations aren’t so great, because he has, like, some dignity, so he just keeps his mouth shut). 

So these two coaches, so proud of their teams for getting along so well, bring them all together during practice one day and give them the great news! They’ll be taking the bus to whatever town together, and staying in the same hotel, right beside the facility where their events will be held on Saturday and Sunday. Their rooms will be randomly assigned -- two to a room, names drawn from a hat, unless anyone has any specific requests. 

And Eddie does. Eddie sure as hell does have a specific request not to be stuck in a room with Richard Fucking Tozier, because he’s not about to subject himself to an entire weekend of whatever the fuck is going on between the two of them, especially not when he’s all but naked during swim meets and anyone with two working eyes will see whatever marks Richie decides to leave on him. 

Richie beats him to it, though, and he’s already chatting with their coaches the second the meeting ends. Eddie storms up to give Richie a piece of his mind, and to tell the coaches to disregard everything that comes out of this fibbing conniving asshole’s mouth, but Richie is... being so nice? And charming? And he drops an arm across Eddie’s shoulders to pull him into a little side hug, smiling so sincerely at the coaches as he explains how Eddie’s just so sweet to him, and he’d love to be friends, and what a perfect opportunity it would be for them to spend a whole weekend rooming together, so they can get to know each other better. Eddie’s trapped because his only option right now is to make himself the asshole and tell Richie to fuck right off in front of both their coaches, while he’s putting on this disturbingly convincing act of being, like... genuinely nice. He just watches with his jaw on the floor as Richie shakes both their hands and thanks them for all the incredible opportunities, and tells them just how grateful he is, and how he’s made some of the best friends in his life while part of the water polo team.

And then the conversation is over and there’s something almost menacing in Richie’s eyes as he plants a wet kiss to his cheek and tells him he’s looking forward to a whole weekend to play with him, and Eddie’s knees nearly give out. He is so beyond screwed at this point.

They get to their hotel late on Friday night, and Eddie can’t even bring himself to care about the room arrangements, because he’s too busy thinking about sleep, and how nice it will be to just put his head on a pillow. He purposely sat as far from Richie as possible on the bus, and Richie didn’t push his luck -- just stayed where he was, probably because he knew Eddie was already going to have to put up with enough of his shit over the course of the weekend. Still, Eddie caught him staring a few times. 

He should’ve known sleep was not in the plans for the night.

He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, and comes out of the bathroom to get his pyjamas out of his bag. Richie’s got all his crap tossed in a corner, clothes spilling out of his unzipped duffel bag, a Walkman on the bed, his dirty socks on the floor. In complete contrast to Eddie, who stacked his belongings neatly against the wall beside his bed and made sure everything was in it’s place after he got his toiletry bag out. He’s already rolling his eyes before the bathroom door has swung shut behind him, and it doesn’t occur to him that in all that mess, there’s a vital element missing: Richie. 

He sweeps up behind him and wraps an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat, and Eddie yelps in surprise so Richie presses a hand over his mouth. “Quiet, now, we’ve got neighbours, you know.”

“Fuck off,” says Eddie, muffled, and he tries to mean it but he, perhaps, has not stopped thinking about the fucking fantastic lay that Richie was, and he hasn’t hooked up with anyone else since, which is kind of a new record for him. Frankly, he’s a little pissed and a little scared Richie may have ruined him for anyone else, and he is not willing to admit that, not at fucking all, so he settles for some healthy insults in the hopes Richie will make the decision to end this before it begins, so that Eddie doesn’t have to.

Except Richie just licks up the side of his throat, hot and wet, and croons, “Oh, baby, you can be meaner than that. Get my dick hard, c’mon.”

“Eat shit, fuckface,” Eddie snaps, trying to pry Richie’s hand off of his face, and he swears Richie actually shudders behind him before latching onto the skin under his jaw and starting to suck a hickey there. He stomps on Richie’s foot so hard he finally lets go, looking more than a little miffed. “Don’t you fucking dare leave marks on me, I swear to god. I have an event first thing in the morning and you are not--”

Richie kisses him, because Richie is an asshole and he just does whatever the fuck he wants, apparently, but when Eddie shoves him off he says, “Okay, deal,” with a shit-eating grin, and Eddie isn’t sure if he wants to be pissed Richie still thinks Eddie wants to fuck him at all tonight (doesn’t he?) or relieved he’s actually getting his way.

(The cognitive dissonance is real with this one)

He lets Richie fuck him on his bed, and he’s so big his legs shake and his eyes water, and Richie puts him right back into that distant and floaty headspace again. He knows he shouldn’t let Richie come in him, because it was so hard to get it all out last time, but he just doesn’t have it in him to tell him not to, and he especially doesn’t want to tell him to use a condom, so when Richie asks if he can come inside, and Eddie’s pretty sure his body and his mind have diverged into separate entities, he nods and whines a little, “Please?”

But the next morning? He’s right back to fuck that guy and fuck his seductive talents and definitely fuck his huge dick and especially fuck his ability to make the best possible use of the gifts God gave him. Something like that. Seriously, how dare he? How dare he take advantage of Eddie like that? How dare he be just hot enough and just charismatic enough and just a good enough lay that Eddie isn’t even capable of resisting it at this point. Is he a fucking incubus? This is bullshit.

And he’s sore. Which is really what’s pissing him off so much. He’s so sore and it felt so fucking good last night but now, while he’s trying to win a damn race, it doesn’t feel nearly as good (or so he tries to tell himself).

So when he hauls himself out of the water to find Richie and a couple other members of the water polo team hanging out in the front row of the stands, he’s still thinking fuck you fuck you fuck you. He towels off, gets his congratulatory pats on the back or whatever the fuck from his teammates, and he’s glaring at Richie the whole time. Richie’s grinning right back. He’s got an empty seat save beside him, one foot kicked up on it casually, and Eddie knows what he thinks that’s for, but like hell he’s going to give him the satisfaction. 

In fact, he outright refuses to give him the satisfaction. He knows there’s a good hour until the water polo game starts for Richie’s team, which means several hours until his own second and final event for the weekend, and he thinks some good old-fashioned revenge is in store.

He bypasses Richie completely to approach Bill, another member of the water polo team who Eddie’s hooked up with a couple times in the past. It was alright -- he’s had worse, but he’s definitely (and quite recently) had better. Way fucking better. Still, Bill’s always been a sweetheart to him, and Richie’s a run-of-the-mill d-bag, so there’s no competition there (yes, actually, there is).

“Hi, Bill,” he says sweetly, leaning over the railing, giving his best smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to take advantage of your free time before your game starts?”

Bill agrees easily enough, so Eddie takes him by the hand to lead him away, find somewhere they can have some privacy, and he sneaks a look at Richie to find him appropriately livid, which just leaves Eddie feeling smug. Because fuck him, right? He doesn’t deserve Eddie. He’s barely even nice to Eddie.

Well, except that... last night, after he was done fucking the soul out of him, he kind of was nice. Like before. Holding him until he felt like himself again and telling him how good he did, helping him clean up and letting him share the unsoiled bed with him.

Still, though, he can’t just fucking... barge into Eddie’s life and take whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and expect Eddie to just bend to his will. 

So he gets a condom and lube out of his bag on their way through the locker room and he lets Bill fuck him in some empty room, and it’s not entirely unsatisfying but he also can’t stop thinking about Richie, and how fucking good he felt last night, and how he’s still sore from it, and how sweet revenge tastes -- how pissed Richie is probably going to be. And Eddie can’t wait to rub it in his face, that Richie doesn’t get to keep him to himself, and that Eddie isn’t going to play along with his stupid little games, no matter how much he likes them.

He doesn’t stick around to watch the water polo games, just goes back to his and Richie’s shared room to shower and freshen up before his next event, and when he gets back to the pool Richie is back in the stands, still looking pissed as all hell, and Eddie’s still smug as fuck about it.

He finishes up his swim meet, purposefully avoids eye contact with Richie the whole time, just to get his point across (not because he’s worried he’ll start something if he looks at him too long), and hauls ass back to his room as soon as he’s dressed, ready to spend the afternoon hiding from him. But Richie’s not a fucking idiot, apparently, because he’s throwing the door open not five minutes later, expression deadly calm, and he waltzes straight over to Eddie’s bed (now with fresh sheets, thanks to the cleaning service). “You’re cute,” Richie says, which is not what Eddie was expecting, and he makes an inquisitive noise and tilts his head, setting aside the assignment he was working on for one of his classes. “Yeah, real fuckin’ cute,” Richie continues, now lifting one knee onto the bed and crowding into his space, “thinking you can fuck around like that without consequences.”

“Um,” says Eddie, and then he’s being slammed down onto the mattress with a hand around his throat.

“You were trying to piss me off, right? You wanted it rough, or something? I though I was already giving it to you plenty rough, kitten, but all you had to do was ask.” The grip on Eddie’s throat tightens and he goes dizzy for a second, both hands curling over Richie’s wrist and squeezing. He loosens up a little, just enough to let Eddie breathe. 

“I want you... to leave me alone,” he lies, rasping, not making any further move to get Richie off of him. “I’m not your... fucking... plaything.”

Richie laughs viciously at that, free hand already creeping under Eddie’s shirt, and it tears a rough gasp out of him when he pinches hard at his nipple. “No, you don’t. Nice try, though.”

Eddie doesn’t argue the point, because he’s dug himself in this deep, anyway. So he stays when Richie tells him to stay, flat on his back on the hotel bed while Richie rummages through his bags, and he takes his shirt off when he tells him to. And he doesn’t complain when Richie wraps a belt around his wrists to tie them together over his bare chest. In fact, he fights down the colour rising in his cheeks, because no one’s ever done that before and he really, really likes it, enough that it’s, uh, physically pretty obvious. Richie’s smirking because he already knows the answer when he asks, “Is that okay? Is it too much?”

“No,” Eddie relents. “It’s fine.”

“Seems more than fine to--”

Eddie kicks him in the thigh to shut him up and earns himself a slap across the face for it, and he doesn’t think it should turn him on so much when Richie grabs at his throat again and growls, “You’re already in enough fucking trouble, you ungrateful bitch.”

“What-fucking-ever.” Eddie rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, dick stirring in his pants at the calm anger clear in Richie’s eyes, and Richie bites him. Harder than he ever did the first time they fucked, just below his collarbone, and Eddie can’t scream because he isn’t getting enough air for that, but he still makes a high noise somewhere in the back of his throat even as Richie presses harder at his windpipe. He doesn’t have to see to know he’s bleeding.

He tries to get his anger across with a glare, but Richie isn’t paying attention, he’s too busy uncapping the lube and pouring some on his fingers, and before Eddie can do anything to prepare himself he’s shoving two fingers in him at once. Eddie half-screams again, kicking out against him, and Richie finally lets go of his throat so he can breathe properly again. “Fuck you, that hurts,” he croaks, whacking Richie’s shoulder with his bound hands. 

“Really? I’d expect you to be pretty fucking loose, considering.” As if to emphasize his point, he forces a third finger in beside the first two, and the stretch is too much, too fast; it has Eddie tearing up. “Or is Billy’s cock really that small? Must not be very satisfying.”

“Richie, slow down, take it easy, please,” Eddie whimpers, but still, he can’t bring himself to outright ask him to stop, and he hates that. 

“Richie, slow down,” Richie mocks in a high voice. “Don’t piss me off and maybe it wouldn’t be a fucking problem.”

He pulls his fingers out of him too fast, and it fucking hurts, but he’s already lining his cock up to push in and Eddie knows there’s no point asking him to go easy, even though he’s still hurting from last night, and his little rendezvous with Bill only made things worse. He rocks right into him, sinking too deep all at once, and the dam bursts, tears spilling down Eddie’s cheeks. Richie bites him again, just as hard, this time right at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Eddie fucking wails, back arching, legs tensing on either side of Richie’s hips. 

“Are you gonna let Bill fuck you again?” Richie demands as he sets a brutal pace, aggravating every ache Eddie’s been dealing with since last night. He shakes his head as Richie batters his prostate, not even entirely cognizant of what it is he’s agreeing to. “You gonna let anyone who isn’t me fuck you again?” He shakes his head again. Richie’s fingers twist into his hair and pull, forcing his head to the side so he can suck hickeys all up the side of his throat, licking over the bruises when he’s done. One hand comes down to wrap around Eddie’s cock and he squeezes his eyes shut, whining, because he’s already close. It hurts and it’s a lot but he’s so fucking close already, and Richie’s so big inside him he doesn’t thing anything else will ever compare. He clenches down around Richie and comes all over his hand, body going lax beneath him while Richie continues to fuck into him. 

He’s so damn oversensitive that he starts whimpering and pushing at Richie’s chest and shoulders, as if he’d ever be able to push him off, but Richie just grabs the belt and forces his hands up over his head, and Eddie starts sobbing. “’s too much,” he tries to tell him, feeling himself go all floaty again as Richie peppers kisses all over his cheeks and his throat, hips slamming into him so hard he’s sure his insides are going to be bruised, and his breath is stuttering in his chest as he tries to stop crying.

“No it isn’t, baby doll, because if it was too much you wouldn’t go around fucking other people, as if I weren’t enough for you.” Richie yanks on his hair, harder this time, and Eddie’s fucking astonished to realize his dick is trying to get hard again. 

Richie’s face is pinched in something like concentration while he’s fucking him, and part of him wishes he’d just come already and get it over with, but he’s pretty sure Richie’s actively resisting it, which is just as well, because another part of him entirely wants Richie to make him come on his cock a second time.

He grabs Eddie’s dick and strokes him back to hardness, colour sitting high on his cheeks, sweat making his hair cling to his forehead, and then his fingers are on Eddie’s throat again and he’s squeezing, cutting off his air, and Eddie’s just gone. His mind has severed ties with his body and it’s so good and he’s floating, and he’s simultaneously too aware of his second orgasm tearing through him and too far removed from it. 

But then Richie’s voice is drawing him back. “I could come in you, kitten, but I don’t think you deserve it after that stunt you pulled. Do you?”

“No,” Eddie says in a faraway voice. He tries to get his eyes to focus on Richie’s face above him but he’s not sure he’s successful. “No, I-- I want you to.”

“Ask nicely.” Richie’s hand is still on his throat.

“...Please?”

“What’s that, baby?”

“Please? Please come inside me.”

Richie hums, contemplative, like it isn’t fucking killing him to force himself not to come then and there. “Call me Daddy.”

And Eddie doesn’t care, Eddie doesn’t fucking care anymore, he’d do literally anything to get Richie to come in him at this point, even though everything fucking hurts and he’s positive the bus ride home tomorrow is going to be an absolute nightmare as it is. “Please, Daddy? Come inside me, Daddy?” he begs through tears, and Richie practically collapses on top of him as he pumps a load of come into him, a low moan tearing out of his chest.

They just lie there for a while, breathing, and when Richie finally pulls out of him, Eddie hisses an, “Oh, fuck.”

“I got you,” Richie says, sounding -- just like that -- like a completely different person. He’s untying the belt from Eddie’s wrists and rubbing at the marks it left on his skin, and Eddie can feel himself slowly drifting back down into his own body, which feels like it got run over by a truck. “You did good,” Richie’s telling him, kissing his forehead, and it makes him inexplicably delighted to hear that -- all warm in his chest, so much so that he can’t contain the smile it brings to his lips. 

“You think so?”

Richie lies on his side and pulls Eddie in close to put an arm around him. “Yeah, of course. You take it like a champ, haven’t I told you that?”

“Think you might’ve mentioned something like that last night,” Eddie slurs, pressing his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and sighing heavily.

“Are you alright?” Richie asks, already checking him over anyway, preparing to treat whatever injuries he’s inflicted once Eddie’s come down from it. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

Eddie huffs something that might be a laugh. “Everywhere,” he jokes, and an awful expression crosses Richie’s face, like he’s appalled with himself. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, eyes shining with tears, and Eddie’s taken aback because that’s the last thing he’d expect from fucking Tozier. He brushes his hair off his forehead and cups his cheek, drawing him in for a kiss, wiping Eddie’s tears from his cheeks as he does so. “I’m sorry, baby, I should’ve been more gentle. I won’t do that again, I swear. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, because is Richie seriously apologizing to him? How does his whole attitude keep doing a complete one-eighty like this? So what he ends up saying is: “Uh, no, I liked it.” At which Richie sort-of laughs, just enough to let Eddie know he isn’t going to drown in his guilt. “I’d appreciate a shower, though.”

“Why yes, of course, Your Highness. Anything for you, Your Grace,” Richie says, in possibly the worst British accent Eddie’s ever heard, even as he’s helping him to (very slowly) sit up and crawl off the bed. “Shall I ask your royal servants to prepare a wee snack for you to enjoy after your royal bath, as well?”

“Why, that would just be delightful,” Eddie responds in an equally bad accent, and Richie laughs so hard he snorts, and Eddie’s thinking it isn’t so bad that Richie refuses to leave him the fuck alone.

#Anonymous #reddie #d/s #cw dubcon #once again KIND OF #its mostly eddie being a fucking brat on purpose lbr #very very long #i hope you enjoy your ENTIRE GODDAMN FANFIC I GUESS #lol #inappropriate #minors dni #water polo au #my writing #ask

[sylvanfreckles]

Don’t Look (FebuWhump 23)

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Sam and Dean are ambushed and captured by a powerful demon with an ancient lineage. Help is on the way...if they can survive.

(CW for some body horror/sores. Basically, skip if something like rashes and sores would upset you. It’s not terribly graphic, but I know this can be a real phobia for some people).

* * *

“This is obviously a trap, Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes and sandwiched his phone between his head and shoulder, flapping his fingers at Sam in the universal “won't stop talking” gesture. Sam didn't look impressed.

“Look, man, it's just a bunch of demons,” Dean replied. He checked the clip in his gun, tucked a couple spares into his belt, and reached for an angel blade. “Don't see what has you so worked up.”

“Will you please just wait for me?” Cas's voice was strained, and Dean could practically see the impatience in every line of the angel's face. “I'm less than two hours away.”

“Are you talking while driving?” Dean smirked at Sam, though Sam just shook his head and started double-checking his own gear. “Always the little rebel, ain't ya?”

He waited while Cas spluttered in outrage. “We'll be done before you even get here,” he said, talking right over whatever point Cas was about to make. “And, hey, they've got a drive-in movie theater in this town. We can make a field trip, I think they're playing one of the new Star Wars movies.”

Cas was still talking when Dean hung up the call. He shoved the phone into his pocket with a chuckle, then caught Sam staring at him. “What?”

Sam shook his head again and shoved the trunk of the car closed. “Would it kill you to wait for him anyway?”

“And miss all the fun?” Dean slapped his brother on the arm. “Dude. It's demons. Practically kindergarten stuff for us.” Anyway all the big players were downstairs—or dead—so it wasn't like they had anything to worry about.

His brother was still bitch-facing about it when Dean shoved him down the path toward the abandoned hotel. “All right, I'll buy him a root beer float or something, and he'll get over it by the time that little rolling droid he loves so much shows up on screen.”

“BB-8?”

“Dude, I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just knowing you know that.”

Sam turned around and spread his arms out, walking backward down the path. “At least I don't know all the Starfleet captains by first name.”

“Hey, Star Trek is an important part of our cultural history,” Dean retorted, shoving his brother in the chest to keep him moving. “Star Wars is for nerds.”

* * *

The old hotel was empty, apart from the faint dusty of sulfur on some of the decrepit furniture. There were some tracks in the dust, which was a little weird for a bunch of demons, Dean had to admit, but the tracks were recent enough to prove there was demonic activity here.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Dean pulled it out and made a face at it, swiping over the icon to ignore the call.

“Dude, he's probably worried,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, he does that,” Dean shot back. He turned his phone off and shoved it back into his pocket. “He does that too damn much. We can handle one little nest of demons.”

Predictably...at least for Cas and Sam...and Dean, too, though he was loathed to admit it...they could not handle the “little” nest of demons.

The tracks lead them down to the old pool house, but before they'd even crossed the yard they'd been swarmed. The brothers had fought valiantly, back-to-back, and taken out a handful of the attacking demons but there were just too many. They were overwhelmed, hauled into the pool house, and tied to a couple of rusty old poolside chairs.

Dean jerked against his bonds—he could probably work himself free, given enough time. One side of his face had swollen up and his lip was busted up. Sam wasn't much better off, between the gash on his forehead bleeding enough to cover most of his face and the obvious dislocation to his left shoulder.

Well. Now he was gonna have to apologize to Cas for going in without him AND for getting himself and his brother captured. And injured. It would have to be a root beer float and popcorn and downloading the rest of the Star Wars movies for the weekend.

The demons were lined up along the sides of the pool now. They'd put Sam and Dean on the side nearest the shallow end, looking down the length of murky, stagnant water. Dean exchanged a look with his brother—what now? They'd been captured and beat up and tied up for, what, the world's worst diving contest?

The water rippled. Dean stared down at it in shock when a woman's head appeared at the deep end of the pool. But she wasn't swimming, she was...walking? And each step brought her further and further out of the water, the algae and slime cascading off of her body without leaving a trace behind. She was tall, with long, wavy blonde hair that fell almost to her hips. Her body was wrapped in a flowing green dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her...er, other features.

And she was walking on the water now. Because of course. Dean rolled his eyes so hard he almost sprained something. While there was something otherwordly about this whole thing, it was so obviously some demon princess bitch pretending to be a minor goddess or something.

She reached the shallow end of the pool and just stood there, looking at them. Dean glanced down at her bare feet, which were resting on the rippling water as easily as though she was standing on solid ground. “Nice trick,” he commented, smirking up at her. “Special power or just full of hot air?”

The demon in the green dress tilted her head to study him—nice try, bitch, that's Cas's thing—and blinked, her eyes clicking to beetle-black. “I am Vephar. Lord of the waters.”

“I'm Dean,” Dean replied, ignoring Sam's hissed warning. “Lord of the highway.”

Vephar studied for a moment, then raised one arm to point at his face. Pain erupted from his forehead to his chin and his brother called his name in a panicked voice. Vephar turned to face Sam next. “Who are you?”

Gritting his teeth, Dean rolled his head back enough to make eye contact with his brother. Sammy was shooting him a panicked look, obviously concerned by whatever the bitch had done. God, it still hurt. Most of the time when these bastards attacked telepathically it was like a cut from a razor, or a punch that somehow bypassed your muscle to hit you right in the organs. This was just...this was wrong. It ached and burned and felt wet somehow.

“I'm Sam,” his brother finally said, when Vephar took a step toward him. “Just Sam.”

“And why are you here, 'Just Sam'?”

Sam shot a look at Dean, who tried to shake his head subtly. “We were just looking around,” Sam finally stammered out. “The-the hotel. It's abandoned, we thought we could find something to sell in it. You know, the market for copper wire is pretty high right now.”

Vephar tilted her head to the other side. “No,” she intoned after a few seconds. “You're lying.” She raised her hand again and Sam jerked back with a cry of pain. Now Dean could see why his brother had looked so horrified. Instead of cutting or bruising, Vephar had raised an angry-looking line of oozing sores on his brother's face. It reminded him of nothing so much as Nick's face when Lucifer was burning through him...or Cas when he'd taken the souls from Purgatory.

“I was once a grand duke of hell,” Vephar explained, walking back down the length of the pool. “I commanded my legions and churned the mighty waters. I rode the seas in glorious battle, until I was betrayed and bound in this place.”

Dean grunted, tugging at the bonds on his wrists as the urge to dig his fingers into his face became nearly unbearable. “Sucks to be you.”

Vephar turned back to face him and raised one delicate eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Then she raised her hand and Dean threw his head back with a scream as another line of pain lanced up the other side of his face.

“What's binding you here?” Sam asked. “Maybe we can break it? Set you free?”

She tilted her head again, her black gaze boring into Sam's. “You're lying again.”

“Sammy, no!” Dean surged against the ropes uselessly as sores burst into existence around his brother's neck. “You bitch!”

“Temper,” Vephar replied calmly, and then the horrible, burning, wet pain was streaking down his chest under his shirt. Every shift in position made the fabric of his clothing rub against the sores, until it felt like he'd covered himself in sandpaper instead of a t-shirt.

“I don't get much to play with here,” the demon bitch said. She had that damn hand up in the air again, her index finger extended, and she waved it back and forth between the brothers as though trying to choose which one to torture. “I hope you last longer than the last ones.”

Dean was steeling himself to shout—distract the bitch, insult her, make her focus all her anger on him to give Sammy a chance to escape—when the door to the pool house exploded inward.

“Cas!” Sam's voice was thick with warning as the demons that had been lining the sides of the pool turned to swarm the angel. Dean grit his teeth and refocused his efforts on freeing himself. Cas was good—damn good—but there were well over a dozen demons, and heaven wasn't exactly running on full power these days.

He saw Cas go down. Dean threw himself backward with a jerk, finally crashing the chair into the stained tile of the pool deck. Something in the chair had cracked and his ropes were a little looser, and he fought to break himself free.

“Close your eyes!”

Dean swore and tucked his head toward his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. Even then the burst of grace was almost enough to blind him. Damn, Cas hadn't done that in a long time. He hoped his friend still had the juice to recover from an attack like that.

Blinking back the sparks in his vision, Dean rolled onto his side and tried to push himself to his feet. He could see the smoking, empty meatsuits of the demons scattered in a half-circle around Cas, but Cas wasn't looking so good. He had sunk to one knee, and several bloody tears in his trench coat showed where the demons had gotten a few hits in before he'd smited them. Smote them. Whatever.

“Angel!”

Dean threw himself forward and tried to grab Vephar around the ankles as she stalked out of the water toward Cas. The smiting hadn't been enough to end her, though she seemed to be staggering a little and there was black sludge trickling out of her nose.

Cas struggled to his feet, but he was empty-handed—Dean could see a glint of silver just a few feet away, but Cas couldn't reach it before Vephar had a hand around his throat, backing him into the wall.

“I'm going to enjoy this,” the demon bitch sneered. “Angels are so much more...resilient...than humans. Don't you agree, 'lord of the highway'?”

Dean let out a cry as more pain tore through the side of his face. It felt like the sores were swelling, and his stomach nearly revolted when he felt liquid oozing down his neck.

“Hey! Bitch!”

Vephar whirled around, just in time to catch Sam's knife in her throat. Damn, but the kid had good aim. They'd been trying to copy Ruby's blade for years now, and while Sam had never come up with something to match it in power, the runes he'd started carving into the knife he tucked into his boot still did some damage.

The demon released Cas to tug uselessly at the knife in her throat. She glowered at Sam and started to raised her hand, but Cas tackled her from behind.

He'd gotten his angel blade back, during her moment of distraction, and drove it deep into her back, giving it a vicious twist as she screamed out her dying breath.

Dean collapsed in relief. It felt like the sores were still on his face, but the pain had faded significantly. It no longer felt like his skin was going to erupt and peel away from his bone—more like he had a bad case of road rash.

He rolled himself over to check on Sammy. The kid had only worked his right arm free and thrown his knife from there. He sagged in his ropes, panting for breath, but gave Dean a thumb's up when he realized his brother was looking.

Before he could roll back to check on Cas, a firm hand gripped him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Dean found himself staring up at the angel's bruised, angry face. “Next time I tell you it's a trap,” Cas ground out, even as his fingers brushed feather-light over Dean's forehead to heal his wounds, “do me a favor and wait for me.”

Okay. Root beer float, popcorn, the rest of the Star Wars movies, AND another couple pairs of those novelty socks Cas liked so much. The angel had definitely earned it today.

* * *

You guessed it, Vephar is from the Key of Solomon. They’re described as being able to make the seas rough or calm, guiding ships to their destination, and killing by putrefying wounds and sores (fun!). They take the form of a mermaid, so I gave them a female meatsuit and the power to walk on water.

(For those of you who don’t know, the Key of Solomon is my favorite resource for extra-powerful demons. Vephar is the third I’ve used so far, so there’s just 69 to go!)

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday23 #supernatural #fic #fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #don't look #captured #demons #cw body horror #cw sores #more like BADASStiel am i right? #I'm right aren't i #hurt dean #hurt sam

[fanficshiddles]

His ray of sunshine, Chapter 32

‘TOM! OVER HERE!’ Charlie called.

Tom, Luke and Jeremy all ran over to where Charlie was. He was by the van, he’d found a lot of blood. Tom felt sick again…

They followed the trail of blood that led around the back of the house and over to the trees. There was an overgrown path with leaves and flowers covered in blood. The four Alphas followed it down, then just a few feet away on front of them, they saw someone trying to crawl down the path.

‘BEN!’ Tom roared and launched for him.

He grabbed Ben and turned him over, he landed a punch to his face and then held him tightly by his collar. Even though Ben was going nowhere because he was black and blue already from being beaten to a pulp by David.

‘WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS MY KEIRA?’ Tom shook him roughly to try and get an answer out of him.

Ben coughed up some blood. He weakly raised his hand and pointed down the overgrown path. ‘He… He has her… There’s a river… down there… a boat.’ He struggled to speak, that was all he could muster up before passing out.

Tom snarled as he let go of him and stepped over his body to go and find Keira.

-

Keira was shaking like a leaf after seeing the way David fought against Ben, winning rather easily. Even though Ben had put up a pretty good fight.

David dragged her down an old path through the trees. They came to a really wide river and there was a small boat house at the edge of it. When David tried to get her over towards the boat, she started putting up another fight. She managed to press her fingers onto his sore arm, that he had wrapped up with a piece of clothing. But it hurt like hell when she touched it.

‘Arghhh! You little bitch!’ He snarled as he clutched at his arm. ‘You need to be taught a lesson to respect your Alpha!’

She tried to run, but he pounced on her and easily got her down on the ground. To keep her from fighting back against him, he grabbed both of her wrists and held them down above her on the ground. He knelt on her, not caring about his weight against her much smaller body.

Keira felt an enormous surge of pain in her ribs as his knee holding her down cracked them. She spluttered and coughed in agony, but it only hurt more when she did so. She tried to take short breaths, but there was a sharp pain each time she did. It was even sorer because he was still leaning on her heavily.

David realised she was badly hurt, so he knew she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. He grinned wickedly to himself as he moved off her, much to her relief. But she still couldn’t move, the pain was simply unbearable.

Then he started pulling and tearing at her clothes. Her weakened attempts at stopping him wasn’t enough.

But then from seemingly nowhere, Tom flew into David and body slammed him hard off of Keira. She had never felt such relief before upon seeing her Alpha come to her rescue.

‘Tom!’ She croaked and tried to sit up, but she couldn’t because of the blinding pain from her ribs.

Tom rushed back over to her and knelt down at her side. ‘It’s ok, little one. I’m here.’

David jumped on Tom’s back, so Tom had to deal with him away from Keira. Making sure she wasn’t caught up in the fight.

Charlie rushed over to Keira when he got down to the riverside. ‘It’s ok. I’ve got you.’ He said softly as he draped his coat around her, because she was half naked from her torn clothes.

He then scooped her up carefully into his arms. She whined a little because of the pain, but she turned her head more into Charlie for comfort as he carried her back up through the trees to the house, passing Luke and Jeremy on the way who were running down.

Exhaustion overcame her. She knew she was safe now with her pack, so she let it pull her under to rest. The adrenaline she’d experienced had taken it all out of her, along with the pain. It was like her body went into shut down mode to let her rest.

‘Holy shit. What did he do to her?’ Michael growled angrily upon seeing her when Charlie carefully laid her in the back of the car.

‘Where’s Ben?’ Charlie asked.

Michael tipped his head to the left. Ben’s body had been propped up against the side of the house. His injuries from David’s attack had been too much for him.

‘Tom is going to need help down there… But it’s not my fight. It is yours, though.’ Charlie said, looking at Idris and Michael.

Tom landed another punch to David’s chest. The piece of fabric that was around David’s forearm had fell, so Tom was able to see the painful chunk that had been bitten out of him. He used that to his advantage whenever he could, pressing down on it harshly.

But David managed to get the upper hand. He kicked Tom in the shin and got him to the ground.

Luckily Jeremy and Luke then moved in on the fight. Normally it was just one on one, but this wasn’t a legal fight, and under the circumstances of what David did, he was dangerous and just had to be stopped. At whatever cost.

Jeremy and Luke dragged David off Tom and they held him down. When Tom got up, spitting a tooth and blood out to the side, Michael and Idris walked up behind him, ready to help fight.

Jeremy and Luke shared a look together, then let David go. They knew this wasn’t their fight. It was Tom, Michael and Idris’.

The three Alphas squared up to David. David glared at them, his face bloody. But what they hadn’t been expecting him to do, however, was to make a run for it towards the river instead of fighting back. He jumped straight into the water and did his best to swim away, which wasn’t easy.

Idris went to make a move, but Tom put his arm out on front of him to stop him. ‘He won’t get far. Leave it for the authorities now. Besides, the current is too strong today. He won’t be able to swim well with that arm.’

And Tom was right. The current was quick to sweep David away downstream. And he struggled to stay above the water because of his bad arm.

The three Alphas returned to the car, to their awaiting omegas.

Tom slid into the back and gently stroked Keira’s hair. He started crying in relief that she was ok. He had her back.

They had to wait there for the authorities to arrive before they could leave. They explained everything that happened, and were then told that they’d been clocking David for a few days now. They were going to make sure to catch him.

It also came to light that they’d recently found a house that David owned, inside were five omegas that had been kidnapped by David. He’d claimed four of them already, but one was new so had a bit of a lucky escape in that regards.

On the drive home, the omegas had to curl up on their Alphas laps because there wasn’t enough seats in the car, while Luke drove.

But Tom didn’t mind one bit, he didn’t want Keira anywhere else. She slept the whole way, only waking once or twice briefly in a slight panic. But she quickly relaxed when she saw Tom and could smell his scent all around her.

Tilda and Jessica told the Alphas about what happened from their point of view.

‘If Keira hadn’t taken her phone with her, I dread to think what would’ve happened. And she’s the one who got us out of there.’ Tilda said and Jessica nodded in agreement.

Tom smiled as he gazed down at her in his lap. He felt his heart swell with so much pride for his brave omega.

#Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #his ray of sunshine #omegaverse #alpha Tom

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Falling asleep

(Haymitch and Effie each decide to never fall asleep together, until one night it happens. Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, trauma)

Haymitch never slept without a knife, and he never slept with women. He fucked them sometimes. But he never allowed himself to fall asleep afterwards.

He had done that once, a lifetime ago, with a woman who’d requested him six months after the second Quarter Quell. His stitches had been removed and his scars hardened, but the pain in his gut hadn’t gone away. His mind, heart, and spirit were all numb. He’d fucked that woman with gritted teeth and closed eyelids. He did it to stay alive. President Snow didn’t give him a choice.

Haymitch was 17 years old then.

He’d woken up early the next morning to the sound of her wheezing and gasping for breath as she shoved at his face. He was on top of her with his hands gripping her throat.

He let go in horror and rolled off of her, falling onto the hotel room floor. His cheekbone hit the floorboards, and he froze. The wood grain swirled in front of his eyes. He closed them to keep from throwing up, but he threw up anyway. And still he couldn’t move. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say.

With his ears ringing, he couldn’t hear her reply, but he felt her spit on the back of his neck as she stormed out and slammed the door.

Snow didn’t prostitute Haymitch out after that. The boy was too much of a liability, and maybe Snow figured he’d broken him enough, killing his family and his girlfriend after the stunt he’d pulled with the force field and the axe. Perhaps that night with the woman had been a test of his brokenness.

Fast-forward 30 years, and Effie still didn’t know the whole truth about why Haymitch never stayed the night without her having to ask him to leave. She nudged men out the door for her own reasons. Sleep dissolved the mask she wore, and she didn’t like to be unmasked. Being herself felt vulnerable. She hardly even knew who she was underneath the layers of ostentatiousness she’d worn since her earliest memories.

Pink had been her signature color as a girl: dresses, bows, patent leather shoes, body glitter. Wigs weren’t as much the fashion in those days, especially among the Capitol children, but her mother spun ribbons like cotton candy into Effie’s blonde hair. “You must always look your best, my darling. Nothing less than the best for my girl,” she said as she added finishing touches, pinching Effie’s cheeks hard for longer-lasting color. Then she sent her off to school.

Effie was 8 years old then.

She only had two life-long memories from the second Quarter Quell. She remembered the candy pink birds who pecked the throat of that District 12 girl, Maysilee, and she remembered Haymitch holding Maysliee’s hand long after the cannon boom signaled her death.

Effie had never spoken with him about it, even the year that they’d sat side-by-side in the Tribute Center as the scene replayed among The Hunger Games highlights and greatest hits.

The birds had tainted the feeling of candy pink for Effie, but her mother still insisted she wear it. For years after that, when Effie had nightmares, they were always the same — candy pink birds pecking her throat.

She and Haymitch had never spoken about each other’s nightmares. She knew he had them. The walls of the sleeping compartments on the train were thin enough to hear his screams. She wondered if he knew she had them too.

“Nightmares are ghastly things,” her mother had said, “Well-bred ladies don’t discuss them.” So they just became something else for Effie to wall off with her plastered face, hair, clothing, and attitude.

Effie and Haymitch never spoke with full intimacy. They bantered and bickered and taunted. And in recent years, they got lost in each other’s bodies when he found a reason to visit the Capitol, an excuse to visit her.

The third Quarter Quell and the Revolution had softened Effie’s plaster, and he liked her better this way — too much sometimes, he considered. Liking people too much was dangerous. She felt it too: the softening and the danger of getting attached. She looked forward to his visits far more than she was willing to admit.

He arrived late one night, long after the hour of their usual dinner and drawn out tease. Effie hated waiting; she hated worrying as rain fell outside; and she chastised herself for worrying as she waited — for Haymitch of all people.

At midnight she glared at herself in the bathroom mirror. “Enough!” she demanded, pulling off her false eyelashes and brushing out her intricately styled hair. “That man! Six hours late and not courteous enough to even call.” She stripped off her clothes and threw on her robe. “I’m done with him. I mean it!” A single tear spilled onto her cheek, and she quickly washed her face to try to remove its presence from her psyche. The tear was stubborn. She wanted him too much tonight, and he’d stood her up. She recognized she was too attached.

Effie curled up in bed and listened to the rain, too anxious and upset to sleep. When she heard a knock at the door, her heart slammed. Damn it. If he thinks he can waltz in here more than six hours late, in the middle of the night for sex, then he’s sorely mistaken.

The knock came again a bit louder this time, accompanied by his voice, “Effie? ...C’mon, give me a chance to explain.” He knew she’d be fuming rather than sleeping.

Silence followed, and her heart slammed again. She wanted to open the door. She didn’t want to want to open the door, but wanting was her reality. She tied her robe closed, tucked her hair behind her ears, and steeled herself against her feelings.

“Fine!” she heard him holler and start to walk away just as she opened the door.

“If you think you can waltz in here more than six hours late, in the middle of the night for sex, then you’re sorely mistaken” She said it just like she’d rehearsed, though her voice wavered at the end.

He turned to face her with a sideways smile. “Sex? Who said anything about sex, sweetheart? I thought we were going to have dinner.”

Haymitch was sopping wet, leaving puddles on the floor of the hallway.

“Dinner?!” she huffed, “I see you dressed for the occasion. Did you swim here?”

“Almost.” He moved toward her. Damn, she looked good. No clutter. No makeup. Her hair curled behind her ears, and silk clung to her curves. He didn’t care what he’d just said about not coming here for sex; he wanted to touch her.

He waited. Waiting was more his thing than hers.

“The train broke down before the border in District 2. Some sort of electrical problem. Everything was dead. So I walked the rest of the way.”

“20 miles? You walked 20 miles?”

He stepped closer. “25.”

“In this weather??”

“Well, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” A smirk clung to his face like the clothes did to his body. Everything was tight, including the feeling in her chest.

She held the doorway to keep from reaching. “Why not just wait for a repair vehicle?”

“It wasn’t coming until morning, and you and I had plans for... dinner. ...Am I too late?”

Oh, screw restraint. She reached her fingertips to his forehead, pushing aside his dripping hair so she could see his eyes.

He reached up for her hand before she could pull it away. They stood there a moment, knowing what would happen, still pretending they didn’t.

She composed herself. “You can’t just stand there dripping like a faucet. Whatever WILL the neighbors think?! For goodness sake come inside. ...And wipe that smirk off your face. ...And take off those boots.”

He kicked them off onto her mat, and closed the door behind him.

“What else, sweetheart? ...What else can I take off for you?”

Everything. She thought the word but didn’t say it.

“Wait,” she said instead. She headed to the bathroom and threw him a towel. He caught it just as the next one hit him in the head.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” he teased.

“One to dry off with and one to wear. ...I don’t think any of my corsets will fit you.” The smirk now was hers.

“Let’s hope not.” As he took off his clothes, Effie carried each article to the bathroom, where she hung them to dry in front of the heater. When she returned for the last items, he had the towel wrapped around his hips, just below his scar where the axe had effectively eviscerated him in that lifetime ago in The Games.

Her breath caught a moment. She’d seen his scars before. They didn’t surprise her, but her response this time surprised her.

“Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a wounded animal.”

“Is that how you think I see you?”

“No? Then how?”

She draped the rest of his clothes in front of the heater. He followed her, and they met in the middle, beside her bed.

“How do you see me?” he repeated, not quite understanding why he cared enough to ask twice.

“Don’t you know? ...After all these years.”

“I don’t want to play guessing games tonight.”

She reached for his hand. “I see you like THIS.” She grasped it when he tried to pull away. “Since I was a girl, I’ve seen you like THIS.” She laced their fingers together. “For all the other ways I’ve ever seen you, there’s always been THIS — first, before anything else.”

“Maysilee.”

“Yes. Not wounded, Haymitch. And not an animal.”

He drew circles in her palm with his thumb, and her breath caught again. He untied the robe with his other hand. The silk fell open, revealing a sliver of her nakedness.

“Not an animal, eh?”

“Unless you want to be.”

He traced the edge between the silk and her skin. “What do YOU want? I’m more than six hours late. What can I do for you?”

She toyed with the towel at his hips. “You walked 25 miles in the rain to get here. What can I do for you?”

“I’m freezing. How about you warm me up, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

She unwrapped the towel and it fell to the floor. “Come here.” She pulled him into bed.

“So... what happened to being sorely mistaken about waltzing in here more than six hours late in the middle of the night for sex?” His hands were already moving in all the right places.

With her hands moving on him too, she asked with a mixture of annoyance and knowing, “So... do you want to have sex or not?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Me too.”

The hours of waiting were all the foreplay they needed. Their mouths reached for each other as he slipped inside her, thrusting gently. Damn, she’s soft ...and beautiful. Without all that crap on her face, she’s gorgeous. What if I tell her? What then?

“Jesus, you’re warm.” He didn’t say it all.

Damn, he fills me — and I’m not alone. I’m so ready for this. I’m so ready for not being alone. What if I tell him? What then?

“God, you’re good at this.” She didn’t say it all.

They were lost in sensation. Haymitch realized he wasn’t fucking her; this was something else. This wasn’t numbing him, like alcohol or Morphling. He was feeling more, not less. And he was surviving it.

Soft moans in between kisses filled the apartment. Had they kissed during sex since the first time? Effie couldn’t recall. She wanted more. Sliding her tongue between his lips and his teeth, she explored the softest part of him. Maybe the only soft part of him. She’d take it. He was letting her have this much. And he was reciprocating, discovering her too. This was intimacy. And she was surviving it.

She was more than surviving it. She was swimming in it. Her body clutched him with a will of its own.

“I’m close,” she stifled a whimper.

He heard it anyway. “I know. Look at me, I want you to watch me when you come.”

His words pushed her over the edge. He crashed into her and followed, watching her too. Blue had never felt so striking.

“What WAS that?” she asked, still panting.

“Good. That was good.” He didn’t need verbal confirmation. He knew it was good for her too. “Good” was the only answer he had. Frankly, he didn’t have a fucking clue what that was. But he liked it, way too much. He felt it in his veins now, and it made him sleepy. He softened against her body.

“Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“Why not?” she asked for the first time.

His voice was drowsy, almost nonsensical. “My knife is in my clothes, and I don’t sleep without holding my knife.”

“Keep holding me instead,” she dared to say it, threading her fingers with his as she’d done earlier.

“You don’t want me to do that, sweetheart. You might wake up dead.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.”

“You don’t know me.” Even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.

She ran her fingers through his hair, untangling the candy pink ribbons that lived in her memory of her own confinement. “I know you as well as you know me.”

He brushed a thumb across her eyelid. Her lashes were natural, soft like everything else about her, everything except for her will.

“I don’t want to put tears here.”

She thought of earlier and that stubborn tear. The attachment was already here. It was too late to stop. “I’ll cry whenever I please. You can’t control that, Haymitch, so you might as well sleep.”

Her fingers hadn’t stopped moving along his scalp. She felt better to him than anything he’d known in a long time.

“Why do I bother arguing with you?” he mumbled.

“Because you love it.”

He clutched the silk along her spine.

I love it, he didn’t say.

I love it too, she didn’t respond.

Falling asleep was enough.

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #haymitch x effie #effie x haymitch #the capitol #falling asleep #HayffieFics

[writerbyaccident]

Break In Routine (Yandere Togata MirioxReader)

Request: I really like the idea of a yandere Mirio with a reader who just keeps trying to escape and slowly realizes that escape is futile. And btw, I love your writing, I can tell that you love it by the way you write your stories!

           As soon as Mirio had left for work that day,  saying farewell with a soft kiss to your forehead, you began going through your usual morning routine. You got out of bed, ate the breakfast Mirio had left for you, brushed your teeth, and took a shower. And once you had completed each of those steps, you sat back on the bed, paper and pencil idly in hand, and started your main activity for the day: figuring out how to escape.

           About a month and a half into your captivity, you had made a fair number of escape attempts already. Smashing windows, breaking locks, faking a kidnapping, you had gone through nearly a dozen different plans by now. At one point, so frustrated with your lack of success and completely sick of your captor’s condescending attitude, you had just outright attacked him when he came through the door. That didn’t go very well, you remembered grimly. The only thing that came from that particular attempt of yours was sore and bruised skin. Although Mirio had never once raised a hand to you, that day he had restrained you with an even tighter version of his usual bear hug, leaving bruises all over your body. No, you couldn’t defeat Mirio physically, you had learned at least that much. But truthfully, you were beginning to wonder if you could defeat him at all.

           It was a feeling that you didn’t want to admit that you had, but you had it all the same. You had known from the start that trying to best Mirio in a fight was a long shot, but with every other escape plan you had made, you had allowed your hope to lift you up, only to have it snatched out from under you. And with the hope that had been holding you up suddenly gone, you had fallen, landing harshly each time. After every disastrous fall, you had built your hope back up again, with each facet of your latest plan acting as a new brick to add. But recently, you had been falling further and further down, and now you couldn’t find any bricks to help you build new stairs.

           Looking at the clock beside the bed, you groaned when you saw that over an hour had already passed, and you hadn’t a single idea to show for it. The last few days had all been the same, with your spending your whole day trying and failing to come up with a plan. Morosely, you supposed that you could always try one of your old plans again and see if you got lucky this time. But you hadn’t had any sort of luck lately, so you failed to see what could possibly be different now. Besides, with each escape attempt you had made, as unsuccessful as they were, Mirio had updated the security of your private prison, insisting that you must need even more protection, making it doubtful that you would get very far with any of your old plans.

           A mix of resignation and apathy swimming through you, you laid your paper and pencil on the bedside table. What was the use, you thought to yourself numbly, of spending each and every day trying to fruitlessly come up with escape plans that weren’t even going to work? And anyway, even if by some miracle you managed to get out of the house, it wouldn’t last long. Mirio would never let you go, you acknowledged reluctantly. The depths that Mirio’s obsession with you went were deeper than any ocean trench, and you knew that no matter how long it took, or what he had to do, Mirio would always find you. And so, exhausted by admitting that, you grabbed one of the books Mirio had bought you and opened it up.

           Hours later, Mirio walked through the door to see you curled up on the bed, reading ravenously. Smiling warmly at the sight, he joined you on the bed, taking you gently into his arms and moving you so that you were laying against his chest. When you settled into his embrace peacefully, Mirio’s heart practically leapt through his chest. You had doing so much better these last few days, he was so happy that you were finally settling down. Mirio had even checked your “secret” hiding place to see if you were just trying to fool him into letting his guard down, and he had found not a single new escape plan. He had known when he first brought you home that you would need some time to adjust, of course he did. So sweet, so innocent, he couldn’t blame you for being confused at first. But Mirio had also known that by giving you his love and patience, both of which he was more than happy to give you, you would eventually come to accept your place with him.

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#yandere mirio x reader #yandere mirio togata x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere togata mirio #yandere mirio #yandere mirio togata #yandere bnha #yandere togata mirio x reader #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere story #yandere scenario #yandere ficlet #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere hero #yandere self insert #yandere reader insert #yandere fic #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere

[losing-my-will]

A/N: Yay, second chapter is up, and I wanna thank the wonderful @itsasumbrella, who she not only has great patience with me and I really don't deserve her, but because she's my beta for this story. Also, she has an amazing fic called "Wicked Game", if you know Spanish please I beg you; go read it!

ISOBEL

Summary: Grounded in a place she barely knows, stuck in a marriage she loathes. Astrid Hofferson has thought of her fate as the beginning of her end, a wheel starting to crush her life. But also on how she mustn’t completely accept it.  AU. Hiccstrid.

CHAPTER 2

TWICE AT THE NECK

When she was a little girl, Astrid Hofferson nearly drowned in the springs of her village —she went unsupervised to the forest, no one ever knew of the event ‘til months later when Cami noted how much her sister was scared of water, she coaxed her one night to spill the truth but the child clumsily concocted a story; she was put in taught in the next weeks. Little Astrid ended up enjoying it, the very challenge itself of floating and not sank, and the test of her breath when under the water.

She wouldn't ever prospect that that’d help her swam out after jumping from almost twenty-five feet.

‘Fuck’ and with a pop in the k was the first noise reverbing from her. The cold of the water was too much to bear, and the sand kept getting between her toes, shoes apparently lost forever in the murky ocean.

Aside those problems, there were even more when she started rushing through that unknown land, there were no signs of any tribe or village, it was just green esplanades near and far and nothing else.

Has that taken away her exhilaration when she ran? No, no it didn’t, she’d never felt such adrenaline before, it was a reckless blending as one with the blood within her limbs.

However, Astrid has to admit she was scared, adding acutely aware.

When she thought she’d ran enough to be far from the shore, she ran some more, and when her feet begun to feel sore, she stopped under a treetop and leaned on its thick trunk. The trees in this land were tall and alive, unlike those in her village, and then she promptly realized too; none raid nor has violence ever touched the place, reason why maybe the water in that myriad of lagoons dispersed seemed so clear.

She had left her right foot rest on the boulder and inspected the sole if there was any more damage than the already open wounds and dry blood. Knowing she’ll only be attended by a healer if she finds a tiny but village at the least she unglues from the tree and went ahead in search for that source of life, birds’ chirps weren’t enough but they fill the silence comfortably.

“On we go” she breathes.

Since toddler, Astrid has relished in the action of walk, explore, she considers herself a highly active kind a person, and mostly because she mulls over when alone too, so whether or not the girl finished her chores she’d usually sneaked out of them and go strolling across her village or into the nature. There was no responsibility in doing that, but Astrid hated so much the work her aunt or other people assigned it at her. And not because she belittle them, but because she wasn’t meant for those chores.  

Being a soon-to-be-wife of a barbarian didn’t fit in that category too.

She really hopes to rendezvous that village soon and convince any farmer with its life settled to adopt her.

Yeah, that’d be nice.

Just as nice when she finally come upon with one those lakes, the water it is clear and seeing the fishes swimming makes her stomach grumble in hungriness.

“I should have eaten.” she says pensive. Looking at her grime, trembling reflection.  

“Yeah, you should have.”

A new face appears next to hers, Valthjof stares at her serious. She gasps his name.

“You followed me!” she hollered at him accusingly. And then felt rather dumbly, of course he would had.

He nodded. “I have to protect you.”

Astrid stares back at him innocently for a short but taut moment. “I didn’t get far enough, did I?” He shook his head.

Sighing heavily, she rose on her feet with eyes set on the few fishes. “I’m hungry.”

Valthjof nods again and stalks forward from her.  

Astrid frowns at his back, quietly confused if she has to go after him or not.

Sensing her distress, he spins on his heels, watching her carefully. “We’ll fish, but none of this lake.”

“Why?” she asks, “Is something wrong with this one?” Astrid scowls. Does she really have to go further with him alone? Does she? Go with a man she recently met with? Is she overreacting? Valthjof is meant to shelter Cami and her from any harm, yes. ‘Give a chance to someone and let them prove it wrong’ she goes with that philosophy. She has to trust him. However, the bounce of his sword attached to his hip and his absurd height squirms her, and reminds her how easily he can tear her apart if he wishes, shove the flat side of his blade against her throat and forces himself into her. What if the Council lied about him? He’s a retired warrior, and a brave warrior dies with honor and blood spewing out of their mouth in battled field instead of retiring in cowardice. Why would they send a coward? Why would they risk foolishly? A war would inevitably unleash, and Brynhild it's terribly vulnerable nowadays, fuck, that’s strategy; the berkians’d win over them and conquer her home converting all the inhabitants into thralls.  

“Trust issues?” He guesses.

“I barely know you.”

Valthjof seems to understand at her words. Scratching his nape, he says softly through thin lips; “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“So much for an assurance.” She bites back.

“What do you want, child?”

“I’ll query you if you don’t mind,” Astrid replies severe, “While you lead us.”

He nods, and stretches his palm at top of his chest. “I’ll answer truthfully.”

The girl, shivering and in bad fumes, balled a portion of her dress in fists and stepped before him.

He holds his hand up, “Wait. I’ll give you my boots.”

“What? No.”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’m wearing wool socks.”

He unties the cords stained with dirt and handed the shoes at Astrid, she puts them timid and thanking him.

He makes a noise of approve, adjacent clearing his throat; “Be concise with the questions, without subdue your curiosity. You may begin.”

Astrid mutedly agreed with his terms, and whilst wrapping her arms around herself, she thought of the hundreds of questions buzzing in her mind.

“Uh, ok.” She bits her bottom lip. “What happened in the ship after I jumped?”

“Your sister made it anchor there and then.”

“You’re the only one who got down?”

He nods.

“Where are we? Why’re there lots of lochs?”

Valthjof fixed at her with something near as astonishment glinting within his sunken eyes.

“I don’t know. I’m asking you precisely for that.”

“Pardon.”

“You’re not first.” Astrid mutters and its tone is like it left a resentful taste.

She shrugs after sighting his almost puzzled semblance, “You’d be surprised how much wedge there has been in my education and Cami’s”

“Oh”

“It’s understandable. She has to read, and memorized, and learn everything.”

“And you?” Valthjof asks as he unshed his sword and nicked a web of bushes.    

“And I’m there.” She grimaces inwardly —the untreated gashes of her feet; she felt them bleeding, if they don’t watch it they’ll get infected.

“You ok?”

“Yes.” The girl lies. “You were telling me…” she trails off.

“Waterlands.”

Her brows rose unimpressive. Whoever thought they were being creative naming isles would be scandalized with Astrid’s disappointment. “Logical.” She ends up replying, awkwardness bubbling up.

There’s a pause while they pass a streamlet.

“You didn’t false your age and name, did you?"

His jaw sets, “I needn’t spread misinformation.”

Astrid learns first thing about this mysterious man; he’s an awful liar. But that leads her towards the next question; “You said you were once a warrior.” she pulls it out, accommodating it for her consequent shot, “At least, I think Berk wouldn’t chose a wimp who fled from battles to protect his heir’s future wife. I’m pretty sure they would have disowned you. Is there anything you’re not being truthful about? Because I sense you’re hiding it.”

Valthjof’s eyes hardened on her as his nostrils flared, she had visibly upset him and it showed. Poor Astrid had to fight against a flinch that threated to strike her entire body from head to toes. Oh, she’s overstepping, she should apologize for such indecency—    

“I prefer you naïve than witty sleuth.” He quips.

Offended, she glares him, “And I will prefer you to tell the whole truth.”

“You have quite a character hidden within you.” he paused, and then inhaled profoundly, tired, “I wasn’t neither conceived nor brought out of my mother’s uterus in Berk.”

“W-what?” she stutters.

“I met with the Archipelago when I was a boy your age, teen and doltish. Recently escaped from home, and dragging sweet childlike dreams of being a warrior behind me.”

“What you were before that?”

“Bastard-son of a roman soldier. My mother a harlot, my father a man who couldn’t be denied.”

“Why did you ran off your home?”

“Mother found great enjoyment in flagellated me with a scourge. I stabbed her in the leg and left her bleeding, then I shielded under the protection of a tradesman.”

She swallows hardly, like there was a big lump stuck midway of her throat. “And that’s how you befriended with Berk, by the trips.”

He nods, “I combated alongside them for many years, and even defended the father of his current Chief and himself. They weight a lot of trust on my shoulders, and vice versa.”

“And now you’re retired.”

“Not by choice.” he tsks, “They begged me.”

Astrid frowns.

“I “retired” two years ago to go back to that life of merchant and rest how’s appropriate.”

“And… did you wanted?”

He laughs loudly, “I confess I grew fond with the Viking Way.”

She licks her lips before reminding boldly; “But you still lied and said you were from Berk.”

“Yes, that’s a cover, child.”

“I-“

“Your culture embraced me and I embraced them.” Valthjof heckles, “You may not know due it your village is the furthest and separated, but inside the Archipelago; Berk is the wealthiest, more respected village in that packet of savagery, brat heirs and ruthless Chiefs. And the most secretive, there’re only a few things they let go out of their cliffs.”

Astrid slowly processes the news, and ultimately gives the conclusion, “So they took you under their wing, so people wouldn’t despise you once they made you step off from the violence.”

“You are clever. Yes, I present myself from Berk, and so people don’t look at me twice. If people knew it; bastard and non-Viking.” he chortles.

“A matter of reputation.” Astrid deduces.

“Aye.”

The man fidgets with a layer of leather of his waist pulling out a small canteen. He opens up the lid with his index and brought the nozzle to his lip, but before it could touch it he halted and looked at her sideways, “Thirsty?”  

“Can you tell me more of Berk?”

Valthjof took a quick swig of whatever was the content but didn’t respond.

///

THUNK!

The whetted steel sunk with a sickly snap through flesh and spines and onto the trunk. Valthjof whirled his wrist as he pressed his fingertips in the slick skin of the freshly, butchered fish; he slid his long fingers in the slit letting drain blood and all its reeked fluids.

Astrid, who’d sat meters away witnessing the disembowelment— couldn’t stopped herself of wrinkle her little nose at the sight.

“If it bothers you so much, why you sat there?” he asked it whilst cleaning up the blade with a ragged cloth. “Take a sit over there.” the rough man jerks his thumb behind him.

She peers where he pointed; another mucky boulder, “No. I wanted here.”

“Then you've to stop with the grimacing,” he spits his phlegm, “You’ll face worst things.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs, “Your wedding night, when your husband’ll spread you open and fucks you.”

The girl stares wide eyed at him, baffled. And in expect of a rapid apologize.

“You didn’t like that, did you?”  

No she didn’t like it, she loathed it. Hurt and despair washed on her. The words felt near a welt striking her existence with a mammoth accurateness; as soon they arrive in Berk, she’ll be introduced, wedded, and taken on knees and palms.  

“You deserve better than a honeyed fable,” Valthjof says after a moment, inserting the blade around the ventral fin again, the fish’s hacked head finally fell on the ground with a muffled sound as its protruded eyes connect with Astrid’s. “Don’t fret, child. Though be prepared, I heard the consummation'll hurt to you first time.”

“He’s… Is he— the way you described it,” her tongue glide over her lips, anxiously and nervous, “His demeanor—”  

He scowls, “Berk’s heir is many things. I will not spoke of him nor Berk.”

Astrid shook her head, blonde strands swinging, “No.” the girl surveys the clear before her, “You won’t,” she stood, “But you’ve to, please. I’m their bride. I’m part of that trade.” softly pleads.

“You’ll meet them when you’re there.” his only answer before twirling the torsk once more and smoothing his hand over its last ripped scales, “And don’t usher that childish argument of “because I have the right”.” warns.  

His butcher knife was gone after he’d laid it briefly on the trunk, but no for so long before it pointy, menacing end was thrust with force on the wood by delicate, trembling fingers gripping tightly the haft, sneering; the girl says; “Is in my right.”

The bulky man impassively contemplates her, “You threated me or asserted your words?”

Astrid doesn’t want a quarrel with Valthjof; he’s been nothing but polite and unfeigned to her. And admittedly, he lets her disadvantaged in many, many things. But to refuse the slightest details of the northern isle preoccupied her.  

“I’m begging you. Please. I departed my homeland to save it, because Berk promised us offerings, plenty of supplies; livestock, nourishment, furs, meat, coin. And weapons too. Valthjof, please, I can’t go ignorant to a country that’s helping us. My country is perishing, my people are vulnerable, and we burnt every night since three months ago by the fire-breath of dragons.”

“Then why’d you tried to escape?”

She froze, “What?”

“We’re here; you pleading, and I’m making our dagveror, because of you, we stand in this soil because you jumped. You’re trying to convince me with a speech even after you had run off. Where do your words fall?

He hadn’t touched her, and yet it felt like he slapped her.  

“I’ll not speak of Berk. Now, help with the bonfire, child.”

Having taken the initiative rapidly; Astrid searched after dry branches and flat rocks and made a neat heap of dead leafs meanwhile Valthjof finished slicing the fish in parts and lighting said bonfire. Together and summoned in their thoughts pierced the flesh’s chunks in the surplus branches bracketed by nature noises.  

“You mentioned dragons,” commented Valthjof after spitting spines that’d mired in his teeth.

They were half-eating, sitting near the heat source, he had insisted on going anywhere but the dirt, but she declined and had said that there was no salvation for her dress anyway, even then; it was a pity that the hem of the fabric had turned from a rich scarlet to a dark brown.

“I did mention them.”

“They’re the causing of yours devastation I heard.”

“Yes,” she swallows, “They have been raiding us since Mörsugur.”

“You know why?”

“Of course I don’t know. We actually don’t understand. After six years of peace… we foolishly thought the beasts were gone.”

“No guilt on that. I imagine your village suffered all those years.”

She nods.

There’s another wave of tranquil and definitely more comfortableness, before Valthjof cleared his throat, “I recall a vivid moment when I was seven, when one of my mother’s colleagues told me that dragons have their own place, not a nest nor an island, more like a… world. A world never visited by mankind.”

She frowned skeptical, “And— and you believed her?”

“I was young. I would have assumed the existence of a margýgr if someone would told me,” he chuckles contagiously with Astrid too, “She said a drunken sailor told it at her when he finished with her, adding he had seen it. And if hadn’t been for the thick fog, he could have it visualized finely.”  

Astrid smirked, not quite capable of picturing a small Valthjof awed-struck. Amusement quickly dissipated; she asked frowning, “Where supposedly would be this world?”  

“Located at the edge of ours,” he says dryly.

“I wish these beasts fell and died at the edge of the world.” responds scathingly.  

He snorts.  

“Funny? The pests are separating and ending families, and I’m sure we’re not the only village target it of their assaults—”  

"No, it’s not funny. I’m aware of how bloody and destructive their onslaughts are."

“You ever saw dragons, right?”

“Many times.”

“You had ever slay them?”

“Many times.”

She scrutinized him in the mere second restful of such ruffled talk, she kept studying him though; mindful of his sudden strain in movements, as if he was being careful in his body language, and also of the delivers of his replies. She commented nothing about it. They barely exchange glances, and just gathered their stuff and started the road back to the shore.

“Don’t expect me of me not to scold you. You were incredible irresponsible, you could have killed yourself from the height you leaped. Astrid, I love you so much, but for your stupidest you will be locked in your chamber, you will be washed and dressed inside with the assist of Hrefna, and feed by the hand of Póra. Learn the consequences of your actions,” had coldly said Cami when she met with her.

Despite following Cami’s dire instructions of Astrid not being allowed in leave her room for the six days of the voyage —Even if against her will—. Both held the knowledge of how much they cared for the one and the other. Regardless of how much Astrid wanted to wrench her sister’s frigid and despotic attitude with less courteous words, Cami’s severity displayed on her straightforwardness can’t be blamed at all. She’s been assigned an obligation; she’s acting based on what superior authority had edict her to do, whether they like it or not.

///

Purple smeared over the sky in its dawn whilst it transited into the greyish classic of the early mornings. Long, golden tresses weren’t resting in the pillow anymore, with the gown ridden up by her thighs and bent in the hip; she probed the gashes through the whitish bandages with the little aid of frail sunrays and candlelight. Though attended, the keen pangs of her feet injuries had almost made her rue her escapade.  

Howbeit it turned into a blunder, and had bothersome her sister further; not only it had irked them, it had shifted the date of the arriving to late evening of Laugardagur, and not Frjádagr as had been scheduled.  

That time has shortened, and now in only some hours they’ll reach the northern isle, they pictured it in quite the calm ambiance, that was until disagreeable news came.

It was during a second where Astrid was pondering if whether relief herself in the solitude of her gelid chamber, when a turmoil blasted and roared outside the door, followed by unintelligible mutters and indecorous swears. Hrefna kicked her way in and —with an apologetic smile, and a hurried “Good day”, hastened her in a linen bluish dress, another of those romans garments Brynhild had stolen. If she hadn’t chided her, the woman would have forgotten to even wipe her face with a cloth soaked in clean water.

“I’ll not be cleansed?” Hrefna flickered down at her, confused by the unmistakable tone of disappointment from the girl. It wasn’t the cleaning that Astrid has been complaining for days, of course not, it was the action of being bathed like she couldn’t do it by herself and the goddamned prayers, and that the servant lefts her skin chafed and reddened after the end of every bath.

“No. Later.”

Cozy in a thick fur she went out to the wide deck of the fleet, in time to watch her sister’s plain indignation expressed in her knitted brows, Valthjof seemed explaining of some stuff at her feet distanced.

She stalked towards them, eventually picking up their en going discussion.

“No,” her sister solidly interjected. “We are not gonna get down this ship,” her scowl deepened as she spats, tugging her own fluffy fur, concealing her flimsy arm-freckles and that crimson dot birthmark aloft the curve of her right shoulder.

“It is required,” he insisted.

“And they can shove up their pretty requirements wherever they choose to like,” her sister stretches her arm at her, quickly holding hands, “I’ll repeat it; no one is getting down this thing.”

Astrid’s blonde head tilts, fixing her blue eyes at Valthjof, “Are we‘ll get down?”

“He says so, a berkian boat will pick us,” responds her sister in a latent enraging.  

Her face hardens, and in such coldness —that Astrid has never heard her use ever, voiced her realization, “Because they have insolated themselves,” she juts her chin out, attempting to level her short height with his’ massiveness.

He crosses arms under his chest, “It’s a measurement of protection.”  

“Nonsenses,” she shrieks, “This secretiveness, this self-marginalization is not sane!”

Valthjof exhales resigned, chest significantly deflating at the clear remorseful for his subsequent words, “You wanted me to prattle about Berk, I denied it, but now it may be your only soothing,” he stroked his eyelids distressed, as if he’s battling an argument with himself. When he straight his back and swiped his tongue over his lips, he seems he lost it; “You two are heading to a tribe with starkly differences with yours, inhabited by people as sturdy as their soil. People who wears leather on their waists and clad-armor upon their shoulders, not linen but wool, not soft but harsh, bloodlust warriors at the best and when it comes to defend Berk,” he then sets eyes on Astrid, “And you’re the fortunate to stay there; to live, to eat, to piss and shit, to breath among them, fucking too and breeding the next heir. Better adapt quickly.”  

Astrid stiffens at the last mention, “Not a baby-oven,” she snarls baring her teeth.

He looms over her, squinting at her lithe presence, “Then prove them otherwise.”

“They’re here!” shouted someone.

"Pack your things and get in that boat," he rushes them.

“N-no,” Cami stutters.

"Here," he mutters, withdrawing two daggers from the sheaths at his sides, "You know the basis, how it works; you swing and cut."  

Disbelieving; the girls took each knife, “We don’t know how to fight,” cleared Cami.

“Aye,” he resumed his short lecture ignoring her protests, “Twice at the neck if necessary; stabbing or slitting,” making a demonstration by circling his own neck with the thumb.

That’s the last they saw of Valthjof of Berk; a ghost of a smile dancing on his thin lips and his right hand gripping his sword’s hilt, the ever proof he existed heaving in his former blades now dangling in the girls’ fingers.

At the boat two brawny men plucked their stuff away from Hrefna and Póra, barely making eye contact with them, and had already begun to unroll the flag. The older with the red tuft stared contently at Astrid.

He took a pace forward, she took one back.  

It’d made him roll his eyes. “We won’t harm you, we’ll not touch you. You are our heir’s bride,” he brushes off snot of his nose, and continues hauling the khaki rope whilst surveying her sister, “and I have understood you’re the heir of your little village.” With a final tug, the rope strained and the flag sprawls with a gentle flap, “If I want to fuck, I go with a whore, not squealing high-born girls.”    

Needless to mention neither couple exchanged words with the counterpart, if not urgently needed. And though the last path of their sailing went tensed after the offense and mere insult, it notably carried acute expectation, suspense and heightened fearfulness. And had hit Astrid disastrously, basked in Cami’s bony arms and wailing helplessly after having realize how it was actually happening, she resented and had scold herself for her weakness, but the moment had simply surpassed her; the cruelness of the Council in subtlety selling her, yes; there’s a grand reason lurking behind it, but the cost to get rid of her and bare her of decisions and a possibility for a distinct fate?  

Albeit shrouded in a fog and a night as dark as coal upon them, Berk starts clearing up at quite a decent distance.

Nearby the coast were stood two large, too burly and broad figures and one remarkably skinny. When the blurs lessens, his appearances slowly reveals, the lanky had a mop of auburn hair at top a head comically too big for his body.

And she sees green, green eyes glinting in the torchlight.

Green eyes that stride away from the shore and gaits towards her new home.

#my writing #ISOBEL #httyd fanfic #httyd fanfiction #httyd au #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfic #arranged marriage au #au

[thebulletinhamilton-quotes]

Am I allowed to ask again? Hmm I'm going to try 85 for Philidosia?

85 - “I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to the doctor.”

A/N: Sure! I once read a story about T Jeff’s breaking his wrist to impress a girl. He also had a headache for a few days afterwards.

“I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to the doctor.”

Philip winced as he tried to sit up without using his arms. His attempts at sitting up on the couch failed as he tried to jerk his sore body up. He landed with his face on the floor.

He could practically picture Theo wincing at him. It didn’t help when he heard her expostulation at him:

“Philip, you need to go to the doctor. I’m not going to help you unless you agree to go.” Her usually cool voice was laced with fire and a tiny bit of frustration. If he wasn’t so bruised and in pain, he would be getting a light smack to his head. However...

Propping up his head onto his chin, he ignore the strain in his neck from the weight of his head. However, he very maturely said:

“Theo, I’m fine. I just need some ice. ‘‘Tis nothing more than some bruises. My bones are all intact.” He insisted, trying to keep his voice from pleading. The last time he had a broken bone, his parents freaked out. His mom made him switch from soccer to swimming when Eacker ‘accidentally’ broke his leg.

Besides, his parents were not even talking. If he went to the hospital, his parents would make a scene. He would be fin—

Theo grabbed his shoulders and somehow, he was maneuvered back onto his back. It didn’t hurt except Theo was sitting on top of him on *that* spot with her legs practically wrapped around his waist. She scooted herself up until she was sitting on his tummy. Her hands were still on his shoulders and he found himself staring down into the dark brown irises of Theodosia Burr, Jr.

He attempted to smile weakly back at her but her unnerving stare was making him start to feel the pain in his wrists beginning to sweet. Something else is—nope, she’s your best friend. That’s not respectful. He scolded his body to listen. He’s not hurt, he reasoned with himself. He’s fine—

“Hey Philip. If you can sit up using your arms, we can kiss.” Theo interrupts his endless stream of thoughts.

FUCK!

She grins smugly down at him. He’s so helpless, he’s going to be in so much trouble and—

“If I go to the doctor, will you stay with me? The entire time?” It’s phrased as a question but he wants to know if she’ll keep her offer or not.

Her smug face grows even bigger after he asks. She nods, standing up from practically straddling him. She deftly pulls out her cell phone from her jean shorts to call the nearest urgent care. With her back facing him, he can’t help but admire her. Dreads pulled up into a makeshift ponytail, a white long sleeve t-shirt with worn jean shirts—Theo may be small but she could make a mountain bow down to her.

Plus it doesn’t help that she’s recently started to grow into her features. Philip never realized how her butt looks like a—

“Philip.”

He jerks himself to see Theo standing above him, her car keys in her hand. She quirks an eyebrow at him. He can’t help but feel a little dumb when he says:

“Why do you have your keys?” Despite the fact that most his blood has rushed to other places, he can hear his brain screaming at his mouth to shut up.

Theo pointedly keeps her eyes on his. “We’re going to the emergency room. Apparently based on your lack of movement, it’s possibly you broke both your wrists when you got hit by the car.” She says, a tiny bit sympathetic but not a whole lot than before.

“C’mon, let’s get you up standing. Do you need me to call anyone?” She asks, her face schooled into a neutral expression.

He shakes his head, while still on the floor. “No, it’s fine. I’ll call my parents after the verdict.” He says Theo, who rolls her eyes at him.

“I’ll call your Aunt. They probably are not going to let me back there.” She tells him as she helps him up onto his (bruised, it’s not sprained) legs.

He can’t help himself as she makes him put all of his weight on her. “But Theo, I think we could pass for a married couple.” He teases her.

If he could see her expression, he would surmise she is probably rolling her eyes at his dumb attempt to humor.

“Philip, that only worked because my dad was busy and could not come. And they thought you were my dad, you goof.” She reminded him of the incident ™.

He can’t help but bristle. “Excuse me I am only a couple months older than you. That is hardly daddy material.” He reminds her.

It’s in this moment when she manages to get his body into the garage by the car. She closes the door, and unlocks the car. Without another word, she opens the backseat door on the passengers side.

She eases him into the backseat of the car. She helps (forces) him to put his seat belt on so he can stretch out with all of his lanky glory.

By the time they are on the high way, Philip is starting to feel the rush of adrenaline fade. Everything hurts, god this all hurts—his thoughts run all around him as the pain begins to prickly in places he didn’t know existed—

“I don’t know Philip... you could be the type that it’s your kink.” She says lightly, as if they’re talking the weather.

He can’t help but groan in pain. Despite the blood rushing to his cheeks and her laughter, he’s internally preparing for the emergency room visit.

It’s going to be an interesting couple of hours...

A/N: Thank you for sending me a drabble. I love doing this so don’t hesitate to reach out in anon :) I loved writing this :)

#philodosia #hamilton #my writing #hamilton the american musical #hamilton the musical #thebulletinhamiltonquotes writing #drabble answered #dailyhamilquotes #language #theodosia burr #philip problem child hamilton #philip hamilton #modern au #seriously philip #funny #i did something dumb to impress you and it backfired badly au #thebulletinhamiltonquotes ask #hamilton fanfiction #philodosia fanfic #fanfic #hamilton fandom #little angst #some nfsw #lightly #monthy python #;) #imagine your otp

[thisisthinprivilege]

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow.

When I was 8 years old, I fainted in the back of my mother's Nissan Murano because I hadn't eaten in three days. Not because we were poor. Not because we didn't have access to food. Not because we had crash landed in the Andes or were recreating the plot of Castaway. I didn't eat for three days because my mother encouraged me not to.

She never said the words "don't eat." She never refused to buy me food or denied me meals. She didn't have to. There are 10,000 ways to get the point across that she felt my chubby little body was an offense to others around me. It came across in small ways - the way that she fussed at me when we went out to eat or were invited to dinner parties, the thinly veiled admonitions that I had eaten "enough," the constant picking and critiquing and worrying about clothes to cover my bulk.  She would worry and harass and beleaguer for the whole of my childhood on this point, under the guise of "looking out for me." I think in her own mind she truly believed she was. She loved me - but she grew up as a fat child and a fat woman and, finally, became a fat doctor who had been told from multiple directions that the reason she was lesser (not feminine enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough) was because she was fat. In her own mind, she probably was trying to look out for me in that she didn't want me to go through the same things she did. Not a bad woman, but a misguided one. But understanding her doesn't make up for my present and past reality. God, but did she f*ck me up good.

I remember-

I remember growing up afraid to be seen eating in public. You couldn't pay me to eat outside in a restaurant or eat lunch in the cafeteria when I was a kid. I ate quickly in hidden corners and survived off takeaway and drive throughs on long family trips. I remember being ashamed to wear the mandatory shorts in gym class because my fat thighs were on display. I invested in those tummy control slips and wore them religiously despite the fact that they made my abdomen ache and my chest struggle to breathe. I remember hating the sight of myself in the mirror to the point that I refused to look into one for more than a decade. I ducked out of photos and burned old family albums because when I looked at myself all I could see was a monster. I did everything I could to hide that monster away. 

Today, it is a constant struggle to unf*ck myself. Finally, a few years ago, I started going out to restaurants with my friends again. I am confident enough on most days to gladly give the stink eye to waiters who look pointedly at me when I order dessert. When I look in the mirror, I don't necessarily always see a monster anymore. On the best days, I am even a little charmed by my reflection, having invested in fabulous hip hugging dresses and tossed out all forms of slips and body binders. When a medical school interviewer asked me if it was irresponsible for a doctor to be fat because we are supposed to be "role models," I went to bat and threw the interview just to give them a piece of my mind. Today, I swim naked in the ocean and will talk to anyone who will listen about the joys of hiking, not caring if they believe me capable or not.

Today-

Today, I am a fat medical student, the only one in my school of 500 students. I stick out like a sore thumb, because I am fat, but also because I will stand up on my soapbox and educate the poor fool who saw fit to crack a fat joke about a body in the anatomy lab. I stick out like a sore thumb because I have a loud mouth and I don't care enough about my classmates' affections to let such things pass by.

Today-

Today, I am a fat medical student. Yesterday, I was a fat child. Tomorrow, I will be a fat doctor. I will not repeat the mistakes of my fore bearers. For every time a doctor told me that the ache in my knee was because I needed to lose weight (not the case, I have a congenital abnormality), for every doctor who assumed because I am overweight, I must be sick, I will remember to treat my patients better. Today, when I see a patient recently diagnosed with diabetes, I don't focus on their weight - I focus on helping them modify their diet to choose low GI foods (weight has nothing to do with it). Today, when someone comes to me with back pain, I get them help via physical therapy to strengthen the muscles to remove some of the strain (weight has nothing to do with it). Weight has nothing to do with it.

I still slip up sometimes. In a world where everyone is telling you that fat equals bad, stupid, ugly, diseased, it is hard sometimes to see through the bullshit. But, tomorrow-

Tomorrow, I will do better.

#health #healthism #doctors #healthcare #body policing #clothes #parents #eating while fat #food #school #academia #working while fat #submission

[thehiddenlawyer]

The Lake: A Short Story

Hello everyone!

I have written! These are original characters, just a bit of writing, a bit of romance to distract.

Caution: The content below contains explicit material, reader discretion advised.

           Forcing deep breaths into her lungs, Clementine repeated herself to her brother in law, watching as her sister’s husband finally grasped what she was telling him, and placing the load in the trunk in a way that everything fit. She wondered if he could tell she was ready to murder him, and yet again found herself wondering how she’d survive the weekend at the lake house with her family.

           An entire weekend.

           Cooped up in a small house.

           With her family.

           Her entire family.

           Parents. Sisters. Brothers in law. Nieces and nephews. Two family friends. The whole lot.

           Sixteen people, plus herself and her Bas. Eighteen people sharing a cabin meant for 8. She didn’t know how they did it every year, and she had yet to kill anyone.

           This had been a family tradition since before her oldest nephew, now 20, had been born. Twice or three times a year, they’d pack up the SUVs with enough supplies to last them five years in the wilderness, and they’d go off for a few days, hang out, and come back.

           And every year, she dreaded the weekend. Dreaded the claustrophobic feeling of the woods, so far away from everyone and everything. Dreaded the forced interactions with her brother in laws, with her family. She had started playing games with herself, making internal bets about what unpleasantness they would pick on her about. Sometimes it was her bookishness, sometimes it was her tendency to keep to herself, at times she’d been accused of arrogance. Recently, her work schedule had come under scrutiny, and her parents kept shooting her worried glances.

           Her work phone vibrating in her pocket took her attention away, and she quickly checked to see that one of her crew was texting her to ask something.

           “Y’know,” a low murmur came in her voice, “I won’t mind you not have phone reception up there. If I’m grateful for anything about this weekend it’s you taking a break from your phone.”

           She looked up into her husband’s pale, knowing eyes, one tawny brow imperiously raised as he watched her, “has my phone use annoyed you?” she frowned at him, suddenly worried, terrified that she’d neglected him unknowingly.

           He instantly soothed her, they were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions as he slid an arm around her waist, “no darling,” he said softly, “it’s annoyed you. You know you’ve had tough several days love, can you let yourself admit this might be a good thing?”  

           Clementine, Clem to her friends, took a deep breath and found herself lost in his eyes, in his soul, in the man that loved her beyond anything she could have ever imagined. He was her prince, her knight in shining armor, complete with a British accent and a voice that was essentially whiskey brought to glorious life. He loved her so completely, so wholeheartedly, it shocked her to wake up next to him sometimes and remember that he was real. And hers.

           He was also her complete opposite.

           She was an attorney by trade, a relentless advocate who was convinced she could make real changes in people’s lives. She ran her life by the clock. Her calendar was her master, and everything was planned out to the most minute detail, with every outcome accounted for and no room left for surprises.

           While her husband looked at the world with ease, with a misplaced trust in the universe, a faith that everything would work out the way it was. Bas let himself be swept up by the currents of life, gliding  with the ebb and flow while she swam against it most of the time. His easy, relaxed demeanor had brought her down a few notches, and no one would be able to tell from his outlook that he was a former battlefield surgeon, having served in Afghanistan and Iraq before moving to the United States to teach medicine as well as practice it.

           Bas’s presence in her life caused more chaos, if she was being honest, but he taught her to be spontaneous if nothing else. She remembered when he’d found out that she had to plan trips to the movies weeks ahead of time, worrying over movie times and fretting over what time she should leave the house to get there with enough time to park and get in line and…he forced her to be spontaneous but in the most effective way possible. He understood her deep-rooted anxiety and taught her to live with it, but still live her life.

           So now they went to the movies on a whim, but he planned it a few hours in advance to give her a chance to adjust to the idea. He taught her that it was okay to leave work for a few minutes, to take a break and get back to the task after a few moments of down time. He taught her that weekend trips could be done in an orderly fashion, without the anxiety and stress she’d always attributed to it.

           Bas understood her ambitions, understood her need to work and prove herself. He never complained about how much she worked, simply making sure she ate and slept and was taking care of her health. But she saw the worry in his eyes and grudgingly admitted she might’ve worked a tad too much the past few months.

           “Maybe,” she murmured, mimicking the way he’d slid his arm around her, feeling the hard muscles of his stomach beneath her palm, “who knows, we might even have fun.”

           “My darling,” he murmured, his tone bored and lazy, his aristocratic accent sending shivers down her spine, “you can say that as if you’re not being led to the electric chair.”

           “But I am!” she said dramatically, earning a peck on the cheek before he moved on to help her sisters hapless husbands load more gear into the back of the SUVs.

           She stood with her sisters, half-listening, half-answering their questions about what had been packed and where it had been put, distracted by her husband. He was rumpled, clearly pulled out of bed by force and yawning so wide and so often, she wondered if his jaw was sore. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants with a soft hoodie pulled over a snow-white t-shirt, his dark honey curls rumpled and disheveled, his eyes barely disguising his sleepiness. She knew that as soon as he was in the car, he would pass out.

           That was another thing they didn’t have in common. While it took Clem hours to fall asleep, and she had to be in her own bed otherwise sleep was a distant concept, she was sure Sebastian could fall asleep anywhere, within moments of closing his eyes.

           His sleepiness and her inability to sleep in the car was how they ended up taking the giant white SUV, with him sitting in the back, her father deciding to ride shotgun while she drove, her mom going to one of the other cars. Her dad glanced behind him, his eyes amused and slightly astonished as he beheld his youngest son-in-law, “is he asleep already?”

           Clem glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing that he was nestled against the backseat of the SUV, arms crossed in front of his chest, long legs spread out, head back and eyes closed, his chest falling and rising in a steady pace, “yup!”

             That night first night in the cabin, the family started getting ready for bed when it was well past midnight. They’d gotten there early enough to have a feast of a breakfast, after unloading the cars, which had taken nearly an hour. They’d hung out together, talking, playing backgammon, drinking tea and eventually making dinner and feasting until bed time. There weren’t enough rooms to go around and, thanks to their sleeping habits, Bas and Clem volunteered to sleep in the loft.

           Clementine had shrugged at her mom, soothing her worry, “Bas can fall asleep anywhere and I don’t sleep anyway, so this is fine, I promise.”

           Her mother had looked skeptical but it had been the best solution.

           So here she was now, sitting in the dark, reading her kindle. The cabin was silent in the way only the woods could be silent. There were movements every now and then from the various people sleeping in the house but it was an eerie quiet that she always hated. She couldn’t even bring herself to look out of the massive bay windows that looked out at the lake, the tall trees at night making her feel trapped until she couldn’t breathe.

           She looked down at her husband, who’d kissed her good night not that long ago, and promptly fell asleep with one hand gripping her thigh. She’d been reading, angling the kindle so that the light wouldn’t bother him. But something must’ve awakened him. Perhaps he’d sensed her growing anxiety about the woods at night, whatever it was, his pale eyes were suddenly alert, “what’s wrong?”

           “Nothing,” she answered, putting her book away and slid down.

           He instantly wrapped his warm body around her, lifting his blanket and letting her underneath, holding her tightly. “Liar,” he accused softly in her ear.

           Clem laughed quietly, looking at him over her shoulder as he molded himself around her, “that’s not very nice.”

           “Neither is lying,” he pointed out quietly, pressing his lips to the side of her throat, “you’re agoraphobic darling, I know the woods at night aren’t all that pleasant for you, love.”

           “They’re not,” she told him, “it feels like the forest is pressing in against me.”

           She felt his lips on her throat again, felt his arms tighten as he threw his leg over hers, “I’m here,” he told her.

           “I know,” she sighed, “you’re a God send.”

           They lay together in silence for a while, simply holding each other in the dark, laughing softly as the cacophony of snores rose through the wooden lake house. “How do you feel about the lake?” he asked suddenly.

           “It’s a lake?” she said slowly, confused by the question as she twisted slightly to look at him over the shoulder.

           His laugh was a warm breath of air against her neck, “I meant, does it factor into your general unease about the woods? You’re typically so fond of water and swimming.”

           “I’ve actually never gone swimming in a lake,” she confessed.

           His surprise was so great that he rose up on his elbow behind her, “what!” he whispered rather loudly, looking down at her, “you? Who spent nearly six hours in the ocean in Samoa? You? My love, I have to bribe you when we go to the ocean just to get you to come back to land! I spend half my life trying to figure out how to convince you to move away from the ocean. You were a fish in a previous life darling, how could you never have swum in a lake?”

           Shifting to lay on her back, looking up at him she laughed softly, “lake’s freak me out,” she shrugged, “I dunno why honestly. With a lake you know you’ll eventually drift and get to land where as one wrong current in the ocean and you’re fucked.”

           Her husband watched her for a few moments. There was no source of light in the cabin except the full moon that glittered through the high windows. His cheekbones cast shadows, his pale eyes glittering as he watched her silently, lifting his long fingers to her face, he twisted a thick strand of her black hair around his long finger, bringing it to his lips for a kiss, “when I was a boy, back in jolly old England where saying things like ‘I summered at the family home in Hampshire’ is acceptable, we would visit my cousin’s estate, Stony Cross, and put the massive lake to good use,” he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear, “it was during this period in my life where I discovered skinny dipping in the middle of the night.”

           She stared up at him, blinking at his words. She heard him, understood the meaning of the individual words, but it took her a few minutes before she fully comprehended what he was saying. Turning her head into his chest, she pressed her laughter into his chest, her shoulders shaking as he cradled her against his body, allowing her to laugh silently at his exploits. “No way!” she managed to say, “you and Westcliff skinny dipping?”

           “It wasn’t with Westcliff,” he corrected quickly, knowing the source of her amusement was the idea of his high-born aristocratic cousin swimming naked, “I would usually talk one of the girls from the nearby village or the girl friends that were brought there by the girl cousins.”

           Clem shook her head, “so you’ve always been a womanizer eh?” she murmured, “what made you do it?”

           He nuzzled her ear, his breath warm against her ear and she sighed, running her head up his chest to run her fingers through his hair, “you’ve never come until you’ve come while fucking under water,” he whispered against her skin.

           She cursed softly, wrapping her arms completely around his shoulders and sighed his name. Bas had never been shy about using his words to express himself, especially when they were having sex. Over the years, she’d become familiar with his tendency to use stark, sometimes vulgar words to express his sexual desire for her. But there was something about that prim and proper accent, that whiskey voice saying those words, directing them at her…she cursed again as she felt herself bloom even as the pit of her stomach dropped, encased in cement. “You can’t say things like that when you can’t deliver baby,” she whispered softly.

           He raised a brow, his eyes glittering in the dark as he looked down at her, looking absolutely offended at the very suggestion, “I can’t deliver? Says who?”

           Rolling her eyes at her husband, she felt him settle against her, “me,” she whispered, “where are you gonna deliver in a house full of family and no privacy.”

           Bas thought for a moment, giving her his perfect profile as he looked away from her, narrowing his extraordinarily shaped eyes as he thought deeply about how he would debauch her. Suddenly he reared back and stood up, holding his hand out for her, “come with me,” he murmured.

           She narrowed her eyes, suspecting where they were going but not really believing that he could be so bold and brazen. Three years of marriage and five years together had taught her to trust him, to cautiously go with him wherever he wanted to take her. They had put their shoes on, his hand on the doorknob when they heard movement and the unmistakable creak of the floorboards. Standing still as statues, they looked up at the loft where the noise had come from, where her parents slept. But when they saw no one approaching, they hurried outside.

           Their fingers were intertwined, they snuck out of the cabin and away from her sleeping family. The woods were quiet but not really silent, the rustle of the leaves in the trees, the soft lapping sounds of the lake, occasional birds who squawked and let the world know they were there. Somehow being outside, she didn’t feel the panic settle into her. He held her hand securely in his, his palm familiar, his long fingers wrapped around her hand, and the sure way he moved through the woods towards the lake dispelled her of any fear.

           The lake lay beyond just beyond a thick thatch of woods, nestled in the middle of a circle of tall oak trees. The surface of the lake was glittering under the full moon, the gentle lapping sound soothing her nerves even as she looked at the mysterious depths with distrust.

           Clem rolled her eyes at her husband’s obvious enthusiasm, frowning at him in slight reproach as he glanced at her sideways, leading her to the boardwalk that she’d seen people use as a dive board earlier that day. When she realized he was serious about skinny dipping, she tried to disentangle her hand from his, “Sebastian, no,” she protested but he kept his grip tight on her hand, not letting her squirm away.

           “Sebastian yes,” he murmured pulling her along with him, the old, worn boards of the walk creaking beneath their combined weight.

           “This is absurd! Are you crazy? What if someone hears?” he finally let go of her hand to grab his t-shirt by the scruff and pulled it over his head, tossing it on the board beneath their feet, “Bas, what if someone sees?”

           “We’ll be in the water,” he said mildly, having already slipped his shoes off, shucking his soft gray sweats down his legs along with his boxer briefs, “all they’ll see is the top of her heads.”

           “Bas,” she protested again, torn between wanting to please him and not disappoint him but horrified at the prospect of what he was planning.

           He cupped her face in his familiar, warm palms, brushing his thumb against her mouth, tracing her cheeks with the pads of his fingertips as he drew her closer to him so they were standing chest to chest. His face was intense as he looked down at her, the moonlight making shadows appear beneath his high cheekbones, a fallen angel, sent down for her soul. “Tell me,” his voice was soft, as tempting as the devil as he brushed his soft lips against her cheek, “when have I ever led you astray?”

           “All the time,” she grinned up at him “that’s literally all you do.”

           His huff of a laugh was an intimate waft of breath against her cheek, “alright,” he said softly, “then when have I ever made you do something I thought you wouldn’t enjoy?” his soft lips wandered over her cheek, the tip of her nose, blessing her eyelids as they fluttered closed. She gripped his naked waist, digging her nails into his skin as she felt him press himself against her, into the familiar place between her legs where he belonged. “When have I ever asked you to do something that would put you into any kind of danger?”

           She thought for a moment, lost in the warmth of his skin where she griped his hips, “we jumped out of a perfectly good airplane without parachutes because you were bored.”

           Sebastian laughed again, “you have an answer for everything!”

           “Lawyer,” she grinned, wrapping her arms fully around him, relishing and rejoicing in her husband’s body, feeling his muscles beneath her palms, soft, warm, male skin covering rock hard, defined muscles.

           “Do you trust me?” he asked against her ear, “love of my heart, my greatest strength and my greatest weakness, my pleasure and pain,” he pulled away from her, staring down into her eyes, “do you trust me?”

           She didn’t say anything, only stepped back and took off her own shirt along with the bandau she wore to bed in lieu of a bra, shivering slightly under his scrutiny as she pushed her sweatpants down her legs. His hands were on her, his lips buried behind her ear, whispering intimate things against her skin as he skimmed his hands down to cup her behind in his palms, urging her against his growing erection, “you look like a water nymph. A siren. Designed to bring me to my doom, down to my knees.”

           Laughing softly, she turned her face towards his, kissing him slowly, licking inside his mouth and felt him growing hard against her stomach, the familiar heat of his erection nestled between their burning bodies, beneath the scrutiny of the solitary moon and the ink black surface of the lake.

           She watched, slightly dismayed, as he pulled away, incredulous as she watched him execute a perfect swan dive into the lake. Her breath stopped in terror as he remained submerged, anxiety screaming at her that the lake was dangerous, that he’d been pulled down. His dive had been so perfect that there was barely a ripple on the surface, and everything around her seemed terribly still. When he emerged, he tossed his wet hair out of his eyes and grinned at her.

           “Join me, my love,” his voice carried over the lake, slicing through the woods and traveling over her nerves, touching her soul, “you’re already naked,” he made inviting circles with his arms, “it’s not that cold.”

           “My ass!” she shook her head.

           “I’ll warm you,” he promised, grinning wolfishly.

           “Oh God,” she shook her head again, repeating “fuck” under her breath as she took a running start, yelping as she jumped off the edge of the pier and found herself hitting the surface of the water, sinking beneath the depths into a silent dark world. Kicking her feet, she broke the surface with a gasp, disoriented for a moment.          

           “Here,” she heard his whiskey voice from behind her, turning to find him swimming behind her.

           “You liar! It’s freezing!” she shivered, torn between being impressed with herself for being naked in a lake with her husband and horrified that she was naked in a lake with her husband. The water was ice cold, making her shiver and her teeth chatter as the cold seeped into her skin.

           “I’ll keep you warm,” his voice was thick, having dropped so low that his words were nearly distorted. The playfulness was gone from his expression, replaced by something low and dangerous, by something that caused her breath to hitch. He looked dangerous, sensual, and it was a look she’d come to know well over their life together. “My love,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming white in the moonlight, “my beautiful wife, my endless agony,” he pulled her towards him, “let me warm you.”

           She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in his passionate kiss, welcoming his probing tongue into her mouth as he urged her to wrap her legs around his waist, gasping as she felt his cock slide against her. “You make me crazy,” she murmured against his exploring mouth.

           “My darling Clementine,” he murmured and she felt him move them, realizing dazedly that he was actually standing, his feet planted on the lake’s bottom, “you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

           Unable to respond, she kissed him again, breathing him into her lungs and lost her self to the moment, her senses flaring to life as she realized she was no longer cold, their bodies kindling a flame so high she wondered if steam would start rising from the lake. The quiet, silent sounds of the rustling leaves and quiet animals nearby combined with the ripple of the lake around them, the intimate sounds of her husband filling her ears, her soul. Her nostrils were filled with the slightly tepid smell of the lake and her husband’s clean, male skin.

           Clementine had to pull away, had to look into those exotically shaped nebulas that were trapped in his eyes, to reassure herself that this was real, that he was hers, that he was real. Even after all this time, even after everything they’d lived through together, she still woke up in a haze, unable to truly believe they belonged to each other. She stared into his eyes in wonder, gasping when he reached down between their bodies, slipping deep inside her wet body, slowly burying his pulsing cock deep inside her wet warmth.

           “Bas,” she gasped, her head dropping forward, her face becoming lax with pleasure as she absorbed every inch of him, as she welcomed him using her intimate muscles to clench him higher into herself, “my love,” she gripped his head in her hands, sinking her fingers into his wet curls as he moved inside her.

           “Tell me,” he breathed, pressing kisses to her throat, down to her collarbone where he bit her gently.

           Smiling, she let him push her back slightly, floating as he found her nipple with his mouth, sucking her into the warmth of his mouth, teasing her nipples into hard points. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear, what he was asking but speech left her in those moments as she held him against her breast, as she impaled herself repeatedly on him, making him grunt with pleasure. “You’re my heart,” she gasped.

           “Tell me,” he ground out, clenching his jaw, the deep blush from his chest slowly trickling up his throat. She knew that when it reached his ears, he would come deep inside her and she couldn’t help bending down to lick his ear.

           “You’re the essence of my soul,” she murmured, amazed at tremors her words caused him, at the way he gripped her tighter against him, “the will of my future, the fire in my veins,” he changed the angle in a way that made her groan, fisting his hair as she delighted in the friction he created with the angle, forcing himself deeper, his pubic bone hitting her clit at such a delightful angle, but she had to go on, had to find her words, those simple, familiar words she always gasped when they were making love, “the strength in my legs, the stubbornness in my spine.”

           She couldn’t continue, letting her head fall forward to the crook of his neck as she came in waves and waves of unrelentless passion, biting his shoulder viciously to keep herself from screaming her orgasm as he fucked her, as he took her, filled her and she felt herself brimming with her Sebastian, her love. His own orgasm had him gasping her name, grounding his hips into her as her muscles shivered around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside herself.

           The peacefulness of the lake felt strange afterwards, as she let him cradle him, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Her heart was racing, her breathing come in soft gasps, so much chaos in such sharp contrast to the stillness around her. Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she absently licked the rivulets of water on his golden skin. “I hate it when you’re right,” she laughed softly, finally lifting her head to look at him with heavy, exhausted eyes.

           He smiled at her, “I know darling,” he nodded, “it’s a curse.”

#my writing #the lake #short story #romance #husband wife #clem and bas #i like giving them weird names

[my-emotional-self]

The Accident Chapter 14

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC

Warnings:  Fluff, Mild Smut (Very mild)

Summary: After yet another fight with your boyfriend Chris, you go for a drive and get into a terrible accident.  Upon waking up in the hospital, you find both Sebastian and Chris sitting there.  The only problem?  You have no recent memories and you think you are still dating Sebastian.

Setting your alarm for 6 a.m, you were up, showered, and ready to go by 7.  You put on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top that had the word ‘Disney’ written over the front.  With your hair still damn, you combed it back into a high ponytail. Hell, you couldn’t help that you were so excited for today.  Opening the door to your bedroom you saw Chris was already awake, sitting at the small table with an array of fruits.  

“Morning,” Chris spoke, his voice a little groggy and you let out a giggle.  

“Morning yourself. Tired still?”

Chris shrugged, placing a grape into his mouth, wiping his hand on a napkin.  “A little but I was just too excited to sleep last night. How about you?”

“Oh I’m not tired anymore. I’m already set to go!”  Looking at the array of fresh fruit, you scooped some watermelon, grapes, and kiwi onto your plate and began to eat.  Chris poured you a cup of orange juice, setting it down in front of you and you smiled.  

Chris smiled back, taking longing glances at you while you ate; his own plate of fruit in front of him. Before long, he placed a box in front of you.  With raised eyebrows, you opened the box and nearly shrieked.  Inside were two gray Disney Fast Pass Bracelets, one with Chris’ name, the other with your name on it.  

You grabbed yours out of the box, placing it on your wrist at once before handing Chris’ over to him. “Where to first?”

Chris smiled, the crinkles near his eyes evident.  “I thought we could start with someplace neither of us have been to yet.”  You watched him with bated breath as he took a sip of coffee, wondering what he was going to surprise you with today.  “The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.”

“GET OUT!” you jumped from your chair, running over to hug him.  “Are you serious?  We are really going to Harry Potter World?”

Chris laughed, a whole hearted body shaking laugh as he wrapped his arms around you.  “Yes I’m serious.  I’ve been dying to go but it’s been so crowded and busy and we’ve never had the time to do it during their slower season.  And now that there is no spring break going on, and it’s the middle of the week, I figured it was the best time.”

~~~

The two of you made your way through the entrance of Universal Studios and the smile never left your face.  Chris laced his hand with yours and you turned to face him; your smile beaming.  The smell of fried food assaulted your nostrils in the best way.  You squeezed Chris’ hand as another smell invaded your senses.  “Can we get cotton candy???” you questioned with raised brows, feeling like a little kid again.  

His head tilted backwards as he barked out a laugh.  “YES! How could we not??  It’s the best part of going to any kind of park.”  

Walking through the theme park, your hand linked with Chris’, you scanned the crowd and listened to everything that was going on, hoping to remember something.  There were children’s squeals as they rode the rides; families taking pictures left and right.  Even though this was Universal Studios and not Disney, it was still magical.

First thing first, you had to get your wands.  The two of you made your way to Olivanders and you were relieved to see the park wasn’t nearly as busy as you had guessed it to be.  Sure, it was early in the morning, during the middle of the week, and most Spring Breaks had just ended, but you were still worried there would be a lot more people here.  

You had decided to get a replica of Nymphadora  Tonk’s wand and Chris got a replica of Harry Potter’s.  As much as you wanted to stay and watch the live show of the wand choosing ceremony, you both knew it would be best to just keep to yourselves and not draw any attention.  

After getting your wands, you had decided to go walk around and visit the shops.  Since it wasn’t as warm as you had intended it to be, you were feeling rather chilly.  Looking around the shops at the apparel, you got Chris to agree to buying matching house robes.  Naturally, you selected Hufflepuff.  You had gone on the Pottermore website more than you cared to admit, and you were sorted into the Hufflepuff house.  Chris, of course already knew what house he belonged to as well: Gryffindor.  You also bought a Hufflepuff headband and along with your robes and wands, you two truly felt like you were ready to take on the rest of the day.  

The second stop was Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes; Fred and George’s joke shop.  The second you walked into the door, it was a burst of vibrant colors.  You laughed instantly as you saw Dolores Umbridge on her cycle yelling ‘I will have order!’  It was just like the movie!  There was a staircase going upstairs, but it was filled with product, but you were still able to glance upwards and you saw the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder; the display was identical to how it was portrayed in the movie.  You couldn’t believe your eyes as you continued to wander around the shop with Chris.    

You and Chris spent nearly an hour inside the shop, laughing over everything on the shelf as you made your way through.  By the time you were done, your ribs were beginning to scream from pain at laughing so much.  Your hand gripped your left side, hoping it would ease some of the pain.  

“Shit babe are you hurt?” Chris asked with worry as he saw you holding onto your left side.  

You waved your hand around, trying to act as if the pain wasn’t that bad, taking deep breaths. “I’ll be fine.  I just-I was laughing too much and my ribs are kinda sore. It hasn’t bothered me lately, probably because I haven’t laughed this hard in the last week.”

Chris looked around before spotting the Leaky Cauldron.  “Come on, we can go grab something to eat and drink.  We can get off our feet for a little bit and take a break.”

You nodded at him as the two of you made your way into the restaurant.  Chris went to stand in the long line and order food and you made your way to find somewhere to sit.  

You sat at the end of one of the long tables and people watched until Chris came back.  A smile graced your lips as you saw Chris standing in line; his robe looked adorable on him.  He had truly been great to you over the last week and you were unsure of how you would have made it through things without him.  He was kind and caring, never getting angry with you or pushing you to talk.  

When you had woken up in the hospital you were terrified, but seeing Sebastian there made it better; yet when he told you the two of you had broken up, you thought you would be lost forever, swimming in a vast ocean of darkness with no one to help pull you out. But that was where Chris came in. With each passing day you had spent with him, you could understand how you had grown to love him.  

“Earth to Erica,” Chris’ voice broke you from your thoughts.  “You doin’ ok?”

You laughed lightly, not wanting to disturb the pain in your side anymore.  “Mhhmm.  Just thinking,” you murmured, taking a sip of the cold Butterbeer Chris placed in front of you.  

“Yeah?  And what were you thinking about?”

Your cheeks flushed and you bowed your head.  “You,” you whispered, your eyes glancing up to his.  

His lips tugged at the corner of his mouth hearing your words.  “And what about me?”

By now your face must have looked like a tomato, being put on the spot in front of Chris, but you didn’t want to lie to him.  “How amazing you’ve been to me.  How protective and careful you are around me.  You haven’t lost your temper around me, and you’ve cared for me throughout the last week.  I honestly wasn’t expecting it.  But it made me comprehend just why I not only agreed to go on a first date with you, but why we are together overall.  You are such a wonderful person Chris.  And I thank you for that.”

~~~

You were utterly spent by the time you and Chris got back to the hotel.  It was a miracle you even made in into the shower without falling over. The hot water did wonders, washing away your sweat soaked skin.  Florida was humid, a humid hot you had not experienced in a long time.  It was cooler in the morning, but once you got your robes and the morning turned into afternoon, with walking around, you had gotten so sweaty. Luckily you were wearing really comfortable shoes!

Once out of the shower you dressed in a pair of shorts and a large oversized t-shirt.  As your head hit the pillow, your eyes closed and you were out like a light.  

Chris’ fingers were pumping into your dripping wet pussy, his thumb circling your clit.  Your head was thrown back in pure ecstasy as you rode out your orgasm.  

Your breathing was ragged and you opened your eyes, only to see Chris licking his fingers clean of your juices.  A shiver ran through your body as you pushed yourself off the bed, tackling Chris as you claimed his mouth with yours.  

He was already naked as you straddled him, your arousal coating his thick cock as you gyrated your hips around him.  “I need you,” you whimpered, pulling away from him and looked into his lust filled dark eyes.  

“What are you waiting for,” Chris teased as he placed his hands on your hips.  Stroking his cock a few times you lined him at your entrance before sinking down slowly; your moans of pleasure mixing together and echoing throughout the room. You rode him with such desire and lust as his hands kneaded your full breasts.  You were full with him inside you, just the way you wanted and you soon felt your walls being to tighten.    

You awoke with a jolt, your heart racing and your clit throbbing from the sexual dream.  Turning on the lamp you brushed back your hair from your face.  It was the most realistic dream you had ever experienced before, but something deep inside you told you it wasn’t a dream.  

“It was real,” you whispered to yourself in the room.  “It was a memory.”

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