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thevioletjones · 4 years

Note

48. “You make me want things I can’t have.” 💜

Thanks for the inspiration! 💜

Prompt 3

Buffer

Ian Gallagher was starting to become a problem.

And the worst part about it was that he wasn’t even a problem that Mickey wanted to resolve. No. He just kept holding Ian closer and refusing to push him away like he should. He was just letting him ruin Mickey’s mediocre life. Because something about Ian was unshakeable. It wasn’t just that Ian kept coming back no matter what Mickey ever said or did, either. Ian was definitely persistent, but Mickey had formed an attachment too, even though he did everything in his power to hide it. It was still there, buried under layers of caustic remarks, aloof expressions, and occasional lashing out. He wasn’t proud of his behavior, but it was just who he was, and remaining unchanged in his ways was easier than the alternative.

Ian was definitely too good for him. Sure, he was hood trash too, but they were on two different levels. Ian was buffed up with a certain surface shine that Mickey lacked. Although, he would admit he’d come a long way in his style and hygiene game since his early days as an unwashed miscreant. Mickey was a gay man after all, and not immune to gaying certain things up, despite his tendency to flout homo conventions. If he wanted the ability to get a decent dick in his ass, there were standards that he’d learned to push himself to meet. This was the glossiest Mickey was ever gonna get, and it still came with a pinch of grime and hostility.

Maybe he’d developed enough sense to give a fuck, but he still didn’t give two shits either; a concept that walking contradictions the world over could likely comprehend.

The thing about Gallagher was that he was sweet. Not in an annoying, cloying, obvious way that was anathema to everything Mickey was about, but in a low-key, casual, incidental kind of way that somehow managed to be attractive, even to someone with Mickey’s abrasive nature. Ian played tough, and he genuinely was in many ways, but he had a gooey, marshmallow center that evened him out. Mickey didn’t see himself as having that sort of balance.

But there were these unsettling moments like this, usually in the middle of the night or early in the morning, when Mickey would catch himself watching Ian unawares. Unawares because he only ever did it when the redhead was deep in sleep. Suddenly, Mickey would be Mr. Contemplation, burning a hole into the face of the dude he was banging, daring to wonder what could happen between them if he wasn’t an emotionally stunted asshole. And then he’d reflect on what Ian’s life was like whenever he wasn’t around; the things Mickey acted like he didn’t care to know.

These circular thought patterns never led anywhere good, because at the end of the day, Ian wasn’t his. And Mickey could never be Ian’s. He’d long ago resigned himself to a certain destiny that involved long-term solitude until his dying day, which he’d always been fairly certain would come prematurely and most likely in violent fashion. It would be ridiculous to drag someone else into his vortex of apathy for life and the general traditions of living it. Especially someone like Ian, who was good; who helped people because he genuinely cared about, like, the well-being of humanity and shit. Despite the occasional soft look or revelatory comment that Ian would throw his way, he knew better than to think he’d want to be saddled with Mickey’s non-reciprocating ogre-y ass.

Usually when one of these intense, one-sided staring sessions would take place, Mickey would overcompensate for silently slipping by adding an extra dose of rudeness when he kicked Ian out after the fact. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why Gallagher still bothered with him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get laid elsewhere. Ian was the type that would never have trouble finding a willing ass. Yet somehow he kept coming back to Mickey and ignoring all the negatives thrown in his path. It didn’t make much sense on either of their parts… allowing each other in on any terms. Probably meant that Ian was just as fucked up as he was, really.

Blowing out the last hit off his smoke, Mickey glanced at the bedside clock and stubbed out the cigarette butt. 3:26 AM and he was wide awake, just gawking at his slumbering ginger fuck buddy, and trying to repress the multitude of emotions swirling within him. It was truly pathetic.

He could just get the hell up and drag his ass to the living room to play video games or watch late-night TV, but no. Apparently he liked suffering and feeling conflicted. What a pussy.

Not ten minutes went by before there was slow movement from the other side of the bed... Ian turning over in his sleep, reaching an arm out, and searching. Searching for the warmth of Mickey’s body, it would seem.

A big hand landed on his thigh, rubbing it softly as tired eyes blinked open, and a groggy voice sounded, “What’re’y’doin’?”

Oh, just fuckin’ lying here starin’ at your pasty ass for some reason. “Can’t sleep.”

“Didn’t wear you out?” Ian asked with a breathy titter, squeezing the sensitive flesh precariously close to Mickey’s groin.

Maybe it made his dick twitch a little.

“When did one round ever wear me out?”

“Pretty sure there were two rounds. Did you forget about the couch?”

“Random handies while watchin’ mediocre porn barely counts as a round, carrot-top.”

“A, it wasn’t that mediocre, and B, do you only consider it sex if penetration is involved?”

“I mean… it helps.”

“What about blowjobs, then? How would you classify them?”

“Sex act, but not sex, sex. Know what I mean?”

Ian laughed. “Not really. What about lesbians?”

“Definitely don’t wanna have my cock anywhere near those.”

“Har har. I mean, what would you call lesbian sex?”

“Gross? Boring? I don’t fuckin’ know. Never had it, don’t plan to.”

Ian laughed harder and it made Mickey feel good. “Pretty sure lesbians don’t want fuck all to do with you either, bottom boy.”

“Hey, likin’ what I like don’t make me a bitch.”

“No, but you seem pretty hostile toward anything but a real live human cock poking you in the asshole. I mean, naysaying getting your dick sucked? That’s a bold bossy bottom stance to take.”

“What can I say? I’m a simple man with simple kinks. Aren’t you glad I don’t need any freaky extra shit to get me off?”

“What kinda freaky extras are we talkin’?”

“Fuck off, Gallagher. Don’t act like you don’t just live for stickin’ that big red dick inside any tight manhole that’ll accommodate it. Does that make you a hungry top just begging for it?”

“I prefer ‘brutal top,’ since it’s so big, as you were so kind to mention.”

Mickey rolled his eyes into tomorrow. “Gotta remember to stop accidentally complimenting it. You get so fuckin’ uppity about it.”

Ian rolled over and boxed him in, nuzzling around his face and neck, while Mickey tried to bat him away.

“Come on,” prodded Ian. “Big hard cock seeks tight little hole for another round of deep penetration.”

Mickey could feel said big hard cock firming right up against his hip. “Ixnay on the cutesy man seeking man dirty talk, fuckhead. I will make you take that hulking boner elsewhere.”

“No you won’t,” Ian replied, humping down against him.

Of course he wouldn’t, but he had to front at least a little bit. That was the nature of his inner beast.

While they were fucking, Mickey could just let himself get lost in all the appropriate heightened sensations that really good sex immersed him in. Immersed him and Ian in. Ian and him. Them. Reveling in the pleasure of carnality was totally kosher… as long as it limited him from basking in that additional Ian stuff. That feelings stuff that he had no idea what to do with. That unfathomable connection that existed between them.

He let Ian kiss him a lot too. Like, a lot, a lot. That wasn’t customary for him with other dudes. In fact, it barely ever happened. It was just another habit Ian had slipped under the wire to form with him when he wasn’t paying enough attention. Mickey was pretty sure he’d kissed more girls in his life than boys, because that was always an easy, less disgusting way to publicly appear straight during the years he’d spent in the closet. With guys, there was nothing to prove and everything to hide, so it just wasn’t something he incorporated into his casual sex routine.

Before Ian, he hadn’t exactly attracted the kind of dudes that warranted sticking around for in any capacity, or who made any kind of effort to stick with him. There were never any near-miss boyfriends, or pine-worthy hookups. Sex was always transactional and he’d been perfectly fine with that arrangement.

The truth was that once he’d fucked up and invited Ian in for repeats over and over again, he started to figure out that the sex just kept getting hotter and hotter. That when two bodies really took the time to get to know each other, things fit better, motions got smoother, and orgasms got a thousand times stronger. Turned out that one-night-stands were not where the fuck it was at. Those were always crapshoots with odds that were at best 25/75 in favor of mediocrity. With Ian, it was guaranteed total fulfillment 100% of the time.

That was the only explanation he could find for this unexpected addiction he was stuck with. An addiction to Ian and his stupidly perfect cock. The rest of his body was alright too. And when he spoke, he wasn’t completely fucking annoying. His personality and his nature were tolerable. Mickey didn’t want to gouge his eyes out every time he got sucked into a conversation.

They didn’t really hang out, though. Outside of the bedroom, that is. It was like the whole game changed when they were in bed. They could fuck, they could goof around and have a laugh, they could wrestle, they could accidentally say something profound once in a while… but if Ian had a bag of food when he dropped by, Mickey wasn’t about to sit on the couch and watch TV with him while he ate it, and he definitely wasn’t going to accept a portion for himself.

Until tonight, that is. Or last night, or however the fuck time was identified when you were a natural night owl.

Tonight, they’d crossed another invisible line in the sand, and Mickey had found himself chowing down on tacos, while heckling some shitty 90s action film; his part-time lover chuckling next to him with a sloppy mouth.

It was fucking terrifying.

So as soon as he’d realized what was actually happening, and how much he didn’t hate it, Mickey had switched over to some hardcore porn. They’d cracked jokes about it at first, but it’d done the trick of quickly leading to the familiar comfort of sexual gratification. With that justification, Mickey could just sweep the whole ‘watching a movie and eating together like they were on a date’ thing under the proverbial rug without further examination.

At least until Ian had fallen asleep around 2 AM. Then it was dwell city.

By 4:30 AM, Ian had fucked him into the mattress once again, and promptly fallen back asleep without a care in the world. Mickey was more than sated, but felt even more awake than he had an hour ago, his brain full of fresh bullshit about the man next to him and what was happening between them.

He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out his stash, knowing the high would fog up his brain enough to go off on thought tangents, and eventually shut down for at least five hours. Within ten minutes, he felt a little better, or at least more distracted. He was still very aware of Ian’s looming presence in the darkness, though. He wanted to be comforted by it, but he just couldn’t relax.

There’d always been a buffer between them, which Mickey had been diligent in maintaining, and he could see it slowly falling away now. If he didn’t step up and push back, pretty soon there’d be no barrier left standing. Who the fuck knew what could happen then.

He hated it. He felt so fucking out of control, when it should be the easiest thing in the world to control. All he had to do was break it off. He knew exactly what to say and do to make that happen. Knew enough to be able to really hit Ian where it hurt, both literally and figuratively.

But goddamn it, he didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to make Ian sad, and he didn’t want to give into his own desire to try for more. He would always fuck it up, because he was a fuck-up by nature. His goddamn knuckles spelled it all out in block letters.

He wanted Ian, but he didn’t want the responsibility. Didn’t trust himself, because no one had ever trusted him before in his entire life. What kind of dumbass wanted that kind of damaged douchebag for a boyfriend? No sane one.

Against his better judgment, Mickey rolled closer to Ian and wrapped an arm around his middle, spooning him the way he secretly liked it when Ian spooned him. He held him close and breathed in his scent.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he murmured to himself, exhaling heavily against Ian’s neck.

He fell asleep swiftly, and in the morning, he didn’t ask Ian to leave.

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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asleepycoyote · 3 years

Text

My prompts

So I have written some prompts that you can ask to use. I will continue to add more. The ones that have italics or look like 'this' can be anyone's dialogue. I just added it so you know it's not only one person talking. To ask, you can just request the number of the prompt/s you can ask for multiple prompts, but please don't add too many. The ones that have a period at the end of the numbers, don't mind that. That's for me to remember something. Okay, anywho, take your pick :D. Remember you don't have to request one of these, you have your own idea, that's good! I'll be happy to write it! If you have a certain gender you want the reader to be don't forget to ask! You can also request me to add prompts to the list too! Okay so here's the prompts :)

1 "Oh no."

"What is it? What happened? Who died?"

"I think I just felt an emotion."

"You have GOT to be kidding me."

2 "Excuse me. I have to go make a scene."

3 "They're like a hurricane in human form."

4 "Fix it."

"It's a ransom note: I don't care about grammar!"

"There is no excuse for bad grammar."

5 "What does the little blinking light mean?"

"It means... wait blinking light?"

6 "What letter comes after 's' in the alphabet?

"T?"

"Ooh, yes please!"

7 "Why is there a magical portal in the bathtub?!"

8 "I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen."

9 "We can't have a crisis- my schedule is already full..

10 "How long have you been standing there?

"Longer than you'd like."

11 "Small fire! I said to set a small fire! This is not small!"

12 "I want to go home."

"And I want to go to the moon. It ain't happening, sweetheart. Time to accept that."

13 "It's really not that complicated."

14 "Close the door."

15 "It's three in the morning."

16 "Why are you helping me?"

17 "Just trust me."

18 "What are you thinking about?"

19 "Someday you'll thank me for kidnapping you?"

20 "Who sent you here?"

"I wasn't sent here... if anything, it was an accident."

"Made by whom?"

"Myself, I suppose."

"You sent yourself here on accident?"

"Well, I certainly didn't come here on purpose..."

21 "I just want to be happy."

22 "Can I sleep over? My parents are fighting again."

23 "Why won't you let me help you?!"

24 "You know we make a pretty good team."

25 "You're a horrible liar."

26 "You're freezing. Come here."

27 "I'm saying that because I care about you!

28 "Sing me a song please.

29 "I can explain./!"

30 "Come here."

31 "The real treasure was the memories we made along the way."

"I almost died!"

"Ah yes, that was my fondest memory."

32 "They're crying, what do I do?"

"Go comfort them."

"How do I do that?"

"Start with hugs."

"With what?"

33 "Somehow you don't even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt."

34 "Stop waking me up in the middle of the night."

35 "Any shorter and you'd probably fade out of existence."

36 "I fixed you breakfast. I know it's just a bowl of cereal, but it's the only thing I can't burn."

37 "You just gave off the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at."

38 "It's not my birthday."

"It's definitely your birthday."

"Give me a calendar and I will prove it to—oh. Never mind. Happy birthday to me."

39 "Bold of you to assume I wouldn't just summon a trans-dimensional entity to help me avoid all my problems."

40 "I'm not human. I never was. So, why are you expecting me to act like one?

41 "Everything here can kill you, but I can do it most efficiently."

42 "They took my wallet. Yes, just my wallet. Well.... maybe my passport too."

43 "I don't think of you as a protector. More like a friend."

44 "You deserved that."

45 "Shh, shh. You were dreaming."

46 "I won't leave you behind."

47 "You should be in bed."

48 "What's our exit strategy?"

"Our what?"

"Oh my god, we are all going to die."

49 "Oh my god, you're taking up the whole bed."

50 "I could keep you safe, they're all afraid of me."

51 "I trusted you!"

52 "I know your secret."

"You're gonna have to be more specific there, buddy. Which one? I have a lot of skeletons in my closet."

53 "Who gave you that black eye?!"

54 "Everyone keeps telling me your bad guy."

55 "Why? Because I don't want you to get hurt, that's why!"

56 "You're scared of that, aren't you?"

57 "Come on, when have my calculations ever been wrong?"

"Well-"

"Shut up, that was one time."

58 "Enjoying the view, sunshine?"

59 "While I do enjoy the silent treatment, I wasn't aware I had done anything to you."

60 "I think that's enough."

61 "They deserved it."

62 "What... is this?"

63 "You can't be serious!"

64 "I'm not sorry!"

65 "Who are you?"

"Oh sweetheart, I'm your worst nightmare."

"Wait a minute. Your that guy that tripped over my shoes on the bus this morning and said thank you-"

66 "Just because I'm helping you doesn't mean I care, your death would be a minor inconvenience. That's all."

67 "You owe me."

68 "Don't make me come in there."

69 "Don't touch me."

70 "That wasn't funny."

71 "I am fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

72 "Am I doing it right?"

73 "For God's sake! Who have you killed now?"

74 "Do you even know how to fly this thing?"

"Normally, I'd lie and say yes, but considering the fact that I almost flew us into that building, I'm going to assume you know the answer."

75 "What are you doing?! Don't eat it!"

76 "Feel free to admire me."

77 "You're insane!"

"I know! Isn't it great?"

78 "You don't know a thing."

79 "The truth is I never loved you."

80 "Is this a game to you?"

81 "Stop yelling at me."

"I'm not yelling at you! I'm just... being abnormally projective in the vocal region!"

"Otherwise known as yelling..."

82 "Don't ever forget me. Please?"

83 "I screwed up."

84 "You're my regret."

85 "No, sir. I am not underestimating the kidnappers. YOU are understanding my grandmother."

86 "Stay away from the llama."

87 "No one visits my grave anymore... wait. I don't even have a grave!"

88 "Tuna shamed."

89 "Well, I can scratch that off my bucket list."

"Who puts getting arrested on their bucket list?!"

90 "I-I can't stop it. I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I got you."

91 "What am I supposed to tell my parents? 'Hi mom and dad, I ,snuck out past curfew, almost died, discovered I can teleport, and now I'm joining a gang of superheroes.'"

"Maybe don't use the word 'gang'."

"You think that's the part they'll have the most trouble with?!"

92 "Give me the wallet or I shoot."

"No."

"What do you mean no? I'm serious, I will shoot you."

"Let me repeat myself. No."

"Um... okay I guess."

"Aren't you going to shoot me?"

"I don't know. This hasn't happened before."

"Well, until you do, wanna grab a bite to eat? I'm starving."

93 "Watch me."

94 "I thought you were dead."

95 "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

96 "Was that supposed to hurt?"

97 "You have to leave right now."

"I love you."

99 "I hate you.

100 "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't throw it."

101 "How long has it been since you last ate something?"

102. "No, don't look at me!"

103. "How many marshmallows can you eat?"

104 "Why did you kick so much in your sleep? Are you constantly dreaming about soccer?"

105 "Destroying lives, one person at a time."

106 "Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am.

107 "Just breathe."

108. "STOP EATING MY LASAGNA FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"

109. "I don't understand why you should feel the urge to do that."

110. "I trust you."

"Wow, that incredibly... stupid of you."

111 "You broke my heart and all you can say is sorry?"

112 "You can't really blame me can you? You can only blame yourself."

113. "You keep painting me as the villain."

"Because you are the villain."

114. "Who could ever love someone like you?"

115 "I never stood a chance, did I?"

"That's the sad part - you did once."

116 "I've missed this."

117. "Who are you to tell me how to live my life?"

118. "Are you going to yell at me too? I guess I do deserve it."

119 "I don't want to have another surgery."

120. "Quit touching the IV."

121 "I was going to say something mean about them, but decided against it."

122 "How do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?"

123. "Are you going to stand there or are you going to kiss me? I'm tired of lying to my diary."

#my writing prompts #dialogue prompt

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into1-wonderland · 3 years

Text

Baby!Into1 x Daycare au | Intro

(ft. Bo Yuan as the caretaker of the 10 chaotic bunch, ranging from the ages of 3-5)

a/n: hello hello yumi here~ so this is the first into1 au of mine that will ever see the light of day. at first I was going to write things for it, but honestly I'm going to make it into a series with incorrect quotes to attach with it. this post will be the bios of all the babies and our lovely caretaker Bo Yuan, so enough of me babbling and I hope you guys could enjoy~

First off, we have the Caretaker™ Bo Yuan:

my mans is like in his 20's rn

wanted to open up a little day care as like side job/internship because he wanted to teach kids in the future so he was like “might as well start working with kids now!”

and so

he did it

only regretted his life decisions when his devil number 1 and devil number 2 does something bad

other times he really enjoy looking after them! and he doesn’t even feel like it’s a job!

has been thinking about taking a field trip with all 10 of them but he’s afraid: 1) he might lose one 2) he might lose himself 3) can they behave themselves

his favorite thing to do is having all of them gather around while reading a fairytale to them for nap time

or sometimes he would sing a song

he has a lot of favorite things in day care, literally having all 10 of them just there makes him happy

except when lin mo and nine is having a scream off:

lin mo: ahh

nine: aHH

lin mo: AHH

nine: AHHHHH-

bo yuan, running into the room: what’s wrong?

ak: screaming

bo yuan: why?

patrick, with his hands over his ears: TO SEE WHOS LOUDER

all the other boys: *nods*

isnt always watching the kids 24/7, since day 1 when the kids came in he told them the rules of the daycare and kinda just let them familiarize the place

(bo yuan: its a daycare, and they are kids, they are suppose to have fun!

keyu, in the back, mumbles: i wanna climb the tree in the yard

bo yuan, turns around: keyu no)

///////////

And now we have the kids!!

Liu Yu:

4 years old

very quiet, just likes to sit and read and draw

the most obedient one, and likes to follow around bo yuan

well,, most of the time

he’s played a few pranks on bo yuan like:

bo yuan: liu yu nap time is over you have to wake up

liu yu: *not moving*

bo yuan, gently nudged liu yu: liu yu wake up!

liu yu: *continues to fake sleep and not move*

bo yuan: *leans closer to liu yu’s face to make sure hes not sick or has a fever*

liu yu, scares bo yuan: WAH

bo yuan: liu yu dont do that! you scared me!

liu yu: *giggles*

likes to stretch and bend himself in odd positions

(bo yuan: everyday I’m in fear that he will snap himself in half)

kinda an introvert but once he hangs around everyone for a bit he will open up to them and fit himself in very well

likes to organize and keep things how he found them/have special places where he organizes his toys

jiayuan: *moves liu yu’s fan*

liu yu: hey! put that back!!

has really good etiquettes and never really fights or argues or bicker with the other kids

but likes to joke around and mess around with once in a while

patrick: wahhh i put my cupcakes here who took one!

liu yu, hiding it behind his back: idk maybe keyu took it?

the least of bo yuan’s worries since he’s always in bo yuan’s sight, also he’s aware of his surroundings so he actually helps bo yuan make sure everything’s okay

(bo yuan: i made a checklist for myself on the whiteboard and liu yu likes to check things off for me, he said “coloring in the boxes is fun” so now he's the reason why i get all my work done)

-----------

Santa:

4 years old

riki’s best friend

super happy and bright, like a ray of sunshine

is easily scared

lin mo: hi

santa: WAHHHHH BO YUAN GEGE

really likes bo yuan, would stick on to him a lot and ask him about everything

santa: bo yuan gege whats this?

santa: bo yuan gege what’s that?

santa: bo yuan gege what are you making right now?

hangs out with liu yu and mika a lot (other than riki)

riki is older than him but would hold riki’s hand and take him around like a didi

also really likes racing with mika for E V E R Y T H I N G

(bo yuan: yeah couple days ago they tried to race who can fall asleep faster but because they kept on peeking at each other so they basically didn’t sleep till i said i’ll watch for them)

really likes to dance, every time he hears music he would start grooving around

loves learning new things, which is probably the reason why he always asks bo yuan so many questions

also least one of bo yuan’s worries, just gotta make sure jiayuan and lin mo don’t pull pranks on him

(bo yuan: well they dont really pull prank pranks, its just once lin mo grabbed a frog and started running around and showing it to everyone, but lin mo lost grip and the frog jumped on santa)

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Rikimaru:

5 years old

looks like he’s 3, acts like he’s 3, but is actually 5

best friends with santa! always sticks around him and likes to tug on a corner of his shirt out of habit

bo yuan: alright everyone it’s nap time! i’ve made the beds for everyone

riki, sees his bed is not next to santa: bo yuan gege can you switch my bed next to santa? i wanna be next to santa

he didn’t start speaking till he was 4 so he often stutters when he talk and just looks confused a lot (it's because he’s thinking and formulating his words)

santa and the other kids would always have to interpret for him

bo yuan: riki I brought some snacks today do you want cookies or marshmallows?

riki: ???

santa, motioning with his hands: bo yuan gege said do you want the white fluffies or brown crunchies

riki: oh! crunchies!

squishy cheeks,, bo yuan’s favorite thing is to squish his cheek everytime he sees him

riki: gud mooning bo yuan gege!

bo yuan, squishes riki’s cheeks: ahh I haven’t seen you in so long good morning!!

nine: wait wasnt riki here yesterday??

also likes to stretch,, often seen around with liu yu and they just help each other

(bo yuan: i am afraid he will snap himself in half too)

not too much of bo yuan’s worries, besides the fact that he might get kidnapped because he’s so oblivious

(bo yuan: we were playing outside in the yard once and riki just wandered off because he thought the neighbor’s flowers were pretty)

-----------

Mika:

4 years old

also kinda an introvert, doesn’t interact with too many people

usually it’s santa that approaches him first or keyu^^

found a ukulele in the toy bin one time and wouldn’t let go of it (he claims it’s his now)

his favorite activity at daycare is when they all sing together, that’s when he smiles the most and has the most fun

the one that likes to nap the most

also likes to help bo yuan cook once in a while (mostly just having mika washing vegetables and passing things to bo yuan)

very laid back and not noisy (till he starts playing the ukulele)

often gets scared by lin mo’s sudden screams (actually, lin mo scares a lot of people, sorry to mika’s ears)

also not one of bo yuan’s worries, literally there’s nothing to worry about with mika, all the kids just likes to sit around mika and pet his head so he keeps everyone safe

(bo yuan: one time I couldn’t find any of the kids in the play room, apparently they were all in the napping corner petting mika’s head since he just got a hair cut)

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Nine:

4 years old

loud, very loud.

pouts a lot

everyone calls nine cute, even the boys who are younger than him

likes to boss around patrick because he’s older

nine: patrick gimme that juice box!

patrick: you’re closer you get it!

nine: i’m older than you!

literally scared of everything

if he hasn’t seen it before and it’s living, he’s scared

jiayuan: *holds a bowl of tadpoles*

nine, several feet away: WAHHH WHAT IS THAT

the happiest when he gets snacks + real food food

also really likes to sing!! his favorite thing is watching disney movies because there’s so much music in it and he just loves to sing along

he’s not part of bo yuan’s worries because he’s literally scared of everything, but nine is really naive and would do things that the other kids tell him to do so, it’s a 50/50 on nine

(bo yuan: there was an edible decorative flower on keyu’s birthday cake couple days ago, and somehow jiayuan convinced nine all flowers were edible. so today during outside time nine almost ate the neighbor’s flowers)

-----------

Lin Mo:

3 years old

LOUD. VERY LOUD.

probably the craziest most hyper one out of them all

he and jiayuan always have something bad planned

literally doesn’t have a moment where he’s calm

constantly in bickering mode with ak

lin mo: NO IM RIGHT

ak: NO. IM RIGHT

patrick: what are they arguing about?

keyu: *shrugs*

but is also best friends with ak so he’s also calm around him

(bo yuan: yeah these two have on and off days, you can never predict it)

and also constantly naruto runs around the daycare

bo yuan: lin mo stop running!

lin mo: *nyoom*

he also once nyoomed into keyu

keyu: ow what was that for?

lin mo: you were in my way!

and now he nyooms into keyu for fun

a very good mood maker

likes to smile/laugh a lot

would calm down if you show him a movie or a cartoon

number 2 on bo yuan’s worry list because he’s the "bad influence" for everyone, also he reduces hearing for everyone

(bo yuan: i’ve secretly made a tally book on how many times i have to say “lin mo” in a concerning tone this week and he came in 2nd. he was only here for like 3 days!)

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Zhang Jiayuan:

3 years old

YOURE THREE STOP SMIRKING LIKE THAT

couple months younger than lin mo but this is the real culprit under a lot of his and lin mo‘s plans

it’s just because jiayuan has a lot of crazy ideas and he says them out loud and lin mo is just like “yes”

also sometimes they are just accidents, but he's always doing weird questionable things with lin mo

got really sad one time because he brought tadpoles and put them in the fish tank and killed them since the fish went nom

but then started to constantly catch for tadpoles to feed the fishes

bo yuan: jiayuan stop, you’re killing the frog population!

jiayuan: but the fishies are hungry *pouts*

likes to fight/mess around with keyu for no reason

keyu: *sitting there, drawing*

jiayuan, with a squishy hammer: *bops keyu’s head*

but also will protect keyu if anyone tries to mess with him

lin mo: *nyooms into keyu for the 3rd time of the day* jiayuan, hugs keyu: stop hurting him!

the calmest thing he likes to do is taking care of plants, probably because he saw bo yuan spraying the plants one time and he like to squeeze the spray bottle

number 1 on bo yuan’s worry list, this child is literally not safe alone or with anyone. they were trying to celebrate keyu’s birthday and jiayuan tried to touch the candles, while it was lit, by the flame.

(bo yuan: i just got the tablets and haven’t set up children mode, so i’ll take the blame for this one. but also why are kids so good with technologies nowadays??)

-----------

Patrick:

3 years old

squishy :D

smiley :DD

favorite thing is nap time and snack time

somehow knows every location where bo yuan hides their snacks

bo yuan: *getting the snacks that he hid in the piano*

patrick: *sitting next to the window sill with the snack* hi~

of course bo yuan can never get mad at patrick for eating the snacks because patrick doesn’t do anything bad

also he's a growing child

best friends with keyu,, and drags him on to “adventures”

*the daycare got a new toy play house*

patrick: bo yuan gege, keyu and I are moving out so we can go on an adventure!

keyu: I didnt agree to this??

wants bo yuan to add dress up into the daycare games, since he wants to dress up the other boys in the daycare

patrick: i call it, patrick fashion!

not part of bo yuan’s worries till he’s on his hunt for the hidden snacks, just because bo yuan is afraid he might hurt himself

(bo yuan: i started hiding the snacks higher up and one time i saw him trying to climb on keyu’s shoulders to grab it)

-----------

Zhou Keyu:

3 years old

smart, but really clueless at the same time

tall, but has the personality of smol

likes to draw

also likes to read with patrick,, but usually patrick falls asleep so it’s him, the book, and a sleeping patrick

wears glasses all the time since his vision isn’t so good but somehow he makes glasses look good on him???

has a chain with his glasses because there too many glasses incident with keyu

glasses #1 keyu: I don’t like them! *takes it off and loses it*

glasses #2 keyu: *takes them off for nap time, but riki accidentally rolled on to them and snapped it*

glasses # we don’t know how many: *disconnected from the keyu universe*

also like a month younger than lin mo but literally has to make sure lin mo doesnt “blow” the place up

lin mo: what if I stuck this fork into the pluggie thing?

keyu, picking lin mo up: nope you’re not

when keyu is clueless he either stands there or just sit there and space out, not really noticeable but bo yuan ran into him doing that a couple times

(bo yuan: I thought he was an ai that was malfunctioning, it scared me at first but now I know he just doesn’t remember what he’s doing)

oh did I mention this,, even though he’s one of the youngest, he’s the tallest, with that advantage he likes to try to pick people up

jiayuan: keyu pick me up!

keyu: no

patrick: keyu likes me more he will pick me up!

keyu: no

patrick: *pouts*

keyu: *tries to pick both jiayuan and patrick up at the same time*

bo yuan, running over: ZHOU KEYU PUT THEM DOWN YOULL BREAK YOURSELF

not too high up on bo yuan’s worry list, give him a piece of paper or book or anything he would just calmly sit there and do something with it

(bo yuan: every time when we do art or reading its so hard to pry keyu away, he has to finish what he was doing and he’s so concentrated he doesn’t hear anybody)

-----------

Liu Zhang (AK):

4 years old

loud, VERY LOUD.

he doesn’t know he’s loud

bo yuan: ak you don’t have to yell

ak: OKAY

monopolized over all the instrument music type of toys in the daycare

bo yuan: ak you know you have to share your toys right?

ak: I gave the ukulele to mika

honestly having ak is like having a walking megaphone so bo yuan ended up actually making ak his little helper for announcements

bo yuan: ak go tell everyone is lunch time

ak: alright!

ak: *da da da running to fetch his little stool*

ak, stands on a little stool in the middle of the play room: ITS LUNCH TIMEEEEEE-

nine, swats ak’s leg: YOU SCARED ME

the only time ak is quiet is when he’s around lin mo, he kinda just likes to watch lin mo and follow him around so that’s that

unless lin mo starts messing with him, then you just lose your hearing for the day

also at first bo yuan was trying to see what ak is interested in, and he taught ak hot cross buns on the bells and thought that would calm ak down,, but oops ak ended up making more noises

patrick: I WANNA SLEEP AK

(bo yuan: I swear something happened to this kid or something. he’s not hard of hearing but he’s just naturally so loud)

i too would lose my hearing if im around ak so much

not to high on bo yuan’s worries but he just make sure ak isn’t being too loud and bothering the other kids, usually he’s pretty good about that but you never know when a little patrick will start napping or anyone really so gotta contain his energy

(bo yuan: ak is usually the first one that’s awake from nap time but its usually like 5-10min before everyone else so i told him he can go and play but he just has to be quiet)

///////////

alrighty !! now you've met everyone in the daycare, what kind of fun and chaotic adventures are they going to have??

(all future daycare au things will be incorrect quotes + short little one shots, this intro mostly served as a bio so you understand their personalities a bit, and i hope you enjoyed it!)

#i wrote a lot of these at like 3 to 5 in the morning #i know theres a lot of loop holes in this au but please ignore it #i just want the fatherly love and chaotic children energy #might have the other chuang boys featured in future stuff in this series #<- im not dropping any spoilers #baby!into1 daycare au #into1 #into1 liuyu #into1 santa #into1 rikimaru #into1 mika #into1 nine #into1 boyuan #into1 linmo #into1 zhang jiayuan #into1 patrick #into1 zhou keyu #into1 ak

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wordynerdygurl · 5 years

Text

Ties That Bind

Summary: You love the God of Mischief even when his hi-jinks push you beyond your comfort zone. But there worse things than being tied to Loki.

Warnings: dom/sub, light bondage in a committed relationship, SMUT!!!!

Waking up with the god of mischief was still surprising. Some mornings found him curled around you, possessive and raw in his sleepy need. Others would find you reaching for a body that wasn't there, disappointed at the distance between you and your god.

On those days, when you awoke deserted, you were never quite sure when or where Loki would pop up. Maybe he'd hop out from behind the pantry door when you were humming to yourself, sneaking some cookies. Or he might grab hold of your ankle from under your bed and then laugh at your surprised shrieks even as you cursed him out.

And Loki really loved putting his hands on you when you weren't paying attention. When you were tying your shoe, bent over your laces and you'd stand up right into his arms with a surprised yelp. Or loading the dishwasher, your earbuds in, bopping along to 80's pop and suddenly you'd feel his hands under your shirt and you'd squeal.

To him this game was splendid. For you, always a bit jumpy, his hijinks were a test of your neverending patience. The truly frustrating part was the relief you felt once Loki's magical form did manage to spring out of a closet door or stealthily slip a wandering hand around you without warning. After your heart started beating normally again, of course.

No matter how devious his plans, you really couldn't stay mad at Loki. The trickster was so many things. Awful prankster, avid reader, savage kisser and daringly dangerous. Loki had that tall, dark and brooding thing down pat, too.

You had figured out long ago that Loki wasn't just "bad" or "angry" or "trying to bring earth under his heel". Loki was all those things, certainly, but he was also very sweet when he thought no one would see. The little trinkets that showed up on your bedside table, the vases of fresh flowers that crowded your dresser, pieces of stone that were shaped like hearts that Loki found on distant planets... gifts from the heart of a lonely god. For you.

And there was a lot to love about the raven haired mischief maker. You had been impressed by him physically when you first met him. Tall and lean, tightly wound but dripping with sarcasm. Part punk rock and part poet. You had been powerless against Loki from the start.

It didn't take long for the affection between you to grow. And now there was a deep and abiding bond connecting you to Loki which distance, both physical and emotional, stretched to the limit without breaking. A cord that bound you, body and soul, one that you had willingly and wantonly woven around your heart when Loki kissed you gently for the first time months ago.

And even when he tried your patience with his jump scares, swapped your salt for sugar or ate all your doritos, you knew there was no one else you wanted. Not when Loki's silver tongue could talk you into or out of almost anything. Right now he was trying to talk you out of your clothes.

"Dearest, you must know that there is no other being on this planet, or any other that I desire. In fact, if I didn't know your father was a car salesman and your mother a nurse, I would swear you were a witch."

You chuckled softly at the way he wrinkled his nose at the very earthly professions of your parents. But you stopped laughing when he tugged you to his side, tipping your chin so that your eyes were locked on his twinkling blue ones. With a rough whisper grazing your ear the God of mischief added, "I am under your spell, you see." A shiver rolled over you that had nothing to do with room temperature.

"Please be gentle with me, goddess of my heart." You could almost taste the earnest plea of Loki's declaration, sweet and soft, as if the man before you was a marshmallow instead of Mischief incarnate. Was it real? Too often with Loki the truth was buried, hidden behind hurt, anger or willful wildness, and yet... here he was, eyes blazing, asking for your mercy.

You tilted your head teasingly and hummed, "I didn't think you liked my being gentle. In fact, on more than one occasion I believe you have begged for me to take a firmer hand with you."

Throwing his head back with a bark of laughter, dark hair falling past his shoulders Loki hugged you to him

"You're so right, my bewitching lady. Maybe I should clarify. Be gentle on my soul... but my body, do with as you wish."

Now you laughed. His smile was so wide and boyish that you couldn't help yourself. The pair of you were grinning like fools in love, which you were, when a knock on your bedroom door followed by the rough voice of Thor interrupted you.

"There you are brother! My lady!" Slightly sloshed, which was the God of Thunder's usual state on a free weekend, Thor quickly realized his presence wasn't necessarily welcome. "It seems as though I have intruded upon you... I didn't mean to interrupt... I just... well, you see, the gang and I were all 'where's Loki' and I thought... Good Question! So, I came to find you... and... here... you... are." Thor petered out with sagging hand gestures and a slipping smile.

"Yes, it is amazing how you found us right where we were supposed to be. In our room, in our home. You are so very clever, brother." Loki deadpanned, which made you poke him in the ribs. Tension between brothers be damned, you didn't like seeing them at odds.

Loki shot you a smoldering look for the jab but didn't get the chance to continue since you added "You did find us, Thor! And I see you found the craft beers too. Maybe more than one?" Looking at the empty bottle in his hand as if seeing it for the first time, Thor flashed you a small smile. "Maybe..."

You sat on your bed, Loki standing beside you, and asked The God of Thunder, "So, what are Korg and Meek up to tonight?"

"Oh, they're playing video games... eating pizza. Do... do you want to play?" He held his hand out welcomingly and for a minute you were tempted. They were a goofy bunch for sure, funny and sweet, and sometimes that was exactly the right thing to distract you from your own troublesome god.

Loki snatched your hand up and started for the door. "No brother, she can't. We can't. We are going out." And with that Loki was swiftly ushering you out into the autumnal evening but not before you called out to Thor, "Rain check? Ok?"

You never heard Thor's answer, if there even was one, because Loki's grip on you propelled you through the night. "Loki? Loki... where are we going? I didn't grab a jacket and it's freezing out here!"

Here was New Asgard which was beautiful in the day, all lush green hills and dark deep seawater. At night it was soft fog diffused lights, lingering laughter from warm pubs and gently lapping waves under a star studded sky. In short, paradise, with slightly cooler temperatures.

Loki wasn't taking in the scenery though. He set a brutal pace that had you struggling to keep up. His grip on your hand never broke as you were marched toward an unknown destination.

The journey, however, wasn't as troubling as Loki's silence. A quiet god of mischief was a scary thing. It meant his mind was working overtime, trapping him in a tangle of thoughts, scheming and plotting his next move.

You were sure that Thor and his intrusion were to blame. No matter how innocent the thunder god seemed, Loki took it all so personally. If only he'd realize that not every word and deed from his drunken brother was a dagger aimed at Loki's open heart.

Lost in your own thoughts about mythic family relationships you found yourself stumbling to a stop right into Loki's wide back. You couldn't help the groan that escaped on impact.

"Ugh! Loki... where are we?" The salty tang of crisp sea air swirled around you, stronger here than at the Odinson homestead. But the night was dark and there were no lights this far from the village's center. "Clearly we are at the dock. And before you ask, this is a boat. My boat."

You couldn't make it out at first, then a faint glow caught your eye, closer to the sky than the ground. Your mouth fell open. Boat? Not hardly. It was a yacht and you marveled at its size. Sleek, black and sinister it rolled gently on the tide. To you it looked like a fearsome leviathan floating out in the dense mist of a Norse myth, a sight both wonderful and terrifying. A lot like it's owner, actually.

Somehow Loki's boat was both old fashioned and incredibly modern. It's ebony lines and tinted windows merged towards the bow which was adorned with a carved dragon. But this was unlike any wood working you'd seen in a Norse museum. This dragon wore a helmet of curved horns.

Practically dancing out of excitement, Loki asked, "Well??" Cool air chapped your cheeks pink as you huffed, "Impressive! Does your ship have a name, captain?"

Deflated, Loki wouldn't meet your eye. "That's it? 'Impressive'?" He mimicked your voice perfectly. Clearly your answer was wrong, at least by Loki's standards.

Defending yourself you scoffed, "Well it is. And you are. And I will be more delighted when I'm not frozen solid!" Your hands were pulled into the sleeves of your sweater but your nose was numb. Moving into his warmth, eager to feel your nose again, you prompted, "So... the name?"

Blinking down at you hard he murmured, "Of course. Frigga, after my mother."

"I should have guessed that, I suppose." You answer with a shy smile, your cropped hair tousled by the windy night. "Loki, she really is beautiful."

Pulling you closer, his chin resting on your crown you hear, "Oh, she truly is..." and you know he is talking about you not his floating water palace.

Snuggling into his heat, you ask, "Do I have permission to come aboard, Captain?"

"Ug. Please, please do not call me captain."

"Oh... right." Avengers were a sore subject for your trouble maker. "Do I have permission to come aboard, Loki, God of Mischief, Lord of my heart, sir?!" You mock, throwing a salute his way.

Those words were the right ones. Wickedly smiling before biting his lip, Loki says, "You are most sincerely invited to come on board."

It's such a loaded sentence and coupled with his teasing grin you can't help but laugh because it's so cheesy, a god laying pick up lines on you. And terrible ones at that. When he pulls lightly on your hand you follow him closer to his new toy.

Once you step on board Loki is all over you. He pushes you in front of him, guiding you further into his ocean lair, while pressing hot kisses along your neck. His hands never stop moving. You feel him across your chest then over your tummy. He pulls you firmly to him, letting you feel just how much he wants you.

Lifting your arm to reach behind you, you pull his hot mouth to you, his hard body against yours. Loki's hands roam down your sides and over your denim clad thighs and you reward him with a deep purr. Then his magical hands are pulling you closer as he sucks your earlobe between his eager lips. Grinding against him, you moan tightly, "You're not playing fair!"

Panting himself, he answers, "Why would I ever play fair?" Under your sweater, a hand pushes on your lower back, drawing you deeper into the belly of his floating beast. When he gently tugs at your top's hem you lift your arms and hear your heavy wool sweater hit the polished floor.

Against the dark wooden wall of Loki's luxurious cabin his dexterous fingers wrap around your waist. Covering your meaty ribs, his hands hold you still as his thumbs brush under your bra band. Your tight grip of his forearms helps steady you as his tongue fights yours for submission.

Just being near Loki is enough to make your heart race. Whether it's the slight rocking of the water under your feet or the brisk fall night, you feel yourself wanting more of him than you thought possible.

With a throaty groan he pulls away from your bee stung lips to plant his left arm against the wall. His right slides down your soft belly to the buttons of your jeans. Pressing your foreheads together you feel the top rivet pop open. Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding, Loki's grin widens. "Don't tell me that you're already wet, darling. We've barely started!"

Snapping your head up defiantly, your eyes blazing, you challenge him. "Hardly." But your flushed chest and hardened nipples betray you, plus your mind reading man knows the truth.

Smirking Loki leans closer, asking, "So you're telling me that if I touch your quivering quim I won't find you dripping and ready for me?"

Your body flushes at the thought, proving Loki right. His vulgar words make you moan as you feel your jeans open further. Before you articulate an answer your head rolls back to rest on the posh wall behind you. "Loki..." It's meant as a warning but your need turns it into a plea.

"Yes, pet? Did you need something?" Exploring fingers move over your panties and across your hips before squeezing your bottom. Loki is an expert in touching you everywhere but the place where you need him most.

"Hmmm... yes... more of you!" Your fingers comb through Loki's locks, pulling him to you, eager to get his mouth on yours once again. Only the God of Mischief denies you. Instead he uses his left hand to gather your wrists above your head. "More? My my, little miss greedy is what I'm going to call you." He chides as his clever mouth kisses down your neck and licks across your collarbone.

Those long, searching fingers of his right hand crept under the waistband of your panties this time. Rubbing delicately against your mound Loki whispers, "I knew it."

Snapping at him you snark, "Shut up, Loki!"

"That's no way to talk to the man who holds your pleasure in his hands." And that's when his delicious game of denial begins in earnest. Your jeans bunch at your thighs but he has enough room to graze against your soaked skin, not entering you, just brushing his knuckles back and forth across your swollen lips. Goosebumps break out across your body as an aching groan tumbles from you. You arch away from the wall, from your trapped hands, chasing the friction of his touch. Chuckling at your eagerness, Loki brushes a lock your hair off your forehead, "See, isn't this better than video games?"

Your eyes widen. "I knew it! You know Thor was just being friendly! He wanted to spend ti..." Your words stall as Loki's hand wraps around your slender throat. His grip is firm and his index finger forces your head to tilt higher until you are nose to nose. "You're allowed to say one name tonight. Just one. Mine." He tips your head back one touch more before adding, "Or you'll regret it, my dear."

Your eyes locked on Loki's ice blue stare. "Do we understand each other?" You swallowed roughly and nod your assent, "Yes Loki..."

Power games were nothing new to you and Loki. So many times you were the one calling the shots in your intimate relationship, Loki enjoying the feeling of being bossed around by a midgardian full of fire like you. Tonight though Loki wasn't just taking the lead. He was going to drag you where he wanted, you just had to hold on.

"Hmm... compliant. I love that!" He rewarded your submission with a searing kiss that clicked your teeth together. Your mouth was invaded by his searching tongue, your lungs gasping to catch up as Loki ferociously fed on your lips. "Who do you worship?" He growled against you, hot and hard and punishingly close. "You... oh jesus christ, you!"

Pushing away from the wall, Loki peered down at you. It took you a moment to register the loss since your eyes were shut in ecstasy and that was one moment too long. "Loki?" You weren't panicked, not yet, but something was certainly wrong. "What?" Your eyes connected.

Shaking his head Loki said, "Jesus Christ, huh?" And he had the audacity to look slightly crestfallen, disappointed you, even. Releasing your wrists he held up his finger. "One name. One god. It's too bad you can't follow simple rules."

Your voice faltered, "Loki! Oh, come on... I mean..." "Yes... that's it. Convince me how you didn't speak another's name. Please enlighten me." Loki wore a smirk that showed just how much he was enjoying this game and also how serious. Raising an eyebrow as both of his hands circled your wide hips under your jeans, he was waiting for your words.

"Well...?" Your mouth started moving when the strangest thing happened. A garbled gasp left your now gagged mouth. Your eyes went wide with shock and you tried to raise your hands to remove the offending fabric but your wrists were bound together in front of you.

Struggling to make yourself heard you fought against the silken ropes, anger and fear bubbling up inside of you. How dare Loki limit you like this? And for what? If you could only get your hands free!

Eyeing you warily, Loki's smile dropped. "Don't be mad. I told you there would consequences dearest." Loki kissed your strained jaw and nuzzled into your neck. "Trust me, goddess of my heart and I will be merciful." His tender ministrations work, even though you were still upset and despite your initial fears, your body relaxed.

With little effort Loki picks you up and brings you into his luxurious cabin. A bed covered in deep green satin welcomes your bound form and you feel the cool liquid of the sheets against your hot skin.

Standing over you as he might a conquered people, Loki wastes no time with removing your clothes. Why bother taking them off when he knows a charm that strips you bare? But he takes his time undressing himself.

It's delicious torture watching Loki's body be revealed. His black sweater is tossed off first followed by a fitted tee. Pale skin, tight over the muscles in his arms and chest, is luminous in the dusky light of the boat's interior. Riding low, exposing the cut of his hips, Loki's black denim trousers are the next to go. "Caught you looking..." he teases then laughs softly at your wide eyed desire. It's clear that Loki is ready for you, his boxers can't hide his straining erection. If your mouth were free you'd be biting your lip in anticipation. Shimmying out of his undies, you can't help the clench of arousal that pulls at your core upon seeing Loki, perfect and naked and hard.

"Nothing to say, my dear?"

And when you try to form a word over the silken gag he smirks, "I am truly sorry but I couldn't quite make that out."

With you naked and at his mercy, Loki renews his sensual assault by lightly rubbing against your slit. He's looking at you the way you look at tacos, desperateand hungry. It turns you on even more knowing how much he wants you. "You are so ripe, darling. Is all of this for me?"

All you could manage was a nod before you shouted into your gag. Loki had plunged three fingers into your molten core, knowing you could take it. "Do you like that, little one? Stretching around my fingers to feel how tight you are? I do love how responsive your tasty cunt is... even now I can tell how close you are. Can you tell me? Tell me, baby, are you going to come on my fingers?..."

But of course you couldn't tell him how hard you were biting into the rope at your lips, desperately seeking relief from his delicious torture. You could grunt and groan which meant nothing to the god now working you over with two of his fingers buried inside you while his thumb strummed over your clit.

Your arms strained against the black silk ropes that held firm, struggling to participate in your own pleasure. Removing his hand from your fiery center, he licked his fingers savoring your flavor before leaning over you and whispering, "I know what you want. You want to touch me and rush me and greedily lap up your satisfaction. But not tonight, dear one. Tonight I will take what I want from you. Every moan, every yelp, every drop of you is mine. And only when I am satisfied that you are ruined for all others, then will I release you."

Emphasizing his point, Loki took your right nipple in his gentle mouth and sucked it rigid. You gasped into the gag when you felt his teeth pull the flesh tight. When Loki bit into your bud you were grateful the gag muted your scream.

Loki's hands were everywhere, over stimulating your senses. They squeezed your tender breasts, rough palms grating against your over sensitive nipples. They ghosted over your clit, never lingering long enough to release you. They brushed against your inner thighs, close to your slit but not close enough.

All you could do was moan softly at the denied pleasure you were feeling. Raising your hips when Loki's touch came nearer to your clit only to be refused your release.

Straddling you now, Loki's narrow hips stretched over your middle, his rigid cock grinding against your abdomen. Folded over you Loki mocked, "Doesn't that feel nice, love? I so wish you would tell me how this feels!"

His hands slip down your sides and you reach for him, failing to connect due to the bindings on your wrists. Lifting his eyebrows to you Loki questions innocently, "You want to touch me?" All you can do is nod. Yes, yes, yes your head bobs.

Loki slides down your body, his slim frame nestling between your thighs. Resting his chin on your belly it looks to you like he actually considers letting you join in the fun. Your hope dashes as he shakes his head sadly, "No, I don't think so."

That's when he lifts your hips off the bed, using his strong forearms to anchor your legs open wide. He is going to lick you, you know it and still you groan and grind onto his tongue which has found it's way into your liquid center. Desire in overdrive, your body starts to flood, readying itself for your lover. Loki hums his appreciation at your biology which makes you quake under his eager mouth.

Since you can't move away from Loki's oral attention and you can't shout his name everytime he does that thing where wraps his lips around your tender clit, you really have to lay back and just accept your fate. It's driving you crazy because Loki is pulling out every bedroom trick he knows.

Despite the torturous tongue lashing you were holding onto your sanity, barely. Yes, you wanted release, but you and Loki had always enjoyed sharing your climax, one of the many reasons you loved loving Loki. Drawing deep breaths around the gag you were struggling to hold back the rising tide.

"So, you aren't going to cum for me? Even after all that?" Loki's chin glistened from his hard work at your core. Again you started to speak as if the gag wasn't in your way, explaining your need to cum together.

"Hmm... it sounds like you want to tell me something... what is it darling?? Should I stop?" Your trussed arms raise again in frustration.

"So I'll continue, shall i?" You felt the fullness of two slender fingers inside of you curling against your most sensitive spot. Groaning an unheard curse into your gag you felt your hips buck for more friction from Loki's fingers. As you tried to coax him into giving you more pleasure Loki resumed his oral attention on your lower lips. Small bites, gentle sucking, tiny nips at your most intimate flesh had you sliding closer to the edge of your orgasm.

When Loki sucked your clit harder than ever, shaking his head back and forth like a dog with a bone, your body broke into a wave of pleasure that crashed onto Loki's shore. You screamed his name. Loki knew it and he never let go of you. Riding the swells of your post orgasmic trembling, Loki whispered sweet calming words, gently bringing you down from your cosmically elevated bliss.

"There there sweetest. Let's get rid of this..." and as fast as it came, your silken gag was gone.

Shuddery and shaking you whined, "Loki! Please..." You held your bound wrists out to him, eager for freedom and delirious in your desire to touch him, to return the pleasure he had forced on you tonight.

"First, something to drink." Hoping off the bed with a thump, Loki popped out of the room for an eternity, which was actually about 3 minutes. "You suck, Loki, you know that?!" Shouting at him made you forget about the bindings still holding your arms together. "You don't play fair!"

Leaning into the door frame, naked still, hard still, holding a frosted glass of water Loki bit his lip before starting, "it's not a game, love. You're mine... and I'm not nearly through with you yet."

Gulping you squeaked, "could you please untie these? Please? I... I need to touch you baby." Loki joins you on the bed, his arm under your shoulders so that you can sip at his water glass. Musing he asks, "Are you truly ruined for all others? Have I fulfilled my filthy promises for the evening?" Mewling you cry, "yes... yes! I could only ever want you!! Please...?"

Crashing his mouth to yours, Loki claimed you over and over again. He pulls your short hair back hard, baring your throat to his greedy lips. Your body responds so eagerly to his slightest touch that in moments your panting and needy once more. "Sorry love, the ropes stay on."

You could cry in frustration, the tears are there, hot and waiting. Instead it's a low moan that you release as Loki raises your legs up, bending your knees into your chest. Cool air caresses your pussy lips for a moment before Loki's erection teases you.

Your useless arms fall against your chest as Loki slowly fills you with his hard heat. You're spread wide by him, wanton and waiting for his movement to begin. Wrapping his hand around your bonds, Loki pulls you closer which pushes your hips open a fraction further and allows him to penetrate deeper inside you. "Loki!! Jesus Christ!!" The exclamation explodes from you at the contact.

"Language, dear, or I'll bring the gag back!" You shudder a groan at that. "Loki! Sorry! Shit!!" When Loki grinds deeper into your core instead of pulling out you grunt which makes him chuckle at you. "What was that, pet?"

"Happy sound... promise. You... you... you better not stop Loki!" You're stuttering out sentence fragments that you want to sound tough, unaffected by him, but it is not working.

"I wouldn't dream of it, dearest!" Thrusting into you now, Loki bites his bottom lip in concentration, focusing on the way your walls clench around him. The rhythm he starts is slow at first, pushing, grinding then retreating but soon he's driving into you furiously, seeking your combined climax.

You feel it first. That telltale fluttering, low in your belly, growing into ripples of electricity. "Loki... I'm close... I'm gonna cum!" You warn.

"Not. Yet. Not. Until. I. Say." Each word is punctuated by his piercing need.

Whimpering you nod, squeezing your eyes shut, focusing on not letting your body win. "Look at me, girl. LOOK AT ME!"

Snapping your eyes open at Loki's command, your trapped in his sweltering gaze. Dark hair hangs into his face, sweat has collected on his brow, but his smirk is still daisy fresh.

"Cum for me. Right now."

You do. You watch his eyes widen as your body collapses on his cock. It tears through you, hard, unraveling both you and Loki. He's locked inside you by your orgasm, tripping his own climax, unable and unwilling to prevent it. Loki shouts in a language you don't know but the meaning is clear. God damn.

Waves of pleasure roll through you both as your body accepts everything Loki gives you. Still lost in each other's eyes, your breathing starts to slow, and you reach up, wrists still tied, to brush that stray lock of raven hair behind his ear.

"Wow." There's really nothing else you can manage to say. You're wrung out, legs limp even though Loki is still holding your calves open. A small aftershock rushes through you and Loki moans. "You can say that again...", he grins. "Wow."

Loki reaches for your bonds once more. You hear the metallic slink of his dagger as it extends from his hand by some form of magic. The cold blade shreds the black ropes in a flash.

"Look at that!" You softly exclaim. "Free at last!" You flex each wrist a little, letting the blood flow to your hands. And you can't stop yourself from reaching for your boy.

Still inside you, Loki leans down to capture a kiss. It's soft and sweet. "Thank you for trusting me. I know you were the one in ropes tonight but don't you see, I am the one bound to you?"

You flush pink at his sugared words. Loki, God of Mischief, ruiner of days and jump scare master, had let you capture his heart. He was a trickster, truly, and your love for each other was intense, testing and teasing but it was yours.

You roll your hips gently which earns you a shattered groan from Loki. "We are tied to each other, Loki. Let's make sure we don't cut that cord, ok?" Grinning down at you Loki answers, "Not a chance, queen of my heart. No way."

Sliding out of you, Loki lays on his side, toying with your nipple. "That tickles, Loki!" You laughingly push him away as he flops his right arm across your chest and says, "I think my ship is the quietest one to ever set sail."

Turning to face him you ask, "Have you already taken her out?" You're eager to hear about it when the sound of a horn honks through the night.

Raising his eyebrows with a wicked grin, "You could say that!" "Jesus Christ, Loki!" You shout your favorite curse word at him.

In a flash Loki pulls you on top of him, his hands firm on your forearms. Somehow he seems more lethal under you than over you. Loki growls, "One name. One god. Or have you already forgotten??"

"How could I forget?" It's your turn to smirk as you lean down to capture his full lips in yours. "I promised to go easy on your soul, but your body was another matter all together."

Loki groans out a curse in ancient words as your mouth finds his growing erection. "Bewitching... you truly are." Popping off of him you answer, "and totally yours." With a shaky swallow Loki whispers, "Yes... You're mine and we are bound together."

#loki fanfic #hot loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x you #marvel smut #fanfic #loki laufeyson

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swellwriting · 5 years

Text

Good things come to those who wait.

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Punisher, Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only Please!

Request: Could I please request a smut with Frank Castle, maybe Frank has been gone awhile and the reader was worried she wasn't going to see him again? Bonus points if it includes thigh riding, Frank putting his fingers in his girl's mouth and lots of praise kink!

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: this is pure smut, with a bit of fluff because I can't help myself, and it’s the filthiest thing I've ever written which isn't saying much but I'm nervous to post it so HERE TAKE IT!

It happens every time, she feels panic from the second he walks out their apartment door, her heart sinks deeper into her chest like a weight. He knows she worries, he tells her not to each time and she doesn't hide the fact that she worries from him. If she had to pretend not to be worried she would feel a million times worse but he's good at comforting her, making the worries disappear until the next time he leaves.

She’s making pasta, stirring the cooking noodles too much, putting too much focus on them like if she looks away for a second they will combust. There are too many noodles for one person, admittedly too many for two. She hates making food for one person it makes her feel more lonely, to stare into a boiling pot of water and see so little food.

The noodles are far overcooked by the time she remembers what she's doing, she hurries to pour the water out and add the creamy sauce. If the number of noodles was a little off then her sauce ratio was absurd.

She pulls the stool out to sit on and it scratches against the already very marked up floor, there is a hum of music coming from next door and it's comforting, being alone and feeling alone but knowing that someone is just on the other side of the wall.

She made enough pasta to last her three dinners in a row, the pasta is long gone by the time she hears the front door creak open late one afternoon, she recognizes the sound of his boots that he never takes off at the door, the sound of his heavy tired steps is music to her ears.

She clicks the tv off and practically jumps over the back of the couch to meet him. He wraps his hands around her sides and she holds his elbows, a simple act so she can still touch him but also keep him at arm's length while she asses the damage.

A single cut across his eyebrow and some hidden bruises are all she finds.

“I thought I was never gonna see you again.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him softly.

He smiles into the kiss, pulling away for a brief second to make fun of her, “you always say that.”

He goes to kiss her back but she walks away into the kitchen, he exhales slowly, saddened by the loss of contact, he follows her like a puppy into the kitchen as she stands on the opposite side of the counter.

“Hungry?” She asks and her voice is so sweet, he can’t believe he's gone days without it.

He hums in response, he would argue, say that all he wants to taste is her lips but he's a man of few words and even fewer arguments.

His job is hard, but being at home is easy, being with her is easy. She takes care of him, takes control of everything that he never managed well on his own. The familiar bottle of Wild Turkey Bourbon stays in the cupboard where it should be until he wants it, unlike before where it stayed at arms reach all hours of the day.

She doesn't even ask him what he wants to eat, she just knows what he likes and in a few minutes, they are both eating sandwiches with too many toppings.

“I don't even wanna ask you what you put on yours,” he mutters as he eats the same sandwich as usual compared to hers which changes every time she finds something new online.

“Marshmallow, Peanut butter, Nutella, all very basic sandwich spreads it's not weird.”

“That doesn't count as lunch,” he teases.

“Well maybe I ate lunch without you and this is my dessert?”

“Oh yeah? Where’s my dessert then?” He asks with a raised brow, swallowing the last bite of his sandwich and then turning in his seat. Before he can get up she’s standing between his legs, he wipes a bit of marshmallow off her upper lip and then licks it off his thumb.

She wraps her arms around his waist and his legs pull her closer by her hips.

It may be the second kiss since he's gotten home but it's just as missed, just as sweet if not sweeter and this time, now that she knows he's not injured and not starving she doesn't let up.

He picks her up swiftly without breaking the kiss and he plans to take her to the bedroom but they don't make it far as she slides her hand between them, sliding her fingers under his waistband and wrapping them around his cock.

He moans against her lips, he was so busy carrying her and kissing her that he didn't feel her hand until she did that.

He stops walking, forgetting momentarily where he was even going, she breaks the kiss for a quick moment, “couch is right behind you,” she mutters and he just falls right onto it keeping her on his lap.

She continues her movements, quick and calculated, twisting her wrist as he kisses down her neck, his hands travelling up her bare thighs lifting her dress slightly so his hands are gripping her ass. He moves her so she’s sitting on only one of his thighs. He wants to pleasure her too, touch her too but he also doesn't want her to stop, she squeezes her fingers tightly around him and he grabs a hold of her hips pulling her down on his thigh making her cry out a string of quiet sultry curses.

She whispers to the ceiling as her head tilts back, he bites at her neck and she loses focus, trying desperately to enjoy this while also keeping rhythm with her hand.

Her mouth is wide open, eyes closed and she feels a hand leave her hip, the other still keeping her moving against him in a slow but hard pace. His hand travels up her sides, caressing her breast only momentarily before he places his fingers in her mouth, she accepts them instantly, closing her swollen lips around them, bitting and sucking while trying to keep her hand motions going.

He's a mess at the sight, his face flushes and he struggles to keeps his eyes open not wanting to miss a second of her actions.

“You like that?” He asks and she pulls his fingers from her mouth, bringing his hand to her throat, he follows her cue without a word and she feels his wet fingers squeeze gently.

“I think you like it just a bit more.” She teases with a wide smile slowing her motions down as she feels him twitch in her hand and she isn't nearly ready to let him have that already.

“I was about to say you're being such a good girl but now you're talking back t’me?”

“Nonono.” she argues as she lets go of his cock, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and focusing on her own pleasure, riding his thigh as he kisses across her face. “I'm a good girl.” She protests.

“What's my girl want then? Tell me what my pretty girl wants me to do huh?” He asks, smiling against her neck as he listens to her quiet moans.

“You, I want you,” she says all out of breath and needy like as he picks her up, flipping them over so he's on top of her, he lifts her dress over her head to realize she had nothing on underneath.

“You're killing me here darlin’.” He says into the skin of her collar bone, kissing down to her breast and licking the peaks of her nipples making her back arch, pushing her bare center against his cock that's only half out of his pants.

She uses her knees and feet to push his pants down further as he continues to lap at her nipples, sucking the sensitive skin, bitting ever so softly.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” he praises and she keens, a bright smile across her face, a picture of innocence if you couldn't see her shoulder down. The way she wrapped her fingers around his cock pulling him towards her, lining him up and then digging her heels into his back urging him to push inside, which he does gladly.

Her head tilts as far back as she can make it and he wraps his hand around the side of her throat, pushing his thumb hard against her windpipe. She gasps for air with a sly expression across her face. His other hand is being used to hold himself up as he thrusts hard and deep inside her. She keeps him close and it's not long before they are both a few thrusts away from finishing.

He can barely keep himself up as he climaxes, she pulls him close and he falls on top of her. His face in the crook of her neck, hot breaths tickling her sweat-slicked skin.

He hums against her skin there sending chills through her body.

“Such a pretty girl, good girl, love my girl,” he repeated praises against her neck as he shifts pulling her to lie on top of him, making the most of the small space of the couch.

They lie there, as their chests rise and fall until their heartbeats have calmed down and she isn't even thinking about where he just was or where he will go next or when, just that right now he's here beside her with his slight stubble tickling her cheek and his arms holding her close.

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moondustis · 5 years

Text

heaven all around me (m)

pairing: mark lee + reader genre: smut word count: 5,1k summary: when you’re eight mark lee pushes you inside a lake. at nineteen you fall a little in love with him. (church camp!au) warnings: loss of virginity a/n: this is somewhat the sequel to innocence, you don’t have to read it to understand this one but it would be nice since there are a few mentions of what happened in the other story.

living in a small town meant a lot of things. it meant that there was no such a thing as keeping a secret because everyone knew everything about anyone that dared to breath. it meant everyone was raised inside a church and couldn’t miss the sunday mass for anything in this world. it also meant that every year, since you were seven, when the july heat finally came, you’d have to pack your things and spend four days away at the middle of nowhere at church camp. because apparently jesus wanted you to or whatever, it was a nightmare. summer was an awful season to be out and about like this and having to share a room with 20 other girls just made it all worst.

you hated the silly group dynamics and that every morning you would have to wake up early to help get the breakfast ready. but what you hated the most was that this year the only person that you cared about in this hell of a city wouldn’t be there. jung jaehyun had not only left you one year ago with the pieces of your broken heart in his hand, but he also left you alone to endure church camp all by yourself.

all the dramatics aside, it really sucked that you wouldn’t have his company during the four days there were about to follow, but thankfully, at 19, you would not only be attending the camp for your last time but you would only be there to monitor the children while staying in a cabin by yourself.

it couldn’t be that bad.

✱

(day one)

once upon a time, when you were just an innocent girl, at the sweet age of eight, you met mark lee. you probably had seen him before at church or at camp, but no interaction had been as memorable as this one.

mark, slightly taller than you even then, pushes your small body inside the lake. it was an accident of course but your eight year old mind couldn’t process that. so you scream and cry, trying your best to remember how exactly to swim even if the lake is not that deep, until jaehyun jumps in and saves you. always the good guy.

after you’re not almost drowning you proceed to call mark every bad word you know, which are not many since you have been raised inside a church. but still, he looks hurt when you call him ugly and mean.

you’re not upset about that anymore, of course. it’s been years and even if you haven’t really had a conversation with mark since then, you don’t hold any grudges. but still, as you walk inside what was supposed to be your private cabin and see him standing there, that’s the first thing that pops in your mind.

“oh, hello.” it’s what he says when he notices you. his baggage is up on one of the two single beds in the room, clothes folded neatly inside of it. on the bedside a bottle of water, earphones and a burt’s bees lip balm. he looks as surprised as you are.

“uhm, hi.” you say, pushing your own luggage inside and plopping down on the other bed. the cabin is small but cozy enough, there’s a fan in the ceiling that you’ll probably be thankful for very soon. “i thought i would be at the cabin by myself.”

“yeah, they said there weren’t enough cabins this year for that.” he scratches the back of his head like he feels awkward. “i actually thought i would be sharing it with another dude”

you raise one eyebrow at him. “do you have a problem sharing it with a girl?”

he lets out a nervous laugh. “what? no, of course not. it’s just that well, you know, it’s church camp.” he says and you can’t help but laugh for real.

there’s a pause where he eyes you for an uncomfortable moment and in a blink he’s looking away. you can already feel a drop of sweat going down your neck from the heat. you hate summer. “i’m mark, by the way.”

you scoff at that. “come on, you don’t have to introduce yourself. i know who you are, you dumped me in a lake remember?”

the look of terror in his face is comical and you can’t help but let out a laugh. everything about mark so far has screamed shy boy, even if you know he can be quite the opposite around his friends. “oh my god? you remember that?” he asks, voice sounding funny.

“of course, pretty hard to forget the first time someone pushed me in a lake.” you indulge him, moving to open your backpack and place your own things at the bedside table. “only time actually.”

“look i’m so sorry, i swear it was accident.” it’s cute how he starts babbling like you would actually still be upset about the whole thing. you turn to throw a smile his away.

“relax, mark. i know. i didn’t mean it when i called you mean.” he looks almost relieved.

“what about me being ugly?” it’s weird how your heart warms up a bit at the fact he remembers exactly what you said back then. you stare a bit at the bedside table before replying. your orange water bottle and carmex lip balm standing next to his own things.

“maybe i didn’t mean that too.” you tease, looking at him again with a smirk on your face that he returns with a laugh.

he has finished setting his things up, now sitting on his bed like you were moments ago. you finally take in how he looks, jeans and a t-shirt that has the drake praying hands on the right. his face still resembles his eight year old self but he definitely has grown into a handsome man, round eyes and all.

“still, it was pretty low of you to say that back then.” his words get you out of your mini daze.

you finish up your things too, not bothering to do much because you know everything will be a mess in a couple of hours. “i’ll admit i was pretty savage at eight.” you reply back and enjoy the sound of the laugh he lets out. you’re glad it’s not weird with him, it would be awful to share a room for four days with someone you didn’t really get along with.

it’s silence for a couple minutes after that, only the sound of people moving around outside. you notice he avoids your eyes a bit but it’s not at all uncomfortable.

you break the silence by asking if he knew what you two would have to do for the rest of the day and you don’t even mind when he proceeds to tell there will be a fire pit and marshmallows at night.

✱

(day two)

one thing you can say for sure is that summer is the worst of all seasons. you think about that as you wake up with a layer of sweat covering your body. your leg starts itching, probably because of a bug bite and you groan trying to scratch it with your left foot. you have no success.

last night fire pit had been fun, the kids behaved and you probably ate more s’mores than you should, your tummy hurting a little bit after. the bug bites you got from it though, not so funny.

you remember mark playing that church song on his acoustic guitar and a silly smile finds its way to your lips. you never really noticed mark much before, but yesterday as you spent more time with him you couldn’t help but get acquainted with some of his habits.

the way his nose scrunches sometimes, how he does his best to guide and help when a kid comes asking for help, how he hums pop songs when he’s bored. you pay attention when he jokes around his friends and can’t help but laugh at how silly he is. he insisted that you sat with all of them during meals since jaehyun was well, your only friend and now you didn’t have anyone to sit with.

at night you notice how he applies the burt’s bees chapstick like his life depends on it, and after you question it he explains that his lips get chapped during summer.

you find it cute how he prays before sleeping and when he mutters good night you say it back while your stomach goes a little wild with butterflies. and too many s’mores.

you get up from the bed quietly, doing your best not to wake him up and try not to curse out loud when you can’t pick short shorts and a tank top for your daily outfit because it just wouldn’t be appropriate for the ambient.

you meet up with mark and his friends for breakfast an hour late, wearing adequate length shorts and a snoopy blue t-shirt that is a little too big for you. your monitor bottom stuck on it.

“do you already know what college you’re going to, ______?” renjun asks, cereal still in his mouth and you find it a little gross. you’re sitting on a table with him and three of mark friends that you’re familiar with, but not friends with. until now that is.

“oh, i think i’ll be going to snu.” you say, rolling around the spoon on your own bowl of cereal.

“mark is going there too!” jeno, another one of mark friends, says excitedly just as mark arrives at the table with a tray of food in his hands.

“i’m going where?” he asks, sitting right next to you and you can’t help but feel like a silly teenager when your heart flutters at how your knees touch.

“to snu! _____ is going there too.” jeno replies and mark’s eyes widen as he looks at you.

“well, i’m not really su-“ you start saying but mark cuts you off by saying a little too cheerful.

“that’s so cool!” he exclaims, grinning around the food he is putting in his mouth.

you nod, smiling back at him.

the rest of the day goes by smoothly, you lead a group of sweet girls on the track and they don’t give you much trouble beside one that falls down and starts crying. you manage to calm her down pretty fast though, and soon she’s moving around like nothing happened.

during the afternoon you and mark watch as the kids have fun at the lake. you and him stay by the border, legs swirling around the water as you talk about things that don’t really matter but still make you feel nice. he tells you about the songs he likes and promises to make you a playlist when he has access to spotify again. you both exclaim in join as you find out about your mutual enjoyment of bittersweet foods and you tell him he definitely needs to try the dark chocolate ice cream at the place just across church. he tells you you’ll have to take him there someday and you agree.

you spend more time talking to mark than watching the kids and when he asks if you want to just say fuck it and swim too you say yes. the water is slightly cold and your t-shirt clings to your skin in an unpleasant way but you have fun as mark chases you to try and splash water on your face.

when the night comes you realize you have talked to mark so much that you feel like you have been friends for ages. it feels so comfortable and familiar that when you both lay down to sleep you’re still chatting, only stopping when he realizes it’s midnight and you’ll both wake up early tomorrow.

you dream of the sun and of his smile.

✱

(day three)

if someone asked mark what could go wrong at church camp a few years ago he would say that probably not much. maybe there could be a problem with the children or the lake but besides that everything stayed peaceful like it should be.

but right now, as he wakes up to your sleeping body on the bed next to him, he thinks that there are a number of things that could go wrong. you sleeping is not the problem here, of course not, it has been three days now since you’ve been sharing a room and he’s more than used to your little snores. the problem is the way your blanket had moved a lot during the night because you couldn’t keep still. the problem is how the single t-shirt you wear to sleep has ridden up quite a bit and the first thing his eyes are met with when he gets up is your ass, clad in baby pink panties.

it’s a lot, it really is. he’s sure he’s about to get a whiplash or something like that because for one he has never seen a girl wearing less than a short skirt outside the porn he sometimes watches. two, he shouldn’t be staring at you like this, wishing he could touch and wondering how soft it would feel. three, he definitely shouldn’t rush to the bathroom to jerk off in the shower while thoughts of you underneath him fill his mind. on church camp of all places.

still, he strokes his dick as images of you doing filthy things fill his mind in an intoxicating way. he wonders what jaehyun made you do to him, wonders if you gave him head.

wonders if he gave you head and as the thoughts of his head between your legs hit him he comes with a quiet moan.

he feels guilty as he watches his come mix with the water and fall down the drain. he thinks about how he is going to confess to the priest about doing this, thinks that there’s no way he can do it.

he goes back to the cabin to find you already awake, shorts on this time as you down what he thinks is your birth control pills. your hands bring your orange water bottle to your lips and he can feel his cheeks heat.

“why did you wake up so early, dude?” you ask, after swallowing down the water. if you notice the way he’s acting you don’t mention.

he sits down on his bed, grabbing his phone so he can distract himself with something, anything. a puppy shows up in his instagram feed, he thinks you’d like it. damn. “don’t know. it was too hot to sleep

maybe.” he says, looking up from his phone.

you have your back to him, rummaging through your luggage for clothes to wear for the day. he stares at your ass, the shorts you’re wearing not doing much for you, while you say something he doesn’t quite catch.

you try your best not to laugh when you turn around and he fails very miserably at trying to look away quickly. “i’m off for a shower. do you want to meet up at the cafeteria for breakfast after?” you ask.

“sure.” is his reply as he watches you nod and then leave the room. when the door closes behind you he lets out a groan against his pillow.

✱

(day four)

people ask you about jaehyun all the time. they ask if you have heard of him (yes, you have), if he’s enjoying college (yes, he is), if you miss him (yes, you do). they ask about him so much that it’s not a surprise when marks does it too.

“are you still friends with jaehyun?” he asks knees nudging yours. you’re both sitting on his bed, backs pressed against his wall and fan making your hair wave a little.

“yes.” you say without hesitation “i don’t think we will ever stop being friends, i’ve known him for my entire life.”

mark hums and you know he understands. he mentioned a boy named donghyuck and how they have been for friends for so long that they can always tell what the other is thinking sometimes. “do you talk often?” he asks.

“sometimes.” it’s true, you used to text a lot more but after the last time you thought he was avoiding it. he had texted you at two am, probably drunk for a party and talking about how much he missed you. you had given in, saying the things he wanted to hear and even after he apologized the morning after a lump still formed on your throat when you thought about it. you missed him, there was no denying that.

mark seems to notice the sudden change in your mood because he doesn’t press on the subject anymore.

“what about you and yeri?” you decide to ask to break the silence. yeri was the girl mark dated for about 3 months, she was cute and petite and everyone including found that they made a cute pair together.

you find the awkward laugh he lets out cute. “uhm, we don’t talk anymore.” he says, picking at his nails. “we were never really friends to begin with.”

“oh.” is you smart reply and then you’re saying something that is probably slightly dumb and offensive. “i was pretty shocked when i find out you two were dating, i can’t really imagine cute little yeri having sex.”

you laugh as he blushes and starts shaking his head. “no, oh my god.” he stutters, avoiding your eyes. “we never did anything more than kiss, she...i...well, we both wanted to wait.”

you realize then that it was a silly thing to say, not every relationship had to revolve around sex. you apologize and he just shakes his head saying it’s okay. “uhm... what about you?” he asks, risking a look your way. “and jaehyun.”

you shift a little on the bed. “we did.” you say lowly. “it’s kind of stupid really. see, i thought we were getting married so there was no point in waiting.”

his mouth forms a little o and he nods, his eyes are a little glazed you notice and there’s a want in the back of your head that wants to kiss him.

“i don’t really care about that anymore.” he mutters, his legs move and you feel it touch yours. “waiting i mean. i still respect what it means, of course, but i’m not like living by it anymore.”

you nod, eyes staring at him until he looks back at you. it feels like a lot of time passes and it’s just silence and the sound of the fan. you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact he has pretty lashes and that his cheeks are slightly pink. you notice the few acne scars and the fairest trace of an stubble on his chin. he looks handsome and his eyes are staring at your lips.

you move in first, lips touching his with care and at first he stays still. a second passes and he’s kissing you back, hand moving to your neck as he moves closer to you. he’s a good kisser for someone who’s probably not very experienced, you ponder that you probably aren’t either since the only person you’ve ever kissed was jaehyun.

he tastes like the burt's bees chapstick when you lick his lips to deepen the kiss. he whines at the way your tongue moves against his, quick to follow and your hands go to his shoulders. you kiss for what feels like hours until you start to get uncomfortable by the position and move to place yourself on his lap, lips not leaving his.

in a very quick second you sit down on his lap, maybe a bit too roughly and you feel his hard on press against you. it shouldn’t be a surprise, you’re a little affected yourself even more when moans against your mouth because of the small friction.

you stare at him, his lips swollen and pupils blown out. there’s a blush definitely painting his cheeks now. “sorry.” he whispers, avoiding your eyes.

“it’s okay.” you say voice soft and you take a moment to think about it, think if you should say what you want to. “mark, look at me please.”

you run a finger through his hair and his eyes finally meet yours. his hands stay at your hips while you move to press a peck on his lips and then another. “please, don’t think you are obligated to accept this.” you start, biting the lips in the process. “but would you like to fuck me?”

his eyes widen before his mouth is forming an o. “yes, please.” is what you say and you feel you your inside tingle at it.

“do... do you want me to?” he asks and you’re nodding enthusiastically in a second.

“i really want you to.” and then you’re kissing him again. it’s still slow and gentle but messy in a way the you like. your hands find their way underneath his t-shirt and you bask in the way he’s so sensitive about everything you do. just the brush of your finger against his nipple has him whining against your tongue.

you grab the hem of his t-shirt, signaling for him to help you remove it and he does. when he finally throws it across the room you start pressing kisses all over him, on his neck, his chest. his hard on presses against the inside of your thigh and you feel yourself clench at the thought of having him inside of you.

you remove your top as well, leaving your bralette on for the time being. when you look at mark he’s staring right at you, the look in his eyes so sinful that you are sure you’re going to hell. it’s sin how good you’re feeling and it’s a sin that you’re about to take his virginity here of all places on earth.

“don’t you want to touch me, mark?” you ask, and he blinks at you.

✱

mark feels on heaven. he feels warm all over, so hard in his pants that he’s afraid that tiniest action from you will make him come. he watches as you remove your top, eyes almost black from lust.

he can feel your eyes on his face but he can’t look at way from the way your lacy bra looks against your breasts. they’re not doing a very good job at covering because he can see your erect nipples peeking through it. he wonders what it feels like.

there’s a necklace on the valley between your breasts, a cross to be more specific, and it raises a little with every breath you take. it looks sinful.

he blinks when you ask if he wants to touch. he does, so desperately that in a second his hand is moving against your boob, feeling how soft it is against his palm. you moan when he teases your nipple and he swears no other sound is ever going to top this.

you look beautiful, breathtaking, even more so when you reach for your back to remove the bra completely. you’re left with your chest bare against him, moaning again when he can’t help but buckle his hips up against you. your hands go to his shoulders for leverage, your lips meeting his again and it feels like bliss.

he lets his hands wander on your chest and it seems to please you if the way you start rolling your hips slowly is any indication. it’s so good that he can’t focus on anything besides it, can’t even keep kissing you, mouth falling open just as his eyes. “fuck.” he mutters as an electrifying wave of arousal runs through his body and he grips your hips tighter, urging your movements on.

“feeling good?” your voice is dripping honey, whispered right at his ear and he feels like he could come right now. just let it go but he doesn’t want it to end, wants to feel you around him.

“yeah.” his voice is raspy and when you smile at him he swears he falls a little in love “really want to fuck you.”

you move up from the bed, his eyes watch as you take off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. his mind feels dizzy and he swears he’s about to have a whiplash at the sight of you naked in front of him. for him. “you have to prepare me a little before we can do it because it has been a while.” you say as you climb up his lap again, he notices there’s a blush on your cheeks probably shy from being naked around him. “can you do that?”

he nods, moving to kiss you again. “how?” he has an idea, has seen how they do it on porn but he doesn’t want to do anything you don’t like so he waits for your guidance.

you take his hand in yours, the size difference making his heart do something weird, and guide it to your bare pussy. you press two of his fingers on top of what he assumes is your clitoris, and with yours on top you start drawing little circles on it. your eyes flutter close. “just like this.” you sound a little breathless. “then you can put your finger inside me.”

he nods again, moving his fingers like you guided him when you move your hands away to grip at his shoulders again. after a while he moves his finger down, feeling around until he finds your entrance. you’re really wet is the first thing his mind registers, so wet that when he presses his finger inside of you it slides in easily. it’s warm and spongy and he wonders how the hell he’s going to fit inside of you when he barely manage to accommodate his second finger when he presses it in.

you put on a show of whining and moaning, head pressed against his neck as you try to ride his fingers. it’s a sight to see, a sight he’ll probably never forget. he can picture himself in 5 years still jerking off to this, the way your breasts felt against his chest and how you moved up and down his fingers, making them wet.

he takes a deep breath when you say you’re ready. takes another one as you help him get rid of his shorts and boxers. another as you eye the way his dick stands against his stomach, eyes hungry. he takes the last deep breath when you move on top of him again, calming his worries about a condom by saying it’s okay, you’re clean and on the pill and all he can do it let his eyes fall close as you sink down on him slowly.

he tries to keep his eyes open, wants to see this moment so he can remember it too but it’s too much. to warm and too tight and he has to grip your hips tight to prevent himself from buckling his hips up and sliding all the way inside of you in one go.

you sigh when you finally bottom up and he opens his eyes, immediately staring at his cock buried inside your cunt and when you clench around him, probably just to tease, he has to count to ten so he doesn’t come right there. “oh my fucking god.” he breathes.

“you feel so good, mark.” you don’t sound like one of the porn stars he watches. it’s much better and he wants to stay like this forever, feeling you warm and flush against him. wants to taste your lips on his forever.

“you too.” he replies, hissing when you suddenly start moving. “i feel like i’m gonna come at any moment.”

you laugh a little at that, moving a little faster. “i’m pretty close too.” he can see the way your cross necklace jumps at little with your breasts and the way you’re bouncing up and it’s a little too much for him. he lets self control aside as he starts moving with you, hips bucking up upwards in quick motions and he thinks he’s doing the right thing by the way you moan his name.

he comes suddenly, not because of anything in particular, just a stroke that felt too good and he’s filling you up, trying to press as deep as he can. his visions going black for a little and he can only make the outlines of you rubbing your clit in fast motions before you’re coming too, clenching around him and making him shiver from oversensitivity.

your body falls putty against him and neither of you make any signs to move.

✱

you feel exhausted as you let yourself fall into mark’s arms. his breath is a little ragged like yours and he keeps his eyes shut close, and head on the wall as he runs his hands mindlessly through your back.

“we should move and get cleaned.” you say as quietly as possible. as if anything louder than that would disturb the moment. it’s hot and clammy in mark’s lap but warm and nice at the same time, the room smells so much like sex and like him that it makes everything more real.

you move from his lap with a sigh and plop down on his bed with your head following on his pillow. he gets up to look for something, clothes maybe and you close your eyes and hold back the want to cry. you have no idea why you are getting so emotional, maybe because this is the first time you had sex after the breakup, maybe because this is the first time you kissed someone after jaehyun.

as you feel the mixture of your cum and mark’s running down your thighs you realize it’s because it felt right to do it with mark and now you have to let go of the thought you were holding so tightly to, the thought that jaehyun was the only one that would ever make you feel like this. that you were meant to be.

mark comes back, a baby wipe in his hand and he offers it to you. you blink away the tears that were trying to form and start cleaning yourself. “are you okay?” he asks, throwing on boxers and a t-shirt.

“yeah.” you reply, throwing the baby wipe away and putting on the t-shirt he offers you. it smells like him and it feels right against your skin. “i think i got the sheets dirty.”

he shrugs, saying it’s okay since you’re leaving tomorrow morning anyway. when he lays down on the bed next to you it dips and you let him throw his hands around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.

when you close your eyes you remember when you thought for a brief moment in the past that jaehyun was your soulmate. now your mind laughs at the thought because how would jaehyun be your soulmate if mark is making you feel the same way he did.

you let yourself fall asleep. tomorrow is a new a day.

#mark smut #mark scenarios #nct smut #nct scenarios #nctwriters #neowritingsnet #aaaa let me know what you guys think!!

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elliemarchetti · 4 years

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Holiday Inconveniences (part 4)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Other Marecal fics:

Red Queen Soulmate AU part 1 and part 5 ( but I suggest to also read the other three because Fade is one of the most beautiful ships in the Red Queen saga)

A Wonderful Mistake (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

The Scam (part 2)

The Epilogue

Words: 2228

Cal loaded her last bag on the car’s back seat and snorted as he tried to fix it better. Mare, although she tried to maintain a composed façade, hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of seeing her history professor’s nephew, her one night stand, on a shiny and expensive car that, if it wasn’t for the thin veil of snow on the roof, could’ve been straight out of the car wash, enter her campus’ parking lot at the exact same time as the meeting between her and the one who was supposed to give her a ride has been set. At first she thought it was a coincidence, that he had gone there to get something for his uncle, but instead he had approached right in front of her, and after a moment of initial perplexity, and the verification that it was she who had to go to North Utica, he had begun to talk about his hometown, which wasn’t far away, stopping just to catch his breath. Mare wondered how he could be so awake so early, since it wasn’t yet dawn, and so cheerful given the cold, but she didn’t pose her questions aloud, merely nodding when he asked her if she was sure she had everything.

“Thank God!” he exclaimed.

“You really are a pussy.” she teased him, sitting in the passenger seat. If in the beginning the fact that her driver was Cal had led her to believe that she would’ve felt embarrassed, at that moment she realized that their chemistry hadn’t fade out even when the previous evening he had taken her home, so there was no chance for it to happen now. Moreover, they had already been trapped together in a narrow space for a long period of time, so it couldn’t be that bad.

“You told me you were from Chicago, not North Utica.” he remarked, when they were both sitting in the warm cabin.

“Nobody knows where North Utica is, so Chicago seemed like the best place to give you an idea.” she replied, taking off her gloves. She put her hands in front of the air vent, but the truth was she couldn’t wait to do so in front of the fireplace, squeezed between her siblings, trying to take the best place to stay warm in the old house. Cal curbed sharply, tearing her out of her dream of marshmallows dipped in hot chocolate and classic rock.

“Sorry” he muttered.

“If you didn’t drive like a madman there would be no need to brake so abruptly.” she replied, getting comfortable again.

"I want to go as far as possible before this afternoon.” he explained. “There’s a snow alert at two o’clock and

The only thing worse than driving in the snow is getting stranded in the snow.”

Mare rolled her eyes. She had always loved snow when she didn’t have to move, although she had never practiced any sport, unlike her brothers, and it was only her fault that she could no longer do it because she had decided to go to study so far from home, yet she wanted to curse the world and for once not blame herself for her misfortunes. They talked about their families for most of the first part of the journey, when the city, white for the snow, could still be seen behind them, and about Shade, that would soon become a father.

"It seems unbelievable that he’s about to become a father. He’s my youngest brother, even though he’s still a little older than me. I imagined that Bree would be the first, being the oldest, but isn’t it always like this? You think things could go one way and then they go differently but family faces everything together and things go for the best.”

Cal didn’t seem very convinced, especially of the last statement, but Mare decided not to investigate: he lived with his uncle and had never mentioned his parents, only his friends and, remaining very vague, a younger half-brother he loved but from which he was very different, although he hadn’t specified how. She imagined that his parents were no longer together, that they had divorced due to some rich diatribes and his father had married another woman, maybe a younger lover, and in the long silence that followed, Mare wondered what her life would’ve been if in her family they hadn’t been so attached to each other, if they hadn’t always been so supportive. Perhaps she would find herself alone as Diana, Shade’s girlfriend. Mama had told her when she called to give her the news that her father hadn’t taken her decision to keep the baby very well and threatened to stop paying her tuition if she didn’t abort. Mare had no longer asked how the matter had been resolved, too absorbed in her own problems and certain that, now that the girl had joined the family, her parents would take care of her, as if she were their daughter. She hoped Shade wouldn’t drop out of school just to be able to take care of his family alone because, although he had a gusty start, he was doing really well and he had chosen a specialization in quantum mechanics, a subject that would allow him not only to enter the best development and research centers but also to earn a good salary, even if Mare still had difficulty imagining him sitting behind a desk all day. From what she could see, Cal also studied mechanics, but she couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good idea to keep talking about her family, even though he and Shade seemed to have a common interest, so she gave up, choosing a radio station with only rock classics. She was browsing through a magazine, her mind elsewhere, when the first snowflakes began to fall. It wasn’t even close to lunchtime, and Cal seemed deeply disturbed by it, so Mare didn’t tell him that she was starting to get hungry or asked him if they could stop to pee when she began to feel the need, until it was her body that betrayed her and her stomach rumbled so hard that it exceeded the volume of the song.

"There is a steakhouse a few miles further on.” he said, without taking his eyes off the road. When they arrived and Cal turned off the engine after so many hours, Mare couldn’t wait to get out, all stiff. He stretched, leaned forward and stood up.

“Sitting for so long isn’t good. I don’t know how anyone who works in office does.” he commented.

“Given what you’re studying, you’ll also spend a lot of time sitting.” she replied as they walked toward the entrance. The snowflakes stopped on Cal’s black coat and on his hair, giving him an almost fairy-like appearance.

“I don’t want to deal only with the technical part.” he explained, opening the door like a true gentleman. The warm air came to her like a breath of wind that tasted like home, even though in the Barrow kitchen her mother would never have prepared chicken wings and onion rings. Not that the rest of the family would’ve scorned, perhaps with Tramy’s exception, since he was a personal trainer. The rest of the place was nice, although the low ceiling was a bit stuffy: colored Christmas lights had been placed in every available point, even inside small glass vases placed in the center of each table, whose wooden benches were battered by overuse. Even the carpet was worn but clean, and Mare could imagine the place full of children who ate, laughed and chased each other, friends only for the time of that break. It was clear that this was no longer the case, but the staff was still welcoming and quickly seated them. They ordered a bottle of water and a cherry Coke and both looked absorbed at the snow that accumulated on the roof of the car and on the mirrors as they drank. If she hadn’t been in such a hurry, she would’ve suggested to wait for the weather to get better, but the road conditions weren’t yet critical and they could’ve stopped later if it was necessary. Though she couldn’t figure out why he was coming back to his hometown - did his family live there or he returned for his friends? - Cal also seemed to be in a hurry too and his mood was generally more bleak as they approached the destination.

“Are you ready to order?” asked a dainty girl with blue hair. According to the plaque on her chest, her name was Ella. Cal took the soup of the day, while Mare chose baked garlic bread with cheese and fried chicken strips with Greek salad as the side.

“Why you eat so light?” asked Mare, inquisitorial.

“First of all, there is nothing light in this soup and second, a series of rich lunches and dinners is waiting for me, so I don’t want to bloat myself.” he replied, always vague. She didn’t like that he kept all those secrets about his family, but after all she had to remember that he was taking her home not because of what had happened between them but for a favor he was doing to her mother, something that intrigued her incredibly and about which she had to bite her tongue to refrain from asking further questions. Fortunately, Cal decided to fill the silence with some high school memories and Mare was grateful to be able to contribute to the conversation by talking about a time when things between her and Kilorn weren’t yet so embarrassing. Thinking of it, she too had a pending issue at home that she had tried to postpose for as long as possible. Surely what happened with Cal and what she felt in his presence didn’t help to untangle the mess her feelings were. Of course, in its own way, that indecision was already an adequate answer: she didn’t feel like Kilorn, who would’ve put her before anything, although she profoundly loved him. However, to want to analyze it from that point of view, she also loved her family but this didn’t meant she would be engaged to one of her brothers! So it was probably this that she felt for Kilorn, only a brotherly love, the same love that one feels for someone to whom you wish well. And yet, somehow, making that decision while sitting there with Cal, tasting his soup and discussing which desserts on display was the most good looking one, didn’t seem right: Kilorn’s memory hadn’t disappeared, she could never forget him, but it was tarnished, clouded by a film of sadness and embarrassment, by distance and silence, things she had never felt with Cal.

“I have brownies without ice cream.” Cal ordered when the waitress arrived.

“And for me a cheesecake.” added Mare.

“You’re so incredibly American.” he teased her.

“And you so English!” she replied. “Are you sure you really were born and raised here?”

“Very sure!” he exclaimed, his attention drawn by the pecan pie the waitress was taking to a couple a couple of table away. Probably the two boys must have asked to be able to divide it because on the tray there were two long silver spoons. For no particular reason, the idea that she and Cal could’ve been mistaken for a couple made her blush, and she waited in silence for her order to arrive, wondering if he had felt the same. They ate a little hastily and when it came time to pay, Cal insisted on taking care of the bill. After a brief stop in the bathroom, they set off again, with the snow that formed a white curtain through which it was difficult to see. It was obvious that Cal was struggling to keep the road despite the snow tires and chains, but he tried to stay calm for a few dozen more miles, when they found themselves forced to pull over. All around everything was white and the road, whose width could only be guessed thanks to the guard rails, was deserted. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but going on was almost impossible and the situation showed no signs of improving, so Mare searched silently for the nearest motel. Excluding the first suggestion, which seemed a shady place, the second was a small family-run B&B less than five miles after the next exit. The photos on the site showed a large fireplace in the dining room, a table set for breakfast with food that made her mouth water despite having just eaten and rooms with wooden furniture, with large beds with blankets that were extremely reminiscent of the ones in her room at home. All in all it looked welcoming and the hosts, a couple in their fifties, looked nice, so Mare showed it to Cal, with the premise that they would leave the next morning, if the situation had improved even a little.

“I miss my family too but I want to get there alive and not crash because I behaved like an impatient and temperamental child.” she said, the phone still between them, eyes harder than she wanted.

"All right.” he agreed. “But if they have a room, I have to make a phone call and it won’t be pleasant.”

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imnotcameraready · 5 years

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chivalry is dead (12)

A/N: WE’VE REACHED!!!!!!!!!!!!! KISSES!!!! HELL YEAH—

there are also So many characters in this one y’all im so sorry to do this to you but also Suffer — since they’re not gonna be reoccurring, i’m adding a characters tag so y’all know what you’re getting into. also, i felt a liiiiittle bad with all the angst i was giving, so since chapters 12 and 13 happen simultaneously, y’all are getting the Softs for now :)

what, angst on the horizon? says who? ;)

Characters: Deceit, Patton, the Playwright, the Artist, the Bard, Sleep (Remy), Dad Guy, Teacher Guy

WARNINGS: bruises and black eyes, references to imprisonment, food/food mention — i dont think there's much in this chapter, but if i missed anything, please let me know!!

Words: 6961

Pairings: i’m so. so proud to announce. welcome to some Roceit, some Royality, a sliver of Moceit, and Dad Guy x Teacher Guy (the best ship, imho)

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for some of the series long warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing, both of which are heavily present here!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

general tag: @jemthebookworm

enjoy!!!! sorry for the long intro, and ilysm !! <3 <3 <3

This was very much not Deceit’s forte. He ran his hand through the Bard’s hair for the umpteenth time, shooting Patton a terrified expression. Patton was on the Bard’s other side, arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re okay, Roman,” he whispered, again, “You’re okay.”

The trio had been standing in a weird multi-hug for nearly ten minutes, ever since the Thief absconded. Patton figured it’d be safer to stay with Deceit and the Bard; he was more accustomed to seeing Roman cry, sad to say, but it was still only a handful of times. He did know that Deceit was very much not equipped to handle situations like this, though, and, well. He didn’t exactly trust Deceit to not make things worse.

He wasn’t, though, so Patton was pretty happy. The Bard had even finished crying a few minutes ago. That wasn’t the issue. He just refused to let up from where he was pressed into Deceit’s chest, breathing slow and quiet.

It wasn’t like Deceit minded too much. It was a little annoying. Just a little. But it was also comforting. He tried his best to not look at Patton’s little glances, but Deceit knew his face was a little red. He didn’t want to let go of Roman. Not when he was this close, also comforted in his hold.

Despite Deceit’s strategy of letting go of his crush, he was almost falling faster. He pressed his lips to the Bard’s head and flicked his eyes up at Patton when he began talking again.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’ve just gotta get goin’ now.”

In all honesty?

The Bard had long since calmed down. He was now drunk on happiness. Yeah, sure, he was still really pissed off at the Thief, he’d ruined his make up, punched him in the face, made the Child cry, generally put a damper on the whole situation, but that was to be a problem for another day. The arms wrapped around his waist, the body he was snuggled into, the hand that was running through his hair, it all made him feel so secure. So loved.

He didn’t think Deceit was much of a physical person, but after this? The Bard would have to remember to go to the snake more often for cuddles.

He closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly.

Patton always smelt like cookies. Chocolate chip cookies and occasionally chai, depending on what he’d baked recently. Sometimes of just sugar.

Deceit smelt a little more just like a person, yeah, but the scent was carefully interlaced with hints of lavender and jasmine. Did Deceit wear cologne or something? Maybe he had a self-care routine. The Bard would also have to remember to have Roman ask Deceit if he wanted to do masks and manicures together.

The could just not follow the Thief. The Bard could invite Patton and Deceit to his home, hidden away amongst the pages of this story they’d written, watch a movie and bundle under some blankets together. He could just take the time and space to be content. He could take in the pleasures of life!

But, alas, it was curtains for those dreams.

“Alright, Padre, I’m good. I’m gucci,” the Bard murmured, “It’s just so nice to be held. King Cobra, honey, were you always this warm. And you’re so lovely, Patt-puff, I could fall asleep right here.”

Patton snorted, catching the briefest glimpse of Deceit’s bright red face. “You can have all the snuggles you want later, kiddo,” he patted the Bard’s chest again, “You just gotta—”

“Wait.”

The change was immediate. The Bard stood upright, pulling his face out of Deceit’s chest and turning his head around. “Someone’s singing.”

Patton and Deceit shared a confused frown. Faintly, they could hear a voice, far, far away, but growing louder.

“For years, I’ve roamed these empty halls~!”

“Yeah,” the Bard tapped Deceit’s back and pulled away, both other Sides letting go finally.

There was still mascara dried around his face, and the eye that’d been punched was swelling and angry red, but the Bard didn’t seem to care. Patton rubbed his arms, missing the warmth and scolding himself internally for wanting something so unrealistic. He nudged Deceit, who was grumbling and stretching his arms, and both looked up.

In the Bard’s hands was the ukulele, forgotten in the earlier argument, and he twirled it before lifting it to his chest. Strumming a few precise chords, he continued the song, like a bird returning a call.

“Why have a ballroom with no balls~!” he twirled in place and sprang toward the sound.

He sure seemed happier now. Patton smiled, watching him perform, and rested one of his hands on his cheek.

Roman was just so full of life, always. It was astounding.

Wait, the Bard was moving. Patton blinked, looking up to find Deceit watching the Bard, mesmerized as well.

….Ah.

So Deceit liked him, too?

That’d complicate things. Deceit and Roman were a little friendlier, and Patton definitely didn’t want to get in the way of anything, if it made them both happy. If there was anything. Of course there was something. Deceit and Roman were both so charming, how couldn’t there be something? That’d be like giving someone chocolate without the flowers on Valentines day!

“Finally they’re opening up the ga~ates~!”

Distantly, they heard someone echo the same line, getting closer. It was the Roman version of echolocation.

Oh. What if Deceit’s story about Roman and the pit was just a cover up for him being in Roman’s room? What if they’d been together?

Patton shook his head. Imagining worries like that was just gonna get his head spun in a tizzy. He chuckled to himself at his pun, though gained no mirth from it, and tugged Deceit’s hand.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta follow,” he said.

Deceit blinked, looking at Patton, then back at the Bard, who’d already dance-walked his way halfway down the street. “Ah, of course,” he hurried after the Bard, faster.

He didn’t want Patton to say anything about the staring and, frankly, Patton didn’t want to say anything either. Nor his own disappointment of missing them both.

“There’ll be actual, real-life people~”

The Bard strummed, twisting down a road, and Deceit and Patton followed.

They were probably being led to another Roman, since they could make out his voice as it grew louder. Were there any more Romans, though? Or, well, any new ones.

“It’ll be totally strange!”

The other singer was just behind a corner.

“Wow, am I so ready for this change~!”

“Will you cut it out! It’s bad enough we’re out in public,” the Artist grumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, “And now you’re drawing everyone’s attention.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my voice bothering you?” the Playwright shot back, bumping his hip against the Artist’s as he shouted, “‘Cause for the first time in forever~! There’ll be music, there’ll be light!”

Deceit and Patton blinked, watching the two bicker as they walked closer. Neither of them seemed very scared of the world around them; in fact, both were looking around at the scenery, as though noticing it for the first time. While the Artist was trying to hide, his hood up and everything, the Playwright was walking around with a coat slung over his shoulders and otherwise in the same outfit they’d seen him in the other day.

The Bard had stopped just around the bend, standing in the pathway and bouncing on his feet with an excited grin, as though waiting for them to notice him.

“Uh, yeah, a little. Shut up.”

“I, wh—” the Playwright’s singing screeched to a halt as he glared at the Artist. “How?!”

“Sounds too much like my voice.”

“We are the same person, you dunce, how—wait,” the Playwright looked up and squinted, “Oh, it’s Bard.”

The Bard struck a pose, pointing his ukulele into the sky like a sword. “It sure is! It’s been so long, Playwright, Artist!” he dashed forward, ignoring the Artist’s shouts of “NO” and the Playwright’s confused spluttering as he hugged both with his arms, “I’ve missed you both so dearly!”

He spun in a circle once before pulling away, smoothing their sides down with a hand. He then leaned forward and pecked their cheeks, one after another, shocking them both just enough that neither pointed out his black eye.

This again? It was much too high energy for Deceit, not as he had to study this...what, fifth Roman? Fourth? How many had he met, by now? Jesus, how many were there. He slunk back, behind Patton, letting the moral side do the talking.

“Good to see you again, Playwright! You too, Artist,” Patton smiled at the Artist, who flinched back and tugged the side of his hood.

Patton wasn’t about to bring up the fight from earlier that morning. The Child said, on their way out, that the Artist didn’t have much outside his art. Maybe it wasn’t good for him to be yelling at them, it was definitely upsetting. And Patton was definitely hurt. A little betrayed. A little confused. But that didn’t mean Patton would be angry. He didn’t hold grudges very well.

“Um,” the Artist looked down, twisting his foot against the cobblestone path. He couldn’t, in his right conscious, not apologize immediately. “Yeah. Dad, I just–I’m really sorry about this morning. I over reacted, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you and Logan and Child. I’m, uh, it was dumb. I’m sorry.”

There it was. Out in the open.

The Artist didn’t want his perfection at the expense of love.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he twitched. It felt almost numb, like television static. He looked up to see Patton smiling widely at him, almost beaming. “You’re not dumb for having your own boundaries and caring about what you make. Yeah, it was….” his smile faltered slightly, reminded of how terrified he’d been that the Artist would actually stab them with a palette knife, “I can’t say it’s okay. But thank you for apologizing, and I’m sorry Logan and I made you uncomfortable.”

….The Artist really hadn’t expected that. His cheeks tinged with a bit of a blush as he looked down again, still fiddling with his hood.

Patton always knew what to say.

“I don’t wanna just brush over this issue.”

The Artist closed his eyes and exhaled. Patton chuckled to himself, but watched the Artist closer. Um. Maybe he didn’t understand?

Patton didn’t want to actually offend him, not right after that apology.

“Get it? Like a paint br—”

“Patton. Darling. While I appreciate the sentiment, I must admit that our relationship is a,” the Artist opened one eye, a tiny smile growing, “Work in progress.”

The Bard and Patton both hooted, the Bard plucking his ukulele once. “Good one!” Patton patted the Artist’s shoulder, “Thought I was gonna start crying there for a second, but I’m glad that was a pun, too!”

“They’re ridiculous,” the Playwright murmured.

“He’s you,” Deceit gestured to the Artist, then to the Bard. “And so’s he.”

“My cross to bear, I suppose,” the Playwright said with a tired shrug.

They’d both stepped back when the Artist apologized, leaning on a wall and watching the scene. It felt like a personal moment of reflection, in all honesty. And they didn’t have the lack of apprehension that the Bard displayed, listening in and looking between the two.

Deceit exhaled, leaning back. So Patton was bonding with yet another figment. Big whoop. No water off his scales, no sir. He turned his head, lazily looking around

Hang on. Those men were guards.

Alarms blared in his head as he reached over to the Playwright. “Guards,” he hissed.

A quiet tongue click signified that the Playwright saw them. “Patton, Artist, Bard, we need to go,” he moved toward the group.

The Bard looked back, eyes widening as the guards began marching towards them. “Son of Hephaestus.”

The ukulele disappeared from his hands as he grabbed Patton with and the Artist with the other, tugging them along. The street was populated enough, characters and people walking around, but they were parting for the guards like a predator through a school of fish. Where were they supposed to run to? The Bard knew the city well enough, but all of the maneuvers he used to escape danger wouldn’t work with such a long procession. Not to mention that the Playwright and Artist had never been in the town. In an altercation, none of them would stand a chance; all the real fighters had left.

Patton winced. What were they gonna—

“Hey, babes, lookie here!”

“Oh, thank fucking Pollock,” the Artist breathed. “It’s our idiot.”

Patton and Deceit both snapped around, looking forward. There was Thomas. Not. Not Thomas. No, it was one of his characters, wearing a black leather jacket and a messenger bag, holding a half-full Starbucks venti cup with some unknown iced drink within. Somehow, the paper labeling him as “Sleep” was still firmly taped to his chest despite being held up by a single, half-inch piece of scotch tape. But, you know. Big mood.

He waved them forward again from the doorway he was standing in. “C’mon already, we don’t have all day,” Sleep chirped again, waving a little faster.

You know what? Deceit was going to question this one. He’d been through a lot, this past day. Roman wanted to play a medieval theme, but had random modern appliances strewn about? Yeah, he’d accept that. Virgil throttled him? Sure, yeah, that would happen, that was still within the last 24 hours.

But this?

“Hey, Sleepytime Tea,” the Bard hummed, pecking Sleep’s cheek as he ducked past. “Thank you for the rescue!”

Deceit pointed at Sleep. “That. Is. One of our characters.”

Patton grinned, holding his other hand and pulling him along. “Mhm! Child said they’re all around the Imagination. Ooh, I’m excited to meet him!”

Oh, yeah, that was super explanatory! That solved ALL of Deceit’s problems! That made total and complete sense!

“Sleep,” the Playwright greeted, nodding to him as he slipped past.

Deceit was going to go absolutely feral one of these days.

Sleep tilted his sunglasses and grabbed Deceit’s back. “Let’s go, girls, into the lil’ house.”

“Remy,” the Artist murmured, pulling Patton in.

Sleep nodded to him as well, shoving Deceit into the room and closing the door. He threw two locks, then spun around to lean his back against it.

All five of them watched, varying levels of panic on their faces, while Sleep took a long sip of his coffee. They could definitely hear the guards interrogating someone outside, so it wouldn’t be long until they were approached.

“Are we gonna—” the Bard began, only to be silenced by Sleep raising his hand.

He pulled the straw away from his lips and exhaled.

“Oh my God,” Deceit mumbled, “And I thought Roman was dramatic. Holy shit, you’re a character.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Sleep lowered his sunglasses and winked.

He fixed them, raising his drink to behind the group, further into the building. “Alright, lets go. You all, like, super do not want to run into those guys.”

Sleep led the way. The room they’d entered into was a large foyer, to a house but not. He led them down the hall, up some stairs, up some more stairs, and then out into a bridge connecting this building to the next.

The Playwright nudged the Bard, once they were out on the bridge, and pointed silently at his eye.

That was right, the black eye and smudged make up was still clear as day. He couldn’t be having that. The Bard nodded and pressed a hand to his face. The make up vanished, reappearing as though it’d never been smudged with his tears. Carefully, he also pressed onto the bruise, and the skin all sank back in and flattened out into regularity.

It was best to not show his damage. Bad enough that he’d cried in front of the other Sides. He wasn’t about to walk around with an actual wound. It would bruise over regardless, there wasn’t anything he could do about that, but Roman didn’t want them to see him as anything other than, well. That depended on the Roman. The Bard didn’t want them to see him as anything other than beautiful.

Patton and Deceit didn’t notice. That was fine, perfect on all three Romans’ accounts. They followed right behind Sleep, the other three trailing at the rear. They’d already seen most of the Imagination, having been there when it was built (though building and navigating were two different skills); for the other two, everything was starkly new, even Sleep.

The Imagination did have more structure than they’d seen the other day. Arches, bridges, buildings that looked more defined.

Something certainly changed in the world. Maybe it was the same thing that caused the Imagination to have a regular day/night cycle? Deceit pursed his lips and summoned his notebook again, jotting down some notes. A curious world indeed.

Meanwhile, Patton was just getting excited. It was Sleep! He was an older character than, well, Patton! Granted, Patton wasn’t exactly a character, that was more so the length of time he’d been in front of the camera. But he could still remember the day when Roman pitched him — a sassy Sue, dressed to the sassy nines and going out to fun sassy parties while getting no sleep whatsoever. Logan might have thought it was on the nose to just tape a piece of paper to his shirt, but, hey, it worked!

“You’re Sleep, right? It’s really nice to meet you,” Patton said, bounding a little closer.

Sleep glanced back at him with a small smile and waved two fingers, a lazy salute. “Right back at you, Patton. Heard you’re a ball of punny sunshine — that’s the Morali-tea, sis.”

Ah, well, his reputation precedes him. Patton laughed, holding the wall, and Sleep grinned. “That’s a good one!” he covered his mouth and rubbed his cheeks a little, continuing. “Where’re we headed? Ooh, and also, do you….have any other name? Than Sleep?”

“Nah, nowhere in particular,” Sleep waved his hand dismissively, “And kinda? Emile calls me Remy. So does the fandom.”

“I think the fandom coined that one,” Deceit said, “A pleasure as well, Remy.”

Sleep put up a peace sign in greetings. “Yep. If you wanna go by names, then it’s, like, definitely all good to call me Remy,” he shrugged. “Either works. What can ya do.”

What can you do indeed. “Alrighty, Remy, you didn’t answer my first question though! I don’t think we’re just going to nowhere,” Patton picked up the conversation again.

“Oh, that. Right now we’re just walking around until I get the all clear.”

“The all clear,” the Playwright repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Mhm,” Remy took another sip of his drink and shrugged, “There’s a Starbucks down the hall if you nerds wanna get drinks, too.”

He pointed down a hall and — wait, where in the blazes were they?! Deceit stopped focusing on Remy’s back and looked around.

At the moment, they were in what looked like it could be a church, with stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling, save for the fact that it had no pews and was more like a crossroads. Some people walked past, shuffling around in the sides. Some of them looked like Thomas, actually. Possibly characters from other vines? Not all of them were marked with signs so clear as Remy’s.

It seemed that the Starbucks idea had been shot down, because Remy shrugged and led them to the left. As soon as they turned, though, his phone buzzed.

“You’re in my world now, not your world~ And I’ve got friends on the o—” Remy held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

He held up his drink, stopping the rest of the entourage, and nodded his head. “Mhm. Sounds gucci, I’ll bring these bitches back ‘round. See you in five,” he hung up quick and slid his phone back into his pocket.

Remy pivoted on his heel, facing the group once more with a broad smile. All his dramatics really reminded Patton of Roman, which was making him kind of sad. He missed his energy.

The Bard’s hand nudged Patton’s subtly, and they laced their hands together while Remy began explaining. “That’s the signal, back around this way!”

“Wait, are we walking all the way back?” the Artist asked, anger mounting in his tone, “Remy, you can’t be serious. Can’t we go to Emile’s office or something?”

“Nah, nah, I’m dropping you all off somewhere else. Emile’s got appointments all day today, anyway,” Remy shrugged, “If you wanted to hang with him so bad, you shoulda left your house.”

The Playwright snickered behind a hand, and the Artist elbowed him in the side. “Now, now, no fighting,” Patton said, eager to break up another dispute before it began, “I’m glad you’re out now.”

To that, though, the Artist just pulled his hood tighter around his head and mumbled incoherently. That was okay, it diffused the tension! Better awkward silences and mumblings than any actual physical fighting.

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of the Thief punching the Bard. What was that, Roman punching himself? Why would he be so okay with that?

Like, Patton knew. He’d been upset with himself since they met with the Playwright at the very, very, very beginning. He should have known Roman was self-conscious. It wasn’t the best kept secret.

Agh, he promised himself that he wouldn’t think about it! They were going to get Roman back! It was going to be okay, gosh darned it!

“Patton,” Deceit’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Come now.”

Deceit carefully touched Patton’s free hand, wrapping his fingers around Patton’s.

The Bard was right, Patton decided right then and there. Deceit was surprisingly warm.

Patton gave his hand a squeeze, turning to him with a smile. “Thanks,” his voice was quiet, just for the two of them.

Deceit, human-side-of-face lightly flushed, returned the smile. But why would Deceit be blushing at him? Patton’s mind trailed off, just as Remy stopped the group yet again.

“Alright, we’re he~ere!” he sang out the word “here,” throwing open a door.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Patton lifted a hand, pointing fingers directly with the man standing in the opposite doorway, holding two pizza boxes and wearing the same blue polo, grey sweater, and khaki pants that he usually donned. The man dropped the pizzas onto the table besides himself and pointed as well.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Deceit groaned.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” the Bard fist pumped into the air.

Dad Guy smiled first. “I think I need new prescriptions! You’ve got me seeing double!”

A laugh from the kitchen indicated that he wasn’t alone. Patton grinned back, shooting Dad Guy some finger guns. “You can try mine! My prescriptions are Patton-edly perfect!”

“Awh, c’mere kiddo, great to meet you!”

“‘Kiddo?’ Haven’t you felt my shirt? It’s all Dad material right here.”

“The only material you’re gonna need is some new material! Can’t go around reusing old jokes!”

“Well, an old man’s gotta have old jokes! Double the puns and double the Dad!”

Remy patted Deceit’s back and gave him a sympathetic shrug. “I’ve gotta dip, gotta meet with some other people around the town. You know, midday naps and all that. Good luck with that,” he gestured to the two dads, who were exchanging one liners back and forth.

Deceit only responded with a glare that begged for mercy.

Remy laughed.

The Playwright walked past Patton and Dad Guy, into where Teacher Guy was sitting at another table, a stack of papers beside him that needed hypothetical grading. There’d been too many people, too much going on in the past day. He needed someone who he could trust to be quiet if needed and, thankfully, Teacher Guy asked much fewer questions than Logan.

The Artist motioned for Deceit to follow him to the other table with the Bard, who was already opening the top-most pizza box and stealing a few slices. The trio actually stole the entire top box and slunk away to another room, just up some stairs, while the other four traded silence and puns. There was a balcony opposite of two doors, presumably bedrooms, and they sat outside on the ground, huddled around the large box of pizza.

It was probably lunch time. They didn’t have Logan to tell them that eating on a schedule was a vital part of setting one’s internal clock, so the only indicator that it was “lunch time” was the tinge of hunger in each of their stomachs.

“If this hasn’t been a day,” the Artist sighed.

“Oh, definitely. The Thief punched me earlier,” the Bard laughed a little before biting into a slice, talking through the food. “Y’ kn’w, ah d’n’t e’he’ i’.”

Deceit snorted, looking away and laughing into a hand while the Artist reprimanded him. “Oh my God, chew your fucking food.”

The Bard rolled his eyes and swallowed. “I mean, I didn’t expect it. To be honest, I always forget that the Thief’s a violent one.”

“I always remember. Ever since he glared at me ‘first time we formed, I’ve been a little iffy about him,” the Artist waved his third slice in a lazy shrug. “You’re lucky he doesn’t hate your guts.’

“Oh, you’re lucky that absolutely no one hates yours.”

“Really? Thief and Playwright always seem two strokes away from stabbing me.”

“That’s because they don’t understand art. I know they love you! And that’s why WE love each other, remember?” the Bard took a bite out of the Artist’s slice and ignored his offended huffs, “And Deceit! How are you feeling?”

Deceit blinked. He’d been taking in the conversation, trying to dissect the differences between every iteration of Roman.

The Artist and the Bard were an interesting pair. They seemed to be so similar, yet so distinctly different, what with the Artist being an introvert and the Bard more extroverted. The Artist working with physical mediums whereas the Bard performed. But those glaring differences seemed to mask differences in desire, intent — that’s what Deceit had to focus on.

“Hey, Bruce Banner, come back. We miss you,” the Bard patted his knee with a smile. “Are you feeling okay? This has probably been quite the journey, especially with how fast things’ve been happening.”

“Well,” Deceit should indulge the Romans, if only for a little, “It has been. I haven’t spent this much time with….any other. Sides. In a while.”

The Artist nodded sympathetically while the Bard blinked. He tilted his head. “Oh. I thought you and the Dark Sides...? You know? Worked together more.”

Deceit shrugged. He wasn’t revealing anything. “Perhaps we do. In that case, then, it’s the longest I’ve spent with such good company,” he smiled coyly at the Bard.

It took a few seconds, but once the Bard fully interpreted what he said, he flushed almost as bright as his waist sash. He giggled, running his hands through his hair and swaying from side to side.

The Artist beside him also turned red, but just squinted tiredly at Deceit. “C’mon, you don’t have to play us,” he grumbled quietly, “The Prince isn’t here.”

“I know Roman’s not just a prince, he’s much, much more,” Deceit leaned on his hand, resting his chin on it as he watched the Artist.

“Anyone’d know that. He’s an artist. A bard. Playwright, thief, dragon, damsel, child, he’s all of us. But he’s all still a big dumbass,” the Artist ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips in frustration, “You don’t have to pretend to love us or anything.”

It was Deceit’s turn to be confused. He frowned, leaning back a little in contemplation. Here he thought he was being obvious. And while staying behind the guise of secrecy benefited him greatly, if it was upsetting Roman this much….“Do you really think everything that I say is insincere?”

“Well….” The Artist looked away, staring down the Bard, who was still a bubbly and flustered mess, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

….That did make a little sense. Deceit scooted closer to the Artist. “May I touch your face?” he asked, voice soft.

The Artist’s eyes flicked back up to him quickly before he looked down at the pizza box. There wasn’t any harm. And….he couldn’t say he didn’t want to be touched more. “Sure.”

Deceit lifted a hand to cup the Artist’s cheek, cradling his head as gently as he could. Unconsciously, the Artist leaned into it, exhaling slow as to not lose his self control.

This was….a dream. It had to be. Because Deceit had wished for this for so long, and he was very used to not getting what he wanted. He just had to keep it together.

“Roman, darling,” to that, even the Bard stopped swaying, listening to what Deceit said, “I can’t say I’m the most honest person, but I can promise you this is no lie.”

With that, he pressed a careful kiss to the Artist’s left temple. The Artist’s eyes went wide as saucers as he realized, with an incredible start, that Deceit. Had just kissed him. Deceit had just kissed him, one of the saddest versions of Roman in this miserable little game.

The Bard covered his mouth with both hands, but even that couldn’t hide his elation.

“Holy fuck.”

He fell backwards, laying on the ground with his arms splayed out. It felt like he….was whole.

The Damsel looked out the small window of his room, squinting into the bright light between the bars.

What had just happened? He reached up to his head and ran his hand slowly through his hair, grazing over his left temple.

It felt like someone had just….

Deceit smiled a tiny bit, watching the two Romans collectively lose their minds. He was adorable when flustered. “You’re beautiful. Every bit of you,” he said, trying to force the Artist, force Roman, to understand that he was being truthful.

Even if it was a part of Roman, it still meant the world for Deceit to know that Roman knew. They could write this off later, write it off as some —

Deceit wanted to scream. Hang the fuck on. Oh, holy shit. He’d just admitted it.

He leaned back, trying to keep his movements as slow and deliberate and not-panicked as they were before, but holy shit. He’d just said it. He was in love. It was a round-about statement, series of movements and signals, but of course it was, with him.

He was in love with Roman — was it just Roman? It was a different feeling, but the same feeling across the board. God, Deceit didn’t want to deal with this, not on top of everything he was learning about the Imagination and the other Sides. He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his scaled forehead, tugging his hat down just a tiny bit more. At least the Romans didn’t notice his sudden and extreme change in posture.

Their collective stupor was disturbed by a shout from below, and then the Playwright calling them downstairs.

“ARTIST! WE FUCKING FORGOT TO TELL THEM!” he snapped, “GET DOWN HERE, HURRY!”

The Artist swore, clearing his throat and standing up. “We, uh, we need to go downstairs, go ahead,” he motioned for Deceit and the Bard to leave, “Ah, fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” the Bard picked up the empty pizza box and looped his other arm around Deceit’s, much to the snake’s chagrin. “And we’ll let you tell the others later, okay? We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.”

That was….kind. Deceit didn’t know how to respond, he’d kind of expected the Bard to excitedly blurt it out at some point. Perhaps he would. Deceit couldn’t trust that.

He nodded, and the Bard grinned. He led the way down the stairs, barreling through the kitchen and setting the box down before entering the main room again.

The Playwright, Patton, Dad Guy, and Teacher Guy were all sitting around in a circle. The second couch was empty, so the Bard pulled Deceit onto it, paying the utmost attention. The Artist just sank into the couch on Deceit’s other side, eyes locked onto some papers on the table. Two of them were open, letters that had been opened and were now folded back into the envelopes they’d come from. Only the letter’s receiver’s name was visible, but that gave quite a bit of backstory by themselves.

Cordial invitation of Dad Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

Cordial invitation of Teacher Guy to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

On the stack’s top was another letter, with a red kiss mark where the stamp would typically go.

Honorable invitation of Patton ‘Morality’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of your welcome to the Imagination.

“Ew, he kissed it,” the Bard bit his lip and looked up, scanning the Playwright’s face. “What is it? I’m guessing it’s from Dragon?”

The Playwright nodded to Patton, and he picked up his invitation and cut it open. Quickly, his eyes scanned it over, and a frown overtook his features. “This’ so weird, a gala? Like a party?”

“That’s my suspicion,” the Playwright said, then rubbed the back of his neck. “We all know, er….”

“Roman’s got a flair for the dramatics,” the Artist continued, voice soft, “Dragon got a lot of that.”

“But not all!” the Bard raised his hands up in Roman’s typical princely pose, grinning cheekily.

The Playwright and the Artist both rolled their eyes. “Yes,” the Playwright said. “It looks as though Dragon is trying to lure us all to the castle.”

“....Gosh,” Patton breathed, setting the invitation down on the table, so everyone could read it.

His hand was shaking a little. He did want to see the Dragon, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about the implications of the letter. And a part of him hoped that….it hadn’t been the Dragon who sent it. Maybe the other Romans were wrong. Maybe the Prince, HIS prince, was there.

To Patton,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating your entrance into the Imagination, as well as Logan, Virgil, and Deceit’s. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement, made all the better with your attendance. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

See you soon, my love.

Prince Roman

“Oh, fuck him, he’s just gonna sign it like that? What a lilly-livered jackass!” the Bard’s nose scrunched up.

He leaned back again and turned up his head, repulsed by the Dragon’s blatant arrogance. And the gall, calling Patton his love! It was like he got all the pride and none of the brains! What the hell! The Bard almost wanted to trade him one bit of self-indulgence.

Oh, he might have to throw some of his own punches, once he came face to face with the Dragon. What a disgrace to the Prince’s memory!

“It’s not somethin’ to celebrate,” Dad Guy said, a small smile on his face. The way his brows pinched definitely betrayed his worry.

Teacher Guy still patted his shoulder and shook his head. “Not the time, Dad.”

“Sorry, you know I goof when I’m nervous.”

“Hang on,” the Artist said, rereading the note, “Playwright and my invitations were different.”

He reached into his hoodie pocket and took out his own invitation, spreading it out on the table.

To Roman ‘Artist’ Sanders,

Roman ‘Dragon’ Sanders invites you to a masquerade gala celebrating Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s entrance into the Imagination. Please provide your own costume and mask, as this will be a masquerade ball.

It will be a grand evening of food, dance, and excitement — with a very special and very familiar guest. Entry at the Drawbridge gate tonight, gates open at sundown.

No RSVP required.

Come prepared.

“He’s….so he’s pretending to be Prince,” Deceit bit his tongue. “That has got to be who the guest is, in your invitation.”

He picked up both letters, turning them around to face himself as he turned over the phrasing in his mind. This was almost his area of expertise. The minute changes of word, the different references to the Prince, everything was catered to the recipient of the letter. Probably as a means to get whoever the letter was sent to do go.

Him and Patton both couldn’t hide their disappointment, but….it did make sense, in his world. The Dragon was manipulating them into attending, offering whatever he could.

“I don’t get it,” the Bard said, crossing his arms, “What’s the point of this? A ball? Like, that sounds flipping sweet, but for what?”

The Playwright responded. “My hypothesis is that it’s to get us all in one place. Every one of us figments, and every Side, but I don’t understand why he would—”

“Okay, so he’s gonna kill us on the dance floor,” the Artist said, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Why do you think he’s inviting us, then?” Teacher Guy asked, “I mean, we’re probably going? Not much danger for us, and, well….”

“I wanna dance with you,” Dad Guy declared, throwing his arm around Teacher Guy’s shoulders.

Teacher Guy smiled, patting Dad Guy’s shoulder fondly as he turned to the Playwright again with more questions on his tongue. “It’s a free party. Knowing that we’re all Thomas, there’ll probably be pizza. Why do you think he’s throwing it all like a party? And what’s the point of having the costumes?”

“Dramatics?” the Playwright offered, voice weak in confusion. “The Dragon would have to figure out which costumed Thomas-esque people are the Sides, are us, and are, well, characters.”

The Artist exhaled sharply. “This is a long way to go for aesthetics. That can’t be all he wants.”

“Either way, we should go,” Patton said, voice soft, “We….Deceit, we were all talking about this. We’ve gotta talk to the Dragon.”

Deceit looked up from the letters, meeting Patton’s eyes with understanding. He nodded slowly. “I agree. No doubt it’s a trap. Of course, of course it’s a trap,” his brain was working at the speed of light, trying to figure out the smartest passage through this, “But we do need to meet him.”

A beat of silence followed that declaration.

Patton was afraid. They couldn’t not meet the Dragon — he was a part of Roman! And every part was valuable and loved and he needed to hug — but the way that the Artist curled in on himself, the way that the Playwright was squeezing his knees with his fists, the way that the Bard was trying to smile, as though it could cover up all of their fears…. It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. He was going to talk to the Dragon and give him a scolding. And, if he managed to get through to the Dragon, then it might help the other Romans not be afraid of that part of him. That was what mattered most.

Of course this would be difficult. Deceit would have to tread carefully. He didn’t want to risk any more damage to Roman’s psyche. He almost wanted to forget that kiss, that stupid kiss, because now it was dwelling too heavily on his mind for him to focus on the task at hand. This gala, this party that the Dragon was throwing….did he have the Prince? None of the Romans knew where Prince had gone. The way they talked about him made it sound like he was dead.

There was no way he was dead. And there was no way Deceit was going to let any of them get hurt, either.

At least the other Romans weren’t arguing back this time around. Hopefully they’d been convinced of this turn’s necessity.

God, he was so happy he didn’t have to talk in circles around this topic.

“Well, um,” Dad Guy fidgeted with the sleeve of his cardigan, “I don’t know what you all wanna do now. I’ve got cookies in—”

A sharp knock at the door shut him up. They all froze, huddled in their seats and couches. Deceit actually drew one of his daggers, poised to fight if need be. This was poor timing for the guards to have found them.

The door flung open.

There was Remy, glasses slipping down his nose, panting. He fixed his glasses and waved an arm across his body.

“Guys. You’re gonna wanna come with me, pronto,” he pointed at Dad Guy and Teacher Guy, “Emile needs them. You’re good.”

“Awh, but I just made cookies,” Dad Guy said.

“We can bring them the cookies later,” Teacher Guy offered, to which Dad Guy immediately brightened up, clapping.

“You’re right! We’ll bring you cookies later!”

“What happened?” the Playwright asked, fixing his glasses.

Remy usually didn’t run. He liked to take his time, make things easy for himself. What might have caused this sudden conundrum?

“Can’t answer that right now, we’ve gotta get going,” Remy wasn’t even holding a Starbucks cup as he fixed his glasses and motioned to them again, “You really need to see this.”

46 notes · View notes

magistralucis · 5 years

Text

Rammstein @ Stadium MK, 06 July 2019 [Review]

Just over a week ago, I saw one of the greatest shows in my life.

I dedicate lengthy reviews to most concerts I’ve been to. R+ most definitely merit one, and I like to think this one turned out very nice and long, with plenty of images in between. Nevertheless, I omitted a lot more details this time than I usually do, because:

My pre-show adventures were abnormally long (12+ hours wait).

I made irl queue buddies whose identities aren’t up to me to release.

I’ve talked to people who plan to attend future tour dates and do not want to be spoiled on what R+ has planned. I usually put my reviews below a cut to prevent spoilers, but it doesn’t work on mobile as well.

So, a compromise: I commented on every song on the setlist, but I kept to general comments for new content. There are things R+ brought out this year that you really need to see with your own eyes. But I can’t completely refuse to talk about new things, otherwise that’s only half a review. Those who are wary of all spoilers, please, read at your own risk.

Read on for more. Mobile users, be warned this is a very long post.

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

The Journey (+ Queue Adventures)

This show wasn’t in London. You won’t read about London commutes or opinions about the London Underground in this section for once. Too bad the journey to Milton Keynes fucking sucked. It wasn’t commuting back and forth between Rammstein and my hotel that was the problem. In fact, going back home from Milton Keynes was very simple. But getting there? My God. Only a few things went pear-shaped, and I have nobody but myself to blame for the things that went wrong, but I was not prepared for the discrepancy between MK and the areas surrounding it. Future me, book your hotels and transport in Central Milton Keynes next time.

I will never put myself in the mercy of so many taxis in my life again. Well, I mean, two. Still two too many.

A quick note about Milton Keynes for non-UK residents. It’s probably the most organized city in this country. Milton Keynes is modern and grid-planned, unlike most other cities here which have grown organically and have alleys and hills and cobblestones all over the place. All the roads in MK are in straight lines or clear roundabouts, buildings/facilities are in logical places, and it’s widely considered to be a very easy place to navigate. It’d have been nice to experience literally any of that during most of my journey, because dumbass booked a hotel in the villages around Milton Keynes rather than the city itself. The villages are serene and calming, but they absofuckinglutely do not adhere to any such thing as a grid plan and getting around them was difficult. This was not helped by the fact that the very first leg of the journey, Brighton to London, was delayed for an hour due to an accident on the motorway. I missed the connection to Milton Keynes as a result.

Fuckign.

That was one inconvenience which was not in any way my fault whatsoever, and I’m still bitter that it nearly ruined my entire journey. At least trains between London to Milton Keynes are very common, and it’s only half an hour. So ultimately, after an extra fifteen quid, I arrived right on time. Commuting to the hotel was much harder, because it was a very hot day, and the trains to these villages come by more infrequently. But at least they were there, I hadn’t packed a very heavy load, and when I finally reached the hotel I was given a cottage room all to myself which was cool and comfortably out of the way. There was a huge bathtub. Some nice free toiletries. Complimentary brandy. Oh, hotel, why couldn’t you have been a little closer to the city centre?

But, whatever. I got there. I took the Ls I deserved, and I didn’t pay too high a price for the one I didn’t deserve. I’d brought more than enough money to cover it, because I’d known I would need to shell out extra for transport on the day of the concert. That thought process is universal among concertgoers; I think I handled that as well I could have. I ate dinner, packed a bag, and fell asleep.

That was Friday. Saturday the 6th I will cover in bullet points, from waking up to front row, because most of my Saturday consisted of nothing but waiting for Rammstein. I’m usually more detailed about my preshow life, but there’s a line between an entertaining diary entry and making people slog through fifteen hours of Rammstein-not-happening. Let’s go.

4am. Up nice and early. I force down breakfast. I have a small bag packed with necessities, and a plastic bag intended to be disposed of at the concert: the latter contains energy bars, satsumas (for hydration), some dried salami, and two bottles of water. That is all I’m going to be eating for the rest of the day.

5:45am. Taxi to Stadium MK. It costs exactly a tenner. I decide that when I’m heading back from the concert, I’m willing to pay up to double this amount. A higher price surge will mean I’ll have to wait.

6am. Queuing adventures begin. There are already four people ahead of me; the people at the very front have been waiting since 3am. I’m at Gate 5, closest to front row out of all the other available gates in the stadium. There are three queue lines already formed with metal barriers, separated by standing, seats, and accessible/disabled, but there is a taller barricade in front of it which prevents us from going in there. We are too early even for that.

Stadium doors open at five, R+ comes on at eight. This is going to be a ridiculous haul.

7am. Up to ten people in the queue. The first six of us in the queue begin talking. These people are the aforementioned queue buddies who will subsequently keep my place in line during bathroom breaks, give me much concert wisdom, and preserve our places for front row. The human capacity to spontaneously begin caring for one another at concerts is what I like best about concert culture, especially metalhead culture. Ain’t no other home I’ve found like with fellow metalheads.

9:30am. I am really tired. The people right behind me have homebrewed a sunshade out of plastic picnic mats across the barriers. Half of us are collapsed on the asphalt, sleeping.

10:13am. Bathroom break. Me and one other girl leave the queue to the 24h McDonalds to make use of theirs. I will revisit this McDonalds roughly 14 hours from now, this time to contribute actual business.

12pm. People in queue are significantly more alert because security guys have started milling around. The barricades for the main queue lines will be removed around 3pm.

1:30pm. One last bathroom break. We visit the nearby Asda, because it’s becoming evident the area is flooded with R+ fans and the restaurants are demanding they engage with actual business before using their bathrooms. Asda has no such issue.

3pm. Barricades finally open and I make it to the front of the line once more. We’re allowed a single 500ml bottle of water with us but then they FUCKING HIT US AGAIN WITH THE NO BOTTLE CAP BULLSHIT. Seriously it’s more of a hazard to have open bottles spilling water everywhere for the love of God just let us keep our bottle caps. I discard my original cap, but what I didn’t tell security was that I had a sports cap from a separate bottle from earlier hidden in the depths of my jacket. Once I’m in, I just screw that on, and I am fine and dandy.

5PM FUCKING DOORS ARE OPEN GO GO GO-

-STAIRS? S T A IR S??? AIN’T NOBODY FUCKING TELL ME ABOUT STAIRS ? 1!?@?3@?@/2?3?#

After a wild scramble I score front row nonetheless. Last time I was front row for Rammstein, I was in front of Richard; this time I choose Paul’s side.

Around 6pm it begins to rain. In the stadium.

6:30pm. I am really cold. I am shivering despite the thousands of people rubbing shoulders beside and all around me, and it’s still 1hrs 30mins until R+ show up. They cannot come on fast enough. I have never wanted so much to be toasted like a marshmallow.

7pm. The opener comes on - Jatekok, a classical pianist duo who covered most of Sehnsucht over a half-hour period. They are all the way over at the B-stage however, and while I can hear them, being a short woman at front row essentially means I forfeit anything that happens on the B-stage. It’s too far back, and there are too many people between me and the stage for me to see anything.

Rammstein came on at 8pm to a multi-language announcement asking the audience not to film the performance. The abundance of full-length videos on youtube depicting exactly that is proof that this request was not kept, but I digress. I’m assuming most people reading this review are Rammstein fans, or or know how each song’s ‘performance’ goes, so a minute-by-minute play will be unnecessary. My comments are general, but hopefully insightful.

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

01. Was ich liebe (Rammstein)

Check this shit out!

This screen will continue to be relevant throughout the concert. Half the time it’s displaying the logo, and half the time... well, you’ll have to see 😂 R+ have opted for a relatively calm start in this tour. The bandmates appear one by one to the intro, lingering at the front of the stage (save for Schneider) until Till appears.

All the bandmates’ outfits. So far a theme is uncertain. Or maybe it’s just that Flake is the odd one out. He sparkles most golden throughout the entire concert. He still has the treadmill arrangement going. If anything he’s gotten more stage-confident and hilarious since the last time I saw him.

Till’s outfit goes hot and serious and heavy. He will only keep the coat on for ‘Was ich liebe’, which is perfectly reasonable; it’s stopped raining by this time and the venue is warm-ish, though clouded. As for ‘Was ich liebe’ as a song, I’m fond of it. I am, however, surprised to see that it’s the opener. This is not a complaint: in retrospect, R+ paced out the songs from their recent album very cleverly throughout the concert, alternating between their older hits and building up to the major climaxes in the middle (songs 7-14). It was just a bit of a surprise at the time.

I see the most of this cheerful lil’ bastard through the show. Paul will feature heavily in my images of this night.

02. Links 2-3-4 (Mutter)

Storytime. Kinda. I had never watched the music video of ‘Links 2-3-4′ until the day of this concert. I’ve always known one existed, I just didn’t watch it because it’s full of ants and insects are my number one phobia. I haven’t willingly sought out things with insects in it for years, and I wasn’t going to start any time soon. This self-imposed ban on watching the video was broken in Stadium MK because while we were waiting, they were marathoning every single R+ music video on a large screen off to the side of the stage. I watched the whole thing then because I might as well; what the hell else was I gonna do, leave the front row?

It was actually a pretty good video once I got past the CGI bugs ick factor of it. This has nothing to do with the actual live version of the song. Why the hell have I written so much about this? Till removes his heavy coat almost as soon as the song begins. Paul starts properly fucking around with his mic. I’m seeing the virtues of being on Paul’s side very early on, and I finally get what people mean by having ‘met Paul’s eyes’ during the concert. It’s not that he’s focused on the one person, at least not as far as he outwardly presents himself, but he does seem to have a specific zone in which he regards the audience. He takes time to meet eyes with various people, smile, and acknowledge particular situations.

03. Tattoo (Rammstein)

Till is now dressed suitably for the Tillhammer to come out in full force. I’m not huge on ‘Tattoo’ as a song, but this is where Till really starts to gravitate towards either side of the stage, rather than at dead center. After shenanigans with Paul, as seen above, he comes over to Paul’s side (where I am) and stays for the first verse and the first ‘zeig mir deins, ich zeig' mir deins’ chorus.

I like to think we make eye contact, but there are thousands of people behind me and he’s not an eye contact person. Just a fleeting thought.

Also I just went to look at one of the aforementioned full-length videos of this concert and someone was bouncing around an inflatable shark (?) behind me. How did they get that in? Hide it deflated in one’s clothes then inflate it while in the stadium?

04. Sehnsucht (Sehnsucht)

The last strands of ‘Tattoo’ fade immediately into ‘Sehnsucht’ with no time for a break. Till removes another layer of outerwear. Fireworks burst out at every beat leading up to the main part of the song. In retrospect, discounting their fiery entrance, ‘Sehnsucht’ is really the point where you can tell they’re warming up the pyrotechnics. I don’t remember any particular interaction between Till or the guitarists, as from what I can remember Till was busy Tillhammering at the center stage; he will move around more freely later. My memories of this song are loving but blurred, because I got into headbanging with the girls beside me and their hair was grazing my arms something awful. I have similar length hair, however, so I’m sure I was doing the same to them.

God ‘Sehnsucht’ is so good. I always think of the Live Aus Berlin performance where Till was bashing the mic against his forehead when I hear this song. Hits me right in the spot every time.

Also: bonus Richard.

05. Zeig dich (Rammstein)

*sick guitar riffs* ‘Zeig! Dich!’

Fuck yeah. The heat from those firebursts are brief but incredible. Now I feel most comfortable and toasted. Black smoke drifts into the sky.

Also significant ymmv based on location, but this is only about the people around and behind me: come on guys, seriously? You don’t know the lyrics! This is the third song from Rammstein already and you’ve been quiet all three times! I however give them credit for being so well behaved through the show. People further to the right of me were getting dragged out all over the place.

06. Mein Herz brennt (Mutter)

Till trolls us with the first instance of ‘mein Herz brennt’, as the main riff doesn’t immediately begin after these words in this performance. He has a laugh about this. Other than that, the performance is as you’d expect, complete with heart pyrotechnics towards the end.

Olli comes very close to me at the halfway point. I'm starting to worry he’s going to spend the entire concert dressed like this, though the concern is unwarranted. It seems such a hot thing to be wearing.

07. Puppe (Rammstein)

ich rEISS' DER PUPPE den KOPF! AB!

ja, ich REISS' DER PUPPE den KOPF! AB!

UND DANN BEISS’ ICH DER PUPPE DEN H̷AL҉S̕ ĄA̡AA͟B̵!

E̷҉S̀͡͞ ҉̶ĢE͞͝H̷͡T͘ ̢́M͜҉I̵͜R ́͠͝N̷̴Í̷C͟͡͞H̸̀T̛̀ G̡̕U̡҉̀U̵̕U͡͠U҉UU̢U͡T̷̨̛

Make sure you see this performance live, preferably up close. It’s beyond words.

08. Heirate mich (Herzeleid)

When I was in the queue I struck up a conversation with one of my queue buddies about what songs might be on the setlist. She had been front row for the concert in Berlin prior to this, so she already knew what we were getting into. I requested no spoilers in advance, which she kept to - but then our conversation moved to the Herzeleid-Sehnsucht era and I mentioned how I’d love to see a live performance of ‘Heirate mich’ again. It was always a wistful sadness of mine that I was born too damned early to see Till doing this.

Not that I said outright Tillchard was the reason I liked this song.

In retrospect, she had a twinkle in her eye when I said this, because she knew that this song was on the setlist. I did not see it coming. I kept myself spoiler-free from day one of buying tickets to the actual concert itself, so it was a genuine surprise when the intro to ‘Heirate mich’ started playing. Surprise and confusion with a heaping side of mother fucking excuse me when I recognized what it was.

Oh I went hog wild, guys.

Till does not do the dragging himself onto his knees thing in the current tour, which I think is understandable. His knees weren’t amazing twenty years ago and they are presumably even less so now. It’s a very straightforward performance, winding down to prepare for the real showstoppers - but my old wish was finally granted, Till sounded wonderful in both song and narrative, and I came away most satisfied. 11/10 would listen again.

09. Diamant (Rammstein)

Half the band takes a break here. Flake comes down from the keyboards to sit on the stage and Olli sits beside him, providing the bass for this short beautiful little ballad. There are no fancy pyrotechnics here, nor much stage movement; it’s a sequence to make the audience aware of the overheard screen, imo, in case ‘Puppe’ didn’t do a good enough job of it. The entire performance is broadcast on that screen with the camera turning between Olli, Till, and Flake.

Till’s voice is beautiful. It’s the most legitimately serene Rammstein performance I’ve ever seen live. They have their share of ballads - ‘Ohne dich’ will also feature later in the concert - but ‘Diamant’ is probably the most low-key of them all.

10. Deutschland (Richard Z. Kruspe Remix) / Deutschland (Rammstein)

I...

???

?????

?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!

I have no words. Like ‘Puppe’, you really need to see this entire sequence live. I can say three things, however, and two are about Richard: 1) ‘Deutschland’ comes in two flavours in the tour, the second one being the glorious full version in the main album, 2) Richard avoids sounding devilish in his backing vocals (‘du hast, du hast, du hast, du hast... so heiß, so heiß, so heiß, so heiß’ etc), though I cannot guarantee he will always be as tuneful in future performances, and 3) he will not go of that coat until ‘Du hast’. DJ Kruspe is in the house and only the unrelenting flow of time can part him from his swaggity swag fluffcoat.

But I... well, I keep remembering Till’s pink shrug every time I look at it. Remember back when we fawned over that as the brand new Rammstein outfit?

Oh my God I’ve gotten so old.

11. Radio (Rammstein)

This is probably my second favourite song of the new album and they deliver. Because ‘Deutschland’ was, well, ‘Deutschland’, it comes across as relatively low-key compared to what came before (and will after), but I like it like that. During the bridge ‘Ra-di-o... radio’ part, Paul and Richard come out with their own small synths to recreate that sound. It’s so peppy.

Paul does another small dance. Why did I neglect being on Paul’s side until now? This is great.

12. Mein Teil (Reise, Reise)

I’m half ashamed to say I spent this entire performance filming it instead of rocking out. I wanted to save it that much. It was that good.

No, it’s not fundamentally different to other performances of ‘Mein Teil’. Till keeps his usual outfit, Flake’s in the pot, there is a pot, etc. However, the pyrotechnics have changed significantly, and let’s just say that Flake endures a hell of a lot more than previous incarnations.

And comes out of it more sprightly than before, somehow.

Marry me.

Also a bonus consequence of being front row: after this song, Till comes down the stage and walks along the barrier shaking/slapping hands with people. In his murderchef outfit. I was one of many who managed to touch his hand. It really is a very quick walk, so you’ll have to be ready with hand already out and in reaching distance (difficult if you’re short) if you want to partake in this encounter, but it does happen. Future concertgoers watch out for something like this maybe.

13. Du hast (Sehnsucht)

Can you really call it a live performance of ‘Du hast’ if the audience isn’t singing at least 50% of it in Till’s stead? But then, when else do we have that opportunity. Milton Keynes audience does not disappoint.

Also Till shoots some excellent fireworks that travels across the length of the stadium and back before crashing back onstage. I still hear their whistles in my mind. Night is beginning to fall for real, and it’s a fantastic time to be ramping up the fireworks. Evidently R+ think the same, because...

14. Sonne (Mutter)

Daaaaaaaaammnn!!!

I have a video of this performance, but honestly it is not that useful for assessing what’s happening onstage. There is just too much fire. The video whites out continuously from all the flames mere feet away from us. ‘Sonne’ has always been a facemelting showstopper for Rammstein during live shows, but they’ve really gone above and beyond this year: the arena truly lights up like the sun for the full duration of the song. I highly recommend getting front row for this, right in front of where you can see the pyrotechnics are installed in the above gif. (Between main speakers, essentially.) Your face will burn off even more than it usually burns off during a R+ concert, and you will enjoy every minute of it.

15. Ohne dich (Reise, Reise)

Till’s in very good condition tonight. How he pulls off the slow ballads is how I tend to gauge his voice is from night to night, and he doesn’t let us down here either. The entire front row slow waves to this song, which is something I’m proud of being a part of. The girl to the left of me is weeping. The seriousness of this song still does not prevent Flake fucking around. It wouldn’t do R+ performances justice if he wasn’t like this.

‘Ohne dich’ is considered the first ‘ending’ of the concert, meaning in reality the band’s first departure from the main stage. All six members take an initial bow before moving to the B-stage. They will return to the main stage shortly afterwards for further encores.

16. Engel (Sehnsucht)

Pros: The opening act return in their gorgeous outfits and pianos, and act as the piano instrumental for this performance.

Cons: It’s on the B-stage. I sure heard this song but didn’t see anything. God damnit I hate being five feet four.

They provide a karaoke for people exactly in my situation, though. That’s at least something 😂

17. Ausländer (Rammstein)

You thought one R+ boat ride was awesome? HOW ABOUT THREE.

I am going to cry. Look at it. It’s literally a Welcome sign. The sentiment of the music video to ‘Ausländer’ is perfectly retained as they surf across the audience from the B-stage.

Also bonus ~✨👀 unintentional Tillchard moment 👀✨~ as Richard has a little slip on his way out of the boat. He was not hurt and was back onstage quickly. All this before the song even begins. I may need to upload the video of this moment.

‘Ausländer’ itself I have slightly more mixed feelings for. The song is fantastic and I have no complaints about the album version, and hearing Till cry out ‘я люблю тебя’ is always a plus. The problem with the live version is simply that the drums are too loud during the chorus: instead of a clearly enunciated ‘Ich bin Aus-län-der!’ with a drumbeat on each syllable, one hears ‘*THUD* *THUD* Aus-län-*THUD*!’. I was wearing earplugs which might have affected the quality somewhat, but people who weren’t wearing any were talking about this after the show as well, and after watching videos of the Milton Keynes performance I’m sure the drums were too loud. Your mileage may vary on whether this is a desirable effect - it lets the audience fills in the ‘ich bin’ part, I suppose - but I feel Till was unnecessarily drowned out.

18. Du riechst so gut (Herzeleid)

For me, the highlight of this song in the live version is always, always, always Richard’s evil scream-growl ‘DU RIECHST SO GUUUUUUUUUUUT’ (example here for reference). He delivers yet again.

19. Pussy (Liebe Ist Für Alle Da)

On the whole, this performance is largely unaltered from how it usually goes. Till gestures for the audience to sing the first couple of lines, there is a dick cannon that shoots something at the audience, and Till mans the dick cannon. Last time I saw them from front row, we were all covered in a very thick white foam; this time it was bubbles, followed by a shower of white confetti. The combination was less clinging than the foam, somehow, much more pleasant to be showered with.

Only Rammstein could make me write such a sentence about dick cannons.

Speaking of the dick cannon, though, I engaged in some discussion about it while I was waiting for the performance. This cannon has had a troubled existence, as R+ fans would know: sometimes it straight up hasn’t worked, and it’s been redesigned several times, ranging from a disturbingly realistic look to a flesh-coloured polygonal creation. This current version is the least realistic of all the dick cannons R+ have ever used. It’s just like, metal. Visibly. They haven’t gone to the extra trouble of painting it flesh-coloured. My guess is that this is because it fits with their current chrome/dark aesthetics better, R+ aren’t a band to neglect that kind of detail. As long as it works and the audience is aptly showered, what’s the problem? Let’s do it quick! 😀 And now this is entirely too many words about dick cannons, so I’ll move on.

20. Rammstein (Herzeleid)

‘Ramm-stein!’

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. It is past ten o’clock and the skies have gotten dark, though not so dark you can’t see the black smoke spiraling into the air with each burst of fire. A plane flies by far above into the distance and I appreciate the poetic irony. I think I would have been happy enough if they’d ended the performance on this note, but there’s one last song left.

21. Ich will (Mutter)

I can’t think of a better finale.

This song is exactly what you’d expect, with an additional sprinkle of fireworks punctuating every pause in the lines ‘Seht ihr mich? / Versteht ihr mich? / Fühlt ihr mich? / Hört ihr mich?’. Like always, audience participation is mandatory, as is the audience showing off their hands. It is the perfect way to end the show: it’s a classic favourite, it’s neither too bright nor too grim (avoids ending on a downer note), and it’s a song exclusively written to highlight a togetherness between band and audience. ‘Ich will’ could end every R+ concert it features in, in my opinion, regardless of theme or era... and it will always be appropriate.

The concert really ends after that. It helps that Till addresses his farewell to us as ‘fucking Milton Keynes’ (in a wholly fond way) before they depart. I won’t speak about the details of how they leave, because that’s almost a small show of its own, but trust me when I say I was in tears.

I say that like that didn’t happen at least three times during the concert.

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

After it’s all over, I... don’t get to go back to my hotel and sleep. Not after a lot of waiting, anyway. Over 30,000 people are trying to leave this stadium all at once, the traffic congestion is awful and there are pretty much no taxis/uber rides available in the couple of hours following the concert. I eventually end up sitting in the McDonalds (only 24hr restaurant nearby) with queue buddies until roughly 1am until the surge goes down and I can pay the amount I promised myself for my uber.

I could have gone back earlier. I budgeted over a hundred pounds to see myself through the price surge, in case it didn’t go down as quickly as I hoped, or if I urgently needed to get myself out of danger. It was just that the predictor was showing something like fifty to eighty quid for a ten-minute ride back to my hotel and, like. Fuck that. There’s being able to ‘afford’ it, and then being able to afford it, and I can think of better ways to spend fifty pounds.

And to be honest, after over a half day of hunger, even McDonalds was one of those better places. I had a meal and a Sprite before I could get out of there. It was probably the first time I’d had something resembling a legit meal in two days and if I hadn’t been so ecstatic I think I’d have been depressed. Then I got back to my hotel. Made myself a hot chocolate with brandy. Passed out on my bed around 3am, then got back up around 7am to enjoy a nice morning bath and get myself back home. It was around 5pm on Sunday when I returned to Brighton, ears still ringing, feeling on cloud nine.

So that’s me. Future concertgoers, take as many opportunities as possible to go see Rammstein’s current tour live. Front row may be near impossible if you aren’t a LIFAD member and/or get pre-releases for the Feuer Zone (although Milton Keynes didn’t have that) but try to get as close as possible, anyway. It is not an experience to be missed.

Though also bring an umbrella, maybe. If your stadium allows it. It was a fucking trip surviving 12+ hours in the great outdoors and then immediately being rained on while on front row 😰

23 notes · View notes

starlight-drive-in · 5 years

Text

For The Salvation of Us - A Mystic Messenger Fanfic (Ray/SaeranxMC)

The voice in his head nags to be heard. A small, repeating “let me out” chanted over and over again. Ray claps his hands over his ears, shaking his head. But voices from within can not be blocked out so easily. What is he supposed to do when the very thing threatening her, is a part of himself?

Ray fights with his darker side - the other him - for power over the body they both occupy.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804640

His fingers clack at the keyboard relentlessly. Fighting off yet another counter attack of the red-head. How long can the other hacker really keep this up? Stupid question, he knows exactly how long. He slams the enter key, running his most recent code and waits impatiently staring at the screens in front of him. At least it gives him a moment to breath. When was the last time he slept anyway? Or ate? None of that matters anyway. The only thing that matters is doing his job correctly and maybe, just maybe, if he does a really good job he can allow himself to see her.

Her - just the thought of her brings heat to his face. His otherwise pale, peaked face. She kissed him. She. Kissed. Him. Last night in garden, he had been rambling stupid meaningless thoughts and she just stepped in and pressed her perfect lips to his very imperfect ones. That… was good? Right? It should have been, but he ran… stupid. Something that felt that good couldn't be bad, right? Ah but he's been wrong before. No. No she told him herself “Ray I like you, a lot” that doesn't make any sense though, how could someone like her be interested in him? Could she be lying? “She’s lying, and you know it, you’re pathetic.” a faded, yet intense voice speaks to him from his own mind.

“Shut up!” he shouts at the voice in his head, while recalling again that precious moment.

No, no he can't think about that now he has far too much work to do and not enough time to do it. He stifles a yawn and ignores his heavy eyelids, pulling the drawer under his keyboard open and searching for the caffeine pills that are more convenient than sleep these days. Stretching his hands to the back of the drawer, his slender fingers finally close around a small cylinder shape. He pops open the top and dumps a few pills into his palm, throwing his head back, taking the pills and swallowing - no water. No, he doesn't deserve water, not now. Not until he can say he’s done his job to the best of his meager abilities. He reels back from his intake of pills, attention snapping to the error code displayed blatantly on the screen. He groans in frustration and jolts his hands over the keyboard once more, knocking over the bottle of caffeine pills in the process and scattering them all over that hard tile floor. Frustration builds further, but he elects to ignore it for now, the pills can be cleaned up later. He has work to do, he has to figure out where the error is. He has to do better, he is better, right?

bang, bang, bang

The next thing he knows a sharp knocking at the door to his room is jarring him out of his nap. Nap? He’s not supposed to nap!

Stupid, stupid Ray. There’s no time for napping, there’s no time for anything, you’re so useless you cant even stay awake long enough to do your damn job. You’ll never get to see her now. You don't deserve to see her anyway. Why would she want to see someone as pathetic as you? He chides himself, making his way over to the door to open it to whichever believer the Savior has sent to check up on him this time.

He opens the door and standing before him is His savior and two other believers. She’s so beautiful, so delicate looking yet so powerful. She saved him, it’s all thanks to her that he’s even alive, and that he holds such a high position in this place. He’s come so far since…

“Ray?” Uh-oh, her tone is low, scolding. He knows just from this that she isn't happy, of course she isn't happy. That traitor got through security. Security he wasn't watching because he was being reckless. Stupid, stupid Ray the mantra repeats in his head once again.

She continues, scowl already creating her otherwise perfect features. “You weren't sleeping were you?” “Savior!” He says a little too panicked “Uh-I”

“Save it, I can see the indents of your sleeves all over you face, how long have you been slacking exactly?” His heart falls to the pit of his stomach, did he really think he was going to be able lie to her? Stupid,Useless

“I’ve tried to go easy on you Ray, you know that. You know I don’t want to hurt you.” His savior says in her honey dipped voice.

“Of course my savior, I‘m sorry. I’ll do better! I can do better!” Ray pleads nervously. “Oh, I’m going to personally see to it that you do. I know you haven't been taking the elixir I’ve been sending to you. Do you think you know better than I do?” She holds a hand out to one of the believers standing next to her as they produce a bottle of liquid all too familiar to him. “No Savior! I know nothing of what's best for me, please give me another chance I-” “Hold him down” She commands the believers on either side of her. They comply immediately, each taking one of his too thin arms in their hands and bringing him too his knees.

“Open your mouth” She commands of him lifting the larger-than average-bottle of the offensive elixir. “Savoir please not now, I need to work I need too-” She laughs bitterly “Oh is that what you were doing then?! I don’t think so.”

She forces his mouth open and pours the bitter, blue-green liquid down his throat. “I’m sorry Ray, you just aren't strong enough” He hears her say as he gags and chokes on the volatile liquid. “ He won’t get so easily distracted, I’m sure” Ray hears her say as he slowly begins to fade, something darker lurking just below the surface.

Somewhere else in that same building a young woman paces nervously in her borrowed, but poshley decorated room. Holding her phone tightly between her hands she worries herself with thoughts of what could have happened to the sweet boy whose more than caught her attention in the few days she’s been at this strange place.

She touches her own lips again, stomach leaping at the mixed feelings surrounding the moment she impulsively pressed her lips against his in a desperate attempt to get him to stop degrading himself, to even give him a glimpse of the way she sees him.

That was last night, they haven't talked as much today as she would like, he's been extremely busy today, even more so than usual. In fact all signs of him seem to have disappeared. She wonders idly how this place would even manage to exist if it wasn't for all him. Maybe it wouldn't and maybe that would be better.

A short while later, someone knocks on her door. Positive it must be Ray she opens the door right away, eager to see him and calm her worries. Her fears are irrational, right? But it is not Ray at the door instead it is a believer from the lost and found inquiring about a bookmark they found. Asking after its owner, and revealing it to her. It looks familiar. After closer inspection she’s sure it belongs to Ray, or belonged to Ray? The handwriting is that of a child’s but his personality is all over the thing. She claims it to be hers and them timidly asks after Ray.

“You haven't heard? Mr. Ray is undergoing his cleansing at the moment.”

Her eyes grow wide at the news, but the believer doesn’t seem to think of this as anything but ordinary. Not wanting to cause alarm she dismisses him and shuts the door. “Oh Ray, what’s happening to you?

Back in his room, The Savior has seen to it that Ray has consumed his elixir and leaves him wait out the effects on his own. Closing the door behind her she motions to the two believers at her side. “Make sure he gets back to work as fast as possible, and pay no mind to the screaming.”

They nod their heads in compliance and take guard at either side of his heavy metal clad door.

Inside Ray shakes violently, clinging to himself, rocking himself back and forth. He’s too hot, he tears his jacket off, then his cravat and vest, finally his shirt comes off revealing every nasty scar and protruding rib. He paces across the small room. Once, twice, after awhile he loses track completely how many times he's paced the few meters that make up his small room. Finally he stops, catching sight of himself in the small mirror on his dresser.

The voice in his head nags to be heard. A small, repeating “ let me out ” chanted over and over again. Ray claps his hands over his ears turns away from the mirror, shaking his head. But voices from within can not be blocked out so easily.

“ Let. Me. Out .” The voice in his head screams. An almost crazed tone accenting each word, different from Ray’s own voice.

“NO, you- you'll hurt her, you'll- I don't know what you'll do!” Ray says aloud to the other one, a battle he cannot win just beginning.

“ If you don't let me out, we're going to die on this floor, we’ll never get our job done, and it'll be your fault! You're pathetic. I can't wait to get rid of you. ”

“I-I can do this, I'll do it for her! I won't let you win, I won’t let you hurt her “

“ Who? That stupid airhead you have locked up in that disgusting room? ”

“She’s not an airhead! She’s brilliant! And she's not locked up! She's not! She wants to be there, she - she likes me!”

“ HA! You? Who the fuck would like you?! There's only one woman in this world who cares for us and it's the Savior, you'd do well to remember that, Marshmallow Boy. ”

“No, no, no, she’s different”

In a desperate attempt to ground himself he grabs his phone off his bedside table and shakily dials her number.

Suddenly, her phone comes to life, displaying the very name she’s been waiting to see. She picks up before the first ring can even complete. “Ray?!” she says frantically. “Is is really you? Please.. Please don't hang up… please!” “Ray, what's going on?!”

“My head… it hurts, I feel like I’m going to explode… I …” His breathing is labored and heavy. She can feel her chest tighten at the sound of it.

“You should leave me alone, I'm too weak. Just let me stay in the corner” he continues. “I wish it would all go away, I think I have to go now. I'm too weak. I’m too scared. I should have never breathed in the first place. I must be gone for our salvation.”

Ours? As in mine and his? Or? She wonders in her head but can't speak.

“NO, no I want to stay. I want to see you… I want to stay with you” He says, as if arguing with himself out loud.

“Paradise… I’ll do anything for our paradise, so please just let me stay in the corner. I’ll miss you, but I need to be gone, so that you will stay. You must be happy”

She’s never heard him sound so resigned before, so defeated. The phone goes silent. Something wet falls from her face, and then another. She wants to help him but everyone in this place frightens her except him. She curls on the bed weeping, feeling just as defeated as him, and so helpless. This place is poison, she’s sure of it.

He can feel the other one taking over. Two opposites fighting over control of a metaphorical car neither of them fully understand how to drive. Somewhere in the backseat a small boy calls for his brother, While a young man next to him starts to awaken.

---

Thank you for reading! This is my first fanfic I've ever published so its a big step for me, leave a comment if you liked it!

I took a little creative liberty at the end there with the 4 different personalities. It's an idea I play with from time to time that Saeran has more than just two personalities.

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme #saeran #saeran choi #mystic messenger saeran #mystic messenger ray #mm saeran #mm ray #ray route #mm ray route #mm another story #another story #mc/saeran #mc x saeran #mc x ray #mc/ray

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mrdanielbond · 5 years

Text

Bond’s New Flatmate (Chpt. 4)

“Duck? Swann? Same thing.”

[James Bond X Reader]

Plot; She’s here. Bond’s girlfriend has finally arrived. Dr Madeleine Swann. Don’t they make the perfect hot couple? Well...after spending some ‘quality’ time with James’ new girlfriend, unfortunately, you already find her the most irritable person you have ever had the displeasure of sitting in the same room with….

[Word Count; 4000+ ]

[Y/N - Your Name]

[Y/L/N - Your Last Name]

[Warnings? Does a crazy girlfriend count?]

[A/N; It’s back- God knows how many times I suffered through a brain fart because if this. But on the bright side, Madeleine’s character is a blend of her in Spectre and inspiration from others. Also Jonathan, the new friend is an actor you can imagine just to open things up for you! You’ll see more of him soon! I really do hope you enjoy this! ]

1 Week Before…

“Come on Y/N. Sit with me.” James said as he shifted aside on his bed.

He had been working on a case to do with a Turkish terror threat for a while now and the case had proved to show some difficulties. It was 9.00 pm and you could see Bond was slightly frustrated with the way his shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled up and slightly unbuttoned, his tie had been thrown to one side, he didn’t really care how he had looked, especially in front of his flatmate half the time. You didn’t care how you looked either, in a long t-shirt and a pair of leggings beneath, you were starting to feel more comfortable in the flat almost over eight months in. You both had been getting a lot closer - well in the eyes of others, you two made more snarky remarks to each other as a way of ‘respect’ or some form of friendship.

“Are you’re scared I’m going to bite?” He remarked.

“In all the wrong places.” You teased. “You have no idea…” You mumbled that part to yourself quietly.

“Come on. I won’t bite.”

“No touching.” You said with a stern tone in your voice.

“No touching.” He repeated with his hands up.

“I’m being serious.”

“I’m not going to do anything Sir.” He laughed, “I just want you to look at this case with me that’s all...Unless you’re uncomfortable with that.”

“Please. I’m the one who does the uncomfortable making, not you.” You said as you sat next to him, leaning against the headboard and looked at the photographs of the terror suspect.

You two sat together talking about the case for over an hour and you realised, you hadn’t been this close to James ever. And for the first time ever, there were no flirtatious jokes - well he managed to slip in one or two but he really did want your help. He turned to you, smiling once you’d both finally stopped talking.

“So just out of curiosity, do you think you will ever divorce your husband?”

“Way to drop in the question.” You laughed, “And why are you asking? So you can try and jump into my bed and prove you don’t go around sleeping with married women?”

“No.” Bond chuckled shaking his head, “I’ll wait two weeks after.”

You turned, glaring at him, prepared to jump out of the bed and make a run for it, “I’m joking! It’s a genuine question. You two aren’t even a couple so you’d understand why I’d ask that question.”

“Well, I don't know. I’ve just been too lazy.”

“But what if you weren’t feeling lazy?”

“I can’t imagine myself being bothered enough though.”

“God you’re annoying.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s almost attractive.”

“Not happening James.”

“Got it.” There was a silent pause before he continued, “So did you love him?”

“At one point, yeah. But it’s just I think we see each other more as friends.”

“Uh oh. That’s the kind of thing you say once you’ve had a break up.” He laughed.

“No. I told you what happened. We had to move away to different places and just grew distant. Had no time to talk to each other about anything or even bothered to see each other down the line.” You looked down at your hands with a sigh, James was genuinely interested. He listened to your every word when you opened up about your marriage, it was almost an odd therapy session.

“So, same time next week? This time a little less talk and more action?”

“In your dreams.”

“Fine. Playing hard to get, you won’t be able to handle this anyway.” He winked, looking down.

“Handle what? There’s nothing to handle, not even downstairs.” James became stunned as you slipped out of his bed smiling, was he trying to undress you with his eyes?

“Oh and don’t stare too long, you have a girlfriend.”

“What girlfriend?” He said, enjoying the view behind you.

***

The evening in Chelsea had finally hit and during winter especially, nothing could defeat the feeling of soaking up the warmth of the flat, being on the couch wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows and some popcorn with (your favourite show) on television, James’ light blue shirt and your PJ bottoms. To set the record straight, you had always borrowed his shirts for experiments in the labor at home and never returned them but this was a different case. Your laundry had stacked exponentially and the clothes you had left were down to the ugliest t shirt and bottoms you owned, which you were not willing to put on at all, especially when you’re living with someone like James who knew how to tease. So on your day off, you had to get that sorted immediately. Today was your day off and you appreciate it more than anything. A day away from James and his ridiculous saga with Q, which still you haven’t been able to divorced from (your laziness had increased by a milestone since you moved to London) and had the displeasure of being the centre of it. Today was definitely a break. From Bond and all his questions, his flirtatious tricks and from Q and his snarky remarks. James was out working as usual, considering he was ‘Mr. 24/7’ and had to be alert all the time - something about a debriefing had to take place, you couldn’t remember. It’s evidently clear you aren’t one to listen to what James is usually up to at work.

Just when you thought you were going to spend the entire night like this, binge watching your favourite television show, that thought was immediately defeated by the sound of the door unlocking. James stepped in and noticed you resting comfortably on the couch.

“Oh hello.” He mumbled quietly, noticing you in a change of clothes, “This is the most comfortable I’ve ever seen you in the flat.” His rich voice caught your attention instantly. You turned to him and casually ate popcorn, giving him a slight shrug.

“I live here too, don’t I?” You responded with a proud smirk. “Better take advantage of what I have.”

“That being my shirt? Not that I’m saying it looks bad on you.” He smirked too, except his eyes were on you completely, eyeing the way you were dressed in particular to his fascination.

“What? I had to call the plumber to fix the washing machine.”

“Really? A plumber? You should’ve told me that the washing machine had a problem.”

“You’ve been really busy as of late I couldn’t disturb you being on that case for a washing machine and what would you have done? Shown your manly skills off in front of me?”

“If you wanted me to, I could’ve made time to help you out and who knows? I don’t even think a washing machine would even have to be involved. I could just show you what it does.” He winked. The man was at it again, he was at his flirtatious jokes once again, yet this time you had no remark or form of response to that. You simply shook your head, knowing he wasn't going to give up.

There was a comfortable silence between you two, as James appriciated the way you looked, especially in his shirt, it was almost - attractive in a way. The way your hair was let down to one side, while you were practically covered in two blankets, one being James’ shirt almost completely covering more than just your arms and the actual blanket itself. It was almost tempting for him to join you.

See the emphasis on the almost? Here’s where Bond stops himself in his tracks…

Footsteps came from behind him and entered the flat. A woman with flowing blonde hair and a slim figure stood beside James, with a long expensive coat, under that an all black outfit, black blouse and trousers and you could’ve sworn you saw a pair of Louis Vuitton heels and handbag. Shit. An upper class snobby woman had just casually walked in wearing - was that - were those - Bond’s Tom Ford sunglasses? You quickly took your phone and cursed yourself realising what day it was. Shit. It was MONDAY. And you knew what that meant. Bond’s girlfriend, Madeleine Swann was standing before you. Something inside you wanted to poke and prod her, see if she really was as snobby as your assumptions believed her to be - you were just that type of person or maybe she dressed to impress for him. James does have a love for dressing lavishly in suits. In fact, you may or may not have been ruining a £500 shirt at this current present moment in time. Though you’ve seen him dress completely different to that and you considered those his best days, so you weren’t embarrassed to be dressed so casually in front of her. She looked around the flat for a moment, with a smile on her face, impressed by the sight. Then she turned to you and slowly took her sunglasses off with a curious look on her face. She then looked at James then back at you, confused.

“Oh right!” Bond ended the silence quickly, “Sorry. Y/N this is Dr Madeleine Swann. Madeleine this is Y/N Y/L/N, she’s one of the forensic investigators who works on the same branch with us sometimes. Mainly when a body is involved. Oh and she’s my flatmate.” He looked at the both of you, eagerly smiling.

Dr of what? You thought. Perfecting the sciences and study behind the resting bitch face? How you wanted to say something smart to test her, and it wasn’t even because you were jealous, it was just because of the way she looked at you. But then again, maybe that’s the way she normally looked, so you had to give her a chance and held your tongue. You rose from the couch and extended your hand, “Hello. I’ve heard so much about you.”

She paused, looking at your hand for a moment, you could’ve sworn that was a dirty look, “And I’ve heard very little about you.” She said in a more serious tone. She then laughed it off and shook your hand after a short pause.

“Nice shirt.” She remarked.

“Why thank you, I do know a thing or two about dressing appropriately for the occasion, especially in the comfort of my own flat. What’s the point of dressing as if I was going to meet the Queen all the time? Would be quite painful, especially for the people around me.”

She scoffed and turned to Bond with a smile, “James, with the way you described your flatmate, I thought he would’ve been some dirty, greasy, big man, who works as a bouncer at a nightclub. I didn’t know you were staying with a woman after all you’ve told me.” She smiled.

You were tempted to spit the remainder of your hot everage on her expensive shoes. Well that was rude. But then a thought crossed your mind...

Woman. Now that’s what offended her. The fact that you were a woman living with her boyfriend as flatmates - when you put it that way, any jealous girlfriend would’ve thought this was the perfect scenario. Then again, what competition did she have? If James was to describe you to anyone, you could’ve sworn he would’ve used the word ‘sociopathic’ considering that’s how you were and that was a definite turn off for him. Plus did she just call you a dirty big guy? You were sure to have words with James after that, but for now you had to be a kind host, make the woman you would gladly never see again welcome into your shared flat.

“Yeah, she’s a woman. Did I mention that to you? I swear I did.” He chuckled to himself.

“Baby, is that one of your shirts?” Madeleine turned to James holding his hand tightly, with an innocent look in her eyes.

“Uh yeah, it’s - the laundry ran low so I let her borrow one of mine.”

“Really? Was she so poor that she couldn’t go out and buy something else other than borrow someone’s boyfriend’s things and claim it as theirs? I mean doesn’t she have a husband to borrow things from?”

“Unbelievable. You told her didn’t you?” You asked Bond, who kept his eye on Madeleine, in particular her lips.

He then turned to look at your direction and noticed that you were uncomfortable and felt insulted, simply through the fake smile ‘death’ glare you had given him. You wrapped up your blanket and picked up your cup.

“Please, make yourself feel at home.” You said, keeping your piece and headed to the kitchen to put it away. There you were with your manners, you so wanted to completely annihilate her with insults there and then, starting with the way she walked in like the flat was hers, but if anything, you were taught by your close university friends not to take that road so quickly. You left James and Madeleine to talk alone while you washed your cup.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

You heard from James. He walked into the kitchen and leaned his back against the counter so he could see you clearly. “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think of what?” You asked, finally finishing with the washing and dried your cup with a dish towel.

“You know what I’m asking. Y/N, you’re a very intelligent and capable woman but sometimes I think you purposely decide to have a dreadfully slow mind for the sake of being ironic.”

“Do I?” You gasped sarcastically, “Says the one who can’t catch up with the fact that his girlfriend is a slight stuck up bitch.” You mumbled low enough for him not to hear.

“What was that?” He asked.

You chuckled to yourself and shook your head, “I’m sorry I was just saying that I don’t have an opinion on what you just asked because my dreadfully slow mind would need time to process all of this. Come back to me tomorrow when I finally am able to keep up with you.”

“Y/N…” He said with a stern tone in his voice. “What do you think of Madeleine?”

“Oh you’re talking about the doctor - by the way what does she have a PHD in? I’d like to know, so my dreadfully slow mind doesn’t find itself in the predicament of finding the answer out from her.”

“Are you jealous?” He smiled.

“Jealous of who?” You laughed, practically in hysterics, “Bro, I think she’s an absolute charmer and I can’t wait for the day you start to pull your hair out because she’s driving you crazy - I mean crazily in love with her. I mean it’s already happening with me.” You said and quickly moved passed James, “Try not to make too much noise. Good night.” You said as you walked down the hall.

Morning had arrived and you knew that Madeleine was here. You just knew she would be, especially with the time she arrived at the flat. You were in no mood to see her and James, only because if that was what you were facing for an entire day, you’d rather work a full day, then overtime, then overtime that overtime. There was something about her. Something off about her. Her clinginess to James, the way she eyed you as if you were competition, the way you dressed, well maybe she was having a rough night. So you tried to brush away the thoughts and took a shower, heading into the front room to find James and Madeleine stood in the kitchen - together. His arms wrapped around her waist as he was in just a robe and she was in a nightgown, she couldn’t keep his hands off him, constantly kissing him as if it was the last time they saw each other.

“Oh gross.” You said, walking straight into the kitchen, you squint your eyes, disgusted and tried to make yourself some toast when you heard Madeleine giggling and Bond mumbling something in his deep voice. These two were not teenagers! Fuck it. You thought. You quickly drank your orange juice and grabbed your toast, heading for the door.

“Y/N? Where you going?” James finally asked, letting go of Madeleine and aware that you were about to leave.

“Work.”

“But I thought you don’t have work today.” He said. Madeleine turned to you, moving his arms around her waist once more and looking at you with a smile.

“Now I do.” You responded. “I just think working is much better than doing nothing - you know - watching a wet blanket cling on to some old tool or teddy bear.” You said closing the door behind you. God that was gross. The remark itself made you smile, but you were still annoyed you couldn’t have the day in peace.

You kept yourself busy, catching up/texting a new friend of yours, Jonathan. You both met at a bar, while you were out with colleagues and had gotten to know each other better ever since. He was comfortable to be around, easygoing and hella handsome if you could say so yourself. After that you were sent to a crime scene, as part of an emergency to collect different samples for a double murder. Bond and his clingy girlfriend ceased to exist in your mind by the time you were off busy. However, by the time you returned home a few hours later, there was something off you sensed. You headed into the flat and suddenly realised there was a change. You looked around and found all the furniture in odd places, the television had moved into a strange area, far away from the window, the dining table was distanced all the way to the front door but the thing that ticked you off the most...your chemistry set moved.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” You shouted, seeing Madeleine move some more of the furniture around the flat.

“Oh hi!” She jumped and turned to see you with a smile but then she sensed your slight anger and frowned, “Sorry, James and I thought the flat could do with a little feng-shui, a change to feel a fresh breath of air.” She said swaying her long, expensive skirt towards you. God you were fuming, you felt the heat starting to boil inside you, your anger rapidly grew, it was getting harder and harder not to plant your fist into the wall.

“I’m currently choking in this air created by stupidity right now.” You growled, “Sorry, who said you could touch my equipment?”

“James.” She said looking down to her feet innocently, “He said that it was perfectly fine to move things for the sake of making room if that was going to make all of us feel more comfortable and at home.”

“Did he now?” You raised your eyebrow and balled your hands into a fist, your breathing grew quick and sharp, attempting not to stab Madeleine with your piercing glare.

“I had to.” Bond said as he walked in with a two cups of coffee, one for him and one for Madeleine, “You could do with a change, your work is cluttered everywhere. Madeleine said that such a mess brings negativity into the flat. She also said that it was good for the vibes in the flat and a positive home definitely brings a positive mind.”

“Who the fuck is she? A fucking monk? Don’t you presume to tell me about negativity when you kill people for a living!” You raised your voice, it was impossible not to rage, especially at the woman in front of you, who had irritated you in record breaking time. There were things you got angry about. Even though you were a sarcastic individual but one thing that ticked you off was when someone messed with your work. That was crossing the line, which she did.

“Y/N, oh my god I’m so sorry. Look if you don't like the way the flat is, I’ll put everything back.” She began hyperventilating in front of Bond, who began to glare at you as he rubbed her back.

“Yes that is what I want and I don’t want you to touch my shit again, that would be great. When are you leaving again?”

“Y/N…” He said sternly.

“What?!” You hissed at Bond.

“There’s no need to take out your anger out on Madeleine, she was just trying to help! You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“I’M DOING WHAT?” Your voice raised even louder, in disbelief.

“Y/N, A word please.” Bond said, as Madeleine looked at the two awkwardly. She began sniffling, which you thought was complete and utter bullshit then stormed off into the kitchen as James spoke to Madeleine.

“I was just trying to help…” She said, frowning, in a timid and terrified voice.

“It’s fine, love. I’ll get this sorted.” He kissed her cheek and gestured her to sit down then followed you into the kitchen.

You stood staring out at the window, holding both hands on the counter and looked down trying your best to slow your breathing as Bond watched you from behind, annoyed. He then headed over to you and flipped you around to look at him with a hard tug on the shoulder.

“What was the meaning of that?!” He asked.

“That was rude! Don’t grab my fucking shoulder!” You shoved his hand off it and almost went to hit him but you stopped yourself, glaring at him with your hands balled into fists, “You know I told you in confidence that I was married, you know that my work is very important to me, YOU KNOW that when you have a visitor in this flat they are YOUR responsibility and as your responsibility you make sure that no one touches my stuff! So why on earth did you let Dr Mindful Duck touch my chemistry set and files!”

“Her name is Madeleine and it’s not duck, it’s Swann.”

There was a silence between the two of you. You were both extremely close to each other and you felt the walls closing in on the both of you. The tension was there. The anger was definitely there. The sharp breathing and deadly sound of silence took over the kitchen for a brief moment before you said...

“Fuck you.” You spat, squinting your eyes in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were going to get this angry! You being married to Q isn’t even a big deal, why are you complaining about it!”

“It’s not just that James. Who knows what kind of stuff you said about me behind my back! I thought we were friends! Friends don’t describe their friends to other people as a dirty, greasy nightclub bouncer do they? What have you said behind my back actually?”

“Nothing Y/N! I’ve said nothing!” He sighed, “Look, I know you don’t like your things being moved and I’ll deal with that myself. I’ll put it back. Just please go and apologise to Madeleine.”

“And why would I do that?!”

“Because you haven’t been nice to her or given her a chance the moment she walked through the door!” He hissed, “Here’s the reason you are struggling to make new friends, have you considered not being a complete arse from the beginning and trying to be friendly for once! Madeleine hasn’t been in London a minute and hardly knows her way around! She is out to impress you and you don’t even appreciate what she’s doing for you! You’re making life really difficult for me Y/N and I seriously don’t appreciate it when my own flatmate is butting heads with my girlfriend!”

Before you could come up with a smart remark, you smiled, “You know what? I’ll apologise. I’ll go and make yours and everyone else’s life easier and say sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be an arse and give people a chance…”

“Really? Thank you.” He said, relieved and smiling. “And I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I know it was wrong. I just want you two to get along. It’s really important you do.” He extended his hand, “No hard feelings?”

You looked at his hand, shaking your head, “No thank you. I don’t know where’s that been. And besides, you don’t want to shake hands with someone that is a complete arse,” You nudged passed him, and he rolled his eyes, sighing deeply, “Christ…”

The moment you stepped back into the front room, Madeleine jumped from her seat, waiting to hear from you. “So Madison-”

“It’s Madeleine.” She corrected quickly.

“Yeah - same thing. I’m sorry for being a dick, I know I can overreact sometimes and don’t really care about the other person’s feelings as much, which is awful…” You turned around and found James watching you expectantly with his arms folded, “I just wanted to say, I’m willing to start over if you are.” You smiled.

“That would be great! Thank you so much!” She said smiling, relieved and hugged you quickly, in which you didn’t respond to it, leaving your arms by your side. She really was an off person. You pushed away for a moment smiling - well you were actually freaked out by her strange behaviour, “Well, I’m just going to sort a few things out.” You turned around slowly and walked down the hall, “James I expect my shit back on the table otherwise tomorrow isn’t going to be fun for anyone.”

And with that, you left the two alone again.

“Is she always like that?” Madeleine asked James, who looked at your direction, watching you walk into your room with a smile.

“Unfortunately, she is. But don’t worry there's more to her beneath the surface.” He practically smirked, with his hands in his pockets.

“Excuse me?” She said, disapprovingly.

“What? Nothing.” He turned to her smiling and moved his arm around her waist, “I meant she’s more of an open person if you get to know her and much more friendlier.”

#007 #british #fanfic #daniel craig #james bond #james bond 007 #literature #mi6 #casino royale #fanfiction #london #movie #spy #books

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 6 years

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TRR New Beginnings ch.21 - The Best Things in Life

Emma is home with Drake recovering. How is her healing going, and do they have more surprises in store for them?

Drake x MC (Emma)

Words: 1836

Warnings: None

Several weeks had gone by, and Emma was slowly starting to feel like herself again. Just like they had when she first arrived, her bruises were fading. Her arm was feeling better, and the cuts on her legs had turned into pink lines. Drake had been true to his word, attending to her every need.

“Hey beautiful.” He said, as he strolled into their bedroom, coffee in hand.

She smiled as she accepted her coffee. “Not quite, but I’m getting there.”

“Is that so?” He questioned, stepping into her space. “Personally, Rose…you couldn’t not look beautiful if you tried.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

She chuckled as she pulled away “There’s my marshmallow. Honestly, Drake, you can be such a romantic. I love it.” She grinned at him and started to raise the cup of coffee to her lips. He knew just how she liked it. No sugar, but instead creamer and whipped cream topping. It was guilty little pleasure. As soon as the liquid touched her tongue, her smile was gone, and she was dropping the mug and running to the bathroom, leaving a very confused Drake behind her.

“Rose, are you okay??” He asked, dashing after her, once he heard her throwing up. He sat beside her and held her hair back with one hand and rubbed slow circles on her back with the other. “Was it the cream? Did it taste bad? It’s not expired, but maybe I should throw it out and get more.”

She moaned and reached up to flush the toilet, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe her mouth with. “No, no…I don’t know, it didn’t taste bad, it just tasted…I don’t know. Different. I’m sure it was nothing. Maybe I just need to eat first.”

Drake frowned. She’d never needed food before coffee. In fact, it was basically the opposite. “Okay…what are you in the mood for? I can whip up some eggs, sausage, pancakes…” He trailed off as she leaned over the toilet again. He grimaced. “Maybe it’s a stomach bug.”

She nodded as she finished. “Yeah, maybe. I think maybe I should take it easy today. Just the thought of food….” She made a face and stood up, moving to the sink to brush her teeth. When she was done, Drake led her back into their bedroom and tucked her in before climbing in himself.

“Mmm you don’t have to stay, Drake.” She said sleepily as she snuggled into his side.

“Like I would ever leave.” He told her with a smile.

“No, seriously, I don’t want you to get sick. You should go fishing or something.”

He chuckled and pulled her even closer to him. “I’ll take my chances.”

Several days later, Emma was still getting sick every time she smelled something. And all she could tell Drake was that everything smelled and tasted “off.”

“I’m going to go to the store, Rose. It will take me awhile, but you need something to make you feel better, and I’ll replace all the perishable food with completely fresh. I know I said I’d never leave you but…” He trailed off and searched her face for her reaction.

“Okay.” She whispered. “I’m just going to stay in bed, I think. Just lock the door and everything will be fine. I’m not afraid anymore, and if someone breaks in, I’ll vomit on them and they’ll change their mind about being here pretty quick.”

He nodded and kissed her softly on her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Hours later, he returned home and as he approached the cabin, bags in hand, he had a flashback of the night he came home to find her gone. His heart beat faster and faster the closer he got to the door. Thankfully, it was still locked. He set everything down in the kitchen, fixed her a quick snack of bell peppers and dressing, grabbed the little white box he’d picked up, and ran up the stairs to the bedroom. And there she was, reading a book.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey” She grinned. Her eyes lit up as she saw her snack. “Peppers!”

“You look better” He told her, sitting next to her and handing her the plate.

She nodded “I am. I think it’s out of my system.”

“Just like that? Just from a few hours ago?”

She cocked her head to the side. “I guess so? I don’t feel sick anymore. That’s a good thing.” She took a bite of the crisp pepper and closed her eyes, sighing in happiness. “God, this is good.”

He nodded, watching her. “I’m glad. I picked up a lot of fresh fruits and veggies to give you some natural energy, since you couldn’t drink your coffee. Plus, it’s good for the immune system.”

“Thank you. You’re very sweet.”

“So…Rose.” He started hesitantly. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to be happy with the next thing he brought with him.

“Yes?”

“Well…this is extremely late…like, way too late for this discussion, and I definitely mean WAY too late, Weeks and weeks and weeks, and countless times too late…but I think now is the time we should probably discuss it.”

She rose an eyebrow at him as she ate another piece of pepper.

He took a deep breath “We never talked about…well…birth control.”

Her eyes widened, and she stopped chewing, swallowing it too hard, and burst into a fit of coughing. “Birth control?” She managed to squeak out.

Drake clapped her back softly to help her stop coughing. When she finally did, he pulled back to look at her and ran his hands through her hair. “Listen to me, Rose. Listen to my question and then tell me what you want me to say.”

She looked at him and he saw her eyes watering. “Alright”

“I can either tell you the truth or I can tell you something that you hope to hear. Which would you prefer?”

“The truth isn’t what I’m hoping for?” She asked in a whisper

“I don’t know.”

She swallowed and took a breath. “Give me the cold, hard truth.”

He smiled softly at her. “It’s not cold or hard. But here is the truth. Yes, we were reckless maybe the first or second time. But after that? When we realized we were completely unprotected, and continued…is that really still recklessness? Or is that something else?”

Her brows furrowed “I don’t know what you mean.”

Drake gazed into her worried eyes. “What I mean, Rose, is that there’s a chance that your throwing up is related to…well…not sickness” He worded carefully.

“But…” she tried to cut in. He shook his head and kept going

He took her hands with his. “Rose, I have never felt more alive than I do now. And whatever happens, happens. I don’t know if you actually want to hear this, but you asked for the truth, so the truth is…if you were pregnant…that would be the second-best thing that has ever happened to me.”

She looked at him in shock. “You…want that…?”

“Of course, I do. For the whole past year, I already thought I was a Dad. I felt horrible for missing your pregnancy.” He splayed a hand over her stomach. “It would be amazing to share that with you.”

“Jesus, Drake. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

“How are you feeling, really?” He asked her.

“Well with that lead in…probably not as nervous as I should.” She gazed into his eyes. “Logically, I should be feeling panicked, worried, confused, anxious. But I don’t feel any of those things. I feel…surprisingly calm.”

He leaned into her, brushing his lips against hers. He started to pull away and she reached her hand around his neck and pulled him back in, deepening the kiss. He brought his hands around her waist and the box he was still holding dug into her back. She pulled away abruptly

“What is…” She froze when she grabbed the box and looked at it. “A pregnancy test? Drake, you don’t actually think…”

“I do.” He said nervously, trying to gauge her reaction. “The timing, the nausea coming and going, things smelling and tasting different to you and only you.”

She just stared at him, so he continued “After you left, and Maxwell told me you were pregnant…I read so many things on it. Anything I could get my hands on about pregnancy and childbirth I read and studied so that when you came back I’d be prepared to step right in.”

Emma’s eyes welled up with tears, and they started to spill over. “You did that?” She asked incredulously.

“Heh. Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling nervous again.

“God, you really are a marshmallow” She laughed wearily. “But Drake…they did bloodwork at the hospital…it didn’t show up.”

He gave a half smile. “That was weeks ago. You’re just now showing any type of symptoms…which means you’re maybe a month along? So…if you had just conceived…”

“It wouldn’t have tested positive yet.” She finished. She was looking off into space. “I missed my period” She confessed

“You did?? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “I figured it was stress from you, from Randy, from the accident. Stress is a killer, you know.”

“Seriously, this never crossed your mind?”

“Well, I mean yeah, but…ugh, I don’t know. Denial is a powerful thing, Drake. I didn’t want to be pregnant.”

Drake closed his eyes, slightly hurt that she didn’t tell him anything that was going on with her. He felt her hand on his leg and opened his eyes again.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “I wasn’t ready. I still don’t know if I am. The last time I was pregnant…I was alone, hating myself, hating you, hating the baby. And the worst part this time is I knew we were being careless…and I didn’t care that we were. I just wanted you inside me, all of you. That’s all I cared about.”

“Then let’s find out.” He said. “There’s no need to guess at this point. You’re holding a test in your hand and there’s two more downstairs…you know, just in case.” He finished quickly.

She nodded and headed to the bathroom. A minute later she came back out. “Takes two minutes.”

They sat in silence, Drake just holding her, before she spoke again. “What do you hope to find out?”

He looked down at her and turned her chin to face him. “I already told you, Rose. Your being pregnant would be the second-best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Just then the timer on her phone that they had set went off. “It’s time” She breathed. She stood up and started towards the bathroom again, Drake close behind her, holding her hand. But suddenly she stopped and whirled to face him again.

“What was the first best thing then? If a child would be second, what’s first?”

He grinned at her. “The first is you, of course.”

@blackwidow2721 @sleepwalkingelite @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet@eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @imaketerriblechoices @zigortega4life

@innerpostmentality @mrsernestsinclaire @nekkidmolerat @wannabemc2 @blubutterflyy @sweetest-marbear @choicesmacmakes @andy-loves-corgis @sstee1 @furiousherringoperatortoad @traeumerinwitzhelden @speedyoperarascalparty

@notoriouscs

#the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #trr fanfic #drake walker fanfic #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x emma #trr #trr drake #choices the royal romance #choices fanfic

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profound-boning · 6 years

Text

timestamp for A Kind of Magic; ~1790 words, deancas friendship (they’re 11), cole trenton sux, Hogwarts feels

As his first year draws to a close, Dean feels nothing but gratitude for the many wonderful things that have happened since September.

His flying skills have improved, he’s earned good grades (or, “top marks” as Professors MacLeod and Crowley are fond of saying) and had an amazing amount of fun.

Sunny afternoons by the lake, all-nighters in the Hufflepuff common room, and the best birthday party he could have imagined are at the top of the list, with his friends faces shining brightly in every memory.

The end of the year exams are similar to what Dean remembers from “regular school” but middle school was a lot different from Hogwarts. At his old school they did a lot of projects, used computers and iPads, and ate lunch in the cafeteria. Plus, he had to go home every day. Here, he gets to see his friends all the time and his classes are way more fun. Dean can do magic.

One thing that is the same is the bullies. At Dean’s old school they put kids in lockers or stole their glasses or pencils. Here, they’ll cast a spell to make your pants disappear or your books, or they’ll give you a treat that makes your tongue swell up.

Or, if you’re Christian and Cole, you stick to mean insults. Dean doesn’t believe in that “sticks and stones” mumbo jumbo anymore because words can be very hurtful.

Actually, Christian has gotten a tiny bit better. Rather, he got the talking to of his life from the professors and maybe even from his family because he’s backed off a lot. He doesn’t approach Dean at all, just glares at him or makes threatening gestures in the halls. Dean and his friends are careful to steer clear of the older Gryffindors on principle.

Cole is, unfortunately, not backing off at all and is a much more difficult to avoid.

It doesn’t make sense to Dean that Cole wants to pick on him when they’ve hardly interacted at all, but he’s accepted it. Everyone who matters is kind to him and supportive when he’s feeling down. So why worry about one jerk?

Dean would much rather focus on how many marshmallows he and Garth can fit into their mouths, what’s the craziest spell he and Kelly can find in their textbooks, and where else in the castle can he and Cas explore before the end of the year?

Cas seems to know everything about Hogwarts, which is due to a combination of having a magical family, being a curious and adventurous kid, having an equally curious and adventurous friend like Dean, and being a huge dork. Dean reminds him of that quite often, including this very morning while they are eating breakfast.

“Hey, dork, where should we go exploring today?” he asks, biting into an apple.

Rolling his eyes, Cas smiles at him. “I’m not sure yet. Let’s pick a random staircase again?” They could probably do this all seven years and not cover every single staircase, landing, and hallway in the castle—the way that the stairs constantly change makes it difficult to keep track of their progress.

“Sure thing,” Dean agrees, adding butter to his toast. “Hey, did you finish our Potions homework yet?”

“Yes,” Cas answers around the pancake in his mouth. “I had some free time,” he says defensively when Dean glares at him.

“You spend all your free time flying, not writing essays,” he says. “What gives?”

Cas laughs. “That’s true. I guess I had extra extra free time.”

Dean sighs heavily, pretending to be very put upon. “I guess I’ll have to suffer on my own, then. Waste away on this assignment.”

“You big baby,” Cas teases. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll help you.”

He leans into Cas’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. You’re a gem.”

“I know,” Cas says loftily. “Don’t you forget it.”

They eat some more before exiting the Great Hall, wearing jeans in celebration of the weekend. Cas is wearing a lumpy sweater—which should be weird considering it’s the end of May and fairly warm, but Cas tends to get cold more easily so it makes sense.

Their morning passes without incident, traipsing from one end of the castle to the other. Dean chose the stairs this time and led them up a tower they hadn’t seen yet. They look out of the windows in order to explore the outside of the castle and observe the grounds. Lots of people are taking advantage of the nice weather to relax outside, including Benny and a pretty Ravenclaw girl named Andrea. Dean hollers at his friend just to be embarrassing and Cas hits his arm.

“Dean! Don’t tease him,” Cas admonishes, even though he’s laughing, too.

“Just having fun. Benny’s got such a big crush on her.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t get it.”

Cas looks at him. “He likes her. We’re all pretty sure she likes him back; all of us except Benny, that is. What’s not to get?”

Dean scrunches his nose. “Dunno, just doesn’t seem important at the moment.”

“Well, Dean, just because you’d rather be reading or practicing spells doesn’t mean the rest of us are nerds like you.” Cas backs away quickly to avoid Dean hitting him, pushing off the wall to keep running up the stairs. And back down again, still avoiding Dean’s grasp, they laugh and shout together.

“If you aren’t in class, or getting ready for class, or doing homework, or working ahead for class, then you’re eating!”

“Shut up, Cas! I’m not the one who ate two whole boxes of those jelly beans you love in one night!”

And this is certainly what Dean will miss the most over the long summer months. The feeling of being with Cas, being wild and free with him, laughing harder than he ever has before.

They’re hoping to get John to agree to let them visit each other at some point over the long break until September, but Dean isn’t hopeful. He tries to be as optimistic as Cas but it’s hard to think about the look on his dad’s face if Dean were to ask to go and stay at a magical home or to bring another young wizard into their house.

Therefore, he takes in every single moment they have left, embraces having fun with all of his friends with fervor. He can’t really spend time with them all at once, so he has to improvise. And at least there’s always the owl post.

He and Cas eventually decide to quit running around indoors. It’s really a beautiful day outside. Cas makes noises about getting out on his broomstick again while Dean contemplates the classwork that needs his attention. They agree that the Quidditch pitch is a great place to meet both of their needs and they set off for the dormitories to grab their things. Dean isn’t allowed past the stairs leading down to the Slytherin “dungeon” as he likes to call it just to tease his best friend, so he lingers in the hall. It only takes Cas a minute to change and then they set off toward the Hufflepuff common room. The old tradition of keeping the rooms absolutely top secret from other students has petered off, with friends often waiting for each other in the hallways, but the common room itself is practically sacred. It’d just be weird to have someone else in there—even the professors don’t go in unless there’s an emergency.

That means rounding the corner and spotting Cole Trenton standing in front of the barrels that make up what amounts to Dean’s front door is pretty freaky. He quickly nudges Cas and they silently back up out of sight.

“What the hell?” Cas whispers, looking angry.

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “What do you think’s going on?”

Cas peers around the corner and whispers, “I think he’s trying to break in, that little—”

“But why? What’s even the point?”

Cas chews his lip. “Could be nothing. But maybe he’s trying to pull some prank. You know what though? It doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing. He shouldn’t just be trying to bust in there, it isn’t cool.”

“I agree,” Dean says, leaning over to look again. Cole seems to be stuck on precisely what to do to the barrels to get the door to open but it may not be long before he figures it out. “Donnie told me no one’s been down there for—”

He never gets to finish that sentence. Cole screams bloody murder the second the enchanted barrels react to his attempted entry, despite the fact that the vinegar is harmless. Still, getting absolutely drenched in the stuff can’t feel good. He must have tried a pattern at random and that caused the doorway to reject him harshly.

Dean and Cas lean on each other’s shoulders in order to laugh hysterically. When they realize Cole can hear them, they grab each other’s hand and run away as fast as they can. Still laughing, they duck into the otherwise empty Great Hall and double over.

“Oh my”—Cas pants—“I can’t breathe.”

“The funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean agrees, breathless with laughter. “I’m getting a cramp.”

Cas wipes actual tears from under his eyes and snorts. “I can’t believe our luck to witness that. We’re so blessed.”

“Think it taught him a lesson?” he wonders.

Cas looks thoughtful. “One can only hope,” he finally answers. “But c’mon.” He tugs on Dean’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s head down to the pitch.”

“But I don’t have my homework,” he whines. Regardless, he follows Cas out of the Hall.

“We can come back for it later,” Cas reasons, “after the vinegar gets cleaned up.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Should we tell someone?” Dean frets.

As they pass by the hallway in question, they observe Professor Mills laying into a soaking wet and smelly Cole with Professor Singer looking on quite sternly, arms folded.

“Looks like it’s all been taken care of,” Cas says breezily. “He’ll be cleaning that up with a toothbrush, mark my words.”

Dean laughs again just picturing that. Soon, the pair duck outside and are greeted by warm sunshine. Since Dean doesn’t have his materials to study, maybe Cas will help him practice his flying.

He looks over at Cas, still grinning broadly (probably also imagining that bully scrubbing the floors outside Dean’s common room) and leading them toward the storage unit for practice brooms.

Dean feels incredibly grateful that he met Cas on the train and, when Cas turns to hand him a broom with a toothy smile, he feels happy. Perfectly, indescribably, untouchably happy.

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thestudyfeels · 6 years

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Failure. Such an awful word, isn't it? You might've flunked that test Miss Honey set last week (in my defense, Genghis Khan's goatee was giving me nightmares) or maybe your sis ate up all those donuts you bought on your cheat day. Either way, it’s easy to get hit by a few L's along the way because life loves throwing in lemons. Oh, just noticed, life and lows... they even start with the same letter L! (hobo logic, COMING RIGHT THRU)

But what if I told you that failure = success? And that sometimes, failure > success? Isn't that rad as eff?

What’s the time? Don’t look at your watch! It’s time to conquer our failures.

You’re probably thinking along the lines of: "Ok… failure. *scrunches face* Hmm, don't want to experience that! I mean the letter F has better words... Like food! And omg fishies!! BRB. Gonna get food." Stop. Also, since I’m so kind, I'll get you the first appointment with my counsellor.

Failure is simply a deviation from the ordinary. Things didn't go as you had planned. Oh, please. I'm an excellent planner! I planned for my fishies to fly, and they will! Um, hi. Welcome to the real world. Fishies don’t fly around here. And if they did, an eel would prob smack you in the face while doing so.

But believe it or not, failure provides countless opportunities for growth. How? Because it’s only in our darkest times that we are willing to go the deepest. Good days, we skim through them. Only when the seas get rough do we sit down to try and figure out why things turned out the way they did.

And even though experiencing a low sucks, it is necessary sometimes. Think about this. Without failure, success would truly have no meaning. If you can’t ever lose, what counts as a win? If you can’t make mistakes, everything becomes ‘ordinary’ as there are neither any highs nor any lows.

Now! If you are all warmed up, let's sit around the bonfire and have a story time about my failures. Bring some marshmallows too, it's gonna be a long one.

In my life so far, I have gone through many failures. Most were small ones, nothing to cry upon (my sis did take my cookies which I'm NOT happy about but I think I’ll let that pass). Two failures, however, completely changed my life:

Fail no #1: Two years ago, I was a completely naive and ignorant teen. I had a bunch of so called “friends”, was hella popular, and was basically living the life of a queen (at least that's what I thought at that time). Well, in between that, I had my first boyfriend (poor guy) and hey, it was another feather to add to my cap. It didn't however, last long.

We broke up and a few days later, I tumbled into a really dark hole. Went down in the dumps and became depressed (And that starts with the same letter again! Oh, I’m so good at this, all hail me). My ‘friends’ left me to pick other ones and I had no one whom I could trust or talk to. I was completely alone. (Gosh, looking back, I was such a sad child.) Now I don't talk about weird shit like this because I am grateful that I’m out of it and am now a lil’ happy unicorn. Those days weren't fun.

Anyways, during my days in the dark hole, I realized something profound. I couldn't love someone else with all my heart because I hadn’t learned to love myself. Heck, I didn't even know who I was. I was a complete loser.

Fail no #2: Months later, my family shifted states (around the time I started this blog). By now I had grown to be wiser and stronger. Popularity didn't mean anything and I found my solace in perfect A’s all over my report card. Everything was going fine and dandy, but then I was showered with a bagful of lemons again (no wonder I’m allergic to them). I met Prashasti.

Now, most of you know her as Prasati grandma who helps me with the Interviews (read: here!) and about whom I talk a lot, whether in awe or annoyance. She’s a grannie with sass. Coming back to the point, she had joined freshman year in the same year as I had and well, we become friends. (BTW, she’s editing this article for me so shout out to my binch! I love you!)

Um, ok. Anyways, after we talked (like grannies do, lmao) about life and shit, I realized that I was doing it completely wrong. Sure, I was happier and not a loser anymore, but I wasn't even close to using the potential I held. I'd gotten up after falling off my rocker (or horse, if you like horsies) and dusted my hands, but now I was just sneezing all over the place. I hadn't taken the reins just yet. I was still in what philosophers call the ‘bubble’ (read: The Bubble Trap for more on this).

Feeling like a failure? Commence part two.

Truthfully, failure hurts. I will neither try to minimize the pain nor tell you that it is easy to bear. Instead, I will try to make you realize that failure is important to experience in order to become more wise, kind, compassionate, and in the end, a better human being.

Now, consider this. When you break a jar full of water (reminder, your mom is about to kill you so hide while you can), the glass shatters and the water pours out, now free. In the same way, life sends failures to crack open your outer, fake shell and to allow your values, your emotions, and your finer self to come out and experience the sunbeams outside.

Failure is beautiful and sine qua non (and I’m poetic, thanks for pointing out Sally). But ironically, many fail to understand that there’s honestly so much to learn from it. I mean, you get to stay at home, eat burnt popcorn for breakfast, and cry your heart out, doesn’t that sound like fun? Here, let me explain.

Lesson from fail 1: I learned my most important life lesson which was to love myself completely. Another thing I realized was that everything is temporary; friends, boyfriends, everyone is going to play their roles in my life and move on someday, citius aut serius. There is nothing wrong with that, it’s a fact of life. I simply had to embrace that and make the most out of our time together. This failure also hinted at my non-existent communication skills, which I had to fix. (Now I’m Bob the Builder! Ah, childhood.)

Lesson from fail 2: I learned that you can truly be what you want to be. Life is full of opportunities and trust me, life wants you to win. Don't just live, though. You must take a step back occasionally to see where you are going. Most don't do that, they are too busy checking off tasks from their to-do and moving onto the next one. For them, everything is just a chore to get over with. They turn a blind eye to the freedoms that lie ahead of them. You are capable of doing everything you want, go wherever you want, be the person of your dreams. Isn’t that freedom enough? Most are scared to take responsibility for that and hence they play small and are willing enough to sacrifice their true dreams, settling for stuff that doesn't excite them.

You see, some say I’m a bit too wise for my age. I‘ve even had people send me asks ‘advising’ me to wait till I’m eighteen before I give advice on so called ‘adult’ topics, like failure, life etc. Pah.

Do we not experience failure when we are young? Or do they not matter, huh? One golden rule of nature is that what you resist will persist. If you don't learn from your failures which come in smaller doses when we are young, a much bigger failure is going to hit you smack in the face later on. Teens don't learn from theirs, and lo and behold, we find ourselves a few years later in depression, midlife crises, and whatnot. How fun.

THAT'S the reason I don't listen to what those asks say. I mean, sure, I could ignore my failure now, they are not big ones. But do I look like dumb to you? Life is a wonderful teacher and I choose to learn. And so can you.

So coming to my point, failure hurts. But remember, failure teaches more life lessons than I’ll ever be able to teach you (welcome to life lessons 101, taken by Nani). Ergo, point to note, failure doesn't stop you, it's the quitting that does. It doesn't take your faith away, it TESTS it. Decide whether you want to pass or- once more, fail.

So does that mean you shouldn't feel the pain, sadness or remorse the failure brings? Nah. You should never hold back your emotions. Cry, beat up yo’ pillow, kill fishies if you have to, I support you (the campaign starts, #SaveTheFishies).

But don't let your emotions rob you of your growth. Learn to let go when you have to, and then use your failures as a slingshot to catapult you closer to your ambitions. Pluck up the courage to face failure and your fears, it's as easy as plucking those lemons.

See, there will always be an excuse NOT to learn from your failures. I could have stayed in that dark hole which no doubt wouldn't have been very fun and would have ended up becoming suicidal. I chose not to. I could have left Prasati and her wise philosophical shit to pick other friends while continuing to live inside the bubble (I still love you prash, put down that knife please). I chose not to.

In the end, even though your destiny is roughly mapped out, it all depends upon the choices you make. Whether you choose to learn or not. Thus yes, failure is not the opposite of success, it becomes a part of success.

So please, by all means, fall, dear friend. Fall, and then choose to get back up.

here are some related materposts if you want to read more:

One way to change your life: your perspective (out new!)

Musings on The Bubble Trap + how to get out of it

Why should you conquer: the value of your life (popular!)

Read my Interviews with my friend, Prash!

Want instant motivation? Here’s my #ThursdayPickup!

Well, it’s a wrap! I post new articles every week (the schedule’s here) so you can follow me if you are into killing the game & conquering life. I’ll do my best to help you in the tough yet amazing journey called life. ✨

If you want to go thru my blog, I would rec picking your choice of post from my masterpost list! Or, if you want to read something insightful on your cozy afternoon while chilling under blankets, I would rec reading one of my interviews. Feeling spoilt for choices? Here’s another! If you want to implement the ideas I share in my masterposts by taking action, take on one of my challenges! + you can also request a blog post! For that, leave your question in my ask box.

I hope you are well, stay strong and conquer life, you conqueror.

- Nandini (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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