#and low key progress can be so slow that sometimes it's nice to see oh yeah that's where I was and here's where I am! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashlie · 1 year

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hey it's the same anon as last time ^^ i'll try to stop by your inbox more often when i have the time and some thoughts to share. discussing these things is fun and you make such great points about the characters and the story. i'll be signing these asks with lil anon (like lil buddy 😼) so you know it's me. and good to hear! i hope you continue to get better 🥰

i get why you're invested in kousuke's story. he is, objectively, a really interesting character. it's unfortunate that people disregard him, bc understanding him is a key part of understanding the story. and understanding him doesn't necessarily mean having sympathy/empathy for him. like on a personal level i can't stand him and want to smack him with a broom lmao but as a reader/observer it's interesting to try and understand his motivations/actions, if that makes sense 🤞

oh yeah you're completely right about kou getting worse as the story progresses. his recent development has felt like watching a car crash in slow motion - tragic, but fascinating and you can't look away. if ily was a less interesting story, a character like kousuke (typical rich asshole with some redeeming qualities) would have had significant growth by now. but that would be such a cliché, right?

and sometimes i do wonder if kousuke is doomed by the narrative, or if he eventually will be able to break free from... himself, essentially. the thing is, kousuke's is trapped. in order to grow and change, he needs to separate himself from the hiraharas/this fake reality that's been constructed from him, and see his situation from a different perspective. but in order to even want to change, he needs to grow as a character first. which he cannot do as long as he's involved with the family. it's like a snake eating its own tail. nothing/no one has been able to get through to him yet, so i guess there needs to be an outside force (maybe a revelation) that breaks him out of this cycle, shatters the very foundation of his fake reality, or maybe removes his safety net. and i really wonder what's that going to be. like... even though christmas is coming up in the ily universe, i doubt he'll be visited by the ghosts of the present, past, and yet to come and then all of a sudden he's a gentler, kinder man the next day lmaooo idk what do you think it'll be that's going to push him towards (positive) change? i think it's undeniable that kousuke needs to crash and burn first, and then maybe he can build himself up from the ground. i really do hope that's what's going to happen eventually! he is (mostly) a victim of his upbringing/environment, so it'd be nice to see him make steps towards growth/healing/being his own person. either way we're still so far from anything like this happening so who knows.

re: nol and fear - wow i didn't make the connection that nol is also driven by his fears, but you're absolutely right. i saw him as someone mostly controlled by self-loathing/self-destructiveness/low self-esteem, but these feelings are ultimately rooted in his fears. thanks for pointing that out. such an interesting parallel between the brothers.

all the ways the brothers are two completely different people with similar issues are endlessly fascinating to me (i just love me a complex siblings dynamic). you mentioned that neither of them have that family relationship with their parents at this point, and i agree. however, i think it's important to keep in mind that a key factor in nol and kousuke being such different people are that their early days were completely different.

nol had a very loving mother who shaped him during his most critical years of development (ages 0 to 5). and i actually believe nol got his best qualities (kind, caring, generous, brave, funny, etc) and morals from nessa, not rand. also, the hiraharas hadn't poisoned him yet. the layers of pain and trauma came later. on the other hand, kousuke received a completely different version of care and was taught a number of really negative traits - that his wealth and name make him better than other people, that his family doesn't function like others do and that that's normal, that he shouldn't feel guilty taking advantage of people and situations, that he deserves to have everything he wants, that his sole purpose is to inherit the company, and - as you said - that love as a reward, rather than something he's inherently deserving of. no wonder nol was/is such a threat to him - he's competition, and there can only be one winner. how can this boy, a 'mistake', have received this "reward" (=rand's love (nol hasn't actually received it but kousuke thinks he did)) so easily, when he didn't do anything to deserve it? that can only mean that nol is better, that kousuke is in his shadow, somehow inferior. and that just contradicts kousuke's entire worldview. idk it's just. much to think about.

oh wow i wrote so much, sorry about that. btw feel free to copypaste this in a separate post under a cut so it doesn't take up too much space if you feel like it, i wouldn't mind! have a good weekend 💗 - lil anon

Lil' Anon, I love it, perfect! Hehe!!!

You are SO right about Kousuke, too, in that you don't have to love a character to enjoy them. In-verse I would not get along with Kousuke or even want anything to do with him lol. He frustrates me a LOT - but right, you can understand WHY a character is frustrating. You can become invested while knowing you would absolutely fight them lol. The thing about compelling characters is that, for the most part, they are the drivers of plot and story and if they aren't a character worth investing in, you run the risk of caricatures of antagonists, villains who fall flat and cartoonish. ILY certainly borrows from the truth that everyone is going through something, no matter who they are. That doesn't always validate what they do, but as far as a story and PLOT goes, it makes everything far more interesting. That's the main thing I want people to come away with, not just as far as ILY goes but media in general. Because it's fiction, there is no harm in enjoying an antagonist. Your plot and story wouldn't be as enjoyable if they WEREN'T compelling or intriguing. When I say Kou has become a character I'm very invested in, it doesn't mean I approve of the things he does. In fact, I root for him BECAUSE I want to see him grow, because I want to see if he ever takes the reigns on his life and comes to much-needed realizations.

Because you are right - there is a big chance that Kousuke IS doomed by the narrative. I've talked about this re: Alyssa before, too, in that just as in real life, there's a chance he may never come to the terms he needs to. He may never find his way out of his safety spots, may never try to leave what is safe and secure. That's what's so important about acknowledging how fear drives him - if he cannot overcome that fear of being uncomfortable, of facing disappointment, of being outside what he finds safe and secure, then he really can't make the changes he needs to. He won't have the opportunity to see himself in a way that might give him the perspective he needs. In general, growth requires courage. If we want to grow, we have to face scenarios that bring us discomfort, that maybe make us fall apart, in order for us to learn just how much we can take, just how much we can overcome. But Kousuke has never really been in that kind of position. He's had everything handed to him, whether or not he wants it to be.

I really like the analogy that it's like a snake eating its own tail; I think that really sums up the vicious cycle and why we've not seen him wake up to reality, why things seem to go in one ear and out the other.

Over on reddit I've been talking to someone a lot about Kousuke, too, and a thought we share is that not only does Kousuke need that crash and burn - I think everyone is in agreement about that! - but maybe something that can be a wake up call for him is his career. They made some really great points, too, I'll link to their response here, but we know that Kousuke isn't truly happy in his life and career. To him, we endure uncomfortable situations, or one's that aren't fun because that's life. We don't live in an ideal world, we have to do whatever we can to get by. But Kousuke literally could have his pick of anything in the world, couldn't he? At some point, when does he realize he's unfulfilled? The whole purpose of his career trajectory was to earn Rand's affection. At what point does he realize it isn't going to happen - if he's not already at that realization? At what point does the empty, hollowness set in? When does he realize he doesn't feel fulfilled because none of this was for HIM, this doesn't mean anything to him without Rand acknowledging him? And suppose he does get that acknowledgement. Then what? The quest is over, there's no higher goals, nothing more to achieve. Oh, sure, he can go on to be the CEO as he was born to. But would it MEAN anything to him?

I'm thinking - or hoping? - that this might be the kind of thing that gives him the wake up call. That there is no point in his life that brings him joy - except maybe eating sweets lol. But that can only be a catalyst. You're right in that a big need is for him to get away from his family, for him to exist outside of their reach, to lose that safety net.

I have a couple thoughts in this regard. Whatever Yujing is working on - likely an expose - syncs up with Shinae's graduation and Nol's release from prison. It clearly has to do with the Hiraharas - and this means Kousuke, as well. When she found out Nol had pleaded guilty, she'd been looking at an old article about Nol attacking Kousuke, which we've seen may not be what we thought it was at all, that perhaps it was Kousuke who attacked and Yui blamed Nol. There's also that incident Kousuke is so DESPERATE to hide, something Yujing knows about. It seems likely that this expose, this piece, is something that could taint the Hirahara name. Even if Kousuke was not involved in other aspects, this would end up affecting him, because a major part of his identity is that he is the Heir, so what happens if his identity is that he's the Heir of a dirty family? If it becomes known that he is not the ideal gentleman bachelor he's been made out to be? Is that enough to make him step back and see his family - especially his safety net Yui - in a new light?

There's also my favorite crack theory, that Kousuke is not Rand's son. Now, again, I don't necessarily think I believe in this as much as I enjoy exploring it, but there's been a number of little moments that feel like they could be foreshadowing - or red herrings lol. Suppose it was true, Rand isn't actually Kousuke's father. Aside from the fact that he's spent his whole life trying to earn love from this man, I think it would also be detrimental in that he'd finally have to face the unsavory parts of Yui that he tries to ignore or deny. The one pillar in his life having lied to him and egged him on to chase after this pipedream, reassured him that if he's good enough, he'd be acknowledged. Wouldn't that shatter him? Again, I'm not so sure if this is likely - it kind of feels overdramatic, but then again, the deeper we delve into the story, the more those kinds of dramatics start to feel normal.

At any rate, yes, I think he needs a wake up call that will make him see his family for what they are, make him see himself in a different light. And that's just the beginning! I really look forward to our big timeskip to see where we find Kousuke, if he's yet in a place where he can start making these changes to himself, if he's got a security network to push him to make those changes (and if he cares enough to do it lol).

Also yes, yes, very good points about Nol! Nol and Kousuke are definitely foils in that Nol had the kind of nurturing, affectionate childhood that Kousuke lacked. We've seen instances of Nol surrounded by peers his own age and we might be able to assume that, aside from being teased for having such a long name, maybe he actually got along with them? But also, because of the teasing incident, Nol had that safe space in his mother - Nessa comforted him and gave him a nickname to make up for the teasing. We've never once see Kousuke receive such affection, and I just always think about that little flashback where he's in the bush watching Nessa dote on Nol and then Yui appears before him without eyes. It's such a cold relationship, it doesn't feel like it was nurturing. She goes through the motions of being a mother, certainly, but that's the thing - the difference between mother and mom. Nol had a mom, Kousuke had a mother. And we can see that even when Nol was driven by fear, even when he was trying to distance himself, he couldn't help but indulge in those traits his mother passed on to him. He started to care about the friendships that weren't supposed to matter because he's such an empathetic person. He understands loneliness so well, how could he help but reach out to people he thought needed help? But Kousuke never developed those kinds of skills or traits. How is he meant to empathize with or understand people he was literally raised to see himself apart from. They're not like him, they are Other. Literally a formative foundation of the way he views the world!

Light and shadow plays such a role in the ILY universe. Nol is literally in the shadows, but Kousuke thinks that its him who is in the shadow cast by Nol, that he cannot let Nol shine, lest it drown out his own light. I think that really sums up the root of their relationship and their issues: Nol didn't so much want to shine as much as just share that spot with Kousuke. I think at some point he gave up trying to earn Rand's favor and instead sought out Kousuke who was in the same boat as him. But Kousuke thinks only one of them can be in the light and if it's not him, that means it's Nol - Nol who is so undeserving who hasn't put in the same effort as him. Isn't that funny? Kousuke literally was born into privilege, knows he is afforded things most others never will be, knows that he has things others could work for their whole lives and never possess. But he thinks it's Nol who has earned something without making any effort. The irony of it, man.

Don't feel bad about how much you wrote hehehe! I.... also cannot hold back when it comes to anything ILY so I'm delighted to receive equally long messages haha! Looking forward to more fun conversation with you, Lil Anon! And thank you for the well wishes! I'm going to try to make myself do more painting today! Fingers crossed (I am not doing the best job at taking care of myself this week lol I'm hoping some painting will help!)

#ILY Brainrot #I Love Yoo #Lil Anon #Kousuke Hirahara #Nol #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #it's funny how like.... Kousuke has been such a focus of all my brainrot posts lately LMAO #i promise that when I jot down my 218 thoughts it will be about OTHER STUFF #.....but also like... still really on a similar tangent so LMAOOOOOO #IT IS WHAT IT IS MAN #THIS IS THE ARC I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR #THIS IS ALL OF THE STUFF I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DIG INTO #Kousuke really IS a slow motion car wreck i can't look away from

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actuallysaiyan · 3 years

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Kiba nsfw alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kiba is a little tired after sex, but he’s going to make sure you’re okay and not too thirsty or anything before he passes out. He’s just expended a lot of energy and he needs to rest before he can do anything else. He loves you lots, though.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kiba probably likes his face the best. He knows he’s good looking, and he thinks it attracts everyone. So his good looks are a key component to who he is. Besides that, he doesn’t have a favorite.

On you, it’s gotta be your ass. He loves rutting against your ass when he’s feeling really horny. He loves spanking you when you’re being a brat and he loves to grab it when you bend down.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Kiba is messy when he cums. He loves painting you with his seed, so he prefers giving you ‘facials’ and cumming all over your ass and tits. Like most men, he will enjoy cumming deep inside of you whenever he gets the chance.

Kiba enjoys making you cum a lot. He’s big on overstimulation cause it’s just so sexy to see and hear you whine and beg for him to stop stimulating you. He’s a little overly eager about it, but trust me, he’s going to make up for it by being sweet and soft afterwards.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Kiba stole a pair of your underwear one time, and he uses it to masturbate from time to time. He’s not proud of it, but it really helps him go over the edge. He’ll just use it any way he can, and sometimes he sniffs it while jerking himself off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh boy, Kiba is not experienced. He’s eager and energetic, but he needs to be taught a few things before you could say he was good at sex. That’s fine, not everyone is a pro at it from the beginning. Sometimes, you need to learn and you were very happy to show Kiba how to please you. Ever since then, he’s been getting progressively better.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Kiba loves doggy style. This is most definitely a given, but it just makes him snap. He needs to be raw and feral with you, and he loves being a little dominant. He’ll fuck you roughly, and he’ll shove your face into the pillow as he slams himself in and out of you. He just loves the way he can pull your hair in this position...and how deep his cock reaches inside of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Kiba is super goofy. He loves to make sexual jokes and say degrading things, but it’s all in good fun. It’s very much in the moment sometimes, and he’ll call you pet names too. He just loves how fun sex is, and if you can handle his demeanor, he’ll be very happy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Kiba is very hairy down below. He’ll keep it clean trimmed, but sometimes it gets wild. He likes being au natural, and if you don’t mind, he’d like it if you were willing to do the same. The carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kiba is rough and raw, and he can be dominating sometimes. He’s not the most romantic, but when he’s feeling needy and vulnerable, he’ll fuck you nice and slow. He can be sensual, but it just drives him crazy how badly he needs you. He loves fucking fast and hard, it’s just his prefered way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kiba masturbates a healthy amount. If you aren’t around to help him, he’s going to jack off and he’s got some toys to help him get there. If he’s got a nice moment alone, rest assured he’s taking care of his little problem. This is when your panties come into play ;)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Kiba has a few kinks. He loves to be dominant, and he adores collaring and leading you around with a leash. He’s also into spanking and biting, and he loves marking you so that people will know you belong to him. He loves lingerie, specifically g-string and thongs so he can see your ass better that way. He’s into exhibition as well, as he doesn’t care about getting caught fucking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Kiba is into doing it anywhere. He is not fussy. He’ll get caught and be okay with it too. He’s proud of showing off how good he can fuck you. He likes it at home on the floor where you can get a carpet burn. He loves it on the bed, so he can fuck you so hard. He loves it in the forest where you can scream so loud and nobody will be able to hear you...or maybe they will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You just need to bat your eyelashes, rub his inner thigh and bite your lower lip. It doesn’t take much for Kiba to get super turned on. If you want to turn him on even more, just wear a short skirt and a low cut top and he knows you’re interested in doing something sexual with him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite spending time with Akamaru all the time and they’ve got that one move with the dog piss...Kiba isn’t into urine play whatsoever. He doesn’t do scat either. Anything else, he’s going to run it by you and see if you like it before he does anything. He wants you to have fun too.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He absolutely loves blow jobs. Get on your knees with your pretty little collar on, and he’s going to be weak. He’ll use the leash to guide your mouth in the way that he needs when he face fucks you. He’s big on face fucking you.

He also loves going down on you. He’s sloppy and clumsy, but it feels really good. He uses his fingers a lot to stimulate your g-spot and that gets you over the edge so quickly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Kiba is almost exclusively fast and rough. He loves fucking you hard and making you cry out and squirt all over him. He needs it fast and rough to make himself cum too. It’s just his prefered pace, and he has very high energy. Sometimes, he’ll be needy and fuck you so slowly...

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves quickies. They are fun, quick and messy. If you come up to him and ask him to fuck you while he’s busy doing something, he’s going to bring you somewhere semi-private and go right to fucking you. He likes them a lot.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Kiba is a huge risk taker. He loves to experiment as much as he can as long as you are open to it as well. He doesn’t care if he gets caught fucking you either. He has a bit of an exhibitionist kink, but he doesn’t want to expose you to it unless you are into it as much as he is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Kiba usually cums pretty quickly, but he has a very short refractory period. He can do many rounds, but they can be short. That’s why he loves eating you out and making you cum over and over again before he starts to fuck you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Kiba has a ton of toys! He has collars, handcuffs, vibrators, whips, crops, fleshlights...he enjoys pushing your limits with his toys if you allow him too. He’s big on having his cock teased with a vibrator as well, and that’ll make him cum so damn hard.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing! The way you look when you’re so desperate to cum and the pathetic little noises you make when you whine and plead, it really drives him crazy. It makes his cock so damn hard when you beg him to let you cum. It makes him want to edge you even more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kiba is very loud. He’s grunting and groaning and praising you or calling you pet names. If you blow him, he’s crying out and panting and whining. It’s a big thing for him to have you suck his cock. When he cums, he growls almost. It’s very loud.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kiba is quite jealous of a lover, but he wouldn’t be against having a threesome with you and another person if you were interested. He wants to fuck another person with you helping. He just wants to make that person cum hard with the help of his lover. It’s something that turns him on a lot.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Kiba has a well-toned body, and his cock is pretty damn thick. It’s about 6 and a half inches, and it has no curves. It’s thick though and has some nice veins that rub up against your walls very nicely.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Kiba is very horny, and his sex drive is very high. He needs to pace himself with you sometimes otherwise he’s going to fuck you for hours and just won’t stop himself. He needs to prioritize before getting into sex sometimes, but those thoughts are thrown out the window and he just starts fucking you even if he needs to be doing something else.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kiba is very quick to fall asleep. He’s expended so much energy and he needs to rest. His eyes are basically closing on their own as he asks you if you need anything after sex, but you just cuddle up against him.

#writing #reader requested #anon requested #kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka x you #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka x y/n #kiba inuzuka spicy alphabet #spicy alphabet #kiba inuzuka smut #kiba inuzka lemon #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto imagine

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Text

Be a Good Guest part 1

CW: Whump, mild car crash, creepy intimate whumper, luring unsuspecting whumpees into some dark questionable woods, parental whumper, drugging.

(They get names as the story progresses.)

Masterlist

Annnnd the most oblivious Whumpee title goes toooooo-

Whumpee drove down the endless road, nothing but dark trees surrounded him. This place gave them the chills... He just had a bad feeling every time he drove through. The sun had long set, so it was even creepier with only the dim headlights lighting up the forest, Whumpee was just waiting for a deer or bear to jump in front of the car at any moment.

The car started rattling and slowed down, as Whumpee let out a groan

“Oh, no no no! Not now!” He cried out, as he tapped the breaks. To his horror, the car didn’t slow down any further.

“Eh?” He gasped, slamming down on the breaks hard, as nothing happened. A sharp turn came, as Whumpee did his best to glide through, but the car skid with a shriek as it rammed head first into a large tree. Whumee’s face hit the steering wheel, slicing his lip. Whumpee gasped, immediately touching his fingers to his lip, blood falling down his chin.

“Ow...” Whumpee muttered, pulling a napkin from the dash to hold to his lip. He climbed from the car, his heart sinking as smoke rose from the engine, letting off a hissing sound.

“Someone tell me this isn’t happening...” Whumpee gasped to himself, shaking his head with a defeated sigh.

“Are you okay?” A deep voice asked, as Whumpee squeaked in fear, whirling around. There was a man standing right behind him with a dim lantern in hand, swaying back and forth. He looked older, with curly grey hair.

“I’m f-fine.” Whumpee stuttered, lowering the napkin a inch, as blood immediately dripped down his face, he gasped and held it back up. Whumper took his wrists, lowing his hand as he shone the lantern to his face. Whumpee whimpered, trying to take a step back, but Whumper tsked. "Easy there son, let me see.” He instructed. He took his thumb gently to his chin, wiping away some blood.

“I live in the woods not far from here. I can get you some ice for that. Does it hurt?” The man asked with a sweet smile.

“I'm okay... Do-... Do you have a phone?” Whumpee stuttered.

The man paused, his wide eyes glinting from the light as he stared at him.

“Of course I do! Why don’t you come with me, you can spend as much time as you like.” The man tilted his head to the side with a grin.

“N-no thank you! That won’t be necessary... I could just really just use a phone.” Whumpee nervously laughed.

The man’s smile faded slightly.

“... Of course! Whatever makes you comfortable, got someone waiting for you?” He asked.

“Yeah! Lots of people, whole group of roommates!” Whumpee completely lied though his teeth. He lived alone in reality.

“Hmm, is that so?” He asked, looking him up and down. “ Well, wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” He nodded, coaxing him towards the dark endless woods.

Whumpee cringed, knowing this was a terrible idea, but what other choice did he have? He was in the middle of nowhere, no phone, no car, no signal, besides, the man seemed nice. Right?

Whumpee yelped when the man wrapped an arm around his, locking it in place.

“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on now! You’ll catch a cold if you wait out here all day. I’ll make you a hot tea.” Whumper pulled him through the woods, the uneasy grip made Whumpee feel both uncomfortable, yet somehow comforted and safe at the same time...

There was a dim yellow light in the distance, as Whumper lead them to a log cabin in the middle of the woods.

“You live here?” Whumpee asked, looking around. Whumper carefully walked him up the steps, making sure he made it up alright.

“Yes I do! Lovely isn’t it? So peacefully, so quiet. None of that pesky traffic noise at night.” He waved.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Whumpee asked. Whumper stopped with the rusted key halfway in the door. He stood frozen for an unusually long time, as Whumpee immediately regraded his question.

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mea-” “-No no! It’s fine. You’re right, I suppose it can get a little lonely all the way out here. I hope it’ll change soon though.” He smiled.

“Oh! Are you going to get a pet?” Whumpee asked obliviously, with excitement in his voice. Whumper blurted out a laugh as he pulled Whumpee into the house by his arm.

“Not quite, young man, not quite.” He chuckled to himself.

The cabin was dim, long dark curtains covered the windows, small candles and lanterns around giving the room a soft glow. It was an old house, but well kept aside from some clutter. But there were unusual metal hooks all over the walls and floors.

“Phone?” Whumpee asked, tugging at Whumper sleeve.

“Phone?” Whumper repeated back with puzzle in their voice.

“Yes, the phone you said I could use?” Whumpee tilted their hair, raising an eyebrow.

“OH! Yes! That phone, of course, right over here.” Whumper kicked the door, as it slammed shut behind them, leading him into a kitchen. “Right there! I’ll get a kettle on.” He smiled. He grabbed an old wooden chair from the table, setting it next to an ancient looking wall phone.

“Woah, I haven’t seen one of these in forever.” Whumpee puzzled, tapping a nail on the old phone. Whumpee jolted at the stove letting out a loud squeak as Whumper turned it on, giving him a creepy smile. Whumpee took a deep breath, as he sat down, lifting the phone to his ear.

Silence.

“Does it... Work?” Whumpee glanced back.

“Of course it works!” Whumper hollered, as they both froze, staring at each other.

“Ahh, I mean, just give it a minute, there’s a delay sometimes.” He waved his hand.

“Mm.. Mmkay.” Whumpee muttered, he had no idea how that worked, but he dialing in numbers anyway.

Silence.

“Just give it a few more minutes!” Whumper called. “Are you sure? It’s still silent.” Whumpee muttered, his voice getting shaky, his body visibly beginning to tremble. Whumpers eyes shot off the kettle when he noticed his nervousness, grabbing another chair and sitting it next to him.

“Dearie! Don’t be frightened. I know you had a rough night, just relax, everything will be okay.” He coaxed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, handing him a icepack. Whumpee just let out a small nervous mumble in response, whispering a thank you as he held the ice to his busted lip.

“Tea is done! It’ll help calm your nerves. I know you must be frightened, you were in a car crash for goodness sake!” He grabbed Whumpee’s chair, twisting it around and pushing him up to the table. Whumpee gasped and froze as he was pushed in.

He blinked at the delightful cup steaming in front of him. He knew better then to drink that, but it smelled so good, and he was pretty thirsty. He glanced up at the man sitting across from him, looking at him kindly while he sipped his own cup.

Whumpee sat down the ice on the table, hovering the cup an inch from his lips. It smelled divine. “Is this peppermint?” Whumpee muttered. “Mmhm! Good smell. Do you like it? I can make you something else. I have green, black, Jasmin, white...” He rattled off.

“No! No this is good. My favorite, actually.” He smirked. Whumper gave him a loving smile in response. Whumpee felt rude to not drink it by now, the man had even offered to make him another flavor, and wasn’t even pressuring him to drink it at all. He took a sip, it was just as good as it smelled, as he practically melted at the warm flavor.

“I’m going to try the phone again...” Whumpee muttered, as he nodded. He held the phone to his ear, as he heard soft ringing. His heart fluttered with excitement as he felt a glimmer of hope. He reached up to dial the number again, but he could hardly see, they were fuzzy and swaying back and forth.

“Mmm..” Whumpee whimpered, slowly lowering the phone, as he realized the ringing wasn’t coming from the phone. He slowly turned around to face Whumper, the ringing in his ears getting louder and louder, his head jolting as lightheadedness hit him.

“You... Did you...?” He breathed, the blurry image of the mans smiling face burning into his mind as his knees buckled. He felt arms wrap around his chest as his knees hit the ground, the embrace around him keeping his chest up as a hand stroked across his face. He blinked his eyes open, as the next thing he knew he was laying on a couch with his head resting on the mans lap, who was slowly stroking his hand through his scalp. He desperately tried to cry out, but nothing came out.

He couldn't move.

“What a sweet precious little thing...” Whumper smiled, playing with his hair. Whumpee felt like he was listening to the words underwater, as his voice haunting and distorted to his ears.

“Don’t worry son, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

“So long as you behave.”

Tag: @alien-octopus

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ *:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumper #whumpee #intimate whumper #parental whumper #nice whumper #kidnapped whumpee #kind whumper #possessive whumper #drugged whumpee #whump prompt #whump scenario #Whump stories #whump writing #creepy whumper

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hypnofur1 · 3 years

Text

My Life as a Hypno Fur Queen - Chapter 2

That incident with the construction workers was an indicator of where my general mindset was at. With each passing day, I was less interested in “Cindy” stuff. Less interested in dealing with PTA things, less interested in dealing with drama from the neighborhood women. I was interested in hypnotic erotic domination, and there was little room for anything else. I knew this was a dangerous road, but I couldn’t stop myself from going down it.

With the kids at school, Nick at work, and the construction workers in the house working on the closet, I spent a lot of time in my bedroom. Most of it was either researching hypnosis stuff online or shopping online. One afternoon, as the closet was almost finished, I found what I thought would be the perfect centerpiece.

The room had originally been a fairly good size office, so as a closet, it was enormous. There was a large open space in the middle. I found a red velvet couch for the middle of the floor. I figured it would be great to hypnotize and fuck on. I sent it to Nick and told him to order it.

“Cindy, I think we need to chill on the purchases for a while. I know we have the inheritance stuff, but this couch is like $2k” he texted back to me.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I was pleased or annoyed that he wrote that. Part of me just wanted him to do what I wanted, but the other part of me liked the challenge.

The construction crew was just down to one finish guy, a portly guy name Jorge. Jorge was in his late 40’s. He was very nice, as they all were. He was a little bit intimated by me, which I liked. I’m sure my interaction with the crew the other day exacerbated his level of intimidation. I noticed Jorge get all sweaty and nervous when I was around. I also noticed him sneaking glances as me. At this point though, he was wrapping up for the day. As soon as he left, I went into the closet. It still smelled new in there. I took a selfie and sent it to Nick.

Then I texted him:

Me: Am I beautiful Nick?

Nick: yes

Me: Look past me. What do you see?

Nick: Your furs

Me: Who am I?

Nick: Cynthia

Me: Who is in control? Who do you serve?

Nick: You

Me: Order the couch. Get rush shipping. I don’t care how much it costs

Nick: Yes Cynthia

The power I had over him was intoxicating. I immediately felt the middle of my yoga pants getting wet. All alone in the house, I went back to my bedroom and opened the drawer next to my bed. Nick and I both had little bedside tables. The bottom drawer of mine had glamour magazines right at the top, but underneath those were my little toys. Looking through the drawer, I briefly considered the fingertip vibrator... quick, to the point, very effective. But instead I drew out my other vibrator... anatomically correct, except for the fact that it was purple silicone. I closed my eyes for a moment, holding the toy in my hand, realizing with a smile that it was about the same size as my husband. I reclined on the bed, my thick purple friend turned on low speed, and slowly teased the tip over my clit as I thought about the power I had over Nick My breathing sped up right away. I was so wet already, so turned on, that I slipped the tip of the toy down to the entrance of my pussy almost immediately, moaning a little bit as it pressed inward. Just the tip. Just that tease. Just those little teasing thrusts, the slow rumbling vibrations adding to the sensation as I briefly slipped the tip back up over her clit. The vibrations, those extra sensations, helped to compensate for not having Nick’s hypnotized, obedient, warm body pressing me into the bed. For not having a tongue invading my mouth with mindless kisses, pushing into me with his hard cock. "Oh," I whispered with the toy halfway in. "Oh, shit, feels so good." I said to no one. But I The thrusts were all the way in now. I thought of how silky I made my voice when I was hypnotizing Nick. I thought of how he was so powerless to resist my commands. Further encouraged by this, I reached down to turn up the speed on the vibrator, lifting my hips off the bed and gasping as I pushed against the toy. She reached behind her with one hand, gripping the headboard... Yes, almost there, just a bit more, oh, God... "I’m your hypnotic fur queen!" I burst out as at full volume as I climaxed, reveling in the feeling of bearing down on the realistic toy, riding the waves of muscle contractions magnified by the facsimile inside me. The last gasps of my orgasm took a while to dissipate, the vibrations keeping it going, and I bit my lip again as I rode the toy through the aftershocks. With a satisfied sigh, I finally turned off the vibrator and put it to the side. I laid there for a moment and basked in the post orgasmic glow. I felt relaxed and happy… but I still felt a little bit wicked. I was thinking about Jorge the last carpenter. He probably thought I was so hot. Hispanic guys love blondes, I learned that in Cancun. They are crazy for blondes. I probably seemed so rich to him, so untouchable. If he only knew that I had been masturbating just a few minutes after he had left.

I was thinking about this as I cleaned off the purple vibrator. As I was about to place it back in the drawer, I stopped. The wicked feeling I have prompted me to place the purple, penis shaped vibrator in the closet. I put it on a shelf, next to the furs, and next to a couple books on hypnosis, and a gold pocket watch that I had bought. I knew Jorge would find it the next day. I felt so sexy, so wicked.

But then the kids came home. I was thrust back into a world that was becoming less and less interesting to me. Cindy’s world. Mom Cindy, School Committee member Cindy, and at the particular time that Nick came home that night – sister Cindy.

“Well, why did you give him the keys?” I said with a snarl to my older sister, Denise. She lived in Rhode Island, and her life was always in a constant state of calamity and sadness. Nick could probably tell who I was on the phone with the moment that he walked in the door, he was not a big fan of hers of course. She was telling me some sob story about how her latest boyfriend had taken her car out after a night of drinking and smashed it up. It was always some pathetic adventure or another with her.

Nick gave me a smile and then headed upstairs to get out of his work clothes. Exchanging his shirt and tie for a t-shirt and basketball shorts. That’s what he did every night. Of course, over the last few weeks, he would also check the daily progress the construction crew was making with the closet.

Frankly, I had been so caught up in what was happening with the boys’ school stuff, dinner, and now Denise’s crap, that I had forgotten about the little surprise that I left for Jorge to find tomorrow.

However, I was certainly reminded when Nick and back downstairs and yelled to me in a panic, “Cindy, you left a dildo in the closet!”.

I could barely put my hand over the receiver fast enough so that Denise couldn’t hear. “SHHHHHH!” I admonished. Jeez, not only did I not want Denise to hear that, I didn’t want the boys to hear him too. God, he is such a spaz sometimes.

His face was red and he was totally shocked. His intense reaction was a reminder for me that my actions of late were really out of character. I knew I was spiraling a bit, but I didn’t care. It was sexy and fun, and exciting. So fucking hot. I loved the idea of Jorge seeing the dildo and not being able to stop thinking about me using it. I even loved that it shocked Nick, and that he wasn’t into it.

Denise was blabbering on and on. I just put her on mute, so she couldn’t hear what I said. I looked Nick deep in the eyes. I changed my body language and my tone. Hell, I felt like I changed my whole persona.

“Nick, look at me, look into my eyes” I said to him. “What did you see in the closet Nick?”

“Your purple… you know” he said. I noticed he didn’t break eye contact.

“What else did you see in the closet Nick?”

“A hypnosis book” he answered

“Have you ever been hypnotized Nick?” I asked, calmly and steadily

“Yes” he whispered now. His eyes locked into mine.

“What else is in the closet Nick?” I asked.

“Furs” he said, his breathing now ragged.

“Who hypnotized you Nick?” I asked

“You did”

“Whose furs are those Nick?”

“Yours” he said. I didn’t want to break eye contact, but I had a hunch that if I glanced down, I’d see an erection forming beneath the basketball shorts.

“You are hypnotized now, aren’t you Nick?” I said to him. It was phrased as a question, but it really wasn’t

“Yes” he whispered. I immediately felt my pussy moisten. I took the phone off mute and just blurted out to Denise that I would call her back. I could listen to her whine about her car problems later. I mean, I didn’t love my mini van, but you didn’t see me calling people complaining about it.

That did give me an idea though…. a wicked idea.

“Who controls you Nick? Who do you serve?’ I asked him as my arousal grew.

“you do. I serve you” he answered

“Good Nick. Go deeper now. Looking deep into my eyes, hearing only the sound of my voice. Deeper and deeper into my hypnotic control. Deeper and deeper.” I said, in my hypnotist voice. This was the first time I had ever brought him under without actually having fur present in the room with us. I wanted to capitalize on this opportunity.

“Looking so deep into my eyes. Completely and utterly focused on me. I am your whole world. So engrossed in me. So captivated by me. I am your hypnotic fur queen, and you are mine. Mine to control, mine to hypnotize. Deeper and Deeper. Going deeper and deeper under my hypnotic control. It feels so good to be completely immersed in my hypnotic spell. You love being hypnotized by me. You love to serve me, to please me. Pleasing me and serving me is the most important thing to you.” I said, my own breathing now ragged from arousal.

“You’ll do anything I say. Anything to please me. You can refuse me nothing. I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I am perfection. You find me so sexy. The more aroused you are, the more you obey me. Even if it is something you don’t want to do, your desire to serve me and please me will take precedence. Do you understand?” I told him. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my temple. I was feeling almost frenzied.

“Yes Cynthia” Nick responded immediately.

“Nick, I want you to go upstairs, and go into the closet. When you are in there, I want you to get on your phone and make a reservation for the nicest hotel in Providence for tomorrow night. We are going to drive my mini van down to Denise, and we are going to give it to her. You are then going to buy me a new Mercedes. Do you understand?” I said. I was actually touching myself at this point. Thank god for Fortenight, I knew it would keep the boys so occupied down in the basement that they wouldn’t come upstairs and overhear this.

“I-I” Nick stuttered, I could see he was struggling.

“You serve me Nick. It is so sexy to serve your fur queen. Tell me you will obey Nick”

“I will obey” he said weakly. I fucking loved it.

“Go upstairs and do that. Then, I want you to jerk off looking at the purple vibrator, thinking of me using it, do you understand?”

“Yes Cynthia”

“When you are done. Make dinner”

“Yes Cynthia”

“Go!” I said, almost evilly. I was so turned on that I stuck my hand down my pants. Maybe I should have gone up with him to use the vibrator…

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

Jorge didn’t have much to finish on the job, less than an hour of work left. He was just replacing two drawer handles that had come in wrong and picking up the final check. However, I knew that he would see my purple vibrator on the shelf, on top of the hypnosis book. I knew that would shock and likely arouse him. I knew that, and I loved it.

I was in the kitchen, listening for him to start making his way downstairs. I looked really good, I had on a tight satin blouse, a short little mini skirt, and some strappy heels. It was a sexy version of a professional outfit. As I heard him start to come down the stairs, I hopped on to the kitchen counter and picked up the phone.

“Yes Mr. Mayor, you hear only the sound of my voice. You are deep, deep in my hypnotic power. You will obey my commands completely…” I said as he rounded the corner. I saw him nervously approach me. I had the final check, so I knew he would have to deal with me.

I looked deep into Jorge’s eyes with a sultry look. “Mr. Mayor. Sink deep into hypnosis. Sleep deep until you hear my voice again.” I said into the phone before hitting the mute button theatrically.

“Are you all done?” I asked Jorge.

“Y-Yes Ma’am” he said nervously.

“Before I give you this check, I want you to look deep into my eyes…” I said to him with a wicked smile.

Jorge’s eyes almost popped out of his head before he immediately diverted them. He said something in Spanish that I didn’t understand, and ran out of the house. I laughed and laughed. I might have even cackled. It was definitely an evil laugh none the less. Now, full disclosure, I stuck the check in the mail right away. I wasn’t trying to get out of paying the construction company, nor was I looking for a law suit. I was just looking for a little fun…

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

It was easy to get my mom to come watch the boys. After all, I was giving Denise my car. My mom was always so overly protective of Denise, which by the way, is a large part of why she is who she is – but that is not the point of this story.

So anyway, my Mom came to watch the boys the next afternoon, which was a Friday so it worked out well. I was dressed very nicely, make up done, etc. Nick shuddered a little bit when he first saw me as he got home from work. I told him to shower and put on something nice as well. He of course obliged.

I didn’t wear the fur out of the house. I didn’t really want to wear it in front of my mom or the boys. I had Nick put a couple of them into garment bags and place them in the mini van. It was all smiles and hugs and “Cindy” when we were leaving the house. I knew the boys would be in good hands with my mom, despite the fact that she would spoil them rotten, and let them eat way more sugar than I would. Oh well, I didn’t really care about that at that moment.

As soon as we were both in the car, it was 100% Cynthia time. I had Nick pull over the second that we were out of view of our house, and get one of the furs out of the garment bag. I wasn’t going to wear it in the car, but I just wanted it out for the psychological effects it would have.

We live about an hour and a half north of Providence. This was a Friday night, so the traffic was thick. I called and got reservations at a restaurant called the Capitol Grille. It was known to be one of the nicest in the city. There was no place to park nearby the restaurant. I told Nick to pull up to the front and drop me off at the door. When we were at the front, I told him to get my fur and put it on me. He did so, opening my car door, taking my hand as I got out, treating me like a queen as he helped me slip into the fur.

I could feel his warm breath on my neck as he helped me into the fur. Part of me wanted to have him take me to the hotel right then and there and ride him like a cowgirl. But, I wanted to enjoy the evening first. I turned to him as I reached down and grabbed his crotch. As I suspected, his cock was rock hard. Perfect! That is just how I wanted it. I figured there was a possibility that the restaurant hostess even saw me grab him, but I didn’t care. I was in full Cynthia mode at this point.

I entered the restaurant with a confidence that I could have only dreamed about in my twenties. I immediately notice a lot of eyes on me. That wasn’t unusual, but in this fur, with this confidence, I felt it was magnified significantly. As I scanned the room, taking a mental inventory of all who noticed me. There were a number of men checking me out. There were a number of women givng me the stink eye. I loved it all.

Then I noticed this one guy at the bar. He was older, like 50’s, and he was well dressed. Expensive clothes. He had a look in his eye that I have seen before. It was the same look that Nick had the first time he saw me in a fur. All the color had drained from the guy’s face. He tried to avert his eyes, likely realizing that he was staring, but he just couldn’t. As a little test, I lightly ran my finger tips down the shawl collar of my fox fur coat as I stared at him. I could see from the guy’s reaction that I had just taken his breath away.

This dude 100% had a fur fetish! I laughed wickedly to no one. It was the same kind of laugh I laughed when I was teasing Jorge. Who the hell was I becoming?

Nick entered the restaurant, I felt him come up behind me. The hostess smiled at us politely and showed us to our seat. I kept glancing over to my starstruck friend at the bar, his eyes never left me. I looked at him and laughed knowingly.

Dinner was fantastic, as were the cosmopolitans. I knew I was getting a bit tipsy, but I didn’t care. At the end of my second cosmopolitan, and idea formed. It was crazy, and bad, and stupid. But… I wanted to be crazy and band and stupid. I knew I needed Nick’s cooperation. I looked deep into his eyes with my hypnotist gaze.

“Nick, I want you to do something.” I said.

“Anything” Nick responded. He was so far gone tonight.

“There is a man at the bar in a blue tie. I want you to go to the bar and get me another Cosmo. Strike up a conversation with him. Make sure you somehow work in that your wife is a hypnotist. Do you understand?” I said.

“Yes, I understand”

“Good. Go now.” I said. Commanding him like this was getting me a little bit aroused. I did my best to not glance over at them while Nick was talking to the guy. He was probably up at the bar for a good 15-20 minutes, which was a good sign that he was likely successful in striking up a conversation.

When he finally came back, I asked him if he was successful in his task. He confirmed that he was. That part of my hastily put together plan was complete, now I just needed to wait for Mr. Blue Tie to get up to go to the bathroom. He had been sitting at the bar for like an hour, I knew it wouldn’t take long.

Sure enough, I only had to wait about ten minutes. I saw Mr. Blue Tie get up and turn towards the restroom. Of course, he snuck a few more glances at me. I knew this was my chance. I had to occupy Nick though. I told him to let his attention wander, to start noticing other things in the restaurant, etc. I told him he wouldn’t notice that I had left the table, and would keep just dazing off until I spoke to him again. It worked perfectly, I saw him start looking around as soon as I had said that.

With part two of the plan in play, I grabbed my fur coat from the back of my chair and slipped it on as I headed to the restroom. Mr. Blue Tie of course noticed this, as his eyes hadn’t really left me all night. Now, I will admit, I really felt the Cosmopolitans when I stood up. Wow, I was definitely a little drunk.

I was able to not stumble over to him though, which was impressive in the heels I was in. I caught him before the bathroom.

"Hi, I see you like this white fox coat I’m wearing”, I said to him as I got close, looking deep into his now… well, petrified eyes.

He tried to say something, probably to make an excuse. As soon as I saw him go to speak, I put my finger on his lips. “Shhhhh. It’s ok I know that you like it. It’s ok.”

I slowly removed my finger from his lips and then held my hand in front of his eyes for a moment. Slowly and seductively, I moved my fingers to the thick fox shawl collar. As I expected, his eyes never left my finger tips. “That’s right. You are finding that you can’t look away from my gentle, soft caressing of the fur. You are finding that your eyes are locked on finger tips and you can`t look away. It may be that you just find the sight of my feminine hand caressing the thick, soft fur is so pleasant to look at. I`m very glad you find my fingers stroking the fur pleasing enough for you to want to watch me do it just like you`re doing right now. I’m ok with it, I’m letting you just stare, like you’ve wanted to. Just SSssoo natural to just want to reelllaax and watch me caress the fur. SSssoo natural... ssssoo natural to want to stare at me touching the fur and listen to my voice. Nothing unusual. Nothing but just reellaaxxing and staring like you`re doing, and listening to my voice. SSssoo easy....ssssoo natural....ssssoo rreeellaaxing..... reeellaaaxing.....” I could see his jaw was hanging open and his eyes looked glazed. I slowly moved my fingertips up to my face. His eyes followed and met mine. Now our eyes were locked, fixed. I then moved closer to him and placed my thumb on his forehead and my fingers on his head. Speaking to him in a soft, sexy tone of voice, I began to slowly rotate his head. “....reeellaaxing more and more as you look deep into my eyes. Deeper and Deeeeper into my eyes now. You find it impossible to look away from my eyes. You find it impossible to look away. My eyes pull you deeeeper and deeeeeper into them. Feel it...feel them pull you in deeeeper and deeeeeper. Down deeeep...down deeeep into my eyes and you love this feeling of just letting go and sinking...sinking...down deeeep....down deeeep into my eyes. Just let go now and sink all the way down...deep.....deeeeep....deeeeeep into reeellaaxing sleep... sleeeep....sleeeeeeeeeeep....” With that, he collapsed on to me. Slumped right on to my shoulder. I started to freak out, wondering if anyone at the restaurant was noticing what was going on, but it quickly faded away as I realized I needed to keep this moving quickly.

“Hearing only the sound of my voice. You will do exactly as I tell you to do. It feels so good to follow and obey. Now, stand up, open your eyes, but remain deep in hypnotic trance.” I told him.

He did so. Good. That was going to get awkward fast with him draped all over me. Plus, he was heavy.

“Now, I want you to answer me completely honestly, do you understand?”

“Yes” he responded quietly

“Good, that makes me very happy, and you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Yes” he responded earnestly.

“Goooood”, I cooed. “You are doing soo well. Now, what is your name?”

“Doug Stumbly”

“Good Doug. I’m pleased that you told me that. Do you like to please me Doug?”

“Yes”

“Good. So good. Are you sexually attracted to women in furs Doug?”

“Yes, women in white furs” he said

White furs. Ok. Geez, these guys and their fetishes are like, sooo specific. Being a guy must be so weird. Whatever. “Good Doug, very good. I am the most beautiful woman you have ever seen wearing a white fur live and in person, aren’t I?” I said/suggested.

“Yes” he responded. I knew it.

“Good, you are doing so well, you are making me happy and that makes you feel even more happy, and relaxed, and it allows you to sink even deeper into hypnosis for me. Now, tell me, are you rich?” I asked, now pretty damn bold.

“Yes”

“How?” I asked. Like, inheritance, hedge fund? I was curious.

“I own Stumbly Motor Group” he said.

Well well well. That could come in handy. Wait, I was getting ahead of myself. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Were you ever?”

“Yes. Divorced”

“Do you live in Providence?”

“yes”

Frankly, I had more questions. I was pushing my luck here outside the bathroom though. I had to keep this show on the road. “Doug, in a moment, I am going to snap my fingers. You will awaken and take my phone. You will put your number in it. You will then go to the bathroom. When you are finished you will find the manager and pay for mine and my husband’s meal. When you get a text from Cynthia, your Fur Queen, you will obey the instructions completely, do you understand?”

“Yes” he said, then I snapped and handed him my phone. His eyes opened and he took my phone and entered his information. A smile came to my lips as I watched him.

I was definitely drunk, and I stumbled as I walked back to our table as Dougy-boy took a pee. I told Nick that he would follow me passively for the rest of the night, without thinking or questioning anything. Just so happy to be near me that nothing else mattered, nothing seems out of place. I said that as long as he is with me, everything is just fine. He was so deeply in my thrall at that point that he just went with whatever I said.

I looked over and saw him talking to the manager. The waiter came over and told us a gentleman had taken care of the bill for us. I smiled brightly and thanked him. I told Nick it was time to go, and that we were off to the hotel. Admittedly, in his zoned out state, I had to handle a few more of the arrangements than I would have liked. I was pretty drunk, so I knew I shouldn’t drive. I decided to leave the car in the garage it was already in and call an Uber to get us to the hotel. On the way there, I managed to check in via an app and got the room key sent to my phone. It was a pretty slick interactive feature, but it was hard as hell to do when hammered. I pulled it off though.

I texted Doug. Doug, this is Cynthia, your Fur Queen. Come to the Biltmore, room 427 at 10:00. Even in my drunken state, I couldn’t believe I was inviting… or should I say ordering… another man to our hotel room. This was pretty far out, even for the new me.

By the time we got into the room, it was already almost 10. I told Nick to sit on the bed and stare into space. I went into the bathroom and freshened up my make up and brushed my teeth. I also took off my clothes, leaving only my sexy underwear. Then I put back on the fur. I reapplied some perfume and there was a knock at the door.

I opened the hotel door wearing only the white fur coat and my sexy Victoria’s secret satin bra and panties. My coat was open as one of my arms rested on the door jam. I could see from Doug’s face that he was speechless. Frankly, a heart attack on this older guy was like a real concern at that moment.

“come in” I told him, walking away from the door. “close it” I commanded as he entered. He probably would have closed it anyway, but I was just throwing out another command because it felt good.

“Look, I really appreciate meeting you, but I – “ Doug started.

“Shhhhhh” I said as I turned to him, my fingers once again on his lips. This time, I applied pressure with my finger, pushing him. Pushing him down. Down to his knees. My eyes were locked on his. I felt the power coursing through me.

“Nick, get on your knees next to him. DO it now” I said. Nick passively slumped off the bed and hit his knees next to Doug.

“Both of you, stare at me!” I commanded as I backed up and stood in front of them. I grabbed a chair from little desk set up in the room and sat in front of them.

I was still drunk. Not only on alcohol, but on hypnotic, sexual power. “I want you to look at me. See only me.” I said to the awestruck men. ”In fact, I want you to think of me in this fur ... nothing else ...just concentrate on me ... use the beautiful fur coat as a focus to direct your mind so you can concentrate only on me ...... only of me .... nothing else .... not the sounds of the hotel around you ... not the others checked in here ... nothing matters to you, but me .... concentrate only on me..... concentrate on me ....."

I could tell they were both concentrating on me as instructed. It was such an odd situation, both for my husband, and this random dude I basically kidnapped. The wicked part of me laughed inside as I guessed that some part of both of them knew that something was wrong, that he shouldn’t let this happen. But I was going after them hard… and I knew guys like them were weak because of their fetishes.

"Think of me ... only of me ..... concentrate on the sound of my voice and my presence .... You are slipping into a deep . intoxicating hypnotic trance that I have crafted and you find you cannot stop your descent . With every second that passes you feel your will to resist me slipping away and your desire to obey me growing. You want to obey me. You NEED to obey me.... You desire to be my fur slave .. and each second your desire to serve me grows. Every second you look at me and listen to my voice brings you closer to total surrender. Feel your will power dissolve, with every word I speak to you. Feel your desire to be my fur slave grow. "

I could see that both of them were now sporting huge erections. That turned me on even more.

“nothing else else matters but your Fur Queen ..... my voice will lead you and you will follow ... follow me ..... OBEY me ...... you KNOW you want to follow me don't you ... you KNOW you want to obey me .... you want to obey my every command .... you want to be ENSLAVED by me don't you ... think about it and when you know it to be true repeat the words, My fur slaves ..... you WANT to obey me .... you WANT to be my fur slaves ....... say it .... what do you want....."

“to be your fur slave!” each man croaked out.

"Your MIND belongs to me," I said, as I started to stroke my own pussy. My speaking voice was now ragged as my breath quickened. “You are hypnotized., my pet. Hypnotized and enslaved by your Fur Queen"

Doug's mouth struggled to form words but he croaked out, " hyp ... no ... tized ....". Nick was just so far gone, he just stared with completely entranced eyes.

"And what do you want to do now, my Fur slaves?" I panted.

"I want to do any thing you command , " Doug said. Nick muttered “obey you Cynthia”. I felt myself on the edge of cumming.

"Then take out your cock and jerk off!” I yelled as I came. Both men obeyed without question. It was crazy. They both came almost instantly and almost in unison. Milky white fluids shooting up in the air. Each of their cum hitting both my leg (either the right or the left) and the floor below. It felt both cold and warm at the same time on my shin.

It was also so taboo, so crazy, so dominant. I was lost in some sort of control mongering haze. I looked at the two weak slaves in front of me. Each with so much power in their regular lives, but now my hypnotized obedient playthings. I laughed my wicked laugh again. I was so absolutely shit faced on power. “Lick it up!” I commanded. Each man immediately took one of my legs and gently started licking his own cum off of me.

Who. The. Fuck. Was I becoming?

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unityghost · 3 years

Text

Masquerade

Oh look, I wrote part 29 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels.

Based on the following prompt from Archive of Our Own user PersonFace:

Gabe hides his true thoughts and pretends to make progress, and, to his surprise, he's good at it. Not, they let it go, not, they're not noticing, he's really good at hiding away, and putting on a face. Even Sam is fooled. Gabe is conflicted on how to feel about that.

I'll confess that some of this doesn't follow the prompt to the letter, but I did my very best. And of course I am sorry for how overdue it is.

“No,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Gabriel.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, you’re not coming to fight.”

“I heard what you said, which is why I lied and agreed I’d lay low. Thing is, I don’t want to see you flop because you lacked the knowledge to keep from getting slaughtered.”

Sam’s face softened. “You gave us all the information you could.”

He and Gabriel stood alone in a motel room near the Uinta mountain ranges in Utah. It had been a long while since Gabriel had spent a significant amount of time out west, and indeed, they planned on being here for no longer than a few days. Dean had already left to start the car, and Sam was blocking the doorway so that Gabriel couldn’t accompany them.

Gabriel knew that Sam had a point: since healing an injury on Sam’s hand two weeks previously, after a witch and her miniscule but bloodthirsty familiar had attacked him, Gabriel had been exhausted.

Even so:

“You really don’t know much about these sons of bitches,” Gabriel reminded Sam, trying not to sound like he was pleading. “And I’ve seen them before; I would be able to take one on.”

But Sam held firm. “You’ve already done plenty to help us along, all right? You taught us more about the satori than Wikipedia and all the Japanese folklore books combined. We don’t need you to fight; we just needed that guidance. Okay? You really aren’t ready for this. And I’m not saying that to try and make you feel bad. When you’re stronger, I won’t make you stay put. Promise.”

“In other words, I’d slow you guys down.” Before Sam could protest, Gabriel added, “Fine. You’re hardly off the mark, so fine. I’ll entertain myself while you go hunt down your furry lunatic. Remember, get a good swing in, and if it doesn’t know what’s coming then you’ve got yourself an extra three seconds or so to avoid being eaten.”

Sam nodded, pretending Gabriel hadn’t told him this already. “Sure thing.”

“Did you meditate? Clear that noggin of yours? The satori feed on thoughts. Especially complex, contemplative thought.”

“Dean and I both meditated.”

“Like I said: complex and contemplative. I’m not as worried about Dean.”

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Gabriel, I’ve got to go. But while we’re gone, put your feet up. Let yourself relax for a while. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t be?”

Sam smiled, and just missed the raised middle finger cast behind him on his way out the door.

Gabriel waited for the engine to fade before he checked his pocket to ensure the room key was there.

Yes, he was worn out; yes, he was low on grace; and yes - he had enough sense to understand that Sam had been generous in allowing Gabriel to come at all when he was sure to slow the others down. Nevertheless, it was true that Gabriel knew these creatures better than Sam did: he’d dealt with them more than once when they had free reign over the Central Pangean Mountains, long before humankind could take advantage of any opportunity to mess with them.

Gabriel was familiar with what scant literature was accessible to the public these days; and no matter how many times he insisted that not only were these monsters more cunning than the Winchesters’ average prey, but quicker and more ferocious, neither of them took the warnings seriously.

“I’m not questioning whether you can take them on,” Gabriel had told them. “I’m just trying to get you to believe me when I tell you that you gotta prepare for more than you’ve been able to read up on.”

“So tell us more,” Dean prodded, watching him in the rearview mirror.

“I told you all I know! It’s not like I’ve ever sat down to have lunch with one. But I’ve seen what they can do to humans, and …” Gabriel paused, remembering. “A couple of times I was able to chase them off.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And the other times?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He didn’t want to admit that the “other times” had seen him standing out of sight, watching the carnage and unwilling to get involved. “I just hope you had good reflexes in Little League.”

“We’ve got everything we need,” Sam assured him from the passenger seat. “Plenty of options in the trunk.”

“I’m not worried about what weapon you use. What matters is how fast you can swing it. The goal is to take the sucker off guard, not to destroy it.”

“Then what’s the point of this trip anyway?” Dean demanded.

“See, Sam? Your brother gets what I’m trying to say.”

“As long as we can chase it off,” Sam reminded them both. “Look, Gabriel - I hear you. We don’t know how to kill it. So we’re going to immobilize it.”

“Right.” Gabriel sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. “With your fancy-pants spellwork.”

“Rowena told us - ”

“Rowena knows how to chase them into isolated sprawls of water. They can’t swim, and that’s all well and good, but what happens after that? Did she do a follow-up study? For all we know, this could be the same one she took down all those years ago. You want me to page the coral reefs, see if they found a mangy corpse over yonder?”

Sam sighed. “You’re just gonna have to trust us. We’re doing the best we can.”

“I know. That’s why I insisted on tagging along.”

Outside of the motel, Gabriel halted, breathing in the mountain air. Not for the first time, he was discombobulated at the subtleties his near-graceless body picked up in a way it never would have before: the way this oxygen was thinner than that of Kansas, the chilly tickle of fall as background noise in the latter half of summer. These minute changes affected him in strange ways, altering his heartbeat and sometimes making him feel as though he was surrounded by unfamiliar presences.

He began walking. It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the Uinta Mountain ranges. Memories flickered at the back of his mind - memories that might have taken place prehistorically or may have happened a mere few centuries before. It was hard to tell sometimes which memories fell where, considering that his time with Asmodeus was a history in itself that felt both very old and very fresh.

That’s how it works when there’s no end in sight, he thought, making his way down the road toward the mountains themselves, where he knew the monster would be lurking.

It was an hour before he got a text message from Sam. Nothing yet. Probably gonna be a few hours.

“Cool,” Gabriel said to the mountain air. “Because this won’t take me long at all. Good thing one of us knows what we’re doing.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on rolling, open grass like this. Lebanon was beige; the mountain ranges were a pure, warm green.

He wished he could move positions the way he used to. It was conceivable that he might manage some distance should he attempt to fly, but there was no point in wasting his energy on that, especially since he wasn’t sure whether he had the grace he needed to take this creature down. He couldn’t remember having ever seen one killed another way; all that could be done, it seemed - at least for humankind - was to frighten the satori off with whatever object an unwitting traveler could swat at it.

What Gabriel had wanted to say to Sam, and hadn’t, was: “If it’s a choice between you getting clawed to death and turned into a meal and me taking myself out with a last gasp for grace, why are we even debating?”

How’s it going? Gabriel texted, and Sam wrote: I’ll let you know when we get rid of it.

That terse reply, indicative of irritation (although Gabriel, sensitive as he was these days, knew he wasn’t a good assessor of others’ emotions), was nothing compared to what he would face when Sam found out he’d tried to tackle the satori on his own. The real upside to Gabriel not making it through this in one piece was that he wouldn’t have to deal with punishment.

Sam’s not going to punish you, something inside of him retorted, but he focused on taking one step after another. He was tired, but he could feel that his grace was present. Maybe healing Sam’s hand had stimulated it.

Doesn’t matter. Just gotta get this done.

When he felt the satori, his neck prickled and his heartbeat sped up. It seemed that his ability to sense unwelcome supernatural presences had either never left or been reignited at some point in the recovery from his time in Hell.

Or perhaps he was attuned to predators lying in wait.

“Come on,” Gabriel called. “Eat me.”

All birdsong ceased as Gabriel turned around.

The creature stared at him and smiled.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel told it. “You look like if the offspring of Mr. Potato Head and an orangutan got its finger caught in an electric socket.”

The goblin-esque animal-thing only grinned wider. Its eye sockets were still and hollow in a furry face.

When it spoke, its voice was high and tight as if it had inhaled from a balloon, and the words came rapidly:

“The blackness thickens,” it said. “No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend. Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares. It’s a good thing you came along to destroy the enemy: make yourself useful and perhaps they’ll let you stay. Ask nicely and they’ll allow you to keep stealing from them.”

Gabriel’s skin crawled. “What are you doing, you mangy freak?”

“It has not been able to read your mind before,” the beast replied. Gabriel, who could only assume that “it” meant the satori itself, could no longer tell whether it was actually looking at him or whether those grotesque holes were sightless. The horrid animal looked dead. “You used to be an angel. When you were more than this, it couldn’t get into your head. But look: is this not proof of what you have become?”

“I’m here to - ”

“And yet if you use what little grace swims in your near-human flesh, what use will you be? Perhaps it is time; the hour has come to show that you’re a failure, and they’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away. It can eat you, too; if you are human, and it can read you, then it can swallow you as well.”

Gabriel stepped backward.

Chill out, he told himself. The son of a bitch is screwing with you.

“The son of a bitch is not screwing with you,” the creature said. “Your memories - I smell them on your breath.” The satori cackled - harsh, like retching. “You fear that he is still inside of you. Who would have thought that you, once so esteemed and powerful, might buckle? Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.”

Paralysis indeed, Gabriel thought as he found himself struggling to respond with either speech or movement.

The creature gave its choking laugh again. “You see? You are frozen. It knows. It knows better than anyone.”

“Wrong.” Gabriel steeled himself for either overwhelming exhaustion or worse. He felt a pang of annoyance that he couldn’t do this the way he used to. “No one knows better than yours truly.”

The flash of grace hit the creature hard, and Gabriel felt some of it ricochet back to him. It hurt, but wasn’t enough to knock him over. That came only after he saw the satori crumple to the ground, its eye sockets just as lifeless as they had been a few seconds before.

Gabriel found his face pressed into the dirt. Every muscle ached in a peculiarly human manner.

He experimented with standing up and found that, although it was a sluggish process, it wasn’t impossible. He was dizzy but he could walk.

He took breaks here and there to lean against a tree and catch his breath. The birds had started singing again.

During one of these brief siestas, he sent a message to Sam:

I know you’ll hate me and I don’t blame you but I squashed the big furry toad thing.

A few moments later, Sam replied: Where are you???

Almost to the motel.

What were you thinking???

Gabriel didn’t reply. Sam sent another message only a few seconds after that: We can find you if you stay put. Don’t move.

I’m almost back; calm down.

He could picture Sam closing his eyes and inhaling, trying not to show that he was frustrated.

Are you sure? Sam asked.

Yes. Chill. I’ll meet you there.

He didn’t check the messages after that.

Gabriel arrived first. The motel room smelled like coarse carpeting and the salami sandwiches Dean had eaten in Gabriel and Sam’s room several hours before.

Gabriel groaned and lay down on one of the two beds. He wished he could fall asleep then and there, but he knew he was about to be in trouble.

“You didn’t even take a weapon?” Dean cried when the brothers returned. “You were just banking on being able to lasso him with possibly nonexistent angel milk?”

Sam strode over to the bed. “Did you really - ”

“I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t want you to get slaughtered by something I knew I could get rid of for you, okay? Sue me.”

Sam cupped his hands over his face and exhaled. “Did it do anything to you?”

“No.”

“It didn’t hurt you?”

“If it had, then my answer would’ve been yes. I’m fine, Sam. I’m good. And I knew you’d be upset with me, but I would rather you be mad than dead.”

“I’m not upset with you; I just - you should have told me you were going to risk your neck like that.”

“Well, I asked your permission to risk my neck and you said no! What was I supposed to do, Sam? What’s done is done and we’re all still freakin’ alive, so go shower and stop yelling at me.”

He knew that Sam wasn’t yelling, but to Gabriel it sounded dangerously close.

Sam glanced at Dean.

“He’s an idiot,” Dean announced.

“Come on,” Sam snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither was going after a monster without telling us first.” Dean glared at Gabriel before making his way to the exit and slamming the door behind him.

“He’s worried, that’s all,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he’s all in a tither over my safety. I could tell by the way he tried to disembowel me with his eyes.” Gabriel shoved his face into a pillow and groaned. “I know, okay? I do. I really - I mean - look, I’d be royally pissed too, but I was doing what I thought was best. I’m not sorry for that.”

“I …” Sam struggled for a moment, but all the fight seemed to have left him. “I’m glad you managed to pull it off. Just don’t do it again.”

With an effort, Gabriel sat up. “I’m not interested in standing by anymore.”

“We’ve had this talk already: you don’t owe us anything.”

“Fine.” Gabriel flopped back down. He hadn’t removed his shoes. “I just knew what had to be done in this instance. It can’t be taken back now and I’m glad you’re not dead.”

He shut his eyes, then felt the mattress sink under Sam’s weight.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told him. “It’s only that - ”

“Don’t be sorry.” Gabriel kept his eyes closed. “I knew the reaction I was in for. As if I didn’t run through this a thousand times in my head. You disowning me is more appealing than me having to dig your grave.”

“I wouldn’t disown you. You know that. I’m not mad, and if I was - ”

“You are mad. But frankly, I figured you’d be a lot worse than this.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

Gabriel opened his eyes and squinted up at Sam. “I trust you. You obviously don’t have enough faith in me to help you when you need it, though.”

Sam stood up. “Maybe let’s have this conversation tomorrow.”

“No need. Go clean yourself up.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Too tired. Not conscious.”

As he was drifting off, he felt Sam untying his sneakers.

There was little dialogue during the long trip home the following day. Dean was still tense, which surprised Gabriel, who had been ardently convinced that Sam would be furious and Dean would be relieved. Dean wasn’t worried about whether Gabriel lived or died, and someone had taken care of his dirty work for him.

There was, of course, the possibility that Dean was upset over being denied a triumphant capture. But Gabriel wasn’t particularly concerned about Dean’s feelings in this instance. What mattered was that he and Sam were both alive and well.

Gabriel slept most of the way home, and his dreams were full of eyeless beasts clawing at his face and digging soiled ape-like paws so harshly into his skull that the pressure became too much and he grew blind. In the nightmares, he tried to scream at them, but couldn’t make a sound.

There was nothing he could do, because they already knew he was afraid.

He was stiff and clammy when it was time to climb out of the car. During the extraordinarily long journey (probably not so extraordinary for them, Gabriel realized), Sam had taken Dean’s place at the wheel and Dean was staring sullenly out of the window.

“Okay back there?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded.

“Here - ” Sam made his way around back to open the door and help Gabriel out.

“I’m fine,” snapped Gabriel. “I can move on my own.”

He immediately felt guilty for his tone of voice, but the dreams wouldn’t leave him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam. “Hey, you’re all sweaty and shaky.”

“Tired from using up my grace. Think there’s probably none left.” Both halves of his explanation were true. There was no need to explain that the nightmares had made it worse.

He shoved himself out of the car and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Gabriel stepped away before Sam could touch him.

“Gabe,” said Sam, “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Is that so?” He straightened himself and made a concerted effort to walk evenly and steadily up to the door and down the stairs into the bunker. He stumbled toward the bottom step and Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Gabriel wrenched himself away. “Jesus, Sam, I’ll tell you if something’s wrong!”

“Okay!” Sam looked alarmed. “I just - okay.”

Gabriel ignored the shame that accompanied his outburst. Sam didn’t deserve anybody shouting at him, but there could be no denying that he was right: Sam had seen Gabriel in various states of distress and knew what it looked like when he wasn’t well.

He turned away, making for his bedroom; then he paused and looked back at Sam.

“I just need a little rest,” he said. “That’s all it is. I’m on edge, all right? But I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat later.”

“All right.” Gabriel wasn’t sure he would be able to eat, but there was no reason to make Sam more suspicious. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look back this time.

That week, Gabriel made it a point to eat in front of them - especially Sam - at least once a day. He wasn’t unable to eat, and mostly it wasn’t a necessity; usually, however, he didn’t have any appetite. Besides that, hunger made him feel guilty, and sometimes he had a hard time eating without an immediate recollection of being held down and force-fed during his time with Asmodeus.

If Sam noticed that Gabriel was eating more, he didn’t say. Gabriel tried to let his mind go blank during mealtimes. Asmodeus often crept in, and he must have looked a certain way when that happened because Sam would frown.

Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares.

Gabriel forced himself to swallow, privately willing Sam to stop watching him, desperate for control over his own mind.

Is this not proof of what you have become?

Not even Sam ought to have access to his innermost thoughts and memories - not anymore.

Meanwhile, Dean’s behavior had settled into some semblance of normalcy. Gabriel had never been more thankful for his indifference; he had never taken such joy in the absence of intuitive empathy.

Then there was Castiel, who seemed mostly inclined to leave his brother alone. He sometimes looked puzzled - although that wasn’t unusual for him - but he didn’t say anything.

If Jack had any suspicions about Gabriel’s newfound stoicism, he didn’t let them show. He was cheerful and inquisitive as always, and yet - maybe from spending so much time with Cas, or perhaps because he had learned neither how to express his compassion nor how to block it - there were times he too appeared confused, not sure what to make of his uncle.

“Why are you looking at me like that, kid?” Gabriel asked him one evening.

Jack replied, “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m still brushing off loam from the uncanny valley.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that, and the subject didn’t come up again.

The four of them were sharing dinner one night when Gabriel made his decision.

“Hey,” he said to the others. “You guys all need to chill right the hell out, okay?”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Every time I take a bite,” Gabriel elaborated, “At least one of you watches me like you think I’m going to burst into flame. Or tears. Maybe that was warranted at one point, but I’m starting to feel like there’s something stuck in my teeth and nobody wants to tell me.”

“Your teeth look fine to me,” said Jack.

“Look,” Gabriel went on, “I get that I kind of wore myself out back in Utah, but can you fellas please stop watching my every move with those confused looks on your faces?”

Sam appeared taken aback. “Is that what we’re doing? I guess I was just …”

Slowly, looking him in the eye, Gabriel forced himself to take a bite of the pizza Dean had crafted. He had tasted it before, and although it was exceptionally good, Gabriel had a hard time with the richness of it. Had it been up to him, he would have steered clear of meals that were meant to make a person feel full. This was the first time in the last week that he had fully committed to this sort of sustenance; before that, he’d been able to get away with lighter fare.

The fact that Gabriel was able to dismiss the taste and weight of the food, that he was able to bring his mind elsewhere and ignore the spasm of nausea he had anticipated when he sat down, was encouraging.

“You were just what?” Gabriel asked when he’d swallowed.

“Uh …” Sam blinked. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“You’re used to me being a swooning maiden,” Gabriel countered. “Right now I feel fine, and your constant inspection is nothing short of creepy.”

Sam furrowed his brow, but nodded. “All right. Sorry, Gabriel. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Gabriel took another mouthful, swallowed, and said: “Who knows? Maybe using my grace to wipe out the monster was just the kick in the pants I needed to get up and running again. I mean, hey, if I have it in me to off a predator from Jim Henson’s fever-dream, maybe I’m not in for the permanent misery that seemed inevitable before he and I faced off.”

Sam smiled, looking more at ease. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, “You including me in that accusation? You and I have been having a great time.”

“That’s true,” Castiel agreed. He hadn’t taken any pizza, but was enjoying the company. “I’ve never seen the two of you get along so well.”

“Right?” Gabriel sat back. “So what do you have to complain about, Sam?”

“I’m not complaining, Gabriel, really.”

“Good. Because if you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

For a moment he was afraid Sam was going to shout at him, although Gabriel knew that when he’d dared use that tone with Asmodeus, he deserved whatever response came his way.

Instead, he saw Sam further relax. “All right. I will.”

Sam was watchful during the remainder of the meal, although it was possible that Gabriel was only imagining as much. Sometimes he thought he felt Sam’s eyes on him, but when he looked over, Sam was just enjoying the food.

After dinner, Dean crooked a finger at Gabriel. “C’mere a minute.”

Gabriel followed him into the hall.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, which surprised Gabriel.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Look, I’m not complaining. I like you like this. But last week, before we left for Utah, you were afraid to ask for a napkin - and that’s even if you took five minutes to eat without Sam practically forcing it down your throat. So what gives?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said again, wishing Dean had used different hyperbole. “Why are you harassing me about this?”

“Well, maybe if I knew what I was harassing you about it, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.”

Gabriel stiffened. He felt betrayed. He had trusted Dean to be ignorant and unconcerned.

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing,” Gabriel told him. “All I know is it isn’t real.”

“Maybe Sam should be the one to decide that.”

“Oh please. What’s Sam got to do with anything?”

Dean remained stone-faced.

Gabriel hardened his voice. “No one’s bothering Sam about anything. What, have you consulted him how to fix whatever imaginary problem you’ve got keeping you up at night? Asked him how to rewire his favorite disaster?”

“No,” said Dean, “Because I’d never hear the end of it from this new version of you.”

“What ‘new version’ of me? I can’t figure out if I’m being insulted.”

“Look, all I know is people don’t change like this overnight. Not without a reason.”

“Good thing I’m not people, then,” Gabriel snapped.

Dean shook his head. “Like I said, man, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe it’s none of my business; I just figure you should ask Sam for help if something isn’t right.”

“I - ” Gabriel faltered. “You don’t want me to bother Sam about this, do you? Not that there’s any - but if there were, if I was - look, no one’s asking Sam for anything, okay? There’s no need, and if something was wrong with me, then he doesn’t need to do anything. Poor sap’s done enough for every lifetime he’s been put through.”

“I think he’d wanna know.”

“What would he want to know? What do you think the issue is here?”

“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t’ve thought to bug you about it. But fine. Maybe my intuition is off.” He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Gabriel. “Sam would never forgive himself if you felt like you couldn’t tell him something, though.”

Gabriel stared at him. Then, more timidly, he asked: “Are you sure you haven’t mentioned anything? About … about whatever you think you see?”

“No. Should I?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Look, Gabe,” said Dean, “He worries, but at the same time, he really wants to see you get better. He might be pulling the wool over his own eyes about this. If something happens to you and he thinks he could’ve done something to stop it, neither of you is going to be okay.”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“I’ll see you later, Gabe,” Dean said, and left him standing in the hall with his heart beating twice as fast as it had been during dinner.

With static humming in his mind, Gabriel went back to his own bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed, puzzled and frustrated by the sudden tautness in his throat. He ignored it.

He felt as though he had just been scolded, although he was reasonably confident that no such event had taken place.

Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.

It occurred to Gabriel then that even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He allowed himself a brief indulgence in the notion that Sam really was under the impression that, for the first time in months, nothing was so wrong with Gabriel as to require immediate attention. He wondered if they could be friends without the ongoing dynamic of victim and savior, although he knew Sam would have scoffed at such a description.

Then he considered the practical implications of remaining here when he had just taken such a hit to his grace supply. He had reason to believe that it would come back - he had been entirely without grace more than once, and it always came back - but the amount of time that would take couldn’t be predicted. If he was to stay here, in the bunker, he had to have grace sooner rather than later. He remembered being without grace in Hell, and wished he could forget the punishment for such a crime. Now, in the bunker, he might not be penalized so much as …

Well, uselessness was a punishment in itself.

The hour has come to show that you’re a failure.

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes.

They’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away.

No dreams, no nightmares, no tossing and turning: this slumber was quiet and pure.

But the next thing Gabriel knew, there were two voices calling his name; one he recognized immediately as Sam’s, and the other took him a few seconds to identify as that of Castiel. He couldn’t make out the words, and then he realized he couldn’t fully open his eyes; they had grown too heavy.

Panic set in as someone lifted him upright. He didn’t even have the strength to go rigid, let alone any power to fight back.

“Gabriel.” Sam was speaking to him in a low, hurried voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just wake up, all right?”

Gabriel wrenched his eyes partway open. The room was hazy. He took shallow breaths.

“Geez,” Sam told him. “Gabe, buddy, we couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Gabriel tried to ask, Why? but couldn’t make himself speak.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” Sam told him, “And when I came in to check on you, you just …” He trailed off.

“Wouldn’t move,” Castiel finished.

Gabriel leaned back against Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam pressed. “I’ve never seen that happen to you before.”

When Gabriel managed to reply, his voice was hoarse. “I’ve fainted plenty.”

“This is different. Hey, keep your eyes open for a minute; we thought - ” Sam paused. “We just didn’t know what was going on.”

“Tired,” Gabriel slurred.

“This goes beyond tired, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“My grace … it’s …”

“It’s what?” Sam prodded.

“Dunno. I …” Gabriel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. “Killing the monster, the satori - ”

Sam and Castiel waited for him to continue. When Gabriel’s breath began coming a little more easily, he finished, “Maybe took some fight out of me.”

“This is why I told you not to come.” Sam didn’t sound angry - just worried, even afraid. “I know you were trying to help, but Gabriel, you were the one who said how vicious those things are. You’re not ready for something like that.”

“Through no fault of your own,” Castiel added.

Gabriel tried to push himself off of Sam and found that he was too weak.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked him. “Does anything hurt?”

“Why?” The question emerged, at last, without Gabriel even thinking about it.

“What? Why what?”

“What good’re you gonna get out of knowing what’s the matter with me?”

Sam shifted so that Gabriel was lying with his head on Sam’s lap instead of bent at an angle against his chest.

Castiel spoke up: “I suspect that Sam is simply trying to remind you that you’ve become an important part of his life, and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo.”

“Gabriel …” Sam checked for a fever, then pushed stray locks of hair from Gabriel’s eyes. “I don’t understand. You seemed okay last night.”

“I’m still okay.”

“That’s obviously not true,” said Cas.

“Can you try and sit up?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.” He let Sam shift away and prop him against the pillows. As he watched Sam step back, face pale with concern, he had a moment’s doubt about his own pride.

Sit back down, he wanted to say, or I wouldn’t want to touch me either.

He closed his eyes.

“No,” Sam commanded. “Gabriel, don’t. Not yet. I want you to stay awake for now.”

When, and how, had this suddenly become too much? He knew how to frolic in lies. He knew how to make personal falsehoods into very real truths; pretending until he was no longer play-acting was a familiar process.

Why now, then, did he feel his throat tighten as he stared down at the blankets?

He was committed this time, though. He was well-versed in the warning signals of a breakdown and understood that there was no benefit in acting like a child. Sam had seen and dealt with enough, and Gabriel had debased himself so often that he couldn’t imagine anyone harboring even a modicum of respect for him at this point.

That was fine. He needed to learn not to care so much about his reputation at the bunker.

“Cas,” Sam said, “Maybe …”

“Yes. Of course.” Gabriel felt his brother watching him. “If you need me, I’m nearby. Although I suspect you know what you’re doing, Sam.”

“Thanks. I think we’ll be okay.”

Gabriel heard the door close.

“All right,” Sam said, “I know you don’t like to be coerced into talking to me, and usually I’d let up a little, but if you’re sick you need to tell me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what happened just now?”

“Beats me. But what do you expect?” Gabriel spoke more smoothly now, but directly to the blankets. “I used up all my grace on the satori. Can you blame me for being a little out of sorts?”

“No, of course I don’t blame you. But I’m not talking about your grace. Or at least I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah? What do you think we’re discussing here, then?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looked helpless. “You seemed fine yesterday, and now you’re - I mean, how did you go from that to this? This whole week you've been ... I mean ... I don't know. I thought ... ”

“Am I not an open book to you anymore? Good.”

“What?”

“There’s no reason for you to be inside my head. There’s no reason for you to - to know any more about me, or what happened to me, than you already do.”

Sam was silent.

“I see through your strategy, Sam,” Gabriel added, still staring at the blanket. “I - when you’re quiet, you want me to talk.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear, and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“About what whole thing? About you trying to get well?”

“Pal, if that’s what you’re looking for - for me to get back on my own two feet - then what are you complaining about? Obviously I’m better. I haven’t cried or thrown up once since we got back, and I don’t see how that’s a questionable development.”

“No, I mean, it’s not, but - ”

“But what, Sam?”

“It’s not. Really, it isn’t.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Gabriel felt such an urge to speak, to tell the truth and recount exactly what had happened in the mountains, that he tore his gaze away from the blankets and met Sam’s eyes. He now had a choice: he could say something about what had taken place, or he could lose control of himself altogether.

If there was a third option, Gabriel didn’t see it.

“I don’t want to give you a whole novel about this,” he said. “My head is killing me.”

Sam nodded.

Gabriel hesitated for a few moments longer. Then he took a deep breath and began: “When we were out in Utah, and I took down that creeptastic freakazoid, it - you know - it did what it does. It found some way into my brain, and yammered on and on about my every thought. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself if I hadn’t - if I wasn’t - well, before, when I faced one of them, it couldn’t read my mind. I was an angel and it couldn’t get in. So what does that tell you, Sam?”

Sam looked blankly at him.

“Come on, Mr. Ivy League,” Gabriel pressed. “This is measurable proof that right now, at least, I’m more human than anything else. Plus, I’ve already got one monster in my head. I don’t need another psychic bedfellow. You mean well, I know, but - but don’t you think, Sam, that you being the way you are to me might be holding me in one place? Or making me an easier target, instead of building me back up to what I used to be?”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Well, does this change your mind? I just wrote you a whole thesis.”

“Gabriel, if you didn’t have any power then you wouldn’t have been able to take that thing down in the first place.”

“And look at how that turned out. I can barely move.”

“That’s because you haven’t given yourself a chance to recover.”

“How was I even supposed to know I needed it? I’ve been fine this last week.”

“Have you?”

“Yes!”

"I sort of wasn’t talking about the satori.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy and unholy, Sam, stop being so dramatic. I’ve had plenty of time to tunnel my way out of this.”

“Did you get through the whole week without a flashback or nightmare? You seemed like you felt pretty good. I … should I have checked?”

The guilt in Sam’s voice made Gabriel wish he’d stayed unconscious. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said no, Sam.”

“You’re not well.” There was horror and distress on Sam’s face now. “I thought - ”

“Christ, Sam, relax.”

“Why didn’t you - ”

“Because this is on me, Sam! It always has been. And that’s almost beside the point. Geez, you know - you really need to make up your mind. Am I meant to improve by eating more and learning to calm myself down, or am I supposed to hold you like a security blanket every time my engine misfires? Which is it, Sam? Should I be strengthening the muscles that Asmodeus deflated or should I keep letting you man the ship when a storm kicks in?”

“Gabriel …”

“Answer the question. I’m serious. I can’t solve this equation no matter how creative I get with it. What am I supposed to do? For me, for you, for everyone here? I need an answer and maybe you have it. I sure as all get-out have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go without messing something up.”

Gabriel thought Sam looked like he might cry. “I guess it depends.”

“No, see, that’s not how this works. Because if this was a case-by-case endeavor, one of us would have found the balance by now. No, Sam, I don’t feel good. Why’s that? I don’t feel good when I’m alone; I don’t feel good about how I act when you step in. There’s no winning for me, and for you there’s just constant sacrifice that never leads anywhere. There’s a right and a wrong answer here, and if neither of us can figure it out, then I don’t know what to do. Just stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop - stop trying to make me showcase my emotions. Maybe it works for you but it doesn’t lead to anything good for me; all it does is make me feel ashamed.”

Sam seemed at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. Gabriel, I think you should just do what feels natural. If that means pretending everything’s okay, then - then fine, I guess, except I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Well, I don’t know what I want; as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want anything except to be more like an angel and less like a toddler.”

“I don’t think of you that way. You know that, Gabriel.”

“Sure, fine, but let’s not sugarcoat the fact that I am the way I am, and the responsibility is on me to change.”

Sam looked away, contemplating. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened with the satori?”

“Because then I would’ve gotten worked up about it and so would you. You would’ve been worried about me.”

“I’m worried about you anyway.”

“Yup, I missed the mark on that one. What else is new?”

“So you think - ”

Gabriel shoved himself properly upright. “Stop it, Sam! For the love of every damn good thing left in this world, just stop it! Stop trying to coach me into a breakdown!”

Sam looked aghast. “I’m not!”

“So what are you after? You want to help? Do you want to keep me in one piece or break me into a thousand? I never know with you anymore; it - ” Gabriel took a shuddering breath and began to cry. “You know exactly what you’re doing. I’m not here for you to play with me, Sam!”

Sam stood up. “Gabriel - ”

“Is this what you want?” Gabriel raised his face so that Sam could see the tears. “You think that bullying me into showing my feelings is going to lead to success? I don’t like myself like this! I don’t want you to see and you keep on trying to open me up just like he did! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!”

“No, no - hey - ” Helplessly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel tore it away. “I - Gabriel - should I get Castiel?”

“No!”

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Neither do I!” Gabriel pounded the mattress with his fist. “So stay, because I need you here, and I hate you for that and I hate me for that too. I hate all of this!”

“I know you do.” Sam’s voice shook. “But you haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe I have; I don’t know. But none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry if I messed up.”

“You didn’t! I did! I don’t know! Stop it!” Gabriel took frantic breaths, tasting salt where the tears met his lips.

“You said I was like him.” Sam sounded weak. “If I ever made you feel that way, it was an accident.”

“You’re not like him; you - you’re trying to do something to me, and so was he, and I don’t know how to tell the difference between you pushing me to bleed out in front of you and him ripping me open with his bare hands!”

“I had no idea that’s what I was doing!”

“Because you’re - Sam, you’re - ” Gabriel found himself unable to breathe for a moment. When he managed it again, he said, “You’re not evil.”

That seemed to perplex Sam. “I hope not.”

“Of course you aren’t. But do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“I … no, I guess I don’t.”

Gabriel didn’t know either. He ground his teeth against the urge to scream.

No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend.

“I wasn’t like this before,” he said.

“That’s because you weren’t trapped in Hell before.”

“You’ve been trapped in Hell! And you’re nothing like this! Talk all day about how you need help, about how you have your bad dreams and your breakdowns - but you’re nothing like this, nothing like what I turned into.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That thing knew,” Gabriel wailed. “That thing knew exactly what I believe, exactly what I’m afraid of; that thing got into my head in a way even I can’t get into my head! I don’t have any control anymore, Sam - none.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That creature thought I was human, Sam,” Gabriel whispered. “Feeding on your kindness hasn’t done anything except squash me.”

Not one of them wants you.

“I know I can’t really understand what it’s like, exactly,” said Sam, “But what scares you so bad about being human? Especially if you know you aren’t, and your grace always comes back - even it’s on the slower side.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not about the grace.” He swiped at his cheeks with his palms. “It’s about this.”

“About …”

Gabriel looked at him. “Do you know, and you’re just trying to get me to say it?”

“No! I’m not trying to make you say anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure he believed him, but lacked the energy to argue. “Well, then it’s about - it’s about the stuff in my head, and how I seem to be open season for anyone who wants a shot, for better or worse. In your case, it’s for the better; you don’t want to hurt me, or at least I don’t think you do. But you still know. You still see inside of me, and I’d give anything at all for a little emotional opacity. I’m weak, maybe as weak as I was in Hell.”

“No.”

“At least in my stupid cage I had a consistent idea of what the next day might bring. I anticipated chaos. He’d destroyed me, on purpose, for fun - so after a little while, I didn’t have to pretend I was holding myself together. Giving up the effort was easy enough; I had no choice. Well - no - unless I did have a choice, and made the wrong one. But he had power over me and I was used to being hurt. I didn’t have to play at not being vulnerable. It’s not like that anymore, Sam.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“You’d expect so, wouldn’t you? Me too. I’ve lost track of what’s good and what’s bad. So it’s not my grace I’m worried about. Or - no, that’s not true. I do worry about my grace, because I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to be without it. It’s more like - it’s that worrying about my grace is almost a luxury right now. If I get to lose sleep over how much grace I have instead of how easily I get scared and lose control of myself, I count myself lucky.”

Sam frowned, trying to grasp what Gabriel was telling him.

Sometimes Sam understood, and sometimes he couldn’t relate. In this case, Gabriel suspected, Sam was at a loss because at no point in his life had he ever known genuine autonomy. With Gabriel, it was different: independence and secrecy were everything to him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel muttered. “I know I don’t make this easy for you.”

Sam was silent for a moment longer, then asked: “Can I tell you something?”

Gabriel froze. This wasn’t the first time he’d become immobile over the possibility of Sam explaining that no, he really couldn’t do this anymore. Perhaps this was the paralysis to which the satori had referred.

“It’s nothing bad,” Sam added hastily, in yet another demonstration of how naturally he could read Gabriel. “I just wanted to say that I don’t look down on you for being affected by your time with Asmodeus. Of course you freak out sometimes; who wouldn’t? And don’t say anything about me," he added as Gabriel opened his mouth. "I’ve been out of Hell a lot longer than you, and you were gone for so long … there’s a lot you didn’t see.” Bitterness crept into Sam’s voice. “Anyway, you can’t help what this has done to you. But hey, you know who would judge you for struggling? Asmodeus. Not me. Not any of us, but especially not me.”

Gabriel tried to respond, but there was no way to speak around the tightness in his throat and chest. The sincerity in Sam’s voice hurt him.

Finally, he managed: “You set that up to sound so dramatic.”

Sam smiled. “Sorry.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, although the break in conversation felt natural, not awkward.

Gabriel was fighting sleep when Sam broke the silence. “You’re convincing, you know that?”

“I’m what?”

“The way you just … slipped into your old role. I was surprised, but it didn’t seem forced. The way you spoke up for yourself at dinner last night was impressive. Normally you would’ve been scared of getting in trouble.”

“Hm.” Gabriel considered. “Well, I’ve said it before, Sam: I don’t know who or what I was before Asmodeus. Something changed; that’s all I can tell you.”

“And I was thinking - you know, even before we got back from the mountains, I saw something different. You pushed to come, and then you broke your promise about staying in the motel. I don’t know, maybe I’m off, but that’s a decision you might not have made before.”

“It was important. If something happened to you because I was too afraid to help, that would’ve been punishment on its own. It was a no-win situation so I took the option that I knew would keep you alive.”

“But you probably weren’t so sure about whether you would come out okay.” There was no accusation in Sam’s voice; he was merely making an observation.

“No,” Gabriel agreed, “I didn’t.”

Sam went on, “And it says something, doesn’t it, that you were able to put on such a good act? That’s an old talent that maybe you haven’t tapped into in a while.”

“It must not have been as good as you say, because your brother picked up on it somehow.”

Sam looked surprised. “When?”

“Last night he cornered me about how it isn’t standard to switch from empty to full in such a short span of time. Said I should go to you if I needed help.”

“Wow." Sam blinked. "I guess I don’t really know what to make of that.”

“Well, to me it means that some lucky winner always has access to my cesspit of a brain. Whether that’s you, or Dean, or Asmodeus, or a mountain-dwelling monster.”

“Oh geez, Gabriel …” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s not like that, buddy.”

“Of course it is. Everybody gets a piece of me if they want it.” Gabriel turned his eyes to the sheets again, fighting tears. “And when I wasn’t whatever I am now, the satori couldn’t get into my head. Like I said - proof, Sam. Proof so concrete you could draw chalk around it. Proof.”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I can’t stay awake,” Gabriel muttered, because it sounded more reasonable than When you look at me like that, you’re proving my point. “Can I rest a little bit?”

Sam hesitated. “Let me wake you up in twenty minutes. Just to make sure you’re not out cold again. Then, if you’re okay - another hour, and we can take it from there.”

“Fine.” Gabriel hated the idea of being shaken awake in such a short time, but hadn’t the stamina to argue.

Sam helped adjust Gabriel’s position so that he was lying down, then pulled the blankets around Gabriel’s shoulders. He didn’t move to leave.

If this was an instance of Sam being able to read him too easily, he didn’t want to know.

#Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels #PASF #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Sabriel #Platonic #Friendship #Fanfic prompts #Do I regret my decision to forgo anonymity?#Sometimes #Too late now #Oh well #Gabriel #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Gabriel/Sam Winchester

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divine-bangtan · 4 years

Text

Solidarity • IV (m)

BTS x reader, reincarnation!au, supernatural!au, angels and demons!au, slow burn, smut, angst, violence.

Summary: A few weeks away from your 22nd birthday, there are a number of things one would expect to have on their mind. Partying? Oh yes. Drinking? Most definitely. Being told by seven strange men you are the reincarnation of a powerful goddess and the key to winning a demon war? Uh…come again?

Pairing: OT7 x reader, Goddess reader x demon Prince Taehyung, goddess reader x vampire Prince Namjoon, goddess reader x warlock Yoongi, goddess reader x incubus Seokjin, goddess reader x angel Hoseok, goddess reader x shapeshifter Jimin, goddess reader x werewolf Jungkook.

Warnings: angst, some violence, hallucinations, oral (f. receiving).

Word count: 6.4k

Masterlist

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You could feel multiple pairs of eyes burning into your profile across the table, thinking you were oblivious to the intense scrutiny, when in fact you didn’t have the courage to meet the eyes of any of them. Nobody seemed to be making any conversation either, only the sound of metal cutlery scraping harshly on porcelain occasionally making you flinch in discomfort. Instead, you remained unnaturally interested in the assortment of lavish foods on your plate. Where would they even get these ingredients from? Were those fish eggs? Topped with some strange purple garnish-

“Does your arm hurt?” A voice suddenly whines into your ear. Surprised, you glimpse left to Jungkook beside you, now looking sheepish at how he had roughly pinned you to the ground earlier.

“Oh…” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and rolling your shoulder to appease his worries. “Not really, I’m sure you were just doing your job. Maybe a little too well…”

“Our guard dog got a little overexcited. He should really apologise about that.” Yoongi said from your other side, causing you to jerk your head around.

“You know what it’s been like lately, hyung!” He whined back in a harsh whisper, but Yoongi was too preoccupied with his nose buried in a novel to pay attention. His side profile was quite lovely, you thought to yourself. The little details such as the way his silver earrings gently swayed every time he shifted his head slightly or the way his soft locks of black hair framed his face. When your gaze wandered up to the cat like slant of his eyelids he turned to look at you. Caught out, you startled and opened your mouth to apologise for staring.

Instead you gasped when a pea hit him square in the forehead, and he froze momentarily before he slammed his book down onto the table, causing everyone to jump a little. “Don’t be a brat,” he hissed at Jimin across the table.

“Okay, I will now that you’re paying attention to me again, hyung,” he said, plump lips that were once pouting stretching into a smile. It made your heart palpitate how stunning he looked as he grinned, with his blonde hair and red velvet jacket practically radiating confidence. He probably strutted instead of walked too. God, why were they all so beautiful.

Yoongi scoffed loudly, before promptly returning his attention back to the book he had been trying to read. Jimin whined, draping himself back against his chair as if he were dying. “Don’t even think about throwing anything else at me, I’ll turn you into a cat again. This time you won’t be able to change back unless I say so,” Yoongi warned, a dangerous glint to his eye.

Jimin met his jeer by sitting up straighter, his own emerald eyes glinting an icy blue. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed the way Jimin’s hair suddenly darkened from blonde to a deep fiery red.

“That’s low, hyung. Because you know Jungkook can’t help himself when he sees a cat! He turns straight away, last time he chased me for a whole hour!”

“Ya! It was not that long! Stop making everything seem more dramatic than it really is, Jimin.” Jungkook countered, slamming his fists on the table and causing everything to jump.

Silently, you locked eyes with Hoseok directly across from you, who was trying to enjoy his meal in peace. He sighed deeply, defeated. Something told you this must be a regular occurrence when they sat down for a meal together. His fork was halfway to his lips when Jimin knocked his arm in his bickering, leaving a trail of gravy down the front of his white tunic where his food dropped.

Taehyung stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape and all the commotion in the room ceased. He walked to the open door before pausing to turn and look at you expectantly.

“(Y/N), come with me.”

***

There were so many faces. Every step you progressed deeper into the mansion, seemingly further away from the only people who seemed to occupy it, yet you were always being watched.

It was difficult to see past his broad shoulders, swaying with each step he took, so your attention turned to the walls as they passed. He owned a great number of statues, and a lot of paintings you noticed. Yet, the thing that seemed strange about the number of stone figures was that they greatly outnumbered the amount of real people in this large place. You hadn’t been here very long, but it became apparent rather quickly just how empty these walls seemed.

An eerie feeling of loneliness clung to the air, permeating it in the facade of art. Perhaps he liked being that way. Perhaps he just liked art. Who knew? You certainly didn’t, he was a complete stranger to you and had been none too hasty to reveal anything to you. Yet.

The walls around you slowly changed from being dark, solid wood that left you feeling enclosed, to panels of glass like a greenhouse with plants every few steps. The hallway opened up to reveal a larger space with a fountain in the middle, water softly trickling down in white noise. He didn’t look at you, instead Taehyung perched himself on the edge of the pond, staring into the water in silence.

“Sit,” he ordered, gaze not moving from his fingertips creating small ripples in the water’s surface. You were quick to obey, anxious about what you could sense Taehyung was about to reveal.

“It all began about a year and a half ago, when an angel was cast from his place in heaven. That alone was not an uncommon occurrence, it has happened many times before and was no cause for alarm. Those on the path of righteousness sometimes stray so far they are unable to return, or simply aren’t welcome. They often become beings that spend the rest of their days in the human realms, living a sort of half existence. A select few, however, turn to darkness.” He said, still staring into the depths of the water. The back of your neck prickled due to the direction of the conversation. “This one particular angel, his name was Seungri.”

There it was. The name immediately sent cold shivers down your spine, unconsciously your hands balled into fists. Taehyung regarded you with a careful gaze, trying to figure out what your nervous expression meant. The way your teeth sunk into the soft flesh of your bottom lip caught his gaze, his eyes following as you solemnly nodded. “I know it.”

He sat up much straighter at your confession, visibly intrigued.

“I had this terrifying dream that I was dying. No…not dying. I was murdered. The strangest thing was I felt like I wanted to trust the man who drove the dagger into my heart. I wanted to trust him…Seungri,” you described in a small voice, fearful of what reaction your revelation might elicit from the man next to you. Yet he didn’t move, didn’t appear to breathe as if a picture-perfect replica of one of his many sculptures.

“The occurrence that you speak of, you didn’t dream it I’m afraid. You are describing something that really happened.”

“What – no, you can’t be serious,” you quipped back, yet Taehyung only looked at you solemnly. His silence told you everything you needed to know. “But it was horrific.” Without a word, he stood and held out his hand to you, and without question you took it.

Before giving you a chance to stand on your own he was pulling you to your feet with unnatural strength. Another tug brought you stumbling right into his solid chest, and his arms wrapped around you. It felt nice and warm and oh so comforting for a fleeting moment before the room around you was swallowed by tendrils of black smoke. Your stomach lurched from the feeling of suddenly moving inhumanly fast, and when you blinked your surroundings were entirely changed.

The bright white room was still spinning in your eyes when you came to, you could somewhat make out the dozens of marble statues scattered around.

“H-how…how did you do that?!” You questioned, only able to focus on the face directly in front of you while the rest of the room was hazy.

“I’m a demon, sweetheart. I can do a lot more.” He teased, turning to look around.

You suddenly noticed was that you had been here before. This was the exact place your dream had occurred, and you gasped softly, looking toward the end of the room.

There stood a statue of Eve in the very place that she died.

Startled by the reality of it all, you stepped back only to gently bump into Taehyung. Large, warm and already familiar hands gripped your shoulders to steady you. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he reassured, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. Did he really just smile at you? (Y/N)?

You gave him a small nod before stepping away, attention shifting back to the statue. The closer you got, the more it was like looking in a mirror. Cautiously, you traced a finger down the bridge of her nose, across her lips, and you swear you felt the faintest touch mirrored on your own. A faint shudder manifested through your body as your fingertips slipped off her chin. Your chin, you couldn’t help but think.

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to every move you made, every little curious touch, the way you frowned slightly when you discovered she even had the same mole on her right ear. You were more cautious, didn’t seem to trust things so easily. Unlike Eve. You weren’t like her at all.

“Who was she?” You finally asked after a long silence, turning back to look at Taehyung.

“She was a goddess, and a powerful one at that. I still remember the evening she came here for the first time, as if she could sense we were in danger. It was pouring rain, a night much like this one, and she was drenched to the bone and freezing.”

“But where did she come from? Surely you would have heard of her before?” You cut in, curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung tutted, looking slightly irritated at your interruption. “Inquisitive little human, aren’t you?” Your mouth twisted into a sour pout, not really appreciating the comment since all this time he’d kept you in the dark about what was really happening. His features softened a little. “But I can understand why you would be. She came to us the day after Seungri fell. At first, nothing was out of place. Things were…good and…happy. She made me happy.” The last part was so quiet you barely heard, but when you did your heart twisted.

“It’s been a year since, well…you know well enough what happened,” he continued. “Small run ins between the magical beings that roam the human realm are by no means uncommon, neither was Seungri’s fall from grace unheard of. There was no cause for alarm, and that was the first mistake we made. She came to us for a reason, we should have been paying more attention. Creatures of all kinds started showing up dead, even angels. The strangest part was they had all been drained of their abilities. We’re not sure exactly how many, because their bodies began to disappear as well. See all the statues? These were all people I loved. He killed them, Seungri killed them.”

“What?” you gasped, stepping toward him. “Oh Taehyung…I’m so sorry.”

“What’s done is done. I couldn’t protect them.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this. Your actions were not what caused their deaths.” He wouldn’t look at you, and your hand bunched into a fist from the urge to touch his shoulder or do something to comfort him, but you decided against it. “I can’t help but ask…why did he do it?”

“Simple, he wanted power. He wanted to be the most powerful being in existence, forge his own throne and have everyone bow to him. Somehow he has the ability to siphon others’ abilities, which makes him very dangerous. Our second mistake was underestimating him, we should never have left Eve alone. I thought she could easily protect herself if he went after her. I was wrong, he was much more powerful that I thought. She put up a good fight, however, it didn’t kill him. He was severely wounded, and we haven’t seen any sign of him since. But he’s out there somewhere, recovering and waiting. I have no idea what his next move will be, he’s been silent for so long. I’ve been trying everything in my own power and those I know to hunt him down while he is weak. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a coward.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why I’m here, and why I look like her,” you pointed out, turning back to stand face to face with the statue.

“I think I know,” his deep voice came from behind you, warm breath tickling the back of your neck and causing the hairs to stand on end. You turned around only to find Taehyung was incredibly close, he backed you into the statue, a tiny squeak leaving you when you hit stone. Your eyes were drawn to the intriguing shape of his lips, your own tingled in memory of the way his devoured them. “The universe needs balance, and when Eve was...gone, it gave us you. I had begun to lose hope that we would have a fighting chance against him when he does inevitably return. But now we have you – you can help us. You bring a new hope to this war.”

“Hope? Hope? Have you ever considered that maybe you’re wrong? I’m not some super powerful goddess or entity or whatever she was. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to be your fucking mascot? To fight a war that, quite frankly, terrifies me? I’m not just some replacement that you can snatch up because it was so convenient. Surely, I have more purpose than that...” you trailed off, voice that began as defensive fading to a defeated mumble.

“Do you really think that’s true, (Y/N)?” Taehyung asked, a knowing taunt to his question. As if he could see all the hours you spent staring at your ceiling while you weren’t working in hospitality, deciding what course you life was going to take. Not just from now on either, for you had asked yourself that many times in the past. Where are you going? Who are you? What are you doing? When will you change?

At your silence, Taehyung moved forward even further causing you to press harder against the marble statue. Against what was essentially Eve’s tombstone, all the memories of how she was violently murdered came rushing back into your mind. Was that what fate awaited you?

“I don’t want any part in this,” was all you managed to choke out before you shoved past him.

So you ran.

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you. The distance that you and Taehyung had walked passed by in a blur, the entrance hall coming closer and closer. Chairs scraped as the others scrambled to stand when you rushed past the dining room. Faintly, through the ringing in your ears you heard Jungkook almost whining your name.

The iron gate slammed shut behind you, sounding like another crack of thunder through the rain, the droplets battering against your skin. Your vision was obscured by it as you located the scooter and kicked it to life, not once looking over your shoulder as the mansion grew further and further away.

It was easier not to believe. Much, much simpler to just take a warm shower and succumb to sleep once you arrived back to your dark and silent apartment. Tomorrow you would go to work like usual. It was normal, and normal was good, you could understand it. Normal was safe.

***

“...me. Hello? Excuse me!”

The cold of the drink seeping into your hand finally snapped you out of the daydream that had been occupying your thoughts, your fingertips tingling from becoming numb.

“Right! Yes, sorry. Here you go, one large iced mocha to go,” you announced as if you hadn’t been almost drooling on yourself moments ago mid-daydream. The young customer took it from your hands and backed away slowly, almost as if you would try to harm him if he made any sudden movements. You wanted to throw your arms in the air and yell I’m not crazy! However, you knew that would certainly have the opposite effect. A fed-up huff came from your lips as you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of all these lingering thoughts. No, you didn’t want to know if Taehyung was thinking of you...right? No! He was dangerous and would only bring trouble and disruption into your perfectly peaceful life. Anyway, days had passed and you were safe now and fully intended on living a mundane and monster free lifestyle.

“Excuse me, dear,” a frail voice drew your attention back to the counter, where a short elderly woman waited patiently for assistance. You were in front of her in an instant, smiling kindly at the way her hands trembled as they gripped her cane weakly. “I was wondering if you could help me with the board up there. I’m terribly sorry, I’ve left my glasses somewhere and it’s a struggle for me to see very far without them.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. Don’t apologise, I’ll go through the options with you. Here,” you pulled out a much smaller menu from the display and began rattling off each item to her, but the brush of her finger on your hand stopped you abruptly.

“Say, a young lady I once knew had a mole just like the one on your wrist. She was very pretty, just like you,” the old lady commented, a kind smile etched into her wrinkled features.

The remark was very sweet and would normally have left you feeling warm and fuzzy inside, however, you couldn’t help the way you internally recoiled at the way she said just like you. A cold shiver ran down your spine due to the way she looked at you intensely, but you couldn’t blame her due to her old eyes. Regardless, you still rushed to finish up with her and seat her at one of the tables, the rather thick hairs around her top lip and the glassiness were starting to creep you out.

You spent the next two hours being run off your feet as usual, huffing in relief when it was time for you to go home finally. Despite getting the answers you so desired, your ability to sleep seems to have only gotten worse, as did the nightmares. So much for normal, it was easy to pretend while you were at work, as soon as you got home it was so quiet on your own. It was still more than a week until Isabella was due back from her holiday with her family, and you missed her terribly.

A loud thunk sound made you jump, only to relax when you saw a napkin pressed up against the glass from inside the coffee shop. Friday? it read in sharpie, held up by your coworker with a large grin spread across his face. You couldn’t help the way your own mouth copied his, breaking out into an ecstatic smile as well. He had asked you to accompany him to a party on Friday night, and you had agreed a little too eagerly, jumping at the opportunity to do something which you once thought you’d never enjoy. A small nod from you had him grinning wider, despite the minute feeling of guilt that bubbled up within you. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you might actually like him if you gave him a chance, you continued to catch yourself thinking about him.

You took your frustration out on a small rock that came across your path, continually kicking it along the footpath in front of you every couple of steps. Each time it travelled a little farther as you got more annoyed with yourself. You would never see the man again, it’s so much easier to just forget about him. Yet you had to admit your heart ached in a way it never had before, like an undeniable connection was under the threat of being broken. Like the two of you were destined to be togeth-

“Argh!” You cried out, giving the stone an especially harsh kick. There you go again, letting your thoughts run rampant. The rock skidded to a stop at the intersection, right at the feet of an elderly person about to step into oncoming traffic. Acting blindly, you lurched forward into a sprint. “Wait! It’s not safe to cross yet!” She froze midstep, unable to move until you grabbed her shoulder before she could step any farther, gasping when you recognised the little old lady from before.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, grasping your arm to steady herself when she stumbled, suddenly released from her daze. She blinked a couple of times, squinting up at you before her eyes narrowed further. “It’s you…” Her voice dropped with the last two words, and you swore she hissed. You were about to ask her if she was hurt while straightening, but her grip on your arm tightened.

“Hey,” you cooed in a soothing tone, she might be in shock or frightened. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“You’re not.”

“What?”

“He’s coming for you. It’s only a matter of time.”

In the blink of an eye you were pulled toward her with an unnatural amount of strength for her deceitful appearance, and white hot pain erupted from your arm as her sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh. You tried to scream in pain and fear, but her hand clamped over your mouth, clawed fingernails digging into your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You mustered enough strength to push her off, her teeth momentarily latching on harder causing more of your flesh to tear as you struggled to get away. She screamed out in a manic laugh, but you had already turned and began to flee, wild panic driving you to sprint faster. Before long your lungs were burning and you had tears streaming down your face but you didn’t dare stop. A look over your shoulder only caused you more terror at the sight of some kind of demon in pursuit on all fours, nose following your trail of blood.

You made a sharp right turn, stomach dropping in dread when you saw a few innocent bystanders. You screamed at them to run, waving your uninjured arm maniacally. However, they didn’t budge as you caught up to them, didn’t hear you coming up behind even as you made quite the ruckus. You stopped abruptly in front of them, panic obvious in your expression and the way your chest heaved. Just as you were about to cry out in a panic yet again they walked right past you, completely oblivious.

They couldn’t see or hear you.

You stumbled after them as they passed, deep in conversation with one another but it was useless. They continued to walk down the street, unaware of your presence. They soon disappeared from sight while you continued to stumble along the path, feet dragging and vision blurring around the edges. Something was definitely wrong, you thought as you collapsed on the ground. A glance at your arm confirmed it was healed, no longer dripping with blood but the two puncture marks were still prominent. They looked infected and pulsated with something dark green.

After a few seconds your vision became far too blurry, and you found yourself unable to keep your eyes open any longer. Everything started to go black and you slumped to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness.

***

When you opened your eyes again, all you could see was darkness still. It must have been the middle of the night, you noticed as you sat up in bed, your bed you noticed. The familiar dark space of your bedroom came into focus as you blinked several times, willing away the bittersweet embrace of sleep. Quickly you pulled your arm out from under the covers, noticing it no longer hurt, and as you looked closer you could see no evidence of the encounter ever happening. Was it another nightmare? It must have been, how did you get back home safely? What happened to the demon that was following you?

As if sensing your thoughts, you noticed an unfamiliar shape in the corner of the room where the shadows were at their darkest. You gasped quietly, panic setting in as an arm reached out, fingers brushing the stem of the lamp. You froze as a soft glow illuminated your room.

In the armchair, one ankle hooked casually over his knee sat Taehyung. His rings shone softly in the light as they drummed against his cheek.

“Quite the troublemaker, aren’t we?”

“I-I um,” you shuffled through your thoughts trying to look for an explanation, seeming as though he likely found you unconscious on the sidewalk, arm mauled and venom pumping through your veins. “Well, it’s not l-l-like I...um,” you swallowed nervously as he stood from his seat, slowly stepping toward the bed. He cocked an eyebrow at your unfinished answer. “I didn’t go looking for it, it just happened.”

“A lot of things seem to have just happened to you recently, haven’t they?” He questioned rhetorically, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. He was much closer now, and you sank back down into the sheets gripping the covers almost to your chin. It was cooler in his presence and you were well aware of how much your nipples poked out against the thin fabric of your shirt. “You’re not safe by yourself. Come back to the mansion, please Y/N. Come back to me.” He whispered, each word he spoke he had inched closer until his breath fanned over your cheek. You didn’t stop him even as his lips brushed your skin, capturing the corner of your mouth. You didn’t stop him as his fingertips dragged up your body over the covers, drawing a line straight through the valley of your breasts and his fingers gripped the top of the doona. He pulled it down slowly, and you gasped softly at the way it dragged over your painfully stiff peaks. Taehyung easily swallowed the sound, laving his tongue over yours in a brief show of dominance.

“What are you-” you began to ask but you were quickly silenced by his index finger being pressed to your lips.

“Hush sweetheart.” He bent down, warm breath tickling your lips before seeking to nibble on the corner of your mouth again. Instead of moving to deepen the kiss, he continued a blazing path down your cheek toward your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingertips brushing the top of your blanket that was still covering your legs before eyeing you, waiting. You nodded once, giving him silent permission and Taehyung pulled the covers down, a rush of cool air made your skin break out in goose bumps yet you felt hotter than ever. He slotted a knee between your thighs as his mouth returned to your neck, his delightful lips pressed a soft kiss right behind your ear after he leaned down to whisper words of praise to you for allowing him access.

His hot, wet tongue made you squirm when it laved over the crook in your neck, seeking out the spot where you were most sensitive. You whined loudly when he found it, a satisfactory smirk stretching across his lips before he began suckling a bruise there. Your nipples scraped over his chest with every heave of your lungs, god they were extra sensitive right now. He relented with a chuckle, shifting further down to nip your collarbone before honing in on the stiff peak poking through your shirt.

He drew your left nipple into his mouth, and your hips bucked unconsciously as you gasped, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading firmly. The cavern of his mouth was so hot and created a wet patch where he suckled your peak through your shirt. A nip of his teeth drew another whine from you, before he relented the abused nipple only to latch on to the other.

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart, that’s it,” he whispered, not really giving you an option with the way his fingers gripped your knees and pried them open, but it was embarrassing how quickly you complied. How quickly you wanted to comply. “Good girl, so eager and ready for me, aren’t you?” Quickly he settled his own hips at the apex of your thighs, and you mewled at the feeling of his bulge brushing against the wet patch on your sleep shorts.

“Please Taehyung,” you whimpered, whole body twitching with need. You jumped again when the cool metal of his rings brushed across your heated skin, trailing down your hips until his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He glanced up and locked eyes with you for a moment, something feral was alight in his gaze that made your pelvic floor clench around nothing. You shivered as he dragged your shorts, panties included, ever so slowly, never breaking eye contact.

Taehyung’s mouth quickly followed, laving over your stomach in slow, torturous kisses. Occasionally he would nip your skin and soothe the bite with a lick. When he finally sat back, his grip on your knees tightened and he pushed them wide apart, gaze falling to your exposed core. You whimpered in embarrassment and tried to snap them closed but it only elicited a growl from him, clearly displeased at your disobedience. When you stilled he smirked, and shifted down to lay on his stomach with his face centimetres from your cunt. Warm air fanned against your glistening folds as he chuckled in amusement at how worked up you had gotten.

“You’re practically gushing, sweetheart. Do you really need me that badly?” He questioned, but before you had an opportunity to answer he dragged his flattened tongue over your honeyed hole, devouring your juices in long slow swipes. The muscle ventured to the side, sucking hickies all around your pussy lips but making no move to return to your most sensitive parts.

The drag of his sinfully warm tongue continued on and was driving you near insane, drawing one long, wide circle just outside of where you needed him most. Every now and then he would tease you with the lightest lave of the muscle over your clenching orepheus, but he never quite delved in. Your pussy clenched pathetically from the lightest dip.

Suddenly driven impatient and worked up to a point where you didn’t care, your hands flew down to find purchase in his silky blonde locks. You attempted to push his head further into your heat to gain some stimulation as you rutted your hips up, not remember that he had an agenda of his own. With a feral growl, he pulled away, one large hand coming to enclose your wrists and tug them from his head.

“Now now sweetheart, you aren’t being very well behaved are you? I might just have to put you over my knee and teach you some manners, hm?” He drawled, the pads of his fingers dipping into your wetness teasingly, before sitting back as he brought them up to admire the strings of your arousal that connected them.

“Please please,” you whined, continuing to squirm. The playful smirk he once adorned fell from his face only to be replaced by something displeased. His free hand moved so suddenly you barely registered the movement until you felt a sharp sting across your pussy. He repeated the action once more, leaving you mewling underneath him from the smack.

“First warning,” he growled, hunkering back down.

Finally his tongue delved into your entrance, licking up the pool of juices you were sure had gathered there by now. The tip of his tongue stopped just short of your throbbing bud, and you squirmed from being so close to the stimulation you craved. His thumb came up just above your pearl, pulling back the hood to expose it. He blew air on it gently and when your hips began to buck he finally trapped it between his lips only to begin suckling without mercy. The action tore a near scream from your lips, if you were squirming before, you were positively thrashing now as his teeth nipped at your sensitive clit. The sudden you onslaught of pleasure had your pelvic muscles contracting so hard you swore you almost gushed all over the sheets.

He eased off a little, opting for more gentle suckles and licks against your bud, but they were strong enough to still have you clenching and whining as your climax drew closer. The push of something slim and solid against your entrance had your eyes going wide for a moment, before he sunk his middle finger into your cunt easily. Immediately your walls clamped down on it, welcoming the intrusion. Taehyung lifted his head off to admire the way your head was thrown back against the pillows, eyes rolling back into your head. You whimpered when he pushed another finger in, two making a delicious stretch that had your spread legs twitching. He chuckled endearingly at your response, and how smoothly you’d taken them into your sopping pussy.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “So eager for me, let me hear you.”

The continuous drag of his fingers against your walls elicited a loud moan from your panting lips, particularly when he easily located the soft spongy bed of nerves nestled within. He crooked his fingers, pleased at the way you grew tighter, that coil in your stomach getting closer to snapping. “That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” he growled, lips seizing your clit once more and he lashed his tongue against it without mercy in tangent with the movement of his wrist.

After being on the brink for some time, this easily tipped you over and you hurtled into your climax. You felt every muscle lock up as you hit the peak of pleasure, a loud sting of cries torn from within as you began to tremble and buck your hips when Taehyung refused to let up. The pleasure became a little overwhelming once your orgasm had finally subsided, and you pushed Taehyung away with a whine. He sat back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. The fingers that still glistened with your juices, rings and all, were popped into his mouth. He groaned as they dragged over his tongue, and the sound made you twitch, still sensitive.

His sinful lips were moving, but no sound was coming from them. You frowned, still in an elated haze wondering if perhaps it was just your ears ringing. He was talking more, the expression on his face looking alarmed now.

You tried to sit up, reassure him that you felt completely fine but strong hands gripped your shoulders and held you back down. When you looked up your vision was blurred, your eyes were unable to focus on the room around you and you could no longer see Taehyung clearly.

You began to resist against the hands holding you down, shouting out in confusion. Your arm throbbed in pain, it felt white hot and swollen. Someone was shaking you by the shoulders, and you squeezed your eyes shut. This felt wrong, you felt incredibly groggy and your head was pounding.

“(Y/N)! Wake up!” A voice was calling out, sounding far away. It repeated your name a few times, each one getting louder until your eyes snapped open to look at the figure hovering over you, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Yoongi?”

“Would you like to explain why I found you half dead on the sidewalk?”

***

You were back at the mansion.

Shadows danced in the corners of the room as the fire cast a warm glow across the library, giving off comforting crackling sounds every few seconds. Taehyung was noticeably absent, and you opened your mouth to question his whereabouts. An uneasy feeling came over you, however, and you decided against it. He didn’t want to see you right now.

You had woken up in Yoongi’s workroom, your wounded arm wrapped in a bandage. A demon bite, and a nasty one too he informed you. The type that causes people to go insane before they died, hallucinating things they...desire. The fire warmed your already rosy cheeks, flaming in embarrassment at what had occurred in your dream. It felt incredibly real.

“I can’t believe you survived that, honestly. I’ve seen a lot of bites like that before and the end result is never anything pretty. People go downhill pretty quickly.” Yoongi mused, staring straight into the burning flames, light flickering in his eyes.

“Good people too,” Hoseok added as he came back into the room, offering you a steaming mug of tea which you accepted gracefully. “Here.” He also draped a blanket across your shoulders, causing you to melt a little under his doting.

“Thank you, really.”

“Don’t mention it, you’ve been through quite a lot, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse. Demon numbers are on the rise. No doubt it’s related to...him.” Hoseok looked away as he talked about Seungri, and you eyed his wings remembering how Seungri had a pair just like them, only black. You had a sinking feeling the two were connected somehow.

“That...thing. The demon, it said something to me. He’s coming for me.” You shuddered at the thought, at your dreams, what Taehyung said to you. Everyone in the room turned to look at you, and Yoongi opened his mouth to speak.

He was interrupted as a crack of thunder boomed through the sky, flashes of lightning illuminating the room. The doors to the library were thrown open with a tremendous bang causing everybody to jump. Two figures appeared in the doorway as more lightning struck.

“Well, well, well…what do we have here?” The first one said, tilting his head at you and giving a far from comforting smile. Yoongi was quick to be by your side.

“Namjoon, Seokjin….this is (Y/N).”

A/N: I’m sorry for the late update!!! I know it’s been a really long time but I’m such a slow writer, plus my mental state hasn’t been very good lately. If I missed you on the tag list I’m sorry, it’s hard to keep track!!

Tag list: @lachiminlajimin @sugasheart @jessilliam-caronday@yikesskaina @wonzigyumin @diorluvs@xxqueenwxtchxx @irissilujm @sweetcrvture @mrcleanheichou @youtube-obsessed-duh @sarahkriswugirl@bangtanlove16 @mariacorbi @baby-hobii@catsandstrawberries @it-is-dana @januarythirteen @just-a-little-teapot13 @jooheonbee @crajishie @lyuxs @t-mel19 @joonsroses @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @psiphidragon @ro2424 @mingukmania

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my-self-ship-wonderland · 3 years

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I’ve never done any events like this, sorry if I’m doing it wrong

I’m guessing we tag the event account, but sorry if we aren’t meant to :) @selfshipweek

I thought I’d do this week with Severus, cause he’s nice. I self ship with him in an au, inspired by a fanart by @ serosvit (I put a space on purpose, I know some people get uncomfortable with self ship blogs and I don’t want to squick them out). He’s 19, I’m 18, the year is 1979. Enjoy my day one: how you met :D (All seven were written in second person and converted into first, so sorry if they don’t quite scan) Also I know that quirrell would technically be twelve in 1979, but i cba to invent a professor so we’re going to pretend it’s fine

I hurried down the wide stone steps, my dress flapping as you walked. There were a few days until the school opened back up for students, and I was still getting used to the unnerving quietness of the halls. I had gratefully taken the role as a junior teacher for the muggle studies classes when I had been offered, but it seemed to mostly entail running errands. Not that I minded especially, but a part of me had hoped for a little more. My thoughts busy with nothing of any consequence, I descended the last few steps without looking, and smacked into a boy about my age, with long dark hair and an armful of books and parchment, that were now scattered on the floor. “Ah Christ, I’m so sorry” I said, stooping to help him gather them back up. I glanced at a few sheets as I handed them back to him, but the writing was cramped and spidery, and I couldn’t make out a word. He didn’t say anything as we collected the papers, but when we’d both straightened up, he spoke. “I thought students were arriving on Monday'' he said distractedly, looking through his papers and notes, presumably to check we had found everything. “Yeah they are, I’m a junior professor.” I said. “For professor Quirrell.”

The boy looked pleasantly surprised for a moment, before quickly settling his face back into a neutral position.

“What about you, why’re you here so early?” I asked conversationally.

“Slughorn’s apprentice.” He replied.

“Oh, cool.”

Neither of us spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Largely because the boy was still checking his papers, and didn’t seem to mind the fact I wasn’t saying anything. “I’ve got to go, sorry for knocking into you.” I said after a few seconds, and the boy looked up at me. “Bye”

Inturned and trotted down the corridor, errands in mind. “Bye” I heard him say, and I listened as his footsteps receded behind me.

While I collected various items for Professor Qurirell, I thought about the boy. He had looked around the same age as me, but I didn’t remember him from school. He had a very angular face, dark eyes, dark hair. His clothes had been dark too, and he’d been wearing a cloak or robes or something that flared, so he was from a wizarding family? I knew he had spidery writing, since I’d been taught by Slughorn while I was a student, and I knew that his writing was as round and open as the man himself. He hadn’t said much, but he didn’t seem cold or unfriendly. He just seemed closed off, almost wary of disclosing his genuine feelings. If I had been the type for prose, I might have said he was hiding behind a mask of indifference.

On the way back to Quirell’s classroom I looked around for him, but I wasn’t surprised that I couldn’t see him. He seemed very focused on his duties, and I suspected he was probably pouring over a cauldron, or making more spidery notes for Slughorn.

Once I had finished your duties, not that I had many, I decided to go and see him, on the off chance he was there. Professor Quirell was nice, but he wasn’t very friendly, and he was an adult. I wanted at least an acquaintance my own age for the next year or two. I trailed through the halls, slowly walking the path to Slughorns’s classroom. I wasn’t sure what I hoped was going to happen, but with all my friends working elsewhere I figured it was a good idea to build a bridge. I knocked on the classroom door, and it creaked open. Peering inside, I saw it was empty, and I looked around. There was a door on the wall behind Slughorn’s desk that had always been closed, but as I walked inside the classroom I noticed it hanging ajar, and the flickering light of flames curled through the crack. “Knock knock.” I said, pushing the door open a little. The boy looked up from a small cauldron, wand in hand. “Hello.” he said, his voice low and somewhat deadpan.

“I just wanted to come and say hi.” I said, venturing further into the room. “I haven’t met any other assistants, thought it would be good to introduce myself. I’m Sorren.”

“Severus. And there’s another assistant in astrology.” he said quietly, his focus on the cauldron. He slipped his wand into a loop on his apron and began cutting up roots on the counter below him, dicing them finely. “What’s that?” I asked. I felt like I wasn’t making much progress, but I wanted to give it a fair try before giving up.

“Draught of living death.” Severus replied, sprinkling the roots into the cauldron slowly, moving his hand clockwise while dropping them. “Slughorn wants to show the first years, so I’m working on a less potent version, changing the minor ingredients while maintaining the key composition.”

“Wow. You can just do that, no book or anything?”

Severus nodded his head and carried on sprinkling the roots, letting them slip from his hand with slow controlled movements.

“Wow, that’s amazing. So you just know the ingredients off by heart, and how to substitute them?”

Severus nodded.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then, I don’t want to distract you.” I turned to leave.

“You can stay if you like.” Severus said, not looking up, but his voice was slightly less flat than before, so I stayed.

“How will you know if it’s worked?” I asked, looking at the potion.

Severus pointed behind you, at a shelf on the wall. I looked around at a toad in a large glass jar, puffing it’s throat in and out as it breathed.

“Oh. Poor frog.”

“It won’t be dead. The point is that it’s a less potent version, it’ll be fine.” said Severus, a little sharply.

“Yeah fair enough, sorry. So you must be amazing at potions then.”

Severus didn’t say anything, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. I leaned against the wall, shivering at the cold stone. “Do you ever just try and invent your own potions?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do they work?”

Severus looked at I. “Sometimes. I prefer to modify existing potions, to try and refine them.” He explained the difficulty in finding certain ingredients, or moderating certain side effects, and I listened quietly, enjoying the impromptu lesson.

the fanart in question ^^^

#selfshipweek #self ship week #self shipper #f/o #f/o fanfic #self ship valentine #f/o fic #f/o fanfiction #f/o fluff #f/o valentines #romantic f/o #romantic self ship #f/o writing #f/o x s/i #suddenly severus

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peremadeleine · 4 years

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JCS: The 50th Anniversary Tour

My dad and I just saw the touring 50th anniversary production of Jesus Christ Superstar! We both grew up with the music and know it like the backs of our hands, so frankly our expectations were high.

It was...amazing.

A long, detailed, scene-by-scene discussion under the cut!

As the overture stars to play, the lights come up slowly and you realize that you can see the band--the actual rock band--on the second level of the set. They weren’t highly visible, not intrusive, but we both thought that was so cool. True to the spirit of what is, after all, a rock opera.

The cast came out, during the overture, from two of the audience doors in the orchestra and began hopping up on stage. Also very cool--we weren’t the only ones leaning forward in the balcony to look!

Full disclosure, Judas is my favorite character, so “Heaven on their Minds” is a make-or-break moment for me. Didn’t love all of his delivery, but Judas still sold it. (He clearly took a lot of inspo from Carl Anderson.) He was trying to reach Jesus both emotionally and physically without being weird and clingy (a la the terrible 2000 movie).

Ciaphas and Annas were both Perfect. Annas was an annoying little shit who sounded a lot like Geddy Lee--the lead singer from Rush--and Ciaphas had a deep, menacing, beautiful baritone just right for the part.

Though Simon’s performance was not quite as passionate as I would’ve liked, his voice was wonderful. Probably the best strictly vocal rendition of “Simon Zealotes” I’ve ever heard.

Really liked the way the Temple scene was set up...I would’ve liked it more if they’d given Jesus some prop to interact with/throw around, but the glittery/seedy feel of the scene contrasted perfectly with the low-key, muted set design up to that point.

This was the first scene where Jesus actually caught my attention. His delivery of “my Temple should be a house of prayer!” was a real show-stopper--as it ought to be.

The Lepers sequence was clearly overwhelming/stressful for Jesus without being too unpleasant (that’s always how I remember it from the ’73 movie) for the audience. As with “Hosanna,” though, I would have liked a slightly bigger ensemble to magnify the power of the scene.

Mary’s voice was lovely. She played “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” a little bit delicately, and there wasn’t much for her to do--Jesus was sleeping way off to side of the stage--so I think it could’ve been just a little more powerful, emotionally speaking, but again, her voice was very pretty.

When Judas, beckoned forward by Ciaphas, takes his reward for betraying Jesus from a chest at the end of “Damned for All Time,” his hands become stained silvery-white. As the show progressed the silver paint crept up his arms almost to his shoulders. A small prop would’ve been hard to see, anyway, so the Lady Macbeth-style staining of his hands was easily visible from our seats as well as perfect visual symbolism.

During the Last Supper scene, the apostles re-purpose the cross-shape platform in the middle of the stage as a table. They all froze in poses reminiscent of Da Vinci’s painting (as in the ’73 film) while Jesus sang his solemn lines about consuming his body and blood.

This was the scene that most explicitly explored the bond between Jesus and Judas. At the beginning of the scene, Jesus comes up behind Judas and wraps him in a cloak. Later, an obviously-distraught Judas kneels at the edge of the stage and gazes with desperate hope at his friend, even reaching for Jesus’ hand with his stained one. He wants Jesus to stop him, to keep him there--but of course, he’s sent away to betray him.

More disclosure: “Gethsemane” is my favorite song from the show. It’s raw, it’s angry, it’s powerful. I watched a video of the actor playing Jesus performing an acoustic version in a studio and was not impressed, and so far I was on the fence about his on-stage Jesus, which lacked a little bit of the “drama queen” (or, I guess, the “superstar”) element I expect from JCS!Jesus. tl;dr This was THE big make-it-or-break-it moment of the show for me...

Oh, ye of little faith, Luth! All the hesitance and just-good-enough vocals went out the window; he sang with passion and power and conviction, improving steadily as the song reaches its climax. He didn’t try to imitate the vocal wizardry of Ian Gillan, but he hit the high note (“see how I die”) and held it.

At one point he ripped off his shirt and threw the microphone stand against another set piece in his anger, fear, and despair, which I thought was a nice visual for the audience.

I realized, by the end of the song, when the audience erupted into cheers/applause and my dad leaned over to whisper “He nailed it!” that there were tears in my eyes. I was actually crying! And I was so happy, despite my tears, because this Jesus had finally overcome my months-long misgivings and now I could enjoy the rest of the show for what it would be,

Pilate is usually played by an older man, sometimes in over-the-top flamboyant (often purple) costumes. Not so here. This Pilate was the image of a punk rocker in black leather, and he was young, and he was a certifiable rock star! What a voice! He was the only one my dad “whooped” for at the curtain call.

Confession time...I’ve never truly seen the need for “Herod’s Song,” catchy as it is. But seeing the show live, the audience was into it. They clearly needed one wacky comic number. And boy was this one wacky. Very well-done, kind of had a cabaret aesthetic with Herod in a silver leotard and sparkly black boots.

Everyone clapped between Judas’ confrontation with the priests and his reprise of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” which meant the slow, sad beginning of said reprise was drowned out a little. Boo. It’s one of the most moving songs in the show. (“Does he love...does he love me too? Does he care for me? Oh!”) That said, the tension in the audience was palpable (or maybe it was just me) when Judas climbs the stairs and strings up his rope. Just the rope dropped as the lights went down, so it was tastefully done, but all I felt was dread. Which is the point, I imagine.

The ensemble did a great job of realistically haranguing and guilt-tripping Pilate until he abandoned his logical stance that Jesus had done nothing deserving of death and gave into their demands. The best use of the ensemble in the entire show.

I always skip the 39 lashes when I listen at home. They did it very symbolically--throwing “glitter bombs” of a sort at Jesus every time Pilate counted a lash so that he was covered in gold tinsel by the end of it--and it made it bearable to watch, though still tense.

When the instrumental hook of “Superstar” plays after the trial and before the actual song “Superstar,” Judas comes back out on stage and places the crown of thorns on Jesus’ head. An interesting choice. It certainly got me right in the feels.

Would have liked a bit more one-on-one interaction between J&J during “Superstar,” maybe a new costume for Judas, but otherwise a good performance of that, too.

That’s where I always end my listen...but of course the show ends with the crucifixion. Of course that’s never going to be a pleasant scene, is it? It was, again, fairly tastefully done, with Jesus ending up back-lit on the cross.

The final image of the show was also the single-most powerful one: the rest of the stage was still dark, with Judas* sitting at the foot of the cross gazing up at the still-backlit Jesus. Reader, I wept.

*it occurred to me that it MIGHT have been Mary--the stage was dark, and our seats were pretty high-up...but I prefer the symbolism of it being Judas.

The set was very minimalist, with two unadorned two-story platforms on either side of the long, much shorter protruding cross-shaped platform. It worked for me. (Much better than the weird “industrial” look they went for in the live TV special.)

The costumes were hit-or-miss, but I did like the simplicity of the design. It was quite monochromatic, with Jesus and the apostles (and Mary) mostly in white or beige, Pilate in black, and Judas appropriately in gray. (There were some much-appreciated pops of color during the Last Supper sequence, when the apostles wrapped themselves in red and blue cloaks; and some glitter/sparkle added visual interest in the Temple, Herod, and Trial scenes.)

I could probably say more, including about what I didn’t like as much--there were a few things!--but I’ll save that for another post. Bless you if you actually read all that.

As sad as I am that I didn’t get to see the 2012 Broadway revival, I’m so glad I got to see this.

If you are a fan of Jesus Christ Superstar and have the means, I HIGHLY encourage you to check out the tour if it comes to a city near you. It may not be the greatest production of this show ever staged, but it’s very entertaining, respectful of the material, musically excellent--and it blows that televised one from 2018 out of the water! All in all, just a wonderful tribute for JCS’s 50th anniversary.

#jesus christ superstar #jcs #andrew lloyd webber #jesus christ superstar tour #jcs50

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szopenhauer · 4 years

Text

Are there any lights on in the room you’re in? just turned the lights on

Do you ever have to do yard work? yes

Is your school close to your house? besides high school

Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? nah

Is it a windy day? nope

In the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? nooooo

What album is the current song you’re listening to off of? Progress

In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? some tik tok songs

How clean is your bedroom? :x

Is there a pen within reaching distance of you? there is indeed

Are you sitting at a desk? I am

Do you normally shut your bedroom door before you go to sleep? yep

Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? just fragments, I know what it’s about :(

Do you prefer group or individual work? dunno, depends?

Do you have a key to anything besides your house? I am the key :P

Are you wearing anything with stripes? not currently

What time did you go to sleep last night? ugh...

Do you think you’ll do anymore surveys today? possibly

Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I did

If you could run a red light and not get caught, would you? it’s not about getting caught!

Do you like to listen to music as you do your homework? I did sometimes

Do any bands annoy you? obvi, slightly

Do you still make Christmas lists? mhm

Do you watch the show Dexter? hell no

What’s the background on your phone? jigsaw puzzles

Are you scared of any animals? mostly sloths and dead bugs, also maggots, I find kangaroos creepy too

Which song did you last listen to on repeat? KIDZ by Take That

Are you currently using a blanket? no

Are there any songs that make you cry? of course

What are you doing this weekend? we shall see ;)

When was the last time you had a haircut? oh well... I chopped my hair at night few days ago or smth because I was annoyed

Do you know what you want for Christmas? yasss

Do you watch fireworks on New Year’s Eve? always <3

Is your birthday within the next three months? it’s in February

How long is the song you’re listening to? 4.54

Is your mom or dad the older parent? mom is older than my father

Are you going to get off the computer now that you’ve finished this? ha ha ha...

Do you feel guilty? if yes, why so? many reasons :(

Does your tongue hurt? it did in the morning

Are you sad? that’s just who I am

Does your tummy hurt? kinda

Who do you sit with at lunch? in school I was alone, home - parents if they’re home and hungry at the same time

Were you wrong all along? about what? don’t feed my paranoia

I fucking hate Rihanna, do you? why?

Are you the only person awake right now? my mother is awake as well

Do you feel alone? I like to be

Are you itchy? sorta

Do you need to wash your face? meh

Do you want animals when you grow up? . doubt it

Do you have an annoying old grandmother? no comment

Do you like llamas? I LOVE LLAMAS! yeah

How would you like to kill someone? oh my

Do you like to wear clothes? yep

When’s the last time you pooped? today

Pencils or markers? markers

What’s your favorite pattern? can’t decide

How long is your penis? I don’t have one lol

Do your boobs hang low? getting old

Do you ever replace the lyrics in songs to make them inappropriate? what for?

What’s your opinion on Miley Cyrus? I don’t care about her

Can i have your number? you can’t

What’s your gender? ... my brain got blank and I wanted to type my name lmfao - female tho

What did you call your privates when you were little? I don’t recall

Do you cut yourself? nothing deep

What’s your favorite name? I like several

What’s your current mood? not good enough

Are you awkward? very

Can you joke about rape? no way

Do you have good eye sight? it seems, for now

Are you good at English? pretty good

Have you ever seen a penis? not that I wanted to

Do you have dandruff? sadly

When your watching a video, does it bother if you can see the cursor? not really?

is your computer slow? : it’s shit

Do you want to puke? tiny bit

Are what age did you realize that knees was spelt with a k? when I learned the world

Do you live with your grandparents? parents

Do you hate your family? some of the members

Do you use smiley faces? yeah

Do you like to see it snowing outside? no thx

Whoever you are dating, could you see yourself being with them forever? it’s complicated

Do you like eating soup in the winter? season doesn’t matter

Do you like getting jewelry or do you not wear any? not wear any usually

Did/Do you get school cancellations because of snow? not even when we had massive snow days

Have you ever used the word ‘lame’? yes

Do you eat dinner with your family every night? not every single night

Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have a baby right now? ewwww

Do you like Taylor Swift, or do you think she’s overrated? overrated but don’t hate her

Do you like to draw? rarely

Do you take long walks very often? maybe

What would you do if you heard pebbles being tossed at your window at 3 AM? no idea :o

Do you read books that are ‘for little kids’? might

Are fingerless gloves awesome? :3

Would you rather be cannibalistic or die in the wilderness? die, yuk

How many middle names do you have? 0

What color is your favorite pair of shoes? black?

Does your best friend have a driver’s license? they don’t

Is ice cream one of your favorite desserts? could say so

What size drink do you usually get at fast food restaurants? I don’t get drinks there

How many syllables does your name have? 3 + 4

How often do you actually wake up in a good mood? pfft

What is the funniest thing a child has ever said to you? I don’t remember, can’t choose

Do you let your pets on your furniture? no

Can you usually tell when someone has feelings for you? I assume they lie to gain

Do you believe in fairies, gnomes, or elves? gnomes, maybe fairies, elves could exist in the past like medieval times

What is your favorite thing to cook for someone else? I hate cooking

Have you ever bought underwear simply because it made your underwear drawer look nice? wait what?

Opinions on cold pizza? yum

What’s been on your mind lately? lots

When you drive - if you do - how do you hold the wheel? not applicable

Who was the last person to turn you on? my gf

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snickletastic · 5 years

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Yesterday {Jason Todd x Reader}

warnings~ symptoms of ptsd, small mentions of rape and pedophiles and forms of abuse, serious topics that may be triggering if you suffer from ptsd. please tread carefully, love you guys so much

summary~ after a run in with the joker, jason has a small ptsd episode where the reader comforts him and sings him a song. yesterday

a/n~ im admittedly used to writing on lighter topics, but i decided to try my hand at writing something that we usually try to avoid about jason. i was laying on the couch listening to yesterday by the beatles last night, and this idea sorta just came to me. the run in with the joker part, though, was inspired by @avengerdragoness with their beautiful imagine, Still Yours. i hope that you guys like this, it didn’t take me long but it’s definitely more gentle and soothing than i usually write. love u guys!!! p.s i also just realized i posted this on national beatles day literally what are the chances!!!!

__________________________

Dating Jason presented troubles of its own. He would come home in the middle of the night half broken, he’d be on missions for weeks at a time, and perhaps worst of all, he put himself in danger for what he would say is the “greater good.” Every now and then, you would join him on his night patrol just to see what a regular evening would comprise of. Often it was just Jason beating up thugs or threatening low-lives trying to steal purses or break into cars. He’d never take you on the bigger missions involving criminal heads or mob bosses. It was still nice to see what he was up to on a regular night, though.

Jason was also never one for emotional sharing, he often distanced himself from his own emotions even before the accident; but especially after the day he was killed. It took him months to open up about it, and even then, he thought he was troubling you with his own personal problems. You never forced him to share details from that night, you knew how hard it was for him. He went to therapy a few times, but before he could start making progress, he’d quit with a dismissive, “that crap never works anyways.”

Some nights he would wake up crying, some nights he’d wake up screaming. Sometimes he would wake up and grab the nearest weapon, whether it’d be a lamp or the alarm clock. Eventually, he grabbed a knife in his sleep and started threatening the villain in his dream with it. Of course it scared you shitless, so he promised to keep no more weapons near the bed again.

When he’d wake up from the nightmares, you would sing him quiet lullabies or parts of slow songs and stroke his hair. At first, he thought it was embarrassing to be a grown man and still need a lullaby to fall asleep. You finally forced through that stubborn exterior of his and he eventually allowed you to sing to him more often. At least two times a week this would happen; he’d wake up from a nightmare, his breathing heavy and sharp, his forehead covered in sweat and his body trembling. You were never far behind him, being a light enough sleeper to notice when he’d jump awake. As soon as he sat up, you would sit up next to him, offering to hold him in your arms. He’d do so, and you would hum a song as he fell asleep once again.

One evening as he was out on patrol, you were relaxing and watching television on the couch. It was nothing you were interested in, but the noise was more comfortable than silence. Jason rarely texted you while he was on missions, although you wish he had. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard the window open and Jason climbing in. His helmet was half broken, exposing his right eye to the world. His jacket was cut up, and his cargo pants were ripped almost to shreds. He limped inside, holding his abdomen as if he had been stabbed. He came home hurt far more often than you appreciated, but never in this state.

Without a word, you stood from the couch and ran to get the first-aid kit in the bathroom. When you came back into the living room, Jason was sitting on the couch. His head was in his hands, and he was quietly whimpering. You slowly walked towards him before you realized he was crying. His helmet was discarded onto the floor next to him, and his jacket thrown over the lampshade next to the couch. The only light in the room glowed from the television, lighting up Jason’s figure just enough to see the tears on his face when he looked up at you.

“Oh...Jason,” you whined, pulling him into a hug. His head was buried into your abdomen as you stood in front of him with his arms wrapped around your legs. He gently weeped into your stomach, latching onto you as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold you hard enough.

“What happened?” You whispered as you ran your fingers through his jet black hair. Jason let you go, then looked at the floor, almost ashamed. You sat next to him and held his face, “You can tell me.”

“It was him. It was the Joker. I was taking care of some alleyway thugs when he came out of nowhere. He started attacking me, and,” Jason paused and looked away from you, his voice beginning to break, “I couldn’t even stop him. I just froze and let him attack me until Dick stopped him. What kind of hero am I if I can’t even defend myself from him? I’m a coward.” Jason said with guilt in his voice.

“Listen to me,” you gently scolded him, “Don’t you ever call yourself that. You are not a coward. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. I’ve seen you take down rapists and pedophiles and abusers. That man...” you paused and wiped a tear from his cheek, “He’s the real coward. Beating a defenseless teenager to death. You aren’t a coward. You’re traumatized. You had every reason to freeze up like that, and it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.”

Jason ran his fingers through your hair, “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned back, bringing him down with you.

“For always being there for me.”

“Don’t be a dork. I’d be here for you whether you like it or not, it’s completely against your will,” you giggled in spite of the serious situation.

“Could you,” Jason groaned at what he thought was a childish question, “Would you mind singing? It’s always soothing.”

“Of course, baby.”

You now laid with Jason on the couch. Your right leg draped over his hip, your left entangled between his legs. With your right hand, you gently traced lines down his arm as your left was intertwined with his hair. His arms were wrapped around you, trying to pull you as close as physically possible, his head resting in the crook of your shoulder. You hummed a gentle tune to him as his tears began to dry.

"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away..."

You stroked his hair while bathing in the tranquility of the apartment.

“Now it looks as though they’re here to stay...oh I believe, in yesterday,”

Your voice was smooth, even if some of the notes were off-key.

“Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh yesterday, came suddenly.”

The light from the television continued to faintly light the room, the voices on it were at a low enough volume to not disturb your song.

“Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say,” your voice became quieter as the notes got higher, “I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.”

Soon enough, Jason was sleeping soundly, wrapped in your arms as you were wrapped in his. There was nowhere either of you would rather be.

national helpline ~ 1-800-487-4889 ❤️

masterlist

#jason #Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #redhood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #redhood x reader #redhood imagine #dc #DC comics #dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dick grayson #superhero #superhero imagine

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zach-the-fox · 4 years

Text

Tribal Furs Episode 1: Close Encounters

Just wanna let you guys know I have revamped Tribal Furs and decided to take a new turn. Enjoy! Starring: @emmy-the-absolute-goof Beneath the canopy of the thick leaves lies the wooden, thatched-roofed houses of the village of the Fox Faction, a tribe of foxes with furs ranging in all colors of the rainbow. They all wear the same outfits; bra tops for vixens and loincloths regardless of gender. Each piece covering an individual’s unmentionables have the same colors as their body and face paints, marking their personalities as different. Among them is an orange fox, male in build, with blue markings all over and a blue loincloth to cover his unmentionables. His blue stripes on his face arms and legs comment the two arrows on his head and torso, pointing to the loincloth matching in color. He stands beside a fox, much older than he is, with grayer fur. The leafy headdress and colorful coverings all over the body suggest the older fox is the leader among the pack. Many stop and listen to the baritone voice the dark orange animal gives. As soon as he’s done speaking, the brightly-colored, blue-painted fox approaches him. “Impressive speech, Father.”

The greyish-orange fox turns to him. “What are you doing here, Boy? Must you interrupt a chief while he is busy keeping his people well-sought after?!”

“I have only come to stand beside you and watch how you handle the tribe,” remarks the young fox. “It is traditional for an heir to learn from their wisdom.”

“You are not worthy to manage a village!” the chief barks. “I do not consider you as an heir! And stop pestering me all the time! All you do is make things worse for the entire tribe!”

“But Father… I-”

“Don’t you “but Father” me! I never even wanted a son, yet here you are, a wasteful little imp roaming around without a purpose. Just go away, Flawed Fox.”

“I’m not “Flawed Fox,” the young one says. He steps forth to him. “My name is-”

“Silence!” The chief swings his arm across the bright orange fox’s face, slapping him, which causes him to recede. “I will hear no more of this! I expect you to keep away from me, and everyone here! Now, be gone!” The chief turns and vanishes inside his hut, leaving his son there in awe. The other villagers stare at the native prince for a few seconds before heading back to their business. The orange fox makes haste toward the trees, disappearing into the thickets. As he rushes away, a male blue fox with orange markings and a loincloth catches sight of him, watching with worry as he sees the boy no more.

***

Far on the other side of the map is another village. But instead of it being filled with furry, pointy-eared creatures, this one contains those with snouts and hooves and are half the size of the foxes. In this village is where we meet a female warthog with brown hair, a lavender loincloth and bra top, along with lavender paint on her body.

Three warthogs gather in a huge gap in the center of the village and talk amongst themselves. They cease their conversations when the lavender-painted warthog walks up to them. They remain silent. “Hello, girls.” utters the warthog with a slight smile. “Quite the weather we’re having!” The three other animals keep their peace. “What are you guys up to today?”

One of them breaks their silence. “Just having a little chat. That’s all.”

“Oh really? What are you talking about?”

“It’s a rather private matter,” says another pig. “It’s not something to discuss out loud.”

“Oh… Well, can you tell me? I can keep a really good secret, I promise.”

“It doesn’t concern you,” the third one tells her. “It has to do with us.”

“Oh, okay… Uh, I’ll just be by the river if you need me.” The lavender warthog begins heading off away from the group, disappearing behind one of the huts.

“Phew, thank the gods!” says the second pig. “I thought she would never leave us. I don’t know how much more I can take with her…”

“I know, right?” the third one adds. “I mean, what’s her deal anyway? Why must she always get up in our business?”

The first warthog begins, “Looking for attention and someone to befriend. Her stepfather, the new chief, is very had on her. He shuts her out and doesn’t care too much for her, thus giving her no one to speak to.”

“No wonder everyone hates her; she’s nothing but unloved and a loner. The Gods have forsaken this entire village with her presence.” The other girls agree.

The warthog, having hidden behind the wall to give the illusion of leaving and overhearing, frowns and tilts her head down before walking away into the jungle.

***

Deep in the dense jungle, the trees separate the villages to keep them from constant conflict. The terrain, however, does not change their views of one another.

The warthog appears as she ambles along the ground. “Why does no one like me?” She asks herself. “It’s not my fault I have no friends… Why does my father have to make things so hard for me? What did I ever do to become forsaken and an enemy? I wish-” Pain surges from her leg and up her spine after a loud gasp. She looks down and sees her leg clamped in a wooden spike trap. “Oh no…” The warthog grabs her legs and pulls, hoping to pull it out quickly. “Come on! Give me my leg!” Ruffling in the bushes causes her to fall silent and look around. “Hello?! W-who’s there?!” The bushes in front of her shake and tremble before a figure pops out. It reveals itself to be a fox with blue tribal paint and loincloth. He stares at the lavender-painted pig as he eases close. “No! No! Stay away!” The warthog struggles to pull her leg out fast, even trying to fly out. The spikes drag against her skin, opening cuts that ooze of blood. “Come on!” Panic dons her face as she continues to pull; her eyes opened wide enough to fit cocoanapples. More pain shoots up her leg, slowing her progress. The fox stops about three feet from her, yet she continues in her attempt break free.

“Stop,” says the fox in a low, calming voice. The warthog freezes, still keeping a face of fear. Her heartrate and breathing begin their slow decline. “You’re making it worse… Let me help you…” The fox steps closer, leaning toward the trap. He puts his paws inside and forces the ends of the trap open, scraping the inside of his paws in the process. The pig stumbles onto her knees, still trying to regain calmness. Noticing a change in the weather from clear skies to grey rainclouds, the orange fox puts his arms around her and lifts the wounded girl up. The brown-haired warthog remains still in his hold, her body still trembling from previously. The fox takes her into a cave where he sets her down. “Wait here.” He leaves for a brief moment, returning not more than a minute later with big leaves in his bloody paws. The boy then kneels by the warthog’s leg and proceeds to squeeze white fluid onto the wounds. The warthog clenches her hooves, shutting her eyes tightly as the pain burns her leg. The fox then wraps the cuts with the remaining leaves, covering her limb. He sits in front of her. “Is that better?”

The pig stares into the fox’s eyes. She’s unsure of what to say initially. “Y-yes… Thanks, I guess… Why are you helping me? Aren’t the Fox Faction and Warthog Warriors enemies? Why are you helping an enemy?”

“My mother always said that politeness is the key to friendship and trust,” he tells her. “I have nothing against you or your people…”

“You don’t?” The fox shakes his head. “Well, listen. I appreciate you treating my injuries and caring for me…”

“I learned how to treat wounds on my own,” he says. “I’m always out in the jungle and sometimes, like you, I stumble into the wooden spike traps made from the other tribes. Just be careful when you go out and walk. They are everywhere. My advice is to stay in the trees. Stay hidden, too, for sentries can shout you down with their bows and spears.”

“You are very kind… You are not like all the other foxes of the Fox Faction.”

“No… I am different… and everyone in my village tends to think that way about me… They think I ruin everything…”

The warthog moves closer to him. “I understand how you feel… My stepfather thinks I’m a bitter pain and that I’m useless… Because of that story, people of the village assume I’m nothing good. They all ignore me…”

“That’s something we have in common,” the fox tells her. “My father, who is the chief of my tribe, always screams and shouts at me… He says I can never do anything right, no matter what I do… His anger and prejudice have influenced the opinion of the village on me as well… He tells me I’m not his son, and that I’m nothing more than a “Flawed Fox”, a mistake from my mother… I don’t have any friends… It’s why I wander the jungle… I do so to get away from it all… Tell me, are you out here for the same reason?”

“Yes,” she says. “I just needed a place to get away… I share your pain, Young Fox… And the way I think of it, it draws us closer together… Not as enemies, but as friends.”

“Who are you, good warthog?”

“I am Emmy,” the warthog girl answers. “Emmy the Warthog. What is your name?”

“Zach,” the fox tells her. “Zach the Fox. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He manages a smile.

Emmy looks down at the fox’s paws. “Your paws are cut from the trap… Do you have spare leaves?” Zach picks the leaves by his feet and hands them to her. “Hold out your paws… Let me treat them.” She wraps the green leaves around the fox’s paws, patching up his injuries as he had done with her. “There… Feel better?”

“I do.” Zach continues to smile. “Emmy, you’re a nice girl. I don’t understand why people would belittle you.”

“I don’t understand why people belittle you, either. What is it that they see in us? That we’re spawns from the realms of the underworld?”

“They probably don’t understand us very much. Who needs the villages? If we can’t be friendly with them, we should be with each other.”

Emmy pauses for a few seconds, keeping her gaze on him. “W-what are you saying?”

“We should form a bond of our own. Come out here every day just to meet and hang out. No one to tell us what to do or how to think or how to feel. Our tribes may be enemies, but that doesn’t mean we should be.”

“And what if they know what’s going on with us?”

“Nobody needs to know. Why should they? They only hold us back and think harshly of us.”

“Yeah,” Emmy responds. “You are right! Zach, on this day, I form a pact with you and pledge to have your back, no matter what.”

“As will I,” he responds, locking his paws with Emmy’s hooves. They face each other, staring into their eyes and smiling, remaining sheltered in the cave.

#tribal furs #tribal #fursona #Fox #zach #emmy #warthog #OC

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h-sleepingirl · 5 years

Text

Scenes from a Hypnotic (Tenth) Date

I was thinking about change a lot, recently, thinking about the concept of change as one of my biggest fetishes; being changed, altered against my will by someone powerful, small and imperceptible changes shaping me over time, and big, broad changes proving to me that I'm malleable and weak.

And then, also, there are the changes that happen over the normal course of intimate relationships.

He asked me, recently, what changes I feel I've gone through as a result of all the nasty brainwashing that we do, and I found myself asserting that there were many, but couldn't really specifically name them. There is so much overlap of the things that we play with and the natural progression of partners. The highs and lows of addiction are the highs and lows of a long distance relationship. The intense, mind melting, gripping desire is the desire of someone in the throes of new relationship energy. Et cetera.

Although, we did also have a conversation where he suggested that I'd continue second guessing myself on who is responsible for phenomena like this in my head, so here we are. Although I'm inclined to think that a lot of these things are not hypnotic, perhaps that proves that they are. That leaves me uncomfortably ambiguous about the whole thing. ("How very Ericksonian of you.")

But it has now been a little more than a year since we've been dating, and of course things have changed, no matter whose fault they are.

Something that has certainly been shifting is the fervor with which I have been missing him over the two months since we last saw each other. I have felt really fragile about it, more tender in a way that has been a little alarming to someone like me who fears emotional commitment, and, ironically, change.

Sometimes I wonder if fetishizing coerced change has roots in my discomfort with the concept -- I am, after all, more turned on when I'm uncomfortable.

So in some ways, I was already eroticizing the pain of missing him, not to the point of masturbating over it, but certainly to the point of telling him, repeatedly, "I'm totally screwed" instead of, "I miss you." Feeling like a broken record, stubbornly and futilely being vague about why.

Something had changed, and I was at a loss on who to blame.

I pick him up from the train station too early for us to check in to our hotel, so the plan is to get lunch, catch up a bit, and then at 3pm on the nose I assume I will break down and start begging, or something. He doesn't know that part of the plan, yet.

"We're back in the same town again," he remarks as we walk into the restaurant, then points out the window across the street. "There's the deli that we got lunch at that one time. Down there is where we got breakfast. The other hotel is down that street."

"Yeah," I say. "It's kind of crazy, how much we're getting to know this place."

Over the past year, more than half of our dates have been here, initially out of convenience, and today, the main street is busy and warm, bathed in the inviting spring sunlight. I'm sort of grateful that we're exploring the streets that we usually just drive through.

In the middle of lunch, halfway through my burger, I really look at him while he's talking as he does and just smile at the simple truth -- we're in the same place; he's right in front of me.

"Shall we walk a bit?" he says when we've finished. "It's nice outside."

"Sure," I say.

"Really, what I want is to take you to a hotel," he says quietly, shamelessly, as we step out onto the main street. I make a sort of strangled sound, and then promptly put on a normal face and casual laugh as we pass people.

We walk a bit and look at the shops, until we get to sort of the edge of the main drag, and he motions to a bench on the sidewalk. I sit at his invitation, and so does he, wrapping his arm around me and leaning in.

Honestly, this is more PDA than I'm used to or comfortable with, but it has been so long since we have been able to do this that I shove all of that down. The bench is facing away from the street, anyways, and all the shops here are closed, so there are very few people ever passing by, and mostly none.

I am grateful for my sunglasses when he casually touches my forehead and my eyes flutter, too panicked to really go deep, focused on keeping my body upright and normal-looking. Speaking softly to me. Waking me up. I shift and laugh nervously, look at him, look away.

It's as natural as anything for him, and I marvel at that. My body betrays me when he gently rubs at the exposed skin on my shoulder; strong, intense desire, and my mind betrays my when he cups my chin and everything melts before I can stop it. Every part of me goes soft in his hands as he gently moves my head, and I go deep so fast that there is no way to have kept myself up.

I am at his whim, in the gentle breeze and the sun on the sidewalk in the city that we keep finding ourselves in together.

When we first arrive at the hotel, I am almost OK with having waited two months, because we are both so fucking keyed up. If we were normal people, we would have immediately started making out, but we are who we are and we do what we do, so I look up at him, trying pitifully to keep a calm face, and he looks at me in a way that says he sees right through it, and then we are doing trance.

I beg for it, even after I'm hypnotized. It hurts. It's harder than anything, even though I fantasized for months about being shameless and supplicant. But it turns him on, gets us going yet again.

His hands are running up and down my sides, down my thighs, under my breasts. My body is so responsive, his touch and his whispered words of control are turning me on so much that it's actually painful. I can't do anything but tremble and shake against him, eyes rolled up, head tilted back, mouth open.

He's going right for the awful stuff, not even really hesitating before twisting me around his finger with talk of making me an even more pathetic girl, just to suit his desire in this moment. How much that would ruin me, since I can't escape it, since I'm so tuned and addicted to it, how I'm actually helpless, how I'm actually under his control even more than I thought. It all cuts deep in the way that I need it, and he points that out to me too, that I am seriously at risk.

A finger snap and I blink awake yet again, breathing heavy, pressing desperately against him.

"Aw," he coos, patronizing. "Did you get your little abuse fantasy?"

My throat locks up and I grip at his shirt, unable to speak through the shame as he grins, wickedly.

"What I find amazing," he murmurs to me as we are still entwined on the bed, "is how instantly I can change your emotions. That's real control for me."

I have passed the point of having reasonable reactions; that word, 'control', makes me so hot I can't even stand it, and his suggestion of how complete it is hits deep inside my cunt.

"For example," he says darkly, "be scared."

Fear grips me, instantly, grounded hard in the reality that I may be in over my head at this point. The very nature of him being able to say a few words to fundamentally change me, that I've foolishly let him in so far... It's frightening, but my body is still responding to him.

"It's like a nightmare," he whispers. "There is something genuinely terrifying about it, and yet you still can't help but find that erotic, and the fact that you are so deeply turned on by it is even more disturbing, betrayed by your body..."

It's much, much worse to be so scared, paralyzed by it while a part of me is greedy for more of his words. The contrast and the feedback loop, frightened of my arousal, turned on by my fear.

He knows exactly how to play with it, to edge me against it and take advantage of the weakness before releasing me from it.

"It is so instant," he marvels.

"I know," I breathe. "It's insane. I never thought it could be so fast."

"I know," he says, gleeful. "I can make you do tricks."

My face screws up at how cheap that makes me seem.

"Yeah, that's awful, isn't it?" he grins, reading my mind. "Very objectifying. Watch: sit up."

Body responds.

"Hands behind your head."

Body responds.

I'm looking at him, pleading with my eyes not to make it so humiliating.

"Bark."

"Ruff!" It comes out faster than I can stop it, and I cringe -- he knows I dislike being a puppy.

"Bark, but be happy about it."

"Arf!" A smile spreads across my face and I look adoringly at him, even pant for a moment, suddenly thrilled.

"So good," he says, grinning back at me. "You can be normal again."

As soon as the spell is broken, I bring my hands to cover my face and groan.

"I know, you hate puppy stuff," he says. "I don't do it because I like seeing you bark."

My heart pounds. I know why he does it.

He does it for the control.

It's why I do it, too.

I look up at him, without even a moment to have a breather from his words, dazed.

"Oh, you don't look like you're at 100% right now," he says, a callback to something else we've played with before.

"Maybe 70%," I say.

"I was gonna guess 70," he agrees. "So, 50%."

Immediately everything slows down -- it's not exactly trance, although it is trancey; it's more my ability to function, and everything that goes along with that.

"Oh, yeah," he says, gratified at the look.

My head swims and I just blink slowly at him as he talks at me, much over my head, key ideas of how thrilled he is with my softness and weakness to him getting through.

"You know," he says, "It is hard to have a conversation with you without changing you."

Dulled as I am, it feels like I've been punched in the gut by that.

"Yeah. Go ahead and process that one."

What a thing to say to someone, how bizarrely romantic, how exactly what I've always wanted to hear. Objectifying me as something constantly tempting. Catnip for brainwashing. The casualness, as though changing me is as easy as talking for him.

It is so much.

"Why don't you come back to 100% to process that," he says, and I gasp at the sudden shock of it.

"That's a lot," I whisper finally.

"I know," he says. "I just say the worst shit to you, like, honestly."

"It's so good," I say, and I mean it. "It's honestly the best."

"I know." He stretches and leans back, and I curl up against him. "I just... I don't worry about my inhibitions anymore. I don't have to be careful. I can just go on whim, change you, fuck with you however I want..."

"This conversation sucks," I say, like a warning, my voice high and thin.

"Does it?" he asks, feigning surprise. "Why don't you be happy about it."

An artificial feeling of glee wipes through me and I smile up and him and say, "Okay!"

"Okay!" he echoes back at me. "Be happy about being happy."

That feeling of falsehood is washed away immediately by blind joy, overshadowing everything as that becomes who I am, just a happy, carefree girl, smiling beatifically at him, not really good for much else...

"Oh," he says, turned on. "Oh, you just got dumb, didn't you?"

"Mmmm," I moan, and fit myself even more snugly against him.

"That's very nice," he murmurs, taking advantage of my closeness to run a hand down my back, over my ass, making me squeal and rub against him.

He touches and talks to me leisurely, talking down to me about the relationship between being dumb and horny and happy. I'm losing more and more of my intelligence as I get more turned on.

At a certain point I notice dimly that when he talks to me, things change, like I get even hornier, even dumber, but I don't know why. I feel like I should know, but I just have no idea.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," I whisper to him, smiling. "I can't... keep up."

"Oh, yeah?" he says, delighted. "That's pretty dumb, to not even know why things are happening to you."

"Yeah," I grin, proud at how stupid I am, and he grins back at me, whispering more dirty truths into my head.

After a couple of hours of intense mindfucking, all that kind of desperate intimacy that couples get after a long absence, we need to do dinner… After fixing our respective mindsex-hair, which is absolutely a real thing.

He sits in front of me at the restaurant, grinning ear to ear, and proclaims, "I'm high."

I laugh and panic slightly at his choice of words, stealing quick glances to the tables beside us as though to say, no, it's not drugs, it's just fucked up hypnosis, uh...

But honestly, it's too loud to hear, so we have a lovely sort of privacy in plain sight. We look at the menu -- Spanish tapas, which I've never tried, and so he guides me a bit of what to look for, but mostly lets me choose.

We fall into easy conversation, about what we've done, about how happy we are, about food. Our dinner gets to us quickly and it is really incredible, partially made better by the company, but genuinely decadent. Pork belly and duck breast; thick cut, crusty bread and dipping oil. Food delights me, especially sharing food with the people I care about.

There is a magical quality to this too, like it is exactly what we both wanted and needed, this time to be drunk on each other, freely.

Late, late at night. Wrapped around his side, pressed against him as close as I can get, grinding myself into his hip, unashamed.

Dumb. Happy. Happy to be happy.

I feel intoxicated and out of control, but my stupid little bimbo brain is loving it. He's talking at me and I am moaning like I'm getting the best fuck of my life at his words.

"How does it feel?" he asks, dark and dangerous.

"Oh, it feels soooo good," I whine. "I'm -- I'm so stupid, I just want so much --"

"Yeah?" he says, talking down to me. "Tell me all about it."

At his request, I feel the floodgates in my head open, hugely hot to share all the filthy, slow thoughts twisting around in my addled brain. But there is something else...

"Ohmigod, like, you don't even know," I breathe in his ear, "It feels -- it's so good to be this dumb, feels just right; this is -- this is what I'm meant -- supposed to -- please -- I'm soooo horny, I just want to get dumber and dumber and dumber and..."

A very far off, distant sort of panic; too small to stop me but just enough for there to feel like a rising undercurrent... The nightmare from earlier; erotic horror at my uncharacteristic obscenity and blunt truth of it, so helpless to it.

All of my hidden desires, bubbling to the surface and babbling out of my mouth just as easy as breathing. Saying it is just making me hotter, deeper, dumber.

"Please," I moan, "Please, keep going... Use -- more -- please make me dumber, I want it so bad, please, I want, I want -- make me a bimbo forever, I want to be this dumb forever --"

"Oh, fuck," he groans, and it makes me so fucking horny -- he wants to ruin me forever, too.

I mean it. I fucking mean it. Every part of me is trying to entice him into it, rubbing my breasts into his side, breathing hot in his ear, because I am so serious -- that very stupid, very horny part of me would throw everything else away, and be so happy about it.

From the depths of me, something feels just barely noticeably wrong, but I am too dumb to care.

I keep begging, trying to be as pornographic as possible for him, trying to hit his buttons, make him satisfied. He's playing into it, telling me he'll give me what I want, how he'll do it, all the dark things about it and it just heats me up more until I am a total mess, ready to be changed completely, fear overshadowed by sheer desire.

When he wakes me up, it hits me like ice water; what I said, what I wanted so, so badly.

He can't actually take me away permanently, but if he could, I might have let him. It's a safe fantasy, but it didn't feel safe. Everything around it just proved more to me how different I become, how changed he really can make me.

On a whim.

Outside, in the rain, having a much-needed cigarette. Shaken, but looking at him with a small smile, thrilled.

We're quiet for a little bit, and then he says, grinning, gentle, teasing, but twisting the knife deeper: "'Forever.'"

Shame and dangerous desire floods me, threatens to weaken my knees.

"Oh my God," I say instead, flippant, and he laughs.

I wake up in the morning to the sound of him leaving to grab breakfast. He returns shortly after, and seeing me awake, crawls back into bed and touches my forehead, sending me spinning down.

Check out is not for a couple of hours, so we have all this time to ourselves: quiet, intimate time. All the desperation of the night behind us, left only with the softness and tiredness of each other's company, the feel of ourselves pressed against one another.

There is small conversion, moments of heat, and long minutes where we aren't saying or doing anything, just being held and looking at each other.

I'm feeling the pull of missing him again, already, even though I'll be with him for another six hours still. It brings me back to NEEHU and Charmed, the feeling of being in bed together there.

There is something I've wanted to say to him in these moments that I've been missing him, drawn out miserably over the last stretch of distance from each other.

His glasses aren't on, and I wonder how well he can see me, even so close to my face. He looks open, that same look of always reading me, constantly reading my mind, inviting me to share more than what I already am, that face that says, "I know you, I'm watching you, I'm listening to you."

I can't imagine what my face must look like right now.

I take one of his hands and place it over my heart so he can feel, a callback to Charmed.

"Oh, no," he says, softly. "Oh, you're so fucked."

I make a small noise and grip at him, look up at him one more time, burn into my head what this feels like, looks like, smells like, so I can remember it weeks and months and years from now.

"I love you," I say, finally, squeezing it out, painfully, because of course it hurts; it feels like defeat, in a way, but this is how I love him.

He breathes in a heavy, sharp breath, too slow to be a gasp, and he pulls me tight and says, "I love you," and we are quiet for a little while, just laying there.

A few minutes later, he says conspiratorially, "And now we know you're really brainwashed."

I grin a big wide smile, laugh, grateful for the break in mood.

"I was so good," he says. "I didn't Han Solo you. I waited to make a joke."

"I know," I say. "I really wondered if you were going to Han Solo me. I've been waiting like two months to say it..."

We fall back into our easy way with each other, in bed until we have to leave the hotel.

Breakfast/lunch is at a nearby diner, and we sit for hours talking shop, about his book, my book, classes we want to teach, the nature of what we do. For much of it, we are engaged deeply, sharing our expertise. For some of it, he is talking spiritedly himself about his own knowledge, while I sit happily to soak up and learn, going in and out of trance naturally just from hearing him.

We go to a park and sit outside for a bit, recapping the date, then decide to go back into town and find a bench.

I park the car on the street and we walk towards the center of town, passing the bench we sat on yesterday, and feeling how long ago that was. He wants to sit at one of the tables in the garden with the gazebo, overlooking the square, several restaurants that we've been to over the last year.

Despite having come here so many times, it feels like a liminal space, always traveling through, never just existing within.

“I'm tired of not touching you,” I say, and I go to sit next to him on the bench.

“I was just going to say the same.”

Arms around each other, I feel braver about the PDA somehow, tired and not really caring. I'm so exhausted that I really don't have much to say, so what little conversation we have is mostly one-sided, quiet talk about who we are, what we are.

Here and there, he looks at me in just the right way, or shifts his voice, or touches my forehead, and I crumble down.

“I miss you,” I say, after a moment, starting to tear up.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, seriously. “I miss you too. But, be happy.”

I laugh, genuinely, feel that zing, feel the sudden control of it.

“That's not fair,” I say, grinning.

“Right?” he says gleefully. “It's great. It is really so thrilling to control your emotions like that. I love fucking with them. But I only fuck with the ones that make you feel enchanted; they matter, but they're not the deeper ones. So, like, when you said the words, you knew they were real.”

Really, I am just as enchanted by his care as I am by his control.

It strikes me now that he is refusing the blame this time; he is refusing to let me have the easy way out -- I fell in love with him, and that was all me.

He brushes my hair out of my face, blown by the wind, and nonchalantly touches my forehead to take me down. He's quiet for a few moments, stroking my head, face, shoulders, so purposefully.

“Erickson said, ‘My voice will go with you,’ which is very powerful,” he murmurs, and I remember when he said it to me once before, another date, laying in bed in the morning, “And I'm saying that my touch will go with you. Almost indistinguishable from the breeze through your hair, that feels like my fingers; the warmth of the sun, you feel my touch and feel me spontaneously; that sense sometimes when you look out of the corner of your eye and you think you see something, except it's my touch, following you, barely noticed, but there…”

Even deep, even so emotionally tender, how he's echoing Erickson's words is not lost on me: ‘My voice is the voice of your parents; my voice in the wind…’

It just makes me feel it that much more intensely, how shared this love language is for us, how we truly communicate through the language of transformation, the language of hypnosis.

We are strange people doing a strange thing, but exactly where and when we are meant to be, constantly changing.

Destruction is the language of our sexuality, but the reality is that we are creative, we are constructive. These sides of us coexist, not as opposites, but inevitably entwined; I cannot beg to be destroyed permanently without being shown that I have capabilities beyond my wildest dreams.

Together, we learn, and we grow.

@hypnokinkwithmrdream

#my writing #hypnosis #hypnokink #holy fuck #4k words #so many milestones #so much that i didn't write

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inahazzze · 5 years

Text

Wayfaring Stranger

⭐ Please enjoy this fluffy meet cute one shot featuring AU poet dad!Harry and a bisexual singer OFC! It’s roughly 7.7k words. ⭐

***A/N: I’ve been working on this for a while and I’m really proud of it so I would super appreciate any likes/reblogs/asks/feedback about it!! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think :) x ***

Sav’s eyes are mostly shut against the blinding sun when she slows to a stop to catch a breath with her hands on her knees. After 45 straight minutes of running, the sound of her own heartbeat has started to compete with the electronic rock pumping through her headphones. She makes sure that she’s out of anyone’s way on the sidewalk and leans against a boarded in shop front to relieve her aching legs. She drinks deeply from her water bottle and holds one finger against her wrist in concentration. After a minute, she starts counting under her breath so that she doesn’t keep losing track of what she’s up to. Sav can usually complete this routine on autopilot, but this morning she can’t stop thinking about the text she received from Erin about two hours ago. Which is saying something that it’s taking up all her brainpower, as she hasn’t even read the text yet. She could only see the first line, which was enough to lead her brain to comprise every possible follow up to I’ve been thinking about sending this text for days. Sav wasn’t even meant to go for a run this morning, but it seemed like a better idea than walking circles around her apartment until she had to leave for the afternoon shift at work. Who texts their ex at 8am on a Friday morning?

It’s already been two hours since the text came in, so Sav decides to get it over with and finally read it before she chickens out. She pulls her phone out from her bra, cleans the screen against her leggings, and reluctantly opens the message.

I’ve been thinking about sending this text for days. I’m sorry for what I did. And for everything I said. I miss you.

It feels like her heart has been ripped out again. Right when she feels like she’s finally starting to move on and heal, Erin has to go and do this. All she can do is stare at the screen and try not to cry. Erin was the one who broke up with her two months ago and now she thinks she can just text and Sav will come running?

It’s at this point that Sav realises that there’s a man sitting only about a metre away, watching her with a slightly concerned expression. He’s wearing a grey newsboy cap and a striped white button up that’s undone to the length of a hanging cross necklace. Countless tattoos peek out from his pushed-up sleeves and his hands are adorned with large silver rings that reflect the sunlight. The man is leaning back against his chair, one hand around his phone and the other wrapped around a steaming cup of black coffee. Sav hadn’t even realised that she’d stopped next to a bustling cafe.

“Can I help you?” She asks him, only realising that she sounds a bit aggressive after she’s spoken. She hadn’t even registered that he was there, so she’s just a bit taken aback to notice that someone had been watching her.

When he smiles at her, it’s genuine and kind. “Are you alright?” He asks.

Sav immediately feels bad that she snapped at him and took her frustration about Erin out on this stranger.

“Yeah, um. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Don’t sound too convinced, if ‘m honest,” he says.

Sav doesn’t know what to say back, so she just looks back down at her phone as if it will give her any answers on what to do. She’s thinking about what to respond to Erin when she hears the man speak again.

“Are you Aussie?”

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I get it, I’m just a random guy on the street.”

“No, it’s all good. I’m just… I’m having a shit morning,” she says.

“I only ask ‘cause my daughter’s Aussie. Well, technically.”

“Oh,” Sav says with eyebrows raised. She didn’t think he looked old enough to have any children. “What do you mean technically?”

“Her mum’s Aussie. And she lives with her mum, so she’s been picking up all sorts of things from her.” Sav doesn’t miss that he casually slips in a comment about his daughter’s mother living separately to him. “She’s only visited Australia twice, but already fancies herself a real Aussie Sheila,” he says, badly mimicking a Crocodile Dundee sounding accent for the slang term.

Sav laughs and loosens up a bit, feeling slightly better about talking to this stranger. He’s nice, and their casual friendly chat is taking her mind off of Erin – even if only just a little. He seems harmless, and isn’t asking her anything inappropriate or invasive like men on the street usually do when they try to talk to her.

“I’m sure your daughter is a real Sheila if she sounds like… that.”

“Hey!” he says, drawing out the word. “Are you saying that my incredible impression of a very standard Australian accent isn’t a realistic one?”

“No, you’re right, it’s absolutely perfect.”

“That it is,” he says, clearly trying to keep a straight face. The subtle beginnings of dimples begin to peek out the sides of his mouth from under his blushing cheeks. You smile lightly and let your tense shoulders relax a little more.

“Um… do you wanna talk about it?” He asks after a moment in a slow drawl.

Sav hesitates a moment, unsure of whether she should open up to this virtual stranger. It usually takes her a while to trust people but for some reason she finds herself answering him honestly. Gesturing at her phone, Sav releases an unnecessarily dramatic shrug. “It’s just my ex, s’all.”

“Ah,” he nods in understanding. “Recent break-up?”

“Yeah, but I’m okay,” Sav says, unsure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. He waits patiently as she gathers her thoughts. “Been a few months. This morning she texted me out of nowhere.”

“Tough one, that,” he says with sincerity. Sav’s relieved that he didn’t make a comment or seem to react in any way to the she pronoun that she let slip. London’s a progressive city, but she always tries to be careful just in case. Sometimes people make a big deal about it and start to ask invasive questions, and other times people will very clearly show their surprise or disgust or arousal. The fact that he didn’t do any of those things makes her immediately more comfortable around him.

Sav is shocked out of her thoughts when a nearby bus honks at a passing car. She meets his eyes dead on, and notices how light they are. In overcast London, most people’s eyes look a standard brown until you really look. Today is sunny enough to show off how his are tinted a mossy green, like a dull blade of grass after a really hot day. She finds herself wondering how the colour changes based on the light. She wants to see him again solely to know if the green in his eyes will become brighter, or softer, or bluer.

“Did you want a coffee?” He asks, and she notices how smooth and soothing his northern accent is.

“Oh, I…” Sav looks down at her watch to see if she even has time before work to sit and have a coffee with him. She hadn’t realised how long she’d been running and it’s later than she meant to be out for. She’s considering saying yes, even if she’ll be forced to rush into work a bit late. He’s nice, cute and funny, and maybe this is exactly what Sav needs. But on the other hand, he is a complete stranger that she met on the street. He seems completely harmless and even told her about his daughter, but she can’t help but feel weird because she doesn’t know him. They’ve only had a short conversation, after all. And to top it all off, Sav is now more confused than ever since Erin’s text this morning, so she just wants to be alone to process and think. On a better day, she might have agreed.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, by the way,” he cuts in to her thoughts.

“I do, I just really ought to be getting home,” she says with her best attempt at a genuine smile. She tries to convey her thoughts to him but he breaks their eye contact.

“No worries, have a wonderful day, then,” he says with a finality that Sav doesn’t like. His voice isn’t cold, but it’s definitely more distant and polite than a minute before.

“You too,” Sav says as she starts to walk away.

“Wait,” she hears and spins around. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, right. It’s Sav.” She hadn’t even realised that they hadn’t introduced themselves.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sav. I’m Harry.” His warm smile returns for the briefest moment.

“Have a good one, Harry.”

Even though a part of her regrets rejecting his offer of coffee, Sav leaves feeling like her Friday morning has already drastically improved.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The Thursday afternoon set at the Barwon Lounge Club is never the most exciting one, but Sav still feels grateful that there are a handful of people here to listen to her music. She often prefers days like this to the busier weekend shows, even though she doesn’t get as many tips, because at least some people listen to her when it’s not so busy. It’s not that she blames people for talking over her - they came here to eat, drink and have music in the background. They didn’t come here specifically to see her. She accepted that a long time ago and considers it a part of the job. At least she can still do what she loves, unlike her bartending job where she pours beer for grumpy old men for hours.

It’s just Sav and her guitar on the tiny stage in the corner of the dining room, playing to a large open space filled with tables and couches. She plays Thursdays to Sundays, doing an alternating set of all the slow, low-key songs she knows. Her boss likes to remind her regularly how it’s most important that she blend into the background. She’s not there to entertain, but to fill silence.

She’s almost halfway through her standard set when she’s pulled out of her trance. Her eyes go wide in surprise when she sees Harry enter from across the room. Harry, who she’d met almost two weeks ago and has thought about countless times since. She doesn’t normally talk to strangers on the street and she definitely doesn’t usually think about them after their interaction. There was just something about him - he stuck in her head like a catchy song on the radio.

She’s frozen in place, forgetting to immediately transition to the next song. A few people eating lunch look over towards her, because nothing is as noticeable as absolute silence. When Harry meets Sav’s eyes, he breaks out into a wide smile. He’s wearing loose blue jeans and a black t-shirt, with his hair held back in the same newsboy cap she’d seen him wear on the day they met. He moves closer towards the stage to find a table to sit at, and once he’s closer Sav can see that he’s not alone. He’s holding the hand of a young girl, maybe four or five years old, with beautiful dark olive skin and rich chocolate curls atop her head. She’s hiding behind a chair that’s taller than her and looking up at her father with a furrowed brow, communicating something to him. He sighs and smiles at her, bending down on his knees to speak softly to her face-to-face. Sav can’t hear what he’s saying but notices the child nodding her head before pushing her curls into her father’s chest. Harry wraps his arms tightly around his daughter and peppers her with multiple quick kisses to her cheek.

At this point, Sav’s boss peeks his head around the corner and raises his eyebrows at her. She knows that he’ll tell her off if she doesn’t restart soon, so she gathers herself with a deep breath and tries not to think about Harry now being here. She clears her throat and spontaneously decides to play a song that she wasn’t planning on doing today. Eva Cassidy’s Wayfaring Stranger is one of her favourites, plus it’s one of her most polished songs vocally. It wasn’t necessarily for Harry, but it was a little bit because of him. When she sang the song in a set last week, she was thinking about him as her wayfaring stranger, who she’d probably never see again. In a city as big as London, it didn’t seem all that likely. The lyrics of the song aren’t at all reminiscent of their first run-in a few weeks ago, but for some reason the song is now connected to him. It was a passing thought that has been growing in her mind like a vine since.

As she gets into the song, Sav closes her eyes and forgets she has an audience. That often happens when she sings her favourite songs; the ones she knows like the back of her hand and doesn’t need to think about while singing them. It takes her somewhere that she can’t explain, and the music flows through her as if it’s yearning to be heard of its own accord. When she sings, she goes to a place that she can’t get to while doing anything else. It’s a place somewhere outside of herself – somewhere peaceful and powerful all at the same time. When she sings, she feels free and like the truest version of herself.

As the song comes to a close, she slowly opens her eyes to a smattering of applause that brings her back into the real world. The most enthusiastic applause is coming from Harry and his daughter, which makes her smile. It’s the most applause she’s gotten by far today, and it makes all the difference in the world. Sav’s boss peeks his head back into her view and holds up one outstretched hand at her to signal that she has a 5 minute-break now. She usually gets one roughly halfway through her set so that she can go to the bathroom, or get some fresh air. Sav nods at her boss as she places her guitar into its stand and reaches for her water bottle with the other hand.

Glancing back up, she notices that Harry’s staring at her with a focused intensity. Even as his daughter bounces up and down in her seat and tugs at his sleeve, he’s watching Sav with a look she didn’t see when they first met. The look is strangely intimate and vulnerable, and she feels like in this moment he can see straight through her. See everything that she is, has been, and wants to be. She doesn’t know what look she’s giving back to him, but she knows that she certainly wouldn’t say no if he asked her to have coffee with him again.

Harry gets up from his seat and holds his daughter’s hand securely as he helps her jump out of the chair like it’s a game. They start walking towards Sav, leaving their things at the table because it’s that kind of venue.

“That was amazing!” The young girl says enthusiastically, drawing out the word amazing for as long as she can hold her breath.

Sav smiles widely at the bouncing child. “Thank you very much young lady. What’s your name?”

She pokes Harry’s leg incessantly. “Daddy, she sounds like Mummy.”

“That’s right, sweets. She’s Australian too,” he says to her in a gentle voice.

“Ooh!” She says while jumping up and down. “What’s your favourite animal?”

Sav giggles a little and Harry emits something in between a sigh and a laugh. “Love, the nice woman asked you what your name is, will you tell her?”

“I’m Asha,” she sounds out proudly.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Asha, I’m Sav. And my favourite animal is definitely dogs.”

Harry shows off his dimples when she responds to his daughter with ease. She clearly knows how to speak to children without talking down to them, and this fact warms Harry’s heart even more than her singing did.

“I love dogs.” Asha beams. “My favourite animals are elephants.” She says the word like ewephants, and Sav has to restrain herself from vocalising how cute the gorgeous girl in front of her is.

“I bet they’re like this big,” Asha continues, stretching her arms to her sides as far as they’ll go and throwing her head back.

Harry and Sav chuckle and share a quick look of adoration for the child.

“Would you believe that they’re even bigger than that!” He says to her, eliciting a gasp.

“Even bigger than-“ She nudges Harry’s arms up until he plays along and stretches his arms out to his sides too. “-That?” He nods seriously and she drops her jaw open in dramatic shock. They all giggle, and Sav is reminded of why she loves children.

“By the way, Asha’s right.” Harry says after a moment. “That was really incredible, Sav.”

“You remember my name,” she reflexively voices her first thought.

“Course I do,” he says with a furrowed brow. She likes how he displays his emotions clearly on his face. “Couldn’t forget you,” he says a little softer.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Asha says with a masterful pout.

“I’m gonna go order now for you, sweets. Chicken fingers?” He asks her with raised eyebrows, clearly unsurprised by the animated response he gets from his daughter.

“I need to go finish my set anyway,” Sav tells him, shifting a bit to pick up her guitar.

“I’ll see you again after, yeah?” He says. She nods, and he takes Asha back to their table.

For the rest of her set, Sav has to force herself to not keep staring at Harry. He’s also trying to avoid looking over at her too much, but is grateful that he can always hear her voice even if he can’t watch her. He cuts up his daughter’s food and asks her about this morning’s lessons at school, but has one ear trained on Sav’s music all the while. He’s entranced by her voice, even just her presence, and wants to take up this opportunity to make sure that he gets to see her again.

At the end of her set, she slowly packs up her things and thinks about whether she should go over to speak to Harry again or see if he comes to her. Luckily, he waves her over before she loses her nerve and heads home.

“Again, that was amazing,” he says as soon as she walks up. He stands and takes a step away from the table, where Asha is engrossed in colouring an ocean landscape with crayons.

“Thanks,” she says, not knowing what else to say.

“Did you- um. Did you want to grab coffee?” Harry asks.

“Now?”

“No, uh. I’ve got Asha today, so it’ll have to be another time. What are you doing tomorrow? Oh wait- you didn’t even say yes yet, did you-”

“I’d love to get coffee with you, Harry,” Sav cuts into his anxious rambling with a smile. “I’ve got another set here tomorrow though, then I bartend afterwards, so I can’t in the day.” His face begins to drop until she quickly clarifies what she was insinuating. “But I’m not working the night shift.”

She’s rewarded with the brightest smile he’s shown her yet. “Can I- I know we don’t really know each other, but I’d love for that to change. Can I make you dinner?”

A smile creeps on to Sav’s face. “It’s a date.”

Harry heaves an audible sigh of relief and puts his hands into his pockets. “It’s supposed to be a nice evening tomorrow night, so how do you feel about a picnic in the park?” He looks down and blushes. “I’d really like to cook for you.”

“That sounds really lovely,” She replies softly, silently relieved that he doesn’t want to take her to a fancy restaurant. She never feels like she belongs in really upscale places and always manages to embarrass herself somehow.

“It’s a date,” he repeats her phrasing with a broad grin. She can’t believe this is happening. She’s not just going on a date – she’s going on one with a man she’s been thinking about for weeks but thought she’d never see again.

They agree to meet at a park nearby at 6pm the next evening, and Harry gives her his phone number in case she’s running late from work or has any issues finding him. He then needs to take Asha home for a nap, so he gives her one last bright smile before saying goodbye and leaving.

Sav makes her way to the bathroom to hide from her boss and jumps up and down with giddy, childlike joy at what just happened. She’s going on a date with a cute boy and she couldn’t be happier. She knows that there’s no guarantee for how it will go, but something inside of her says that it will go well. She just has a good feeling about it. And about him.

She sits down on the closed toilet seat, thinking about how long it’s been since she’s been on a date. That’s when she remembers that she never responded to Erin’s text from two weeks ago. She kept putting it off but never knew what to say, so she just said nothing.

Sav takes out her phone and decides that seeing Harry again was a sign. She texts Erin one last time, and it feels so good.

I’m moving on, Erin. And so should you.

There’s a larger audience for Sav’s set the next day, but it feels like something’s missing without Harry in the audience. After she saw him again yesterday, he became all she could think about. She felt a bit silly about it as she’d only met him twice, but truthfully she was just relieved that she was no longer thinking about Erin. She replayed all their interactions, thought about his smile and his kind eyes, and how he looked at her when he watched her sing. She thought about his gorgeous daughter and how he looked like such a good dad even though he must’ve had her at a fairly young age. She thought about how he remembered her name and said that he could never forget her, and how excited he looked when she agreed to go out with him.

It’s lucky that Sav knows the music of her set so well, because she’s so distracted thinking about the date that she’s mostly running on autopilot. Her brain is so jam-packed with thoughts about tonight’s date that she almost misses Harry in the back of the room, watching her set.

“How long have you been here?” She asks when she’s finished and able to approach him.

“Not that long. Didn’t know when you started so I thought I’d try a bit earlier than I was here yesterday.”

She’s absolutely dumbfounded that he’s standing before her. “You came back.”

“I did.” He’s blushing a little. “I wanted to hear you sing again.”

“Oh,” she lets out in a heavy breath. “That’s… no one’s ever done something like that before.”

“Really?” She thinks he might be sarcastic at first, but he’s genuinely surprised. “Your voice is… it blew me away. Plus, I like you,” he says, his cheeks reddening even more.

He’s laying it on thick and Sav doesn’t know how to react. No one has ever been this forthcoming and complimentary to her before. She opens her mouth to respond but can’t think of a single thing to say.

“I hope this is okay- me coming back. It’s only just occurring to me that it might look a little creepy,” he says, holding his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb.

“No, it’s not creepy,” she says quickly to ease his mind. Her mind is still spinning that he just said plus, I like you. He added it on so casually. “Um. Tonight- do you still want to…?”

“Yeah, course I still want to go out with you tonight, that very much has not changed – uh, has it for you?” A dash of panic flickers over his previously confident expression.

“I still want to,” she assures him.

“Plus, I realised that I forgot to ask you – do you have any allergies or food preferences?” He says, slightly startled when Sav laughs at him instead of responding.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, that’s just – you’re really thoughtful. It’s a good laugh, I promise.” He smiles sheepishly, and the expression shows off just how much his daughter looks like him. “I’m vegetarian, actually. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great, I’m glad I checked!” His enthusiasm also mirrors his daughter’s, even though he’s obviously a fully-grown man. “Alright then!” He claps his hands a little too loudly, and a few patrons look at them. Sav pretends that she doesn’t see her boss watching them from behind the bar.

“I should really be getting back to work.” She says, unsure of how to say goodbye when they’re meeting again in a few hours.

“Course, just – should I pick you up? Want to be a perfect gentleman,” he says with a cheeky smirk and a comical gesture as if he’s tipping his hat at her. “But we can meet there if you’d rather.”

Sav blinks up at him in disbelief. He’s really thought of everything, and impressed her more than she thought a man could at this point in her life, and the date hasn’t even started yet.

“Meeting there is good,” she manages to say. “Six still fine?” That gives her enough time to get ready after work and still enjoy a few good hours of sunlight with Harry in the park. She’s more excited than she’s been for something in a long time, and her ex is out of her mind completely for the first time since their split. It couldn’t be better.

“Perfect.”

Even though Sav had thought about it all day, she hadn’t managed to decide on what to wear to the date by the time she got back to her apartment. She didn’t have time to dawdle, but still managed to try on eight outfits before settling on skinny jeans and a flowery blouse. She wanted to strike a delicate balance between casual and dressed up to look good on her first date in a while. Even though Harry’s already seen her today, Sav feels pressure to leave a positive first impression tonight.

She doesn’t live too far from the park they’d arranged to meet at, so she decides to walk the half hour to ease her nerves. Fingers dancing in her pockets to let out some anxious energy, her mind fills with every possible scenario of how the date might go. She’s excited but worried that she’ll somehow ruin it or do something to scare Harry away. It’s a good thing she arrives when she does, because her worries start to spiral and lead her to the assumption that the date’s going to go wrong for one reason or another. She enters the park a few minutes early to find Harry standing next to a small fountain in the centre of the green. He’s doing something on his phone but puts it away as soon as he sees her.

“You look beautiful,” He says with a genuine smile once she’s within hearing distance. She mumbles a thank you and stumbles over her words until she tells him that he looks nice as well. She has a feeling that he’d look nice no matter what he wore, but finds him particularly attractive tonight. He’s changed his outfit from earlier today too, and is now wearing tight-fitted black trousers with a slightly unbuttoned silken white blouse. The shirt is a bit see-through, so she can tell that he’s inked much more than she thought. She hadn’t previously noticed what look like two birds on his chest, and all she wants to do is brush his silken shirt aside so that she can properly admire them. A small tuft of chest hair peeks out at her from between a few parted buttons, and she has to tear her mind away from thinking too much about what he’d look like without any buttons done up.

“Great, shall we find somewhere to sit then?” He asks, reaching down to pick up a picnic basket and blanket that Sav hadn’t noticed. As he leans down, she’s suddenly extremely grateful to whoever perfectly tailored his trousers. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, and desperately wills her mind and body to behave.

“Over by that tree looks nice, don’t you think?” He suggests and begins to lead them through the park. He sets up the blanket in an unoccupied shaded area and offers her the first choice of seating.

“I cut up some fruit and made some vegetarian quiche for us,” he says. “Hope that’s alright.”

She raises her eyebrows, already impressed by the effort he’s put into their evening. “Quiche? Damn, sounds fancy.”

“What, have you never had it before?” He’s clearly shocked.

“Should I have?”

“Well I guess there’s a first time for everything,” bringing out the smirk she’d seen glimpses of before. Harry serves her a piece of quiche on a plastic plate and leaves a small platter of fruit in between for them to pick at. She takes a bite, only a little self-conscious that he’s watching her intently.

“So?”

“It’s… terrible. Inedible. I think I’m getting food poisoning, actually.”

His face drops for only the slightest moment before he rolls his eyes and bites his bottom lip with a smile. He tries to act annoyed but Sav can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. “Very funny.”

“I think you might have to take me to the hospital, now that I think of it.” Sav presses both arms across her stomach in a dramatic gesture and almost loses her composure in the process.

“Oh, stop it,” he laughs, trying to swat at her folded arms as she pulls away giggling.

When their laugher dies down, she takes another bite of the quiche and reassures him. “Being serious, though? It’s delicious. Thank you for making it, it’s really sweet of you.”

Harry looks down at his lap and blushes, clearly pleased that his effort has paid off with both banter and a genuine compliment. As they eat, Sav asks Harry about Asha and mentions how sweet and well mannered she was yesterday. He brightens up immediately at the sound of her name and Sav feels her heart flutter in her chest. He tells her about how his daughter is joyous, funny, loveable, cheeky and thoughtful.

He tells her a story about one time that Asha broke out into Man, I Feel Like A Woman at the top of her lungs in a supermarket even though she didn’t know any words beside the title line. This somehow morphs into Harry telling her another story about how Asha believed she could speak Italian by merely putting on an imitation of the accent when they travelled to Italy for a holiday last summer.

“Sounds like you already have plenty of material to embarrass her with when she’s older,” Sav says, grinning ear to ear.

“Gotta collect ‘em early, I hear,” he says. “To blackmail her as a teenager.” They both devolve into a fit of giggles and exchange blushing smiles back at the other. A few moments of comfortable silence pass with mouths full of watermelon and berries before Harry speaks with a completely different tone of voice.

“You know…” He’s a little hesitant and takes his time. “Sometimes I think that Asha’s the one true love of my life.” Sav just about melts.

Before long, their natural rapport eases her completely into Harry’s company. She unconsciously leans against the scratchy picnic blanket with one wrist and gives Harry her full, undivided attention. He asks her about how she started working at the Barwon Lounge Club, and compliments her again on her voice and guitar skills. She doesn’t know how to react to the repeated compliment and instead changes the subject to ask how he found himself in her workplace with his daughter on a weekday afternoon.

“So, were you stalking me or something?” Sav playfully asks, trying her hand at initiating some light flirtation.

He laughs but answers seriously. “Just a happy accident, m’afraid.”

“Happy indeed,” Sav says, looking down at her empty plate. She thinks about how this is going so much better than she’d even let herself hope.

“She’s usually in reception at that time on a Thursday, but I had to take her for a dentist appointment next door. And then she was suddenly hungry, and I wanted to hear where the beautiful voice was coming from.”

She wants to tell him off again for his sneaky compliment but lets it slide because she’s secretly enjoying it. Then she realises that he’d mentioned a word she’s unfamiliar with. “Sorry, what’s reception?”

“Oh, it’s like kindergarten, or kindy I think it’s called in Australia, right?”

“Course, I should’a guessed that.” She says. “Yeah, it’s kindy. We basically call everything a shortened nickname of the actual word.”

“Yeah, I’ve certainly noticed that. Asha likes to pick up some of them that her mum says, like ‘footy’ instead of football, and she’s started asking for a ‘biccy’ when she wants a biscuit.”

Sav laughs. “Now that’s someone who speaks my language.”

“It’s pretty cute, I’ll admit,” he says with a grin.

“I’ve been in London long enough that I should really know all the lingo by now, but I keep finding that I obviously know nothing.”

“How long’ve you been here?” He asks.

“Two years. Was living in Scotland for a few years before that, though.”

He whistles in response as if he’s impressed. “I love a worldly woman,” he says, and somehow makes it sound sweet instead of weird or creepy.

They spend the next hour talking about the places they’ve lived and travelled, and all of the places that they want to go to next. Sav tells Harry about how she hiked through Spain and stayed in strangers’ homes each night before continuing on. Harry tells her about the time that he got drunk in France and woke up in Belgium. They talk about how much they both love Japan and how they’d both love to do a coast-to-coast road trip of the US. They each manage to eat two pieces of quiche and a sizable amount of fruit while they chat. He’s so enamoured by her presence that he almost misses her pre-emptively, even though the date hasn’t ended.

“Wait,” Sav says suddenly. “I don’t even know what you do, how have I not asked you that yet?”

“Oh, well, I’m a writer.”

“What kind?” She’s not surprised – he seems like the type.

“I write poetry,” he says with a blush. “’And I teach at a college a few days a week.” Sav is about to respond when he continues. “’Ve got a few poetry collections out.”

“Harry!” She says, lightly hitting the side of his arm. “That’s amazing!” His cheeks redden even more but she can tell that he’s pleased by her reaction. “Would you… could you read some of your poems to me?”

He thinks on this request for a moment before coming up with an idea. “I will if you’ll sing to me again.”

“What? Now?” She’s sure it’s a joke, but he looks deadly serious.

“One sec, I’ll be right back.” Harry pushes himself up hurriedly, running back towards the street and leaving Sav confused and unsure of what to do or think. What’s he up to?

A few minutes later, he comes back in sight with a large case slung over his shoulder. He sits down and opens it to remove an old wooden acoustic guitar. There are a few handwritten notes and stickers along the body, including a haphazardly stuck-on rainbow and the words Black Lives Matter.

“Where did that come from?” Sav asks, taken aback. He only smirks at her, placing the guitar in his lap and making sure it’s in tune.

“Would it make you feel better if I sang with you?”

“You can sing?”

“I… yeah.”

Sav agrees only because she wants to hear what his voice sounds like. “You’ve got a deal.” She reaches out for his hand to shake on it, mostly as an excuse to touch him. He’s very warm to the touch, and his skin is soft as butter. Only his fingertips are rough against her skin, and their hands feel instantly comfortable and right together.

He clears his throat and regretfully draws his hand away from hers and instead towards the resting guitar. “Can we do a Fleetwood Mac song?” He asks, already knowing that she’s familiar as he’d heard her play three of their songs during her set at work. He thinks on it for a moment and she waits patiently. “Do you know the lyrics to Gold Dust Woman?”

“Course I do,” she says. “Who do you think I am?” He chuckles and holds his hands up in front of him as if to plead his innocence. She takes a sip from her water bottle and is suddenly nervous. It was one thing when she was doing her job and on a stage – it was only a small stage, but still. This is intimate and personal.

Harry begins to play, and Sav quickly looks around them to check that there’s no one too close by. There are two or three lingering passers-by who may be able to hear but none of them seem to care about Harry’s playing. One has headphones in and the other two are distracted on their phones. It’s nerve-wracking to unexpectedly sing in a public park, on a first date no less, but Sav also finds it kind of exhilarating.

She misses her initial cue because she’s so nervous, so Harry loops the intro chords until she’s ready. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the pleasantly hypnotising lyrics and music. Harry lets her get comfortable in the song and joins for the harmony in the chorus. And Sav isn’t ready.

His voice is like soft leather, or dark chocolate melting on your tongue. It’s like the feeling of someone’s hands playing with your hair, right at the moment when it sends tingles down your spine. It’s like dripping silver, or a feather on skin, or a fresh breath of wintry air after a long summer.

She stutters to a stop in shock but he continues, and she’s grateful because all she wants to do is listen to him endlessly. She can see his hesitation and his reddened ears, so she jumps back into the song as soon as she can gather herself together. She leaves him to tackle the second verse alone as she sung the first, and she’s entranced by how beautiful it is. She’s truly enamoured with his voice and this date and… him.

When they finish, they share a long look before Sav suddenly speaks. “Um, excuse me?”

“What?” He’s surprised by her slightly aggressive tone after what just happened.

“You were complimenting my voice when you can sing like that?”

“Well thanks, but I’m nowhere near as good as you-“

“You’re delusional then.” She puts on an exaggerated pout. “You’re next-level good. I bet you’re one of those people that’s just naturally great at everything.” She picks up her water bottle again and hides behind it by taking a long sip.

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head. “I’m not good at asking you out for another date.” Sav almost chokes on the water. “I’ve been meaning to for a little while and haven’t had the guts.”

She’s now fighting a huge smile, not wanting to give away just how much she wants to squeal in delight at the shameless flirting.

“Smooth,” she says, trying to play it as cool as she can. “But you haven’t held up your part of the bargain yet.” He scrunches up his eyebrows before remembering that he agreed to read some of his poetry in exchange for the song.

“I better get to it then,” he says with a smirk and rummages through his backpack. He pulls out a very worn brown leather notebook, held closed by two long strings that have been wrapped loosely around the book and tucked into itself. It’s covered in what Sav assumes is his own doodling and graffiti – it doesn’t look like the kind drawn by a young child Asha’s age. The words one and only are scribbled carelessly along most of the spine.

Harry takes a minute to decide which poem to share with Sav. He eventually decides on one and she curls her knees into her body, getting comfortable to give Harry her full attention as he reads. He takes a deep breath and slips right back into the gossamer tone of his singing voice to read his poetry.

“This one’s called Woman,” he mumbles, and then begins.

I’m selfish, I know. but I don’t ever want to see

you with him.

I’m selfish, I know. I told you but I know

you’ll never listen.

I hope you can see the shape that I’m in, while he’s touching

your skin.

he’s right where I should- (where I should be)

but you’re making me bleed. woman

I’m tempted, you know. apologies

are never going to fix this.

I’m empty, I know.

promises are broken like the stitches

I hope you can see the shape I’ve been in. while he’s touching

your skin

this thing upon me, it howls

like a beast.

you flower you feast. woman

When he finishes, something new and palpable hangs between them. It’s not that anything has changed – but an unspoken bond settles into place between them. They’ve shared parts of each other that are unreachable through mere conversation and rarely exchanged on a first date. Either could comfortably say that it’s the best first date they’ve ever had, and possibly would ever have.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Sav whispers. It seems appropriate to only whisper after that. She looks into his light green eyes, trying to convey to him how his poem made her feel. How she can’t quite put it into words but she can put it into feelings. He stares back at her just as intensely, sensing her warmth and gratitude and understanding.

“So would you like to go on a second date with me, then?” Harry says, resting his palm on the picnic blanket close to her knee. He leans his body forward and she unconsciously mirrors him.

“I’d like that,” Sav breathes out. She’s staring at his lips, and wondering how they’re naturally almost the colour of raspberries. She’s slowly leaning towards him with quickening breath, unable to stop the magnetising pull of her body to his. He’s leaning into her too, and moves his hand even closer until he brushes her knee with the back of his thumb. Her whole body erupts in tingles at the unexpected touch – and she’s certain that her goosebumps are visible – but she doesn’t dare look away from him. Harry licks his lips under her gaze and they’re left parted and slightly glistening. She’s now close enough to see every line, pore, and stubble hair on his face, and she wishes she could study him from this distance for hours. Maybe she’ll get to one day, but for now, there’s only one thing on her mind.

The moment their mouths meet, they seem to melt into each other entirely. She’s immediately overwhelmed with how he tastes sweet like watermelon along with something musky and deep that she can’t describe. He can’t believe how soft she feels against his lips, like he’s brushing up against pure silk. He moves his hand up to rest against her cheek, and caresses his pinky finger against the sensitive underside of her jawbone. She lets out a light moan at the feeling, widening her lips to allow Harry to deepen the kiss. She feels entirely lost in her senses and the feeling of him everywhere.

Their tongues touch and set both Sav and Harry’s skin alight. They both forget where they are and become utterly lost in one another. He’s dizzy with her scent of jasmine and taste of berries, and wishes he could bottle it up and take it with him everywhere. He’s never felt so worked up from just a kiss, no less a first kiss – not to mention they’re in public. It’s like he can feel every nerve ending screaming out for her.

She’s so desperate to feel him as close as can be that she finds herself cupping his cheeks as well, pressing her mouth into him passionately. It’s definitely too lewd for a public park, but neither of them care anymore. She can feel the hard muscles of his jaw flex under her palms and her back arches a bit at the thought of everywhere she wants him to kiss her. She starts emitting light moans that only he can hear, and she can feel the vibration of a growl wanting to form in the back of his throat.

Eventually, they break apart to come up for air, but still remain almost touching. They’re both breathless and eyeing the other with heavy lids that suggest their arousal. Harry takes in her state and is pleased that she’s just as worked up as him.

He smirks, showing off his dimples. “Can the second date be now?”

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