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raelyn-dreams · 8 months

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Hi hi!! Did you read the valkyrie climax event? What are your thoughts on it? Do you think it was a good development for Valkyrie as a unit (and for shumika)? 🤔

Hi!!! It's lovely to see you again :)

So originally this post started off with a Le temps des fleurs analysis...that got so long that rather than subject everyone to a five page post, I've decided I'll post separately in the future lol.

But yes, I have read through Raison D'etre! To be honest, I don't think this post will be able to sum up all my thoughts, but I'll try to hit the important parts!

I feel that first I need to define what, to me, makes a good climax event. A good climax event, by my personal definition, ties up loose threads of the current storyline, addresses built-up conflicts with good pacing and in-character reactions, and resolves the current story thread of the unit while still allowing many more narratives to be weaved in the future. So far, of the other units we've gotten climax events of (fine, Crazy:B, Ra*bits, Double Face, and as of recently, 2wink), I think this has all been done fairly well - a couple character slip-ups, a few pacing issues here and there, a shoved-in conflict or two - but ultimately, they did their job, and I came away feeling fairly satisfied by their current conclusions.

I think I also need to state that I do not expect, nor frankly want, all of the character's issues and relationships to come away squeaky clean and unproblematic. I'm always for development of course (Neverland's garbage talk made me sob over how far Shu and Mika have come), but ultimately, this game is about a bunch of screwed-up kids in an exploitative industry, and how they navigate it while facing their own personal issues. Like other gacha games, from otomes like Obey Me to fellow joseimukes like Twisted Wonderland, the end goal is not to make the characters perfect, or even relatively good people. It's to weave a satisfying narrative, something that hooks and engages people. And while I will be the first to say the Enstars writing is not always "good" and can be riddled with problems, I still see a lot of potential in it and ultimately enjoy it, which is why I'm writing this.

I'm happy to say that Valkyrie did not break the pattern of satisfying climax events for me, and in fact, has come away as my favorite of them thus far. I readily admit that bias does in fact play a factor in my enjoyment - as it did with 2wink's and I'm sure it will when Alkaloid's drops - but I truly did feel that Valkyrie's climax event was incredibly satisfying for both of them.

So, onto the story!

Some of my favorite bits:

Shu defending Nazuna's autonomy was so asdfghjkl 😭 GODDAMN that hit me right in the feels! I liked that despite Nazuna being part of the event, the writing didn't try to dredge up ex-valk issues, and instead used Nazuna as a person close to them in order to forward their development, rather than as an angst tool, if that makes sense? He also seems to be doing a lot better since Ra*bits climax (poor man finally caught a break), so good for him! Also, Mika gaining weight! He is finally eating properly 🥺 I'm so proud.

Ok, so adding onto the above, initially the Kuro-Nazuna crossdressing subplot made me wary since I was afraid enstars was backtracking into some of its more...iffy writing choices (*stares at Poltergeist*). However, after reading the story through, I can safely say that the way it ties back into the theme was good, and ultimately, neither Kuro nor Nazuna exhibited any behavior that impacted my enjoyment of the story (+ this thread addressing issues people had with Kuro here, because my dude was getting attacked when this dropped).

Instead of "haha man in a dress", it showed a good progression of attitudes with old vs new era and Japan vs West that I felt was explored pretty thoughtfully, and the way Shu and Mika honored that by having such gnc stage costumes was very lovely! Kuro and Nazuna's good reactions to it also showed how much more open-minded they were as compared to Shu's grandfathers era, and also showed a reflection of enstars own writing changes between ! and !! era (ex. Koga and Subaru dropping their slur usage towards Arashi, Kaoru being more thoughtful towards Adonis's background, etc). I'm not trying to be a suck-up to the writers, since there is some stuff they've written that is...less than lovely. However, I don't think this situation was one of them, and overall, it tied back into Shu's journey well.

One scene I really want to talk about is the foie gras conversation because that was just!!! so!!! It's a very small scene in the grand scheme of things, but I thought it showed their development really well (Raelyn get new phrases challenge lol), so I wanted to mention it here! Mika wants to try foie gras, and Shu is like "why. it's gross and inhumane and there are so many better foods" which is totally fair (foie gras is often inhumanely created). However, Mika doesn't automatically apologize and back down like he would in the past, stating that he knows, but he still finds it interesting. Shu also does not shut Mika down; he states that maybe at another time, though he sticks to his own boundaries of not having it himself.

What I really like about this scene on Shu's end (and his relationship with Mika as a whole) is that he does not regress into treating Mika like he did Nazuna; he does not try to insist that Mika is perfect and should not soil himself with such indelicacies, nor does he put him on a pedestal and automatically throw out his own opinions for Mika (essentially, treating him as Mika treated him). Shu truly treats him as an equal here, by stating his own opinion and having an open and meaningful conversation with Mika, getting his view on it without completely sacrificing his own thoughts. Mika, in turn, does not treat Shu's words as gospel, nor does he feel the need to plead his case; the conversation is entirely casual, a mere exchange between partners, but its so important because its one of the first times they've demonstrated that they've made it to this point. The whole thing is wrapped very nicely in a bow by Shu creating something with a similar taste and texture to foie gras to give Mika a similar experience, without having to cook the actual thing - its a great compromise both are satisfied with, and gives us a look into how their current art and performances are being created.

(Translations below by mika_enstars)

Shu's whole-hearted acceptance of Mika also comes back into play during the grave-robbing aftermath, which is something I have a lot of thoughts on, so I'll save it for a separate post.

Getting into what blew every enstars fan's mind, time to discuss the very queer themes of Raison D'etre. This shocked me when the translations first came out - I think the closest we've EVER gotten to this amount of explicit rep was Beasts and Pretty Mission, and even those can be argued for different interpretations, though I feel their text is pretty clear. Lots of queer fans (including me) gravitate to Valkyrie, and enstars as a whole tbh, for good reason - lots of their story aspects can be considered queer, from Shu's feminine interests and subsequent bullying, Nazuna feeling "trapped" by ex-Valk's expectations, and Mika's alt interests and unwavering devotion.

The doll plot was confusing as hell lol, but I get why it was done in such a convoluted manner, since it was supposed to be left up to interpretation, and force Shu and Mika to come to their own conclusions. Shu's grandfather deliberately set it up in such a way that Shu would be forced to weave the story he wants, and in doing so, accept the parts of himself he had hidden away - a fairly thin parallel to his grandfather's queer youth.

However, the difference here is that Shu does not plan on hiding, he does not plan on bundling away his feelings in a neat little box (or journal, in this case), and leaving them behind. In Antique Legend, we see that Shu's grandfather clearly tried to conform to what was expected of him, and impart those same values onto Shu - though Shu never fully stuck to those principles in favor of forging his own path, which I think his grandfather was secretly proud of him for.

(Antique Legend: Dumps of Dreams, Ep 8)

Shu internally monologues about how different his grandfather's time and the current one he lives in are, and how things are evolving in such a way that he can stand on stage without the ridicule his grandfather may have faced. This, along with the ending of "Let's live together happily, Kagehira" as an ode to his grandfather's dreams, really does read like a love story to me, especially the part right before where Mika compares the love Shu's grandmother has for his grandfather as the same love Shu has for him - which Shu doesn't deny.

A couple other things to wrap up:

I found it so interesting how Mika and Shu had different takes on his grandfather's life, and trying to unravel the truth was both fun and a chore and a half for me lol. All in all, the audience isn't meant to know fully, but I think Mika's theory might hold a bit more water (Shu's grandfather being gnc and dating the landlady), since he had extra info and is bffs with Naru, giving him a bit more insight. However, I can definitely see why Shu went with his theory of "grandpa had many different male lovers in his youth", as not only is it the one that does not imply cheating, but it is a closer representation of how Shu feels, and I think that's what grandpa was trying to get at.

The use of "boku" and "ore" was also pretty good storytelling imo, and adds an extra layer of projection, since Shu uses "boku" while Mika uses "ore" in day-to-day life. "Boku" is also seen as politer and more formal, while "ore" is more casual and was at one point seen as crass, which reflected their story roles well!

The fact that Shu's grandfather just??? Fakes his death on a regular basis is???? So???? I can't even asdfghjkl. Kuro being like "yeah, I comforted him the first 5 times, but then I got kinda sick of it" is so funny too. I wonder if any of the rich enstars kids are gonna do this in the future, my money's on Eichi (for profit), Ritsu (for fun), or Hiyori (for drama) personally.

I know I said I wouldn't talk about it here, but the grave-robbing aftermath where Shu describes Mika as a fairy during their first meeting, as a contrast to how he had always described him as a ghost? That got me so good, especially since it's something so idealistic being used when Mika is currently cold and covered in dirt. It's just such wholehearted acceptance of his partner, it's so beautiful.

Anyways, I think I'll end it here, but again, thank you so much for the ask and patience Dia!!!

(Edit: accidentally included RYUSEITAI with the climax units, it's fixed now)

#this ended up so incomprehensible in some areas but valk just does that to me ig haha #ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars music #jpstars #enstars spoilers #raelyn's asks #distortedmoondisc #mika kagehira #shu itsuki #shumika #raison d'etre #enstars valkyrie #valkyrie climax #kuro kiryu #nazuna nito

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burningvelvet · 1 year

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Byron and Shelley chronicle their 1816 sailing trip in Lake Geneva — Day 2, June 24th —

Percy Shelley, History of a Six Weeks' Tour:

“The next morning we passed Yvoire, a scattered village with an ancient castle, whose houses are interspersed with trees, and which stands at a little distance from Nerni, on the promontory which bounds a deep bay, some miles in extent. So soon as we arrived at this promontory, the lake began to assume an aspect of wilder magnificence. The mountains of Savoy, whose summits were bright with snow, descended in broken slopes to the lake: on high, the rocks were dark with pine forests, which become deeper and more immense, until the ice and snow mingle with the points of naked rock that pierce the blue air; but below, groves of walnut, chesnut, and oak, with openings of lawny fields, attested the milder climate.

As soon as we had passed the opposite promontory, we saw the river Drance, which descends from between a chasm in the mountains, and makes a plain near the lake, intersected by its divided streams. Thousands of besolets, beautiful water-birds, like sea-gulls, but smaller, with purple on their backs, take their station on the shallows, where its waters mingle with the lake. As we approached Evian, the mountains descended more precipitously to the lake, and masses of intermingled wood and rock overhung its shining spire.

We arrived at this town about seven o'clock, after a day which involved more rapid changes of atmosphere than I ever recollect to have observed before. The morning was cold and wet; then an easterly wind, and the clouds hard and high; then thunder showers, and wind shifting to every quarter; then a warm blast from the south, and summer clouds hanging over the peaks, with bright blue sky between. About half an hour after we had arrived at Evian, a few flashes of lightning came from a dark cloud, directly over head, and continued after the cloud had dispersed. ‘Diespiter, per pura tonantes egit equos:’ a phenomenon which certainly had no influence on me, corresponding with that which it produced on Horace.

The appearance of the inhabitants of Evian is more wretched, diseased and poor, than I ever recollect to have seen. The contrast indeed between the subjects of the King of Sardinia and the citizens of the independent republics of Switzerland, affords a powerful illustration of the blighting mischiefs of despotism, within the space of a few miles. They have mineral waters here, eaux savonneuses, they call them. In the evening we had some difficulty about our passports, but so soon as the syndic heard my companion's rank and name, he apologized for the circumstance. The inn was good. During our voyage, on the distant height of a hill, covered with pine-forests, we saw a ruined castle, which reminded me of those on the Rhine.”

Lord Byron in a letter to Hobhouse:

"Evian—June 23d. 1816

“At the present writing I am on my way on a water-tour round the Lake Leman — and am thus far proceeded in a pretty open boat which I bought & navigate — it is an English one & was brought lately from Bordeaux — I am on shore for the Night — and have just had a row with the Syndic of this town who wanted my passports which I left at Diodati not thinking they would be wanted except in grand route — but it seems this is Savoy and the dominion of his Cagliari Majesty whom we saw at his own Opera — in his own city — in 1809 — however by dint of references to Geneva — & other corroborations — together with being in a very ill humour — Truth has prevailed — wonderful to relate they actually take one's word for a fact - although it is credible and indubitable. — Tomorrow we go to Meillerai - & Clarens - & Vevey - with Rousseau in hand - to see his scenery - according to his delineation in his Heloise now before me. - The views have hitherto been very fine - but I should conceive less so than those of the remainder of the lake.”

UPDATE: I took my dates from Shelley, but his dates must have been confused and Byron's must be more accurate. Because I'd been confused by Byron's dates in the past, since he often wrote past midnight (thus often referring his prior day as "today"), I had assumed Shelley was more trustworthy. According to Shelley and His Circle vol. 4 pp. 700-701, they left on June 22nd which was a Saturday, and so I believe each day of their trip would be one earlier than I and Shelley stated in these posts.

Taken from Shelley and His Circle:

"TIMETABLE OF THE LAKE GENEVA TOUR

June 22, Saturday: Sailed from Montalègre, slept at Nernier.

June 23, Sunday: Sailed from Nernier, slept at Evian.

June 24, Monday: Sailed from Evian, encountered storm off Meillerie, slept at St. Gingolph.

June 25, Tuesday: Sailed from St. Gingolph, saw the mouths of the Rhone, visited Chillon Castle, landed at Clarens, visited bosquet de Julie, slept at Mme. Pauly's house (Place Gambetta) at Clarens.

June 26, Wednesday: Visited Le Châtelard, and the bosquet de Julie, sailed from Clarens, visited Vevey, slept at the Hotel de l'Ancre at Ouchy.

June 27, Thursday: Visited Gibbon's house at Lausanne, slept at Ouchy.

June 28, Friday: Remained at Ouchy.

June 29, Saturday: Sailed from Ouchy, slept at [?Rolle].

June 30, Sunday: Sailed from [?Rolle], arrived at Montalègre."

#shelley and byron’s sailing trip #literature #english literature #aesthetic #poetry #lord byron #percy shelley #romanticism #history #writing #lake geneva #geneva squad #switzerland #traveling #sailing #romantics #romantic poets

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citrineghost · 8 months

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The Day I Took 6 Hours to Go To the DMV for 10 Minutes, Get 3 Bags of Groceries, and Almost Get Hit by a Car - While Disabled

Setting the Scene

I am poor and disabled. I don't have a car. My friend is at work all day. I have an appointment at the DMV to get an ID at 3pm.

Chapter 1: The DMV

I leave the house at 1:20pm. Navigator says it will take me an hour to get to the DMV, so I'm leaving about 20 minutes earlier than I need to catch my first bus, but, if I'm lucky, I can get the one before it

I do manage to catch the one before the one I'd planned on. However, at the transit center, the next bus that goes to the DMV does not have an earlier version

I wait 15 minutes.

Someone at the bus stop is wandering around and telling everyone he sees to buy t-shirts from some website where you can get anything you want printed on it for a low price. He is also going to the DMV to get his ID

I take the bus to the DMV with t-shirt guy

I go to the bathroom and find that the entire way thus far, I have had my pants completely undone. Thank god I'm fat and my stomach may have hidden this. I pretend I'm not on the brink of death as I return to the waiting room.

I get my ID in about 5 minutes, no fuss

Well, I got a bus day pass for this and it's only been an hour and 20 minutes. Why not go to the grocery store on the way home? My friend and I didn't go shopping this week and he works all weekend until late at night. I may as well grab the things I'm missing while I'm out and have all access bus rides

Chapter 2: Winco

I go back to the bus stop and take the bus that goes to Winco. I have a hard time hearing because I have my headphones in to avoid sensory overload. I'm also unfamiliar with this route.

I notice just after he begins to pull away from the bus stop that it's the one outside Winco and I pull the Request Stop line. I know I've pulled it too late and I expect him to take me all the way to the next stop before letting me out, but he's nice and stops up at the next intersection, gently chastising me for not puling it earlier. I am sorry Mr. Driver, I know I missed the stop, thank you for letting me out anyway.

There is a big 4-way intersection directly attached to the Winco parking lot. I wait for the walk light to change to Walk. It changes. I begin to walk.

Someone runs a left turn red light and ALMOST FUCKING HITS ME WITH THEIR CAR. He slams on his breaks and stops a meter away from me. We make eye contact as my life flashes before my eyes and his life outside of vehicular manslaughter and eternal guilt prison flashes before his.

After a moment of regrouping, I keep walking, wondering what the other people stopped at the light were thinking about him

I get into the store and put my backpack in the cart, realizing it was hanging open, at least since I got off the bus, but possibly since I got on the one at the DMV

I wonder what the other people stopped at the light were thinking about me

I get my food quickly and leave Winco. It is 5pm.

Chapter 3: Getting Back Home

As I leave Winco, I follow where maps tells me the bus stop I need is located. It's across the street and to the right. I overestimate how far to the right and have to walk back a ways

As I'm walking, my phone restarts for seemingly no reason. "FUCKING GREAT," I think, wondering if it will error itself while I'm trying to navigate. Sometimes is malfunctions like this.

The phone does not give me a black error screen. Instead, it will no longer connect to the data network. "FUCKING GREAT," I think

I stand at the bus stop trying to reload maps repeatedly, unsure which bus i was meant to take and which connection after that. Before it restarted, it said the bus would be here some 5 minutes from then. It is not there in five minutes.

I cannot get my internet to connect. I wait 20 minutes for the bus.

When I finally sit down on the bus, deciding it doesn't fucking matter which bus it is, I see Whatsapp saying it has a syncing issue because the time is wrong on my phone. I look at my clock. It says 5:51, which seems right without much consideration. I go to my time settings and see it's set to 5:51 am. This is incorrect. I set it to network provided time and it corrects itself. It is 5:25pm.

This is also why my internet wouldn't work. My SIM connects again and I open maps

This bus will connect to two others if I get off at stop A or stop B. I want to get off at stop B. I accidentally get off at stop A

I reopen maps. There will be another bus, but It requires another transfer, which I wouldn't have needed if I'd gotten off at stop B

I wait for the next bus. The electronic sign above the bus stop says it's the RED line. Didn't I just get off the RED line? Oh well, maps said there's another bus. Maybe they share a stop.

I get on the RED line. They do not share a stop. Perhaps I was supposed to walk to another bus stop. I did not. I am now on the RED line going the wrong direction. I have 3 bags of groceries and more in my backpack. My hands hurt.

I get off the bus at the next stop when I realize it's going south and I've passed where I need to go west.

I open maps

I have to cross the street but, fortunately, another bus will come... in 20 more minutes. It is 6:00pm.

There is no bench at this bus stop.

I put my groceries on the ground.

I take a picture of a nice tree.

I make a tumblr post about benches at bus stops.

The bus arrives. I am sure of my connections now. I think.

This bus will take me to an intersection where I will cross the street and go to another bus stop

I get off the bus and begin walking the wrong way. I turn around to go the right way, crossing the street to the next bus stop

I wait at the bus stop

I take the bus to the next stop and cross the street. It's dark now. I have to pee.

Maps says my next bus comes here in 20 minutes, but a bus a 10 minute walk up the road is leaving going the same place in 15 minutes.

"Fuck it, I'm walking up the road," I say.

I should not have fucked it and I should not have walked up the road.

My knee begins to get sharp pains in it as I walk up an incline toward the last bus stop

I wait at the bus stop for 8 minutes.

I take the bus to the final stop, a 12 minute walk from the apartment. I walk up more incline to the apartment. My friend's car is here. I guess he beat me home.

I realize I haven't eaten or had anything to drink but two brownies and some water at 11am. It's 7:00pm.

And that's how I, a disabled person, got to spend 6 hours going to the DMV for 5 minutes and and get 3 bags of groceries at a store 10 minute's drive from where I live.

Can you even guess how excited I am to take the bus to the library and the notary on Monday???? :)

#walkable cities #buses #disabled #disability #actually disabled #eds #ehlers danlos syndrome #hypermobile ehlers danlos #hypermobility #pots #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #fibro #fibromyalgia #cfs #me/cfs #cfs/me

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ningningsplushie · 2 years

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☆.｡.:* 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒀𝒐𝒖! .｡.:*☆

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Seokjin x Reader

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your boyfriend holds the world on his shoulder and because of that, he can’t seem to let you in and accept that you want to love him, not hurt him. Can you change that?

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1,584

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: ANGSTTTTT, but sprinkled with fluff and a happy ending! Trauma but nothing is explicit, small kissing, crying, prolly will make you want to hug Seokjin :(((

𝒂/𝒏: This idea came to me while I was listening to Chet Baker’s “You’re Mine, You!” while also reading A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara so this is loosely based off of these two things!

Seokjin never thought he’d get to this point in his life. Never, in all his twenty-nine years of living, did he envision himself connected to a person other than himself. For his whole life he had been navigating the world all on his own, perhaps his dark and unsavoury past nudging him along, both towards good decisions and poor. Poor for the most part. But you, you were the best decision he has made, even though he hasn’t chosen to acknowledge it just yet. But because of his solitary life thus far, love wasn’t even a luxury. It was a concept so far gone from his mind, an idea that he thought he didn’t deserve. But you proved him wrong.

However, his shut-off lifestyle shouldn’t be an excuse because as dark and unsavoury as his past was, so was yours. But god, were you different. So, so different than he. Whereas Seokjin was stoic, using his silence as both an escape and defence tactic, you were childish, so sweet and so good. Too good. You hadn’t allowed yourself to grow up, at least not at the same pace of the other newly, just turned twenty-two year olds. Sure, you graduated and got your bachelors and are now moving on to your masters whilst maintaining your job at the museum, but you indulged in the things that make you feel warm and like a child. In soft, romantic films, in useless bits and bobs that adorn your shelves, dressing in frilly dresses and skirts, glitter on your eyes and ribbons in your hair in an innocent yet sophisticated manner. You were still healing your inner child, the child that hadn’t gotten a chance to be who she should really be in the past all thanks to your parents. But Seokjin, Seokjin forced himself to grow up, all too much and much too fast.

In his cramped apartment, bed pushed against the small, open window, the two of you sat in silence, gazing out towards the city at night. You nudged his shoulder and an electric shock ran through Seokjin, keeping him alert. He still wasn’t used to people touching him. He doesn’t like it but when he remembers it’s just you, his body goes back to being relaxed, no longer on the defence.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You inquired, offering him an actual penny, rust painting a few spots.

Seokjin scoffed, shaking his head and you watched as his black bangs fell into his eyes. “You’re an idiot,” he quipped, purposely ignoring your question. You knew this, so you don’t push.

“Yeah, but I'm your idiot.” Fluttering your eyes, so big and full of life despite everything that has been thrown at you, he couldn’t help but notice his heart was doing the same.

Looking down at his hands, his crooked fingers folded over his lap, he grumbled, “Yours. What a stupid thing to say. It’s not like I own you.”

“Well no…but…you own my heart, it belongs to you because I let myself bare to you. I’ve told you all my deepest secrets and I can’t let you go now, you know too much!” You slightly joked, trying to lighten the mood as you knew Seokjin didn’t like to delve too deep into conversations.

This frightened Seokjin because if he owned your heart and you belonged to him, that must mean it’s the same vice versa. The sick and unhealed part of him couldn’t allow this. Although he loved you, again, even if he still hasn’t acknowledged this fact, he’s terrified at the thought of someone hurting him again. Yet the small, if not microscopic side of him, the one that so desperately craved affection that it sometimes keeps him up at night, knew that you’re different. If you had wanted to hurt him, you would’ve done so by now. And you haven’t.

On the defence again, he snapped. “You don’t own my heart and I certainly don’t belong to you.” He saw how your face slightly faltered and he mentally cursed himself. He did what comes easiest to him.

A butterfly landed on the windowsill. A small, black butterfly, so fragile and so alone in this big scary world. Seokjin tore his eyes away from yours, to get away from the hurt that he’s caused and stared at the flapping wings.

The two of you were both stubborn but it still surprised Seokjin nonetheless when he heard a gentle, “I’d like to think that I do.”

Looking at you from the side, refusing to turn towards you because then it would mean confrontation head on, he noticed how your watchful gaze was trained on the butterfly. Out of nowhere, your right arm reached forward for the window, for the butterfly and Seokjin flinched. With your left hand, with a feather-like touch, you guide the butterfly to your right hand, getting it to your palm, forming a cup.

“Look at it this way, Jin. Your heart, to me, is this butterfly.” Your voice is kind but he heard the determination behind it. He stared at the butterfly moving about, looking for escape. “Now, in the palm of my hand is the most fragile thing that could come into existence. So fragile that,” With every word your fingers slowly and menacingly tightened around the butterfly. “I have the power to kill it, just because I can. In just a few seconds I can kill this butterfly just because it’s now mine and I can do whatever I want to it.”

Horrified at what will come next, Seokjin couldn’t take his eyes off you, feeling tears well up. Tears he didn’t know he had the power to conjure after so long. He wanted to leap forward and pry open your fingers before you crushed the butterfly, before its wings and blood stained your skin. He wanted to scream and cry in horror, for both himself and the poor insect but he was weak in his spot, chin slightly wobbling.

But before your fingers fully enveloped the small creature, you ceased your actions. “Or I could do this.” Your hand opened up steadily, like a blooming flower and Seokjin sighed in relief. You reached behind you with your other arm, pouring water into a small teacup and bringing it forward to the butterfly, letting it flutter onto the rim so it could drink. “Still in my hand is the most fragile thing in existence. But it’s so much more than that. It’s beautiful, it’s precious, and it’s everything good and if I have something like that, I want to do anything but hurt it.” You both watched as it drank, thankful to have found water. “I want to love it, nourish it, keep it safe because that’s what it deserves.”

Seokjin continued to cry at your new words but for a different reason. Never has he heard something so loving and gentle directed towards him. At first he can’t believe it, at what he’s hearing but through the bleary wateryness of his eyes, he discovered the love that you yielded to him, not like a weapon, but like a bouquet of flowers.

Its thirst now quenched, the butterfly danced through the air briefly, the two of you following its steps before it settled onto Seokjin’s knuckle. You lazily reached forward for his hand and this time, for the first time, he didn’t flinch, nor did he jerk back, nor did he stiffen. With an action of lightness that Seokjin has finally accepted, you brought his hand towards your lips and kissed his pale hand, the butterfly’s wings tickling under your eye.

With a giggle and a loving grasp on Seokjin’s wrist, you now brought it outside the window, making his hand jiggle so the butterfly could now fly away and be free. Through all of this, Seokjin has never ceased his crying. He thought that if he were to ever cry again, it would be because of fear or agony, not because of relief and comfort, and somehow, you knew why he was crying.

You allow him to do so but you also wiped the tears from his face to alleviate him from the sticky trails his tears have left behind. Now, in a hush, in a voice as quiet as the flapping of the butterfly’s wings you whispered, “As long as you allow me to stay I’ll always treat you and your heart like it’s the most precious thing on earth. Cuz guess what Jin? That’s exactly what it is to me.”

Seokjin has calmed down and in a move that surprised him, he leant forward and locked his lips with yours. You tasted his sweat from the hot summer night and his salty tears but you didn’t push him away to brush them off. It wasn’t something you put up with but rather, accepted. Just as you accepted Seokjin for everything that he was and everything he had to offer.

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kamiko1234 · 1 year

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Reply to @junkopoprocks's repost addition to my amnesiac Arthur + Rin idea

The original post/ part 1

"Omg yes!

And imagine the reactions of Jeremiah and Yukio. Their ‘real’ brothers.

Like imagine the aneurism Jeremiah would have when he sees his brother actively calling the son of Satan his brother.

I feel like Yukio would just be dumbfounded and have a lot of internal thoughts like, ‘am I not good enough?’ Or, ‘am I a bad brother?’

Mephisto would obviously think this was absolutely hilarious and find this manhunt really entertaining."

-@junkopoprocks repost adittion (thx so much for the support btw ^^)

I'll be honest, this addition is pure GOLD. And I agree with every bit of it. Everyone is either confused, angsty, amused or stressed. Arthur is all three.

Oh poor, poor Arthur. He basically became the single father of a teenager. Now don't get him wrong, he loves Rin like a brother. But for the love of god he's exhausted. Not only can he remember jackshit, he also believes they have possibly hundrets of enemies out for their blood. Obviously those enemies are just other exorcists trying to help them but Arthur doesn't know that. And as if that's not enought he also has to protect Rin who is too kind for his own good.

Yet another reason for why Arthur is going to have grey hair before even comming close to being an old man is because demons are still after them. Only they also forgot what demons even are or how to defeat them. And Rin, obvious , kind and inoccent Rin, wants to pet them all. Arthur can't remember but he's pretty sure he never ran so fast in his life than when Rin thought it was great to try to befriend some weird animal that looked like it had rabbies. (he swears to god he's about to cuff Rin to his arm to make sure he doesn't accidentally kill himself)

While Arthur tries to navigate his life while trying to protect his a kid, Yukio has one hell of an angsty time. It starts out bad enought when Rin is missing with Yukio blaming himself but when he and Arthur show up again ? Oh it get's SO MUCH WORSE. Ofcourse Yukio goes out to help and get his brother back. There he also meets Jeremiah trying to get Arthur back. Things go south when they meet Rin and Arthur again and they have no idea who Yukio or Jeremiah are. Jeremiah is expecially taken aback when Arthur who is well known for hating anything that has to do with demons shields Rin with his own body as if they would hurt them.

As @junkopoprocks already thought off, Yukio thinks Rin replaced him. He has real issues , mostly because he can understand Rin. He thinks back on how he acted with Rin in the past and realises that he's been horrible to his brother. He goes as far to beg Rin to please return back with him and that he will be better. Jeremiah at first assumes Arthur is posessed or smth. He has no idea what in all that's holy is going on with his brother. Jeremiah asks Arthur why he's protecting a litteral spawn of Satan , Arthur asummes he just wanted to insult Rin and not that the other meant it litteraly. The amnesiac proceeds to vigorously defend Rin and calls Jerimiah a "child hating , bitter old man". The other was so confused he didn't have time to react when Arthur grabben Rin and fled in light speed.

Rin doesn't always understand what is going on. He just relies on Arthur for the thinking. But that doesn't mean he is completly helpless, he tries to support the older any way he can and often makes first contact with people. He also makes sure Arthur still eats and sleeps since he tends to negelct himself in favor of making sure Rin is okay and trying to gather clues about who they are. (Finding out who they are is acctualy rly hard since they think that the Exorcists are enemies and thus avoid anything vaguely looking like them. They pretty much just travel around without a real plan and asks around and look for clues)

After they woke up and figured out their names Arthur took all the paper money he had and got them some basic camping equiptment. They travel around by riding trains or busses (not necessarily legally) and camp outside in the nights. That way they find out that Rin is great at cooking even with limited ingridients. The younger takes over taking care of their food, mostly because Arthur is shitty at doing so but also to take atleast a little off of Arthur's plate.

The whole idea is fluffy crack with a little Yukio angst. Arthur and Rin grow close and Arthur has like these nice little moments between all the stress where Rin maybe falls asleep on his shoulder or when Rin does his best to make a good meal for them and Arthur decides that everything he does to protect Rin and help him is worth it. Meanwhile Jeremiah gets more confused by the day of why Arthur acts like this and Yukio angsts over "driving away" his brother.

#rin okumura #yukio okumura #blue exorcist fics #blue exorcist #english isn't my first language #amnesia #arthur auguste angel #crack #Rin and Arthur bonding time

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jacks-tracks · 6 months

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La Reforma:

Way back in the hills , deep in a valley , lies La Reforma, a very small town beside a winding river. Accessible by a rough dirt road that snakes across the cattle stripped hills, this is where the gringos don,t go. Oh they used too, when the road to the waterfalls was intact, and the cabinas there were functional, but neglect and rain have ruined the road, and the stand alone solar system failed for lack of maintenance leaving the cabinas unusable. Too bad, because the waterfall at 100 feet vertical was a wonderful sight, and the rushing stream tumbled over big boulders out of the box canyon into calm swimmable pools. The cabinas were run by volunteers from La Reforma in a bid to bring in tourist dollars, but the food was poor and the road was too bad.

My friends Jimmy(Tortuga) and Tracy were planning to take their motorcycle in to some new cabinas at La Reforma, so i took public transit(sic) to join them. Given many contradictory directions, I found the old bus station uptown and the San Pedro caminettas(collective taxis).Frequent and cheap(26 pesos) . While Puerto has expanded up into the hills, the road remains the same gully twisting paved cow trail.The steep foothill terrain has discouraged development. An optomist had marked out lots(10mby20m) on a 45 degree slope, soon to slide away. Dozen of beehives a re placed off road to catch the last of the rainy season flowering trees. 1 half hour to the crucero, where the collectivos to La Reforma wait. Well i waited in shade on a plank bench, no collectivo. A stream of tuk tuks ferried people from the village nearby to San Pedro, but approached said it was 1 hour to La Reforma, no go.A totally overloaded truck disgorged a vast load of fruit and vegetables into the stand at the corner, and in turn smaller trucks came to pack the food off for distribution to tiendas. Cabbages bigger than basketballs were tossed , leaves flapping ,into the shed, only to be shot putted in to the buyers vehicles moments later. Crates of oranges, hands of bananas, heaps of canteloupe,, piles of potatoes. I was just about to call Jimmy, when they pulled up on their motorcycle with Gaeten on his spiffy 200 alongside. They sat in the shade pulling on beers and just as they were leaving along came a collectivo truck. Not that that meant departure, we had to wait for more passengers to make the trip pay. Only got one more guy but picked up a chica en route and a peon with a Husky chain saw with a 3 foot bar(?). Biggest tree in sight was 1 foot thick. All the hills have been logged, leaving scrub, vines and cow ploughed hillsides. The corn planted in the clearcuts only grows well for a couple of years until the soil is depleted and washed away. Nice cemnt paved road for 2 K then eroded dirt track. Mud dust, dirt, very steep switchbacks with tiny streams rolling down across the dirt at intervals. Terrific (terrifying) views across the valleys to the far mountains, I was admiring the eye level tree tops until I looked down and saw that the tree were 100 feet tall, rising vertical beside the track. too steep to pull out and thus saved. the hill swere green patched with corn , mostly harvested, and jungle vines coated the roadside shrubbery. Despite this abundance of greenery, this is the edge of desert, and cactus poke out of the scrub everywhere. The driver was calm(old) and safe, but he had to carefully navigate the washouts and roadslips dropping 100's of feet vertically into the hillsides. 30 K top speed, often a low gear crawl.

La Reforma after a 1 hour bumpy ride and dropped right at the gate(40P) of Mario Lopez who has built 3 cabinas for rent at the end of the road right beside the river where the stream gushes out of a jumble of big boulders. Here i found my biker buddys, swilling beer and relaxing. The place is run by Marios family, who live in the roadside houses and cook for guests. Pati 954 123 9805. Yes there is WiFi. Cabinas are 400 pesos and food is ok. Very green and shady, dirt paths, friendly but little English. My Spanish is acceptable, and if I rehearse I can ask for most things and make simple conversation. Usually i can pick the verbs out of the replies and guess at the context.

Cabinas, here called Cabanas, are new, brick built,clean, tiled, and have cold water bathrooms and comfy beds. Secure, quiet, restful. The chicken shacks of yesterday have given way to cement and tile, the dogs a re friendly, and the people ,like most rural Mexicans, are curious and friendly if given respect. La Reforma has an elementary school, a high school, basketball court, police station and an ambulance.Pretty good for a town of 1500 spread out along the river valley.No mercado, tiny tiendas with junk food and that's all. Bring food for the cooks, fruit and treats to share .Gramma makes great rice and tortillas, and everyone hangs out in the open air kitchen area. Food is cooked on a comal , wood fired, thought there is a gas stove. Electricity, artesian water(I drank it with no ill effects), caged chickens(no rooster) a quiet discouraged parrot and a puppy. The only sound is the rumble of the river where it tumbles over 10 foot rocks into a deep swimmable pool then froths across gravel and boulders ,perhaps 20 meters wide and up to 1 meter deep downstream to the town. Odd lily like flowers sway in the shallows, white with long narrow petals, safe from goats. The poolis where the local kids walk to for afternoon swimming and fun. They are shy but friendly if spoken to. the cabinas are the only accomodation in town so gringos are a novelty.

Jimmy, as chef , cooked chicken in Panko and cornflakes, cruchy coating, tasty chicken. The chicken came a bit late out of the freezer so dinner was abit late. Next night he cooked Dorado from our fishing trip, delicious! All shared with the family, who were happy to eat so well. Breakfast were cooked by sandra the waitress, maid and friend Huevos Rancheros using the onion and green pepper I brought to share. Surprisingly the slad fixins I packed were still good and Jimmy and Tracy ate sprouts for the first time. For lunch I had boiled eggs I,d brought and grapefruit off the tree(bit dry and tangy, but good). Jimmy says the kitchen food usually tough chicken in mole sauce. Glad we brought supplys.

Rivers talk at night. this one had a voice for every rapid ripple and a bass chorus from the falls.The tone and volume is never the same. Unlike the pulsing heartbeat of beach waves, the river chats and chuckles. Other than the river it was quiet , pitch black at night and felt safe and peaceful Really feels like a different world from urban Puerto. Friendly family, safe place, nice cabinas, great cold swimming hole , an affordable getaway. My total bill for 2 nights, 400pesos per night for the cabina, breakfast 100P and miscellaneous, total900 Pesos. I,ll go again....

#LasquetiJack

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princeanxious · 3 years

Text

New au idea just dropped: abducted by aliens + found family; familial anadukeceit addition with a twist:

tw: minor abducted by aliens, mentions of illegal scientific experimentation on a minor, general au theme following the rescues of ppl getting abducted, those are the big ones, lmk if i missed anything!

Virgil and Remus are normal adult humans that are part of a galactic crew that specializes in rescuing aliens that were abducted for black market trade and experimentation purposes and rehabilitating them

Janus is a young teenage human who'd been abducted and experiemented on for two years before his rescue, leaving him half-covered in abnormally healthy scales, sharp fangs and coldblooded-like qualities, and without a way to talk like he used to.(he can growl and hiss and whine ect., but they mostly ruined his ability to mimick sounds without it being painful and thus he cannot actually try to speak without pain.) He's not seen another live human in years, and is way too young to know how to cope with it, so he doesn't trust anything anymore and often comes off as extremely violent because he doesn't know whats a threat and what isnt, and isnt honestly sure hes not experiencing a vivid nightmare half the time.

Cue this team getting a report from a different rescue group about requesting help for a specific rescue from their mostly human rescue team, this time its about a small earth-like dealthworlder that had been discovered and rescued as one of the few surviving aliens from an illegal testing facility.

Report lists it as extremely volitile and hostile, but only when provoked(see: any attempt to interact with it). If left alone, it simply cowers in a corner and cries. There have been efforts to get it to eat that have only been semi successful due to the poor thing seemingly not being able to digest certain foods, and they worry it will simply die of starvation, or loneliness, if they cant get it's condition stable.

The reason theyre requesting Virgil's team is because the original rescue has never seen this kind of alien before, but it looks mostly human and thats the assumption. Humans are known to have high-packbonding instincts, and that persistence for kinship is pretty much this rescue's last hope.

To the humans, its a bit of a far leap seeing as they arent provided with any clear pictures of the thing, but its their job and theyre getting paid to do it, might as well try.

They.. They arent prepared to arrive to the sight of a child. Well, sort of child. A teenager? Whose regardless way too thin and quite too small to look anything but vastly unhealthy.

From his one side of his ribs curled up all the way around one side of his face and down that arm are rich yellow scales, that perhaps look like the healthiest part of him.

He wears a blindfold from his previous containment, and word has it the first alien to try and take it off was met with the worst lash-out yet and was still in recovery. They had kept it on him because he wont let anyone near take it off. It keeps him calm to be sightless, and its unfortunately all they can do to keep him that way.

And well, while Remus has always been the best at taming some of the wilyest deathworld creatures, its actually Virgil who has skill in taming those few labeled 'deadly.'

He sees this 'dangerous' behavior for what it really is.

Fear.

This is a child who is scared, terrified, and lashing out at anything that doesn't feel safe.

So you can imagine the brief uptic in nervous alien chatter from the main observation room when Virgil decides to walk straight into the containment room with no gear, no food, nothing but himself and his jacket.

Its a little jarring to hear a teenager hiss angrily at you, but Virgil used to Be That Teenager, so he doesn't really react. And he can see it when he speaks, using a soft and comforting voice, the way this kid freezes at being spoken to. In a langauge he understands.

"Hey buddy."

There's an immediate growl of uncertainty, pressing himself further away. Disbelief. It cant be, right? It's been 2 years since hes been in a room with another living human, there's no way.

..Right?

"Cmon now, none of that. It's just me here right now. My names Virgil."

He doesn't really want to believe it, that hes hearing another human. But he cant help the instinctual need to turn and hide the scales, the thing that makes him a freak of nature, no human would want him after what had been done to him.

Its a slow back and forth, really. Virgil asking a mundane question and getting some cautious hiss or growl or click in reply. But slowly, ever so slowly, the boy is relaxing.

"Can I reach my hand out? I wont touch you, okay? I want you to reach out too, if you're okay with that. We can move at your pace, okay?"

And maybe he gets a slightly petulant whine, but theres no aggression. Just. stress.

He holds his hand out, palm down, and waits. And is rewarded with an extrsmely shaky hand reaching out and grasping his own with a little fumbling. And then theres a pause, where the boy is taking thw time to register the hand.

Human.

And then the boy is all but flinging himself forward, blindly reaching out with a sob. Maybe some aliens in the observation room tense, but the humans in the room remain completely calm.

And now Virgil has a lap full of entirely too distraught child and no say in the matter, but thats fine. Hes content to just hold the poor thing and let the kid cry it out, god knows he needed this.

They learn this kids name, Janus, through some shake tracing of fingers on skin, then pen to paper. He's barely 16, and was abducted at age 14.

They learn one eye had been tampered with as well to match the scales, but all that was successful was a color change to yellow. It fortunately affects Janus's sight very little, except when hes tired and finds himself with migraines from his eyes being tired.

Janus is a special case, because he cant go back home, not with the things hes seen and experienced, as the galactic rescue is still a bit of a secret to earth. But hes a minor, so he cant very well join the rescue yet, even if he wanted to.

So, Virgil and Remus adopt him. Janus is more than happy about it, despite his struggles to show it.

They have a number of humans and humanoids on their team, one of which is a therapist named Emile(human), and another who is their navigator and unofficial translator named Remy(half-human).

Janus p much gets unofficially adopted by them as well, standing in as the cool uncles most likely, but through them he learns to deal with his trauma, and gets to learn how to communicate via galactic hand-sign language.

Sometimes a family can be a Team Rescue Group Leader, his Danger Tamer Chaotic Boyfriend, and their Half Danger-Noodle Half-Sassy Human Son, and two fun uncles who collectively know how to heal trauma and 47 different ways to say 'fuck you' in alien.

#sanders sides #anxceitmus #familial dukexiety #familial anxceit #anxceit #luka writes #luka's aus #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #kingsley tealeaf #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Fated To You

Pairing | Kitsune!Yuta x Human, gn!Reader

Warning(s) | depictions of violence, minor character death, supernatural character, blood, mentions of stabbing, mentions of murder

Synopsis | You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you found the injured fox hiding away in the forest. However, after accepting the fox pup into your life as a new member of your home, you quickly realized that there was more to him than just an adorable fox with an odd number of tails.

Genre: supernatural au, fluff, angst, soulmates au

Author's Notes | I have had quite a longing to write a supernatural character, and, while my favorite supernatural creatures are werewolves (they're majestic amazing creatures, shush), I wanted to do something a little different, thus, Kitsune Yuta was born! This has also been posted on NCTA under the name Tori, so if you see it there, it's me. I really hope you enjoy this piece!

Word Count | 6.5k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil

The moon began to rise over the land, casting grotesque shadows over the forest as your feet moved carefully over roots that protruded from the mossy earth. Your hands held strong to the green flashlight clasped tightly in your fingers, lighting the way through the darkened trees as the sun continued to fade.

It had never been your intention to stay out this late. Fresh air. That’s all you had needed. Air to clear your head and calm you down from the near panic attack you’d thrust yourself into as you thought about all the papers and assignments you’d have to complete within the next few weeks.

It was a lot; juggling a full-time job and part-time university. You’d known it was going to be when you’d decided to finally finish your degree. What you hadn’t anticipated was everything piling up at the end, making you truly stretch yourself to get everything done correctly and on time without losing your job and crumbling under the impending weight of unemployment.

Luckily for you, behind your rented out house, was a forest. You weren’t exactly sure how far it stretched, nor had you ever explored it before, but you had a certain affinity for nature. When you began to lose yourself, you slammed your book shut and got up with a huff, grabbing your unused backpack out of the closet and setting out into the woods, hoping immersing yourself in nature would calm you down.

It had. Walking about, listening to the birds sing and the trees grow had soothed your mind and allowed you to relax for the first time in several weeks. You’d gotten so relaxed that, as you sat against a sturdy oak for water and a snack, you found yourself drifting off.

It was only recently that you had awoken. Your eyes blinked open as the sounds changed and the peaceful chirping birds were replaced with the soft, yet creepy, hoots of owls and the howls of wolves.

You’d never meant to be out there that long, but as you pulled yourself off the ground, you were thankful you were smart enough to have a packed back full of extra water, a few snacks, a rope just in case, a compass, a hunting knife, and a flashlight along with batteries.

As the sun descended, you pulled the flashlight from your backpack and here you were, wandering the woods at dusk, navigating your way back to your house in a forest you’d never been in before.

Perhaps it was the start of a disaster. Or perhaps it was keeping you away from your books for just a little longer.

Whatever the reason, you tried not to panic as you made your way through the woods in a direction you assumed was home but honestly, you were too sure.

You scanned your beaming light over varying trees, looking for the mark you’d left on a particularly girthy oak, a mark that would signal your correct direction and your soon entrance into the backyard of your home.

As your light hit along the trees, searching high and low, it caught the glow of a pair of glassy eyes not three feet from where you stood. With a shriek, you jumped back, stumbling over a tree root and falling back onto your bum, letting out a whine at the pain.

You shined your light back on the spot you’d saw the eyes and found them again, wide, yellow eyes staring back at you in, what you could only assume was fear. Fear that pulled at your heartstrings, because this wasn’t any regular fear of humans. This was absolute terror.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up onto your knees, dusting the dirt off of the bottom of your jeans as you carefully inched forward, careful not to spook the animal which you assumed to be a mistreated cat or an abused dog.

The animal didn’t move, seeming to be frozen in place as you moved closer. It was only when you managed to shift the bush it was hiding in that you realized what it actually was.

A fox. A small, dull orange fox that still resembled a pup. It had greying pointed ears and a dirt covered orange coat. As your eyes trailed over the body of the fox, they landed on the tail, or shall you say, tails! By your count, nine, although you knew that couldn’t be right! It’s tail was likely matted in nine big places! You pushed the question of tails out of your mind and roved over its body, finding surprisingly small paws and a muzzle covered in a crusty red which you quickly realized was blood. That fact alone should have sent you running, but as your eyes scanned it’s body, you quickly realized the source. An opened gash on the foxes side, just above it’s hip, steadily weeped a bright red liquid that would claim the fox’s life if kept untreated.

Your heart broke for the poor animal and you knew you couldn’t simply leave it to die. Carefully, you offered your hand for the fox to sniff and, as soon as he did, he seemed to trust you a little more.

You’d taken several animal science classes while pursuing your degree, and you knew the technical way animals seemed to trust a human just by sniffing them, but you always found yourself fascinated by the way an animal could get to know someone simply by sniffing their palm.

“I can’t leave you out here. You’ll die from your wounds if I do. Would it be alright if you come home with me?” you asked softly.

Part of you felt silly for speaking to a fox that couldn’t understand you, but as the fox nodded to your question, you felt relieved-

Wait… nodded?!

You stared wide eyed as the fox, who apparently could understand you, slowly crept from under the bush, small whimpers leaving it’s throat as it moved its hind legs. It no doubt hurt, especially with the placement of the wound.

“I doubt any animal hospital would be open right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, but the fox froze in place, fear once again in its eyes.

“You don’t want to go to the animal hospital, do you?” you asked.

The fox shook his head-- you were really going to have to get used to that.

Sighing to yourself, you reached a hand out to gently stroke the orange fur, something the fox stiffened at before all together relaxing in your touch.

That was all it took for you to know you couldn’t let anything happen to this gentle fox.

“Can I pick you up?” you asked. “It may help get you back home with minimal bleeding.”

The fox seemed to pause, as if pondering and you were beginning to odd just how strange this fox truly was. Not like any other wild animal you’d ever happened upon, which, in turn, led you to believe that this was not just another wild animal.

The fox moved closer to you and touched its nose lightly to your hand. You took this as the ‘go-ahead’ and, very gently, you lifted to fox pup up into your arms.

It whimpered slightly, but as you pressed it’s wounded side purposely against your torso to still the bleeding, it relaxed in your arms.

You didn’t know how you were going to get him home. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure where home was, but as you shined your flashlight carefully clenched between your teeth, your eyes landed on the jagged ‘X’ you’d etched into the pine.

With a breath of hope, you moved toward the mark and within a few paces, you were standing in the yard of your house.

Carrying the fox through the yard was made easier by the darkness. You flicked off your flashlight, relying on memory so as not to draw your neighbor’s attention to yourself or the orange mass in your arms. When you finally made it to the front door, you opened the latch and let yourself into your messy living room covered in stay books and disposable coffee cups you hadn’t yet gotten rid of.

You latched the door behind you carefully and carried the fox going scarily limp in your arms through the house and into the bathroom.

“Don’t go to sleep, please,” you begged the droopy-eyed fox as you placed it in the bathtub.

It seemed to struggle to stand and you knew you had to work fast. Helping it lay down surrounded by the porcelain walls, you moved to the sing, ripping open the medicine cabinets and began rifling through everything you had, which wasn’t too much. You may have been training to be a veterinarian, but that didn’t mean you were already practicing.

Luckily, after shuffling around, you managed to find basic rubbing alcohol and peroxide along with several large bandages, gauze, and, the best find yet, suture thread with a needle.

Pulling on a pair of gloves you usually used to dye your hair, you turned back to the tub with your utensils only to find the fox had drifted off to sleep, pants leaving its mouth. It didn’t have much time left and you’d be damned if you let it die in your house.

Grabbing a towel and a pair of scissors, you knelt by the tub. With the scissors, you hastily cut away the fur surrounding the wound, getting yourself a better image of the wound itself while also making it easier to clean.

Once the wound was exposed, you didn’t know whether you were relieved or panicked, staring at the long gash clearly having been made from a sharp knife. This was no animal fight as you’d first thought. This was intentional and likely had been done by a human. No wonder it had been so scared, yet it begged the question, why had it trusted you?

You pressed a towel to the still weeping wound, pressing down hard to still the bleeding. Once it was mostly halted, you poured peroxide on the wound, flushing out any dirt and grime before washing it with rubbing alcohol that surely would have hurt like hell had the animal been conscious.

With the wound cleaned, you sterilized the suture kit with the rubbing alcohol and threaded your needle. You’d done suture’s before, but only on test dummies. Having a real patient had your stomach twisting in knots, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Bringing the needle to the skin, you began to stitch up the now cleaned wound, careful not to injure the fox further. The stitches weren’t pretty by the time you’d finished. A professional could have done a much better job, but at least the wound was closed. You placed a bandage over the wound before wrapping the gauze carefully around the fox’s waist, keeping it loose enough it didn’t constrict him, but tight enough to keep pressure on the wound.

Time was still sensitive. You very well may not have gotten to it before it lost too much blood and you had no way of administering a transfusion. It was solely up to the fox now whether it lived or died.

As it slept in the tub, you ran your fingers through it’s fur, too scared to leave it alone. As you stroked around the foxes neck, your fingers gazed over metal beads buried deep in the fur. Curiosity got the better of you and carefully, you pulled at the beads until you unveiled a dark metal necklace that resembled a collar only slightly.

Inquisitively, you trailed your fingers along the beaded necklace of a collar until you gripped the base, the end that hung down at the fox’s chest. It was then that you saw it.

Resting at the base of the necklace was a dog tag with only one marking. A marking that spelled out a name.

Yuta.

As you ran the tag over in your hands, careful to not disturb the fox, you found no address or number to call. There was nothing to give you any information about who this pup belonged to. However, you supposed, whoever it was wasn’t a very good owner if the knife wound were anything to go by.

Letting the necklace drop from your hold, you ran your hands over the fox’s head.

“Yuta,” you mumbled to yourself.

The name had a nice ring. A name that seemed to roll off your tongue as though your tongue was meant to speak it. And perhaps that holds true as the moment the last syllable left your throat, the fox was stirring, shifting as it-he slowly regained consciousness until his yellow eyes met yours.

Something seemed to stir inside you at that moment and you found yourself reaching out to touch the animal again, a touch the fox shifted into, nuzzling against your hand as if he wholly trusted you. You didn’t really know why the fox would trust you, but your heart beamed with joy. A joy that you knew meant you wouldn’t be letting this fox run back out into the wild unless it’s something he truly wanted, but you could already tell, the fox was going nowhere.

That statement seemed to hold true as the next few days passed and Yuta was finally able to walk around a bit more. He tired easily and had a bit of a limp, but he’d managed to walk from one room to another easy enough before giving you a look that begged you to pick him up. Even now, as you sat on the living room couch, laptop perched on your thighs, surrounded by mountains of resource material books, Yuta made his way from napping in the bedroom to where you sat.

You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in your work that you were slightly unaware of your surroundings, but as he pressed his cold nose against your exposed ankle, you took in a sharp breath, eyes glancing down at the mischievous fox who had learned just how to get his way.

“What do you want?” you asked.

It had become normal for you to ask him questions you’d ask a human. The fox seemed more and more human every day, which made him likely the most intelligent animal you’d ever encountered. He truly was one of a kind.

‘Pick me up.’

A masculine voice suddenly permeated your made, making you yelp out at the suddenness of it all, head shaking as you dropped your computer onto the ground, hand coming up to hit lightly against your head.

That was a voice you’d never heard before and most definitely was not your consciousness.

‘Calm down human, it’s only me.’

The voice spoke again, eliciting yet another yelp from your lips as you looked around. There was no one in your house save for yourself and Yuta. No windows or doors were left open and, unless someone was hiding in your closet and speaking, there was no one around. The voice itself was too vivid, too clear to be heard through your ears anyways which ultimately lead you to the conclusion that the voice was in your head, although that didn’t make anything better.

“I’ve finally gone crazy!” you murmured to yourself, eyes wide with worry and fear. “I’m hearing voices! It’s only a matter of time before they lock me up!”

‘(y/n), calm down! It’s only me! Yuta!’

“What?!” you screeched.

You didn’t bother looking down at the fox on the floor. There was absolutely no possible way the voice in your mind was the voice of an injured fox named Yuta who’d come to live with you a few days ago! There was no possible way! You were just-

‘Would you stop saying you're crazy before you really upset me!’

“Leave me alone!” you squealed.

You jumped up off the couch when suddenly, a rush of tranquility washed over you, ebbing the panic away as the masculine voice was once again in your mind, this time, in a much gentler tone.

‘Calm down before you hurt yourself. Look down at me on the floor. Look into my eyes and you’ll understand.’

You don’t know whether it was the sudden sense of calm that had you keeping cool, curiosity, or sheer trust that had you lowering your gaze to the floor where they met Yuta’s yellow ones. As soon as your eyes locked on his, a rush of comforting heat surged through your body, spreading from your eyes down to your toes while washing over your brain. Your knees buckled and your body crashed against the couch as thoughts and memories surged through you, eventually knocking you unconscious, head lulling against the couch cushions.

Two Hundred Years Earlier

When you opened your eyes, your living room was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were standing in a deep, open space painted a galaxy shade of purple. Beside you was a handsome man with long, dark hair that touched his shoulders. He had a lean face and boxy jaw leading to a square chin that only added to his handsomeness. His shoulders were broad but he wasn’t all that muscular, rather, he was lean. A grey shirt wrapped around his frame, long black shorts flowed to a stop below his knees.

“Who are you?” your voice cracked.

“I am Yuta,” said the man, the voice the same one you’d heard in your mind earlier.

“W-what- How-...?” you couldn’t seem to conjugate the words properly.

“I wasn’t going to tell you until later. But I am Yuta, and the fox version of myself… well that’s technically my natural form. While injured, I take that form,” he explained.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. This Yuta was your Yuta… Your Yuta had a human form… Your Yuta… the fox you’d been sharing your bed with… had a human form…

“Easy now, I’m not sure what happens if you pass out when you're not awake!” the man said, hands grabbing your shoulders to still your wobbling form.

“But how-- I…”

“I’m going to show you,” he spoke softly.

With that, he snapped his fingers and the purple room evaporated from sight. You let out a small screech as it was replaced with air rushing around your face as your bodies hurtled straight from the sky into a forest you’d never seen before. A forest that certainly wasn’t in your backyard.

You touched ground without so much of a wince, your feet settling gently on the plush, mossy earth.

“You’ll get used to that,” Yuta promised as he clasped an arm around your waist to hold your quivering body steady.

“W-where are we…”

“Japan. 200 years in the past.”

“WHAT?! But-”

You trailed off as your eyes caught sight of a beautiful fox with nine tails flowing proudly from her backside strode up in front of your prying eyes, a young fox pup not too far behind, accompanied by his father who kept nudging at the pups hindquarters playfully, earning small little yips from the pup.

“They’re so adorable! Who are they?!”

Yuta didn’t answer for a long moment and when you looked at his face, you caught the fading wisps of a painful memory.

“The pup is me…” he spoke. “And my parents.”

You were about to open your mouth to ask about them when there was a rustle in the trees and a group of six men appeared, each one looking meaner than the next.

Yuta’s father turned away from the pup, who was drawn closer by his mother, as his father approached the men.

“Do you wish to honor our son?” you could hear the father ask although you knew he wasn’t physically speaking.

“Freak!! Unnatural piece of nature!!” screamed one of the men, drawing his sword.

“Hey! Show some respect!” you wailed, fist clenched as you glared at the man who seemed to not even notice you.

Yuta’s arm tugged on your waist, pulling you against his side.

“This is a memory… My memory… There’s nothing we can do or say that will change the past…” he whispered.

“You don’t want to do that!” Yuta’s father exclaimed. “We are kitsunes! We are luck and fortune!”

“Freak!!” the man squealed, swinging his sword at Yuta’s father, who turned to flee from the men, ready to protect his family with his power when another man slashed a sword at the fox’s backside, slashing through all nine tails.

You let out a squeak, hands coming to cover your mouth as a pained cry left the fox’s mouth moments before his body hit the ground and life left his body. You could see the spirit of the fox lifting, rising into the trees, where it would rest as a ghost, keeping watch on it’s family.

The men howled with glee and charged over the fox’s body, trampling it as they made their way for the mother and her pup.

The blaze of a campfire suddenly sparked from the place Yuta’s mother was planning on cooking dinner. A ball of fire lunged at the men, who dodged, and the fire only made them angrier.

The female, just as strong as her husband, held the men at bay with a wall of fire, managing to severely burn four of the six men before the kindling in the fire had died and all was left was embers. She could bend fire, but not without a fire.

“Looks like you’re all out of ideas,” one man, the man who’d killed his father chuckled.

The pup whimpered and burrowed itself in his mothers side, not quite old enough to possess all the powers of his parents.

Frantically, the female fox turned to the pup and, without hesitating, bit down onto its scruff. The pup cried out at the sudden jostle, but his mother did nothing but squeeze tighter. With her pup held close, she leaped over the fallen men and darted into the forest, putting as much distance between herself and the men as she could.

The air around you and Yuta rustled past your faces and suddenly, without moving your feet, your bodies were standing beside a fox and her pup who were now both panting, far from the men that would come searching for them.

“Yuta, listen to me child. The humans are turning on us, but you mustn’t let that stop you from being yourself, from being a true and great kitsune!” the fox’s voice permeated your mind. “The humans will hurt you, try to kill you as it has been prophesied, but you mustn’t let their ways sway you from your duties.”

“Mom!” the fox cried.

He could tell, even at such a tender age, what his mother was about to do.

“You will find your soulmate, who will be human, and you must make the human understand who and what you are. They must understand where you come from. And, if they accept you, bonds between man and fox will be restored once more!”

Her voice was urgent as the sounds of the men tracking them grew louder. Your heart hammered in your chest. You knew what was going to happen, but your heart wept at the fate of the family torn apart. Yuta’s arm around your waist fastened to you tighter, although you weren’t sure if he was holding you or himself together.

You don’t know what spurred you to move, but you turned toward him slightly, enough to unpin your arm from your side, and wrapped both of your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly as together, you watched his mother kiss her pups head softly before dashing off toward the men.

There were yells along with a high pitched whimper before her spirit rose into the air to join her mates, leaving the young pup all alone.

You buried your face in Yuta’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter as a few tears slipped from your eyes, dropping onto his shirt. You’d only witnessed a memory. Yuta had been there. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt the day both of his parents were killed by greedy, uneducated humans.

Present Day

You stood there, embracing Yuta for what seemed like hours before the air was shifting around you again and, by this time, you knew what that meant.

When the air stopped and you opened your eyes, pulling your face from Yuta’s neck, you were standing against the wall of a small little shop that resembled what you would have imagined to be an apothecary’s shop. White-wicked candles burned around the tiny, clutter-filled room, casting a smoky glow around the shop, surrounding the shelved knick-knacks and bottles of liquid medicine. Inside the shop, sitting behind a desk stacked with papers, was a middle-aged man with snow white hair and tan, wrinkled skin, so many wrinkles it looked as though he were shedding. The bags under his eyes were drooping low on his face, making his entire face seem to sag.

“Who is he?” you asked.

“His name’s Mr. Huang.”

Yuta seemed to know that that didn’t answer your question, but you didn’t have time to inquire further before the door to the shop was opening and Yuta, your Yuta, walked in, dressed the exact same as he was now.

This must have been recent…

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang,” Yuta greeted, giving him a respectful bow.

“What do you want, boy?”

Mr. Huang’s voice was mean and cruel, riddled with an angry snarl as his now beady snake eyes looked up to pierce Yuta’s brown ones.

“Is Mrs. Huang nearby? I had a few more questions about the prophecy regarding my soulmate,” Yuta said, seemingly unfazed by the man's harsh tone.

The question only seemed to make Mr. Huang angrier as stood up with, slamming his hands down on the desk.

“Mrs. Huang died this morning,” he snarled.

Yuta’s face dropped, skin growing pale as the man stalked toward him.

“You promised us she wouldn’t die!” the man hissed, slowly approaching Yuta.

Yuta backed up slowly, his eyes racing around the room, looking for something he could use for leverage when his eyes landed on an envelope with his name scrawled onto it.

Discreetly, he picked up the envelope and slid it into his back pocket.

“Mr. Huang, I did everything that I could do. I promised you’d I’d do my best to heal her! But she had lung cancer! I gave her as much life as I could!” Yuta said.

“That’s not good enough!” Mr. Huang yelled.

He reached into his back pocket and produced a long knife with a jagged edge. You gasped loudly as the man lunged at Yuta. Yuta, carefully dodged the first and the second jab, but by the third, his back was pressed against a wall. Mr. Huang stabbed the knife into Yuta’s side, right above his hip. Yuta cried out on pain, clutching his side.

“Let’s see how you fare against pure silver!” Mr. Huang snarled.

Silver wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow his healing way down. His body could be unable to atone for the wound. That coupled with his young form without having a soulmate to help him heal faster would prohibit him from healing much faster than a normal human.

With the blade still lodged in his side, Yuta shoved past the man and bolted for the door, running straight into the forest, careful not to be seen by any other human.

You followed this Yuta’s movements, your Yuta holding close to you as together, you watched this Yuta drop to his knees and pull the blade from his side, crying out at the pain before dropping it.

The boy cried out as he clutched his side in pain, slowing the bleeding as much as he could before leaning himself against a tree, the same tree near the bush where you’d found him.

His body began to shake with the weight of blood loss and you wanted to run to him, but your Yuta held you back.

“It gets better,” he whispered in your ear.

You didn’t like it. You hated watching the man die, but there was nothing you could do. This may be happening in front of you, but it had already happened in the past.

With shaky fingers, Yuta used his free hand to dig the now wrinkled envelope out of his pocket, specks of blood dotting the starch white.

He opened the envelope with that one hand and pulled out the letter inside. Somehow, you managed to see the letter from here.

Yuta,

If you can find it in your heart to forgive my husband for what he has done, please do. I know that he can have a temper, and he isn’t the best when it comes to dealing with his emotions, but he means well, usually anyways. I have no doubt that he has tried (if not succeeded) to commit bodily harm after my passing. He will likely be unable to handle himself after my death.

The truth is, I’ve always known there was nothing you could do about my condition. Guess that comes with the territory of being an old witch. You know when you’re going to die. But don’t worry, sweetheart, today is not your time. You still have that soulmate of yours to meet.

Your mother was right about the prophecy. I do apologize that I could not speak of it with you. The fact is, my husband is one of those humans that will be swayed when you meet your soulmate, and as such, I couldn’t have you or him finding too much information out. The future is tricky like that.

I just thought you should know, dear boy, that your soulmate will appear to you soon. I cannot say when. Yes, I know, but again, the future can be a tricky thing. When they do show up, they won’t hesitate to show you compassion and kindness. You will also find yourself drawn to their gentle soul. And they will be drawn to you, although they will not be able to explain. Go easy on them, hun. They are human after all. Humans are not as good at understanding things like this as you and I are. Be gentle. Ease them into it.

While all of this is nice, I do also have to give you a warning. When your soulmate is revealed to you, you will know almost immediately. However, it may take them a bit, especially if you aren’t as a human. Be patient. However, if all else fails, show them this letter. I will write your soulmate's name at the bottom. The future will allow that.

My second warning is to tell them your past. The burden is not yours to bear alone. Prophecy says that when you meet your human soulmate, humans will stop trying to kill you and those like you. Conspiracy says this is because they will understand who you are and what you are set on this earth to do. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

The gods have seen what terrible things humans can do, and it has swayed their opinions (for the better in my opinion). Rather than revealing your purpose to the humans, only a varying few will know the truth, your soulmate being one of them. The memories of Kitsune’s and other supernatural creatures will be erased from the minds of most humans, so you must be careful with this new chance in life. You must hide your identity as a Kitsune from everyone except family.

Now Yuta, I want you to know that these last two years have meant the world to me. I love you my dear boy and I will always be watching over you along with your parents.

Find your soulmate, and love them as hard and as deeply as you can.

Love,

Mrs. Huang

Ps: your soulmate's name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Treat them well.

Your eyes widened at the last note of the letter before Yuta folded it up and put it back in his pocket.

“(Y-Y/N)... but… that’s my name…” you muttered.

The man beside you didn’t utter a word as the Yuta you were watching suddenly began to quiver even harder than he already was and, within a few seconds, in his place was the same fox pup you’d rescued a few days ago.

“Wait… so… the pup… you really are the pup!” you exclaimed.

Yuta turned to stare at you, eyebrow raised.

“Tell me you didn’t just get that.”

You didn’t say anything back, instead trained your eyes back on the pup who was crawling under the bush to hide. Time suddenly began to speed up and within a few moments, you saw yourself kneeling in front of the bush in the dark, peering at the fox.

“So I… I was meant to find you… We’re connected…”

Yuta nodded.

“You’re my soulmate, and I am yours.”

You didn’t say anything. Your voice felt like it was locked in your throat as a rush of air once again brushed past your face, taking you somewhere new, although you weren’t sure what else was left to see.

“The future is a tricky thing,” Yuta’s voice whispered as the world became a blur of shapes and colors as you were taken to someplace new to see more sights that would expand your outlook on life itself.

Undetermined time in the future

The wind stopped brushing past your cheek and you stood in front of a small, cozy house with a broad backyard and a large forest filled with thick trees, perfect for running. You saw yourself, or rather, an older version of yourself, sitting on a pink and purple throw blanket in the middle of the backyard. Beside you sat a brown picnic basket waiting to be opened and a vacant seat on the other side of the blanket. The older you smiled softly as the clouds in the sky parted and a beam of sunlight shone down, warming your body naturally.

Older you looked far too happy to be on that picnic alone, so your eyes scanned the valley for someone you hoped was there.

“I haven’t seen this yet either,” Yuta whispered.

He brought his arm back around your waist, keeping you fixed to his side, not that you were complaining. Somehow, it felt you belonged at his side.

As your eyes scanned the yard, you almost missed the two bodies emerging from the forest. One was the body of a tall man, a body you immediately recognized to be Yuta’s. The other was a much smaller body, the body of a young girl whom you couldn’t see all that clearly.

Yuta’s breath hitched and you turned to look at him.

“Do you know her?”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two as they approached the picnic blanket where the older you waited, waving your hand to the two with a bright grin on your face.

Yuta’s reaction to the girl had you pausing to take a closer look at him, waiting for him to tell you who this young girl was. When he seemingly noticed you staring, he turned to look at you.

“I honestly don’t know her. But she has been prophesied many times,” he spoke, voice shaking with emotion.

“She wasn’t in the prophecy I heard,” you conjured.

Yuta shook his head, a smile breaking out across his face.

“There’s not just one prophecy,” he answered. “There are many, about many different things that allow us a glimpse into our fate, but somehow, they never play out the way you think they will.”

“Can you tell me the other prophecies?”

Yuta turned his attention back to the scene and urged you to do the same, but you caught him nodding to your question as the little girl jumped into your lap, laughing and giggling as you began to tickle her.

“I will tell you all of them,” he promised.

The scene before you was nothing like what you’d seen earlier. There was no blood or death or attempted murder. No sacrifices or ominous warnings. There was nothing but peace and love, and if that was your fate, you were happy with it.

The older Yuta sat down beside you on the picnic blanket and, as the young girl became distracted chasing a butterfly, he dipped a finger under your chin and lifted your face to his.

“I love you, my Flower,” he spoke softly.

“I love you too, my Fox.”

He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, a kiss so soft you felt as though you were prying just by watching, and, although it didn’t last long and your own lips hadn’t felt the gentle touch, you knew there was no kiss quite as sweet as the ones from Yuta.

The backyard disintegrated into an array of pickles before your eyes fluttered open and you were staring at the ceiling of the same rental house you’d spent the last three years.

“Was it all a dream?”

“Yes and no,” a familiar voice spoke next to you.

This time, you didn’t jump at the sound of the voice, although you weren’t sure if it was because it was familiar, or if it was because it wasn’t in your head this time.

Turning your head, you caught the sight of Yuta, standing just as he had been in your dream, wearing clothes that were coated in blood, likely the same ones he’d been wearing when he was stabbed.

“How are you not a fox anymore?” you asked.

He smiled as he knelt down on the couch where you were still sprawled out.

“Your human mind couldn't accept the truth earlier. That’s why you freaked out when I began speaking into your mind, which is something I can only do in fox form,” he added. “When I calmed you down by accessing your nervous system, I realized you were going to have to see the truth, so I knocked you out and took you on the journey with me. You had to live through that one way or another,” he explained.

You didn’t understand, not really anyways, not the full story, at least. What you did understand was 1) Yuta was a kitsune, 2) he had a very dark past, and 3) you were his soulmate and, although you hadn’t known him for very long, you were 100% ok with that.

“Now, do you think you can stay calm long enough for me to do something I was dying to do the entire time?” he asked.

“What?”

“This.”

Without further exchange of words, Yuta’s plump lips were on yours and, for the first time through the whole ordeal, you could feel it. And you knew it wouldn’t take much until you were addicted. Because he was Nakamoto Yuta. Kitsune. And your soulmate.

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 4 years

Text

Every Breath You Take - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki has been stalking you for weeks, and you have no idea why. One night, he decides to claim what is his.

Characters: Loki x female reader

Words: ~6300

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit language, stalking, dub-con and/or non-con smut (depending where you draw the line between those), breaking and entering, choking/breath play, fear kink, power dynamics, humiliation, praise kink, basically Loki being a dominant mother fucker

Author’s Note: Major song inspiration for this is “Every Breath You Take” by Devil + Winter. Yes, I know it’s a remake of an older song, but I looove that specific cover so much.

This might officially be my favorite oneshot I’ve written thus far, so I hope y’all enjoy!

Every Breath You Take

Glancing at the clock, you puffed out a breath at the late hour. It might be Friday, but you had refused to leave the office until all weekly projects were completed by their deadline, as well as a few extras that you wanted to finish ahead of schedule. You had snagged a government job, and there was no way in hell that you were going to slack off or cause anyone to second guess whether you were the most qualified choice.

Sending off an email to your supervisor with the attached completed work, you gave a triumphant grin before logging out of the computer system, grabbing your purse, and hightailing it for the elevators. Thoughts of a long, hot bath followed by curling up on the couch with delivery pizza and a sappy movie were beckoning, and after a week full of working early mornings and even later evenings, you deserved it.

Exiting the elevator and crossing the lobby, you waved and said goodnight to the evening security guard. He was unsurprised to see you leaving so late and wished you a good weekend. The sun had set hours ago, but the street was still semi-lit from the city lights, sections of darkness broken by circles of lamp light, car headlights, and the muted glow of lit windows.

And yet, he still managed to hide within the shadows.

You wouldn’t have even noticed, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been an unfailing constant lately. Each time you exited the office, even if it was just to run down the street to the nearest food truck, he was there. Standing right across the street from your work building, intense stare fixed in your direction, tonight was no exception.

The first time it had happened, you had been sure you were hallucinating. Especially because no one else seemed to notice the tall figure, pedestrians passing by with no acknowledgement. It was as if he didn’t allow anyone to see him. Just you.

Habit made you glance across the street again, and sure enough, the shadowed outline of his lean form was still waiting between the patches of light. It was as if he had molded them to his own benefit, wrapping the night around himself so that only the inhuman flicker of his eyes glinted at you out of the darkness.

Loki, the God of Mischief, had been silently stalking you for weeks. And you had absolutely no idea why.

Starting down the street, you felt his presence as a prickle on the back of your neck. He was there as you walked a block over to the bus stop, and it was only when you were safely on board and in a seat that the sensation disappeared. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, knowing he was gone. The reprieve was short-lived, since you also knew that he’d already be there when you got home.

Sure enough, once the bus exited the city and stopped near your block, the sensation of being followed returned. You walked quickly up the front path of your suburban home, hands shaking slightly as they fit the key into the front door. He never came too close, never followed you across the threshold, but the idea that he could made your mouth run dry. Once you were inside with the door closed and deadbolted, you went around double checking all the windows and the back door. Yep, still locked.

Peeking out between the blinds in the living room, your eyes scanned the moonlit yard, looking for movement. You didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, lurking. For the millionth time you contemplated reporting him, but also for the millionth time you had no idea who exactly to tell. It wasn’t like you were highly-ranked enough to have Mr. Fury or the Avengers on speed dial. And the police would think you were having a mental break, since it seemed as though Loki could cloak himself from being noticed, even when in the middle of a crowd.

You had just started working for S.H.I.E.L.D a couple of months ago, as a low-level data interpreter. To say you were at the bottom of the totem pole was accurate, but you were prepared to work hard to elevate yourself within the organization. Sure, you’d never be an actual agent or spy, but there were upper level positions within your department that would one day have your name on them. You weren’t about to jeopardize those possibilities by creating waves while still in your probationary period, especially since you doubted your by-the-book, no-nonsense supervisor would do anything other than laugh in your face if you tried to tell him that a friggin god had chosen to follow you around. Hell, even your own family would probably assume you were overworked and delusional.

Which meant that you were stuck dealing with the issue of Loki yourself...and so far your grand master plan had been trying to ignore him in the fervent hopes that he would get bored and leave you alone.

Though he was impossible to totally ignore, you had made some progress with not lying in bed awake all night, staring at the ceiling and fearing the moment he’d decide to come inside the house. You still did this for about half of the night, but hey, progress. When he had shown no interest in crossing that boundary, you wondered if you were supposed to feel more terrified at his lack of intent, or safe with the knowledge that he was lurking around the house like your own personal security system.

And while you had at first been too scared to leave the office for lunch knowing he was out there, after a week of huddling in your cubicle you had been furious with yourself. It had been a piss-poor day anyways, and you had barely made it to an 8am meeting on time thanks to forgetting to set your alarm the night before (probably because you had been too busy stressing over the god lurking outside). Deciding that enough was enough, you had walked outside with head held high, ready to march down the street to the nearby deli. He had been there, of course he had, piercing gaze immediately zeroed in on you the moment you exited the building’s doors.

Lack of sleep and frustration making you feel bold, you had actually stopped and glared black at him. It was the first time you had been assertive enough to acknowledge him without any visible fear, and you were damn proud of yourself.

That pride had quickly turned to ash when the corners of his mouth curved slowly upwards, lips parting to showcase a sadistic smirk that caused your heart to drop into your ass, legs doing a 180 and practically sprinting you back into the building. Turns out you hadn’t been that hungry, after all. You had left the office for lunch a few times since then, but always kept your eyes pointed down at the sidewalk, never daring to nonverbally challenge him again.

Now, after checking for the umpteenth time that all the blinds were closed, you went through with your evening plans, the hot bath relaxing tense muscles and greasy pizza filling your soul as much as your stomach. And when you crawled into bed a few hours later and drifted off to sleep, you almost forgot about the powerful god who was stalking your every move. Almost…

~ ~ ~

Startling awake a few hours later, you sat up in bed and grabbed for the bedside lamp, flicking it on. Eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, you scanned the room with a pounding heart, relief washing over you at seeing that the corners were empty. It was just a dream, you soothed. It wasn’t real…

Said dream had been filled with flashing green eyes, lips twisted into a cruel grin, and a large, powerful form pinning you to the bed.

Licking bone-dry lips, you got out of bed and headed down to the kitchen for a glass of water. You didn’t turn on any other lights, both because you knew the layout of the house well enough to navigate it in the dark, and in hopes that your movement wouldn’t alert a certain visitor who might still be in the vicinity.

The microwave clock showed that it was a little after 3am, which meant you had only gotten a couple hours of sleep before the raven-haired god had once again disrupted your life. There were enough windows with moonlight streaming in through the blinds that you had no trouble navigating the kitchen. Not wanting to open the fridge and risk him seeing the light, you grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and went over to the sink, glancing out the small window above it but seeing only an empty yard.

The glass was half full when you felt every hair on your body stand up in warning. All those blinds had been shut earlier. You had checked them multiple times before going to bed. Your eyes flew back up, breath catching in your throat at the sight. Only seconds ago the view of the yard had been empty, but now…

Loki was standing mere feet away, on the other side of the glass. Moonlight lit up his features, the pale unblemished skin giving off an eerie glow as his emerald eyes burned into you through what, suddenly, felt like a pathetic excuse of a barrier. Shock and fear made your suddenly shaky fingers loosen their grip on the fragile water glass, causing it to fall into the sink and shatter. The noise was like a gunshot to your frozen state; you jumped and screamed in alarm before realizing the sound wasn’t from the window. Eyes jerked down to the sink, where pieces of glass lay scattered and sparkling in the dim moonlight. When you looked back up again, Loki was gone.

Suddenly, a wave of anger flowed through you, heating your blood and overtaking the fear long enough for you to make what, looking back, was a really fucking stupid decision.

You were so done with his shit, done with living in constant hypervigilance and fear because some god had decided to play with you like a bug in a jar. Without allowing yourself to fully process the stupidity of what you were about to do, you went over to the back door, opened it, and stormed out onto the porch.

Breath puffing with adrenaline, you glanced to your right, where Loki had previously been standing. Instead, there was only empty air. This served to piss you off more, as it was obvious that he was just toying with you. Well, you were done with the games.

“Listen up, asshole!” you shrieked at the empty yard. “I don’t know what your problem is, but-” you cut off abruptly as logic finally caught up to anger. Your brain was frantically waving a big, red ‘this is a really stupid idea’ sign and telling you to get back inside.

The flames of rage quickly fizzled out, replaced by an icy wave of fear when the asshole in question suddenly appeared in the middle of the yard, seemingly out of thin air. He stood silent and still as the night, all-black Asgardian clothing molded to his tall and proud form so that he blended in with the shadows.

You felt, more than saw, his eyes trail slowly down over your body, expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. You were suddenly very aware that you were only wearing a lavender tank top and grey sleep shorts, bare toes curling against the cool wood of the porch. The sheer vulnerability of your situation kicked-started the flight response, and you took a slow step backwards, not wanting to lose sight of what your survival instinct classified as a wild and unpredictable predator.

The plan failed instantly when Loki burst forward, black cape fluttering out around his form as he strode across the yard. You weren’t sure if he looked more like a fallen angel or avenging demon, but the effect was enough to jolt your body into motion as you turned and sprinted for the still-open back door.

Crossing the threshold, you felt a small spark of relief, thinking how he never came inside, that you just needed to get the door closed and…

He hit the wood with such force that you were thrown into the kitchen, stumbling back against the opposite wall when he stepped inside. His gaze zeroed in on you as he lifted one booted foot and kicked the door shut.

The loud slam made you jump, vocal cords suddenly coming back online as you opened your mouth to scream. He moved so fast that you didn’t even have time to consider fleeing, his hand cutting off the scream before it even left your throat. He slammed you into the wall, his palm so large that it covered the entire bottom half of your face and effectively cut off your oxygen. His other arm caged you in, palm flat against the wall right beside your head, making you feel utterly trapped. Eyes widening with terror, you clawed at his hand, fighting to breathe. You might as well have been an insect trying to stop an incoming shoe with all the difference your struggles made.

“You will be silent. Attempt to scream again, and I will choke the life out of you. Understood?”

His low, dark voice made you shiver with fear, but you were so desperate for air that you would agree to almost anything at this point, and so nodded frantically up at him. His eyes narrowed for a few moments, as if assessing your reliability, before sliding his hand down so that it lightly encircled your throat and anchored you to the wall.

Gasping in blessed oxygen, you panted up at him with heaving breaths, eyes shifting back and forth as you tried, and failed, to come up with an escape plan. If you thought he had been intimidating from a distance these past few weeks, it was nothing compared to the vision of him up close. He practically buzzed with power as his lean, muscular frame towered over you, the ebony-clad chest and shoulders blocking any view of the kitchen and back door. The fingers at your throat flexed slightly in silent warning, as if he could read your thoughts and was reminding you that escape was futile.

You looked up at him, still in shock and trying to process the fact that a literal god was in your kitchen. And not just any god, but one who had terrorized your city, made a crowd kneel at his feet, and declared his intent to rule the planet. His arrogance was legendary, his powers terrifying. And you were so, so fucked.

Glancing up, you took in his face, semi-shadowed in the moonlit kitchen. Flawless porcelain skin showcased features sharp enough to cut glass, your eyes scanning over his sternly clenched jaw and lips pressed into a tight grimace. They gave off a coldness that sent a shiver down your spine, but then you looked up past his straight, regal nose and found the blazing heat of his gaze. He was watching you intently, those cruel lips curving up the slightest bit at your obvious perusal.

Horrified to have been caught staring, your eyes quickly lowered, taking in the expensive fabric that covered his tall, powerful body. You felt him bend down, every muscle tensed in fearful anticipation when his face stopped right beside your own. You could practically feel the effort he made to reign in his strength, the capability for violence coiled tightly right below the surface of his skin. Still too scared to lift your eyes, you heard as he slowly inhaled through his nose before exhaling through his mouth, so that warm breath ghosted over the side of your neck and caused goosebumps to erupt across your flesh.

Holy crap, had he just sniffed you?!

He gave a dark chuckle at the noticeable shudder that ran through your body in response to his actions. The hand at your throat moved up to tightly grip your chin, tipping it upwards until your eyes fluttered up as well and were ensnared by his gaze.

He was taking you in, noting your eyes dilated with fear and mouth slightly parted as your chest heaved to take in panicked breaths. He seemed to catalog all of your reactions with a piercing intelligence, as if storing away the knowledge for later.

“Do you fear me, human?”

The low, rumbled words shouldn’t have been enticing, but you’d be lying to deny the stirring low in your gut that resulted from his voice whispering in your ear. It actually took a few seconds for the question itself to filter through your brain. Unable to nod with his fingers still gripping your chin, you instead gave a soft, breathy, “Yes,” which caused him to smirk.

“Good girl.”

Okay, now that definitely caused a reaction, your body heating up at the mixture of fear and praise he provided. Dear god, what is wrong with you?! Scream, fight, do something!

As if he could read the thoughts in your gaze, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah ah, little one. You’re not getting away until I allow it.”

Attempting one last ounce of bravery, you asked in a pleading voice, “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes lit up, as if he were impressed that you dared to question his motives. The fingers at your chin loosened slightly, his eyes watching as he moved a thumb slowly back and forth across your lower lip.

“This planet is exceedingly uninspiring, and I have found humans to be particularly boring. So I had to obtain entertainment in one form or another, didn’t I?”

Well that sure wasn’t the answer you had been expecting. All the weeks of following you around, scaring you to within an inch of your life as you tried to figure out what reasons he had for singling you out, and it was all because he was bored?

You were grateful to feel a spark of anger return at his callous response and utter disregard for what he had put you through these past weeks. Looking back later, you’d think that he had verbally poked at you on purpose, had wanted you to showcase a bit more fight to add to his entertainment of the situation.

Through gritted teeth, you said, “If we’re so boring, then why waste your time following me around?”

His fingers trailed back down over your throat, and for a moment you thought that your words had been a fatal mistake, that this was when he decided you weren’t worth the trouble and strangled you. Instead, his fingers flitted over the pulse in your neck, pausing there as if to measure its beating, before gliding further down and across your delicate collarbone.

“I said humans were boring.” The tips of his long, cool fingers slid underneath the right strap of your tank top, pushing it towards your shoulder. “I didn’t say that you were boring.”

Shocked into silence, you felt the fabric being dragged down over your arm, the neckline lowering with it so that the top swells of your breasts were visible. You felt like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s crosshairs, too scared to move outside the involuntary trembling that started in your knees and traveled up the length of your legs and torso.

“Please,” you whispered, staring up at him helplessly, beseeching him to let you go. Wanting this to all just be a dream in which he would suddenly disappear and you would wake up in your warm bed.

“Begging already?” he taunted. “But we’ve barely begun.”

With that, he grabbed the neckline of the tank top and yanked, the fabric no match for his inhuman strength as he literally tore it from your body. The cool air hitting your bare nipples was what thrust you into action, as you reached up to shove against his shoulders with all your might, hoping to make him stumble back long enough so that you could dart to the side and make a run for it.

Instead, you might as well have pushed against a stone wall, even the adrenaline-laced strength not making him retreat so much as an inch. The only reaction your action caused was him to huff out a dark laugh of amusement before he flung the tatters of the tank top to the side and leered down at your exposed flesh.

You watched, wide-eyed, as a large and surprisingly warm palm cupped your breast, testing the weight of it. The whimper that left your throat was purely out of fear, you told yourself, and had nothing to do with the sensation of him pinching your nipple between two of those slender and graceful, yet powerfully masculine, fingers.

“What delightful noises you make, pet. I’m eager to learn how many others I can wring from your lips.”

Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. The whole situation was too surreal, too overwhelming. Your brain couldn’t compute all the mixed signals it was getting from the rest of your body. Thighs trembled with fear and the desire to run, but your traitorous nipples were hard as stone, and not just from the chilly air.

Loki noticed as well, of course he did. He was a master of lies, and of reading them in others, so there was no way your body was going to fool him. A pleased look lit up his eyes, and the emerald blaze was too much, causing your own to squeeze tightly shut when he leaned in close.

The words were whispered from mere inches away, and they brought with them a pang of arousal that shocked you to the core. “Don’t fight it, girl. You were made to be ruled, to be owned. And I’m going to make you mine.”

You gave a little sob in response, but didn’t argue, didn’t struggle. Not even when the hand at your breast continued its pleasurable torment while his other hand left the wall to trail down over your ribs and waist until it met the top of your sleep shorts. The tips of his fingers hooked inside the fabric, and with one graceful movement he shoved both shorts and panties down over your hips, so that they fell in a pile at your feet and left your body completely bare.

“Step out of them,” he commanded, fingers dancing softly along your hip bone.

Frozen with indecision, your breath came in audible gasps as the mixture of fear, anxiety, and burgeoning desire made your head spin. The headstrong and independent mentality that was so self-ingrained insisted that you fight him to the very end. But there was another part of you, a hidden and previously unknown part, that wanted to do as he said. Wanted to give in and submit.

Before you could find out which side would win, the hand at your breasts leapt back up to your throat, the movement so quick that you barely had time to register it before your oxygen was cut off. Eyes flew back open in panic, but before you could even attempt to struggle, the long fingers of his other hand caught and held your wrists tightly together, effectively trapping you once again.

His face lowered directly in front of your own, his straight, white teeth bared as he snarled, “I said step. Out. Of. Them.”

At this point, you’d do just about anything he asked if it meant being able to breathe, and so obediently lifted first one foot and then the other out of the shorts and underwear. He used his own booted foot to shove the fabric so that it slid across the floor off to the side, but didn’t yet let up his grip on your throat.

Your vision was growing spotty from lack of oxygen as you choked and squirmed in his grip. He looked delighted at this, his gaze dropping down to watch your body’s involuntary twists and jerks before lifting back to your face.

“You’re a willful little human, I’ll give you that. But from now on, when I give an order, I expect you to obey. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded desperately, and when that didn’t seem to satisfy him, sputtered out a barely audible, “Yes”.

“Sorry, pet, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again.”

Certain you were about to pass out, you put all remaining energy into gurgling out another attempt of the word. It must’ve been enough, because he whispered ‘good girl’ at the same time his grip loosened, allowing you to cough and gag as your lungs frantically filled with air.

His hand stayed in place this time, splayed across your throat in silent warning, as his other palm released your wrists, coasted down the front of your body and, without any hesitation, delved between your thighs. When you tried to close them, he used his own leg to wedge yours back open, pressing his erection into your hip and making it clear where this was heading.

Those cruel yet seductive fingertips ran along your slit before dipping into the humiliatingly apparent wetness and spreading it up to your clit. He gave a hum of male satisfaction at your pleasured gasp, exploring your body in a way that made both shame and desire heat your skin. The tip of his finger teased at your wet opening, barely dipping inside. Your hips bucked, and you didn’t know whether it was an attempt to get away or move closer.

His voice was more raspy than before, when he asked in a condescending tone, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, my pretty little girl?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the way your pussy clenched onto the tip of his finger when he called you ‘his’, but judging by his groan, he had.

Slow, achingly slow, he pushed his finger inside you, the long digit reaching places that your own hands never could. Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, baring your throat to him, as desire officially overtook the will to escape.

“Yes, that’s it,” he cooed, the thumb of his other hand tracing over the rapid pulse that beat in the side of your throat. “Show how you belong to me.”

His words should’ve scared you, and they did in a far-off and hazy kind of way, but you were more focused on how he was pushing a second finger inside you. He rubbed them with knowledgeable precision against the sensitive front wall, making you cry out when they found your g-spot. And when his thumb also started rubbing quick little circles on your clit, you decided that maybe belonging to him wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

He continued that way, relentless, his breaths coming in heavy puffs against your cheek as he finger fucked you roughly until the tension between your thighs coiled into a tight spring of need. Whimpering, you dimly realized that your hands were grasping desperately at his arms and your thighs had fallen open wide of their own accord.

“There you go, pet. Take your pleasure, be a good little girl.” The hand at your throat tightened slightly, just enough to make you have to work a bit harder to draw breath. “And then, I’m going to fuck you...and I’m not going to be gentle about it.”

The orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly, and it was unlike any you had previously experienced. The combination of his praise and threat, along with the motions of both his hands, sent your body soaring. Your cries were hoarse and strained from his grip at your throat, and your legs shook as you came all over his hand, his eyes flaring down at you with delight as your body convulsed against him.

He removed the hand from between your thighs, lifting his wet fingers to your lips and ordering you to open them. Still drunk off the orgasm, you did so without hesitation.

“Suck them clean. Taste your own desperation,” he purred, teeth nipping sharply at your ear as he ground his hips against you.

Once he was satisfied with your work, he removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop before reaching down to his crotch and starting to undo the fabric. You watched in silent awe as he removed just enough of the unearthly clothing to release his thick cock, the head a dark red and already glistening with precum. Despite your recent orgasm, you still felt a bit of apprehension, knowing it was going to be a tight fit. He gave it a few firm strokes with his fist before he grabbed your hips and twirled you around so that you were facing the wall, his feet pushing your legs open even wider, spreading you out for him.

It felt so taboo, his still fully-dressed, muscular body pressing into your naked back, his bare erection bobbing between your spread thighs. He was so tall that when the hand at your throat pushed upward, forcing your head to tip back until your face was parallel with the ceiling, he was able to lean down over you and make eye contact. You tried to look away, but his fingers pressed into your windpipe in retaliation.

“Eyes on me, girl. I want to see that little look of pain in your eyes when I press into you.”

Your eyes widened at that, causing him to chuckle. The tip of his cock notched at your opening, but he didn’t press forward, drawing out the tension of the moment.

“Who do you belong to?” he taunted.

Licking your lips with both anticipation and nervousness, you whispered, “You.”

He made a deep, approving noise in his throat. “Yes. Say it. Say my name.”

“Loki,” you answered with a cry, as he started to press his cock forward, your body twisting as it struggled to adjust to the wide head.

“No no, don’t tense up,” he hissed. “Take it. Take it all.”

With that, he pushed inside you with one long, slow thrust. You felt the slight burn as your body stretched to accommodate every thick inch. It must’ve shown in your face, because his lips curled into a smirk at the same time as he groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back.

“Mmm, you suffer so beautifully for me. Look at you, taking all of my cock like a good little girl.”

The bastard knew what his words did to you, panting out a chuckle when he felt you involuntarily clench around him in response. Your hands were braced against the wall, back arched as he grasped your throat and hip with his hands and impaled you on his cock. You felt so full, so utterly overtaken when he ground his hips into your ass, as if to see just how deep he could go.

He withdrew slowly before thrusting back in, quick and harsh, causing you to cry out with the sharp pleasure-pain. He did it again, pulling his hips back agonizingly slow until the tip of his cock was resting at your entrance. He paused for a moment before pushing back inside, as if to recreate that initial claiming thrust. After doing this about half a dozen times, he stopped teasing and set up a steady and deep rhythm, each thrust sending sparks throughout your entire body.

Your eyes had started to flutter shut, but his hand cutting off your air caused them to reopen and focus up at him, his chiseled features hovering over you in the dim light, gaze searing down into your own. This time, you didn’t panic, didn’t tug at his arm, just stared up at him with desire-glazed eyes and let him do as he wished. You could practically feel his approval of your surrender, his fingers loosening long enough for you to draw a few breaths before tightening again.

“You’re so pretty like this, surrendering to me,” he growled through bared teeth, once again letting up on your throat so that you could gasp in air and let it out with a moan. “Every breath you take is mine. Every gasp from your lips, every flutter of your pulse...it’s because I allow it. And now, I’m going to fill up this cunt and claim it as mine.”

Your whimper was cut off as his hand tightened once more, hips picking up the pace as he thrust brutally into you, his balls smacking your clit and fingers pressing so deeply into your hip that you knew there would be bruises to match the ones at your throat. The edges of your vision were starting to become fuzzy when he let up for the last time, his hand lowering from your neck to run over your breasts, tweaking the nipples until you whined before continuing downward.

When his fingertips zeroed in on your clit, you let out a pleading noise which, under other circumstances, would’ve made you ashamed at how needy it sounded. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for, but you did know that he was the only one who could give it to you. The harsh bite of his cock dragging against your sensitive inner walls combined with the fast and skilled movements of his fingers drove you up to the edge, forehead dropping to the wall as you moaned uncontrollably, his answering grunts sending shivers through you.

The hand gripping your hip came up to wrap in your hair, pulling your head back so that you were once again looking up at him, and you couldn’t help but think that he was one of the most glorious creatures you had ever seen. His features looked as wrecked as you felt, cords in his neck standing out with stark relief in his pale, moonlit skin as his jaw clenched tightly, eyes focused unwaveringly on you. It was one of the most intensely intimate moments of your life, his piercing gaze breaking you wide open with nowhere to hide.

You started shaking uncontrollably, body balanced right on the knife’s edge of pleasure and wanting so badly to fall over into the abyss. His lips twisted knowingly as your pussy started to flutter around his cock.

“Yes, that’s it. Come for me.” The hand between your legs pressed in harder, moved faster. “Come for your god.”

As if the words were the final push your body needed, the orgasm flowed through you. It wasn’t as volatile a punch as the first one; instead, it drowned you in waves of blissfully intense pleasure that drew soft cries from your lips, the sound mingling with his own strangled groan. Leaning down, hand still fisted in your hair, he bit into your shoulder as he came. You felt his warm cum filling you as he did just as he promised, and claimed you as his.

Mind floating from the high of your orgasm and body trembling with little aftershocks, you felt his hips slow then still, his mouth moving from your shoulder to lick a trail of sweat that was running down the side of your neck. Whimpering, you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into his, grinding onto the softening cock that was still buried deep.

He hummed with approval, his hands running up over your sides, tracing your body with possession for a few long moments as both of your bodies calmed. Taking your earlobe gently between his teeth, he whispered, “You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose. Is that clear, kitten?”

Part of you wanted to deny him, wanted to find the strength to fight back, now that the orgasmic stupor was starting to lift. Instead, your body responded of its own accord, head nodding with submission.

His lips pressed softly to your temple, making you gasp at the gentle touch. You realized dazedly that it was the first kiss he’d given you all night.

“Good girl.”

The words were said a moment before his body moved away, his cock slipping wetly from your body. The cool air hitting your back made you immediately miss his body heat. You turned around, unsure what to do or say next…

But he was gone.

The back door was slightly ajar from him disappearing into the night, leaving you standing there, naked and shivering, his cum starting to trickle down the inside of your thigh. Grabbing your shorts and panties, you put them on before finding the tatters of your tank top and holding it to the front of your chest. Walking over to the door, you closed it with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the empty kitchen.

You went around to the windows and re-closed the blinds, stopping at the last one to glance out into the yard. It was empty, completely undisturbed, but you knew he hadn’t gone far...and that he wouldn’t be gone for long.

Leaving the broken glass in the sink to deal with in the morning, you grabbed another one, filled it with water, and headed for the staircase. As you tucked back into bed, body already sore in places that made your skin heat with the memory, you thought back over his final words.

You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose.

You wondered when he’d return to make good on his promise...and as you drifted off to sleep, tried to ignore the dark part of you that hoped it would be soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Afterword: This is meant to be only a one shot. I know, I know, I left it very open-ended. But I like to leave something to the imagination, so y’all can create your own fantasy idea of what might happen to “you” next ;)

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highladyofprythian · 3 years

Text

Rhys picking Feyre up from univesity drabble

Thus Prythian was split into the seven courts…

When my eyes flutter open, the words in front of me are distorted, on the verge of blurry with my face pressed against the pages. There’s a sharp pain in the back of my neck and my thighs ache from sitting for so long.

Sitting up, I groan as I stretch out my legs, pulling my head to one side to relieve the pain there. Even still, the left side of my face is numb from being pressed against the table’s surface for so long. I scan the library quickly, my Fae ears not picking up the sounds of other students. Odd, considering I only started reading just as the sun went down, the library full of other students. But now, only the soft creek of settling floorboards and my breathing can be heard.

The room is dark, my faelight burnt down to embers, barely enough light to see three feet in front of me, let alone navigate the expansive library. Sighing, I stand up, willing my exhausted magic to fill the faelight again, just enough to guide me and pack my things away.

I pack my book away into the leather rucksack Rhys gifted me last Solstice, along with the charcoal pencils and paper scattered around. Studying, I’ve found, has left me prone to doodling while I concentrate. Little images of flowers, Nyx’s eyes, utterly random shapes. It’s difficult to sit idle, while some ancient wizened Fae drones on in the front of a grand lecture hall about the trade routes between Courts.

The clock chimes in the silence, frightening me so much I jump, pencils clattering to the floor. Grumbling, I bend to retrieve them, but snap back up when I only hear three chimes. Three? But-

Wildly, I whip my head around, determined that other students only left to eat dinner… I couldn’t have been asleep that long. But again, I hear nothing.

I’ve been asleep for hours… oh gods, Nyx.

I tug hard on the bond between Rhys and I, not caring if I wake him from sleep. I need to know if my son is ok.

Good morning, Feyre darling, his voice thick with sleep drawls in my head.

Before I can ask him, he calms my racing thoughts, my shield falling from my panic and lack of proper sleep. The baby is fine, he fell asleep hours ago. As did you, clearly. His dark laughter fills my head, only irritating me further.

You didn’t think to wake me up? I snap at him.

Couldn’t disturb you being so studious, now could I? His tone is amused as he goes on, And besides, I am capable of parenting our child without you.

I soften, melting at the image Rhys sends me of Nyx cradled in his arms, his head resting against Rhys’ bare chest as he bottle feeds him.

I hope you ate too, High Lord. I gripe back, still irritated with him. The stress of the baby’s birth and potential fallout with Autumn has put Rhys on edge, falling back into bad habits of forgetting to eat his meals.

Of course, High Lady. Couldn’t risk falling asleep in my study with the baby home. Infinitely amused, he continues to make fun of me.

If I remember correctly, you were the one to encourage me to attend university. Such is the life of a poor student… I lament, matching his dramatics.

If only because the thought of you sitting in a lecture halls and writing essays does wicked things to me.

What doesn’t? I retort, sending him a rude gesture down the bond. He just laughs, thinking of more creative uses for my hand.

Pig, I say as I finally find my pencil and tie my rucksack together. The faelight follows me as I walk out the grand double doors to the library, illuminating the path ahead.

You love it, his voice and my feet padding along the marble flooring the only sounds to be heard. Truly I somehow managed to sleep through students leaving for dinner, chatting amongst themselves. Even the Fae who do nightly patrolling of the library.

I doubt even the toughest of security guards would want to wake the High Lady, says Rhys. This late at night, I don’t bother putting up my shields, enjoying the simply intimacy of Rhys hearing my thoughts, sharing each moment with me. Even I don’t dare to do that, he continues.

I snort aloud, startling myself. Only when you wake me up creatively… I send him an image of us, him beneath the sheets, my hands gripping the pillow beneath my head.

I don’t think the guards would wake you up quite like that, his mental voice is a little strained. I can see through his eyes that he’s sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his hips, revealing only a tantalizing shadow but no more.

I follow the path down the winding stairs, the sconces along the stone walls are blown out for the night, the gentle gold of the faelight flickering. The history in these walls is deep, thousand of years of Fae scholars shared this space, writing laws that still preside of Prythian today. Rhysand’s own family, High Lord’s of Night Court past sheltered together, the wards of Velaris being set up as they studied through the night.

And a painting comes to mind, of ancient Fae, gathered in a library of old, heads bent together, scroll after scroll of lore and history being recorded. One day, Rhys himself will stand beside them.

I like to think I’m not stuffy and old yet, darling. His voices brings me back, and I’m greeted by the sight of the university’s large, ornate double doors shut to the elements, no light peeking through the wood.

Yet? Says the five-hundred-year-old with bad knees, I tease as I pull on the large, iron door handle. Amongst the alumni it’s said that the iron handles and sconces were built into the building to ward away evil Fae spirits. However I, and other students have far fonder memories attached. And I’m reminded of my first week here, students rushing past me, completely bare as they ran through the ancient hallways, attempting to touch each piece of iron before their competitors, to then be greeted by a slew of cheers and applause when they completed the course. Even I partook in the spirit of unvieristy, and I’m blushing just thinking about it again.

Shame I wasn’t there, Rhys says, showing me a picture of his own days in the university. A buck-naked Illyiran warrior flouncing down the hallways, outrunning everyone, of course.

I could say the same. Though I don’t think we would’ve studied well together. The heavy doors open to an inky black night, the snow on the ground stark white in contrast.

“Considering your success at reading, I think we would have made exceptionally good study partners.” Rhys’ midnight voice floats through the air, making me jump again.

I huff at him, “You scared me! What are you doing up?” And another more pressing thought, “Who’s minding the baby?” I begin to run towards the river house, though the jog across from the university to the house would take thirty-minutes by foot.

Rhys behind me laughs, and I hear his wings flare wide before he takes me in his arms, pushing off the ground and up, up into the night sky. The air rushes past my face and I revel in the sensation, loving the icy cold against my faelight warmed skin.

Once we find a cruising altitude, Rhys answers me. “Mor is at the house, he’s fast asleep.” His voice caresses my neck and I shiver, though not from the cold. “And I’m here to pick up my star-pupil, lest she fall asleep on herself mid-flight. Again.”

“I had just had a baby! Your baby! And I didn’t fall asleep I simply closed my eyes.”

“And careened straight into a tree.”

I whack my palms against his chest in retaliation, but he’s not wrong. I was only two months post birth and pelvic-reconstruction. I needed to simply pick up something from the market and Rhys was out on business. So, I shifted into my wings and took flight; but that evening Nyx had been up crying and I only managed to sleep for an hour before he was up, happily chatting his baby nonsense about the sun being in the sky once again. I had closed my eyes briefly… and both Rhysand and Azriel still make fun of me. Azriel more so, between fits of chuckling telling me ‘I thought I trained you better than that,’.

I nestle into his arms, sleep clouding my eyes once again, but even after two years, the sight of candle-lit Velaris twinkling against the night sky, cradled betwixt the mountain rages, makes me sigh in wonder, never wanting to close my eyes.

“Sleep, Feyre. You have an early lecture in the morning, wouldn’t want the Professor to catch you drooling on the table.”

I snort weakly, partially asleep once again. “Reminiscing about your own days at university, old man?” His laugh rumbles in his chest, lulling me fully into sleep.

When we land, I wake just enough to kiss Nyx’s little forehead while he sleeps soundly before Rhys picks me up again, places me on our bed and I dream of Rhys after his first war, young by Fae standards, studying the night away in the very same library I slept.

#Feysand #feyre archeron #Rhysand #Nyx #Feysand baby #feysand drabble #acowar #acofas #post acofs au #sjm #sjm books #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #feysand fluff

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laporcupina · 3 years

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Any thoughts on the Loki premiere? (Assuming you’ve seen it; if not, feel free to ignore this :))

I have now finally seen the pilot! Yes, there are several more episodes to get through, but it's both the NHL playoffs and my poor Mets are playing games-per-day > 1 and so TV is something for those weird days when neither is happening because I cannot shed my father's rule about no non-sports TV before dinner despite being in my forties.

Thoughts on just the pilot:

* I love the 1960s aesthetic. I'm young Gen-X and can recognize it by sight because it was still part of my childhood. I'm sure they chose it intentionally and I could look up why, but I choose to believe it's because Marvel hit its modern stride then. I'm sure the actual reason is far more pedestrian, like someone watched Mad Men.

* I'm used to Marvel's comics universes having time watchers and omniscient bureaucrats with an inability to see trees while trying to preserve the forest. Welcome to the weirdness, MCU.

* I love the casual diversity of the TVA; Marvel TV/movies are crap on that front in general and tends to send up flares when they do something token (see: first canonically gay character in the MCU... is a no-named NPC portrayed by a Russo Brother) and in Loki it's just there. Eugene Cordero (Pillboi!!!) warmed my heart because the dude's got a niche and Wunmi Mosaku being badass and larger than sample size and Gugu Mbatha-Raw is just always a treat. I hope it continues.

* Owen Wilson's a genuine joy. I am always, always going to stan the unflappable competent character who isn't a superman. (Or, why I spent years writing SGA's Lorne and love MCU/Ultimate Clint Barton.) I look forward to what else Mobius has going on.

* I'm still ruminating on how the show navigates Loki's character. The entire premise hinges on a few facts that don't hang together well at all: (1) Loki was the most popular character to come out of the first Thor movie and thus his return for The Avengers; (2) Loki is an unrepentant villain for the latter and not any kind of anti-hero even if he's a fandom woobie; (3) the MCU tried really hard to massage Loki into an anti-hero as Phase 2 and 3 progressed; (4) the show returns us to the unrepentant asshole from 2012 and erases the massaging and 'growth' the character exhibited. We might have come to like the Loki who died by Thanos's hand, but we're stuck with the asshole who wanted to vaporize a Holocaust survivor to shut him up.

The pilot had to spend quality time addressing the fact that Loki did objectively awful things by choice. Bucky Barnes and his sense of responsibility versus what his actual responsibility is is a far, far easier topic to handle. Loki's arc is darker because he made choices on his own and while some of them were in emotional extremis, he had time to sober up and reflect and stop his bullshit. Instead, he chose to double down on those bad choices and that's always been something to reckon with with the character.

Loki's mischief is occasionally really effing malevolent and that's the case before his life is upended with the revelation of his Jotun origins. The first movie portrays him acting out of a reasonably wise place: he recognizes that his beloved brother is not ready to be heir apparent even if their parents don't see it. He loves his brother and his parents and Asgardia, but he thinks he's cleverer than everyone and he's willing to prove it even if it costs lives because it will save more lives. But he's not going to any of the funerals because he's doing this for science! And then his life and his identity and everything he believed in is blown up and he lashes out. At some point, it stops being a crime of passion and starts being murder.

Loki didn't have a redemption arc per se in the pre-variant timeline. Thor never forgot what his brother had become and Loki never pretended he hadn't done those things or wasn't likely to keep doing similar things, but it got kind of pushed to the side that he'd done those things. They team up because it's expedient and because Loki's had enough time to process events that he can have emotions beyond rage when it comes to Odin and Frigga and Asgardia. But Loki's never redeemed-redeemed. He's on a path toward it, perhaps maybe, when he gets killed. But it wasn't a sure thing.

The show's pilot has to get us from MCU Phase 1 Loki to MCU Phase 3 Loki or else none of this works. He doesn't have Bucky's lack of control -- he doesn't even have Frank Castle's TBI-induced lack of control. He hasn't had time to process his grief in 2012 -- that 'what if I am a robot?' pause is hella meaningful -- and the writers have to expedite that. I'm still not sure how much it worked. Loki seeing his own foreordained death after seeing proof of his indirect responsibility for Frigga's death and proof of his return to the bosom of Asgardia's royal family with his presence at Odin's side for his passing... it requires a lot of wish-fulfillment on the part of the viewer. A lot. Loki is fresh off mass murder and assuring us that he doesn't really enjoy hurting people (but is willing to do it anyway) and really does love his Asgardian family... we want it to work. I'm not sure it does if we're not already pre-sold on it working. Maybe this is developed in subsequent episodes. I hope so.

#loki #mcu #mcu meta #loki meta #dmz bloviates a lot

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yetanotherlesbianonthiswebsite · 2 years

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Rinny said that anyone who wants to share something can feel tagged for WIP Wednesday so I am just going to take that opportunity. Thank you @ghostwise for tagging me lol

Chapter 18 is once again going to be a monster of a chapter but I refuse to tear thematically coherent units of my story apart. A third of it plays in Starkhaven’s Palace and another third in Starkhaven’s dungeons, as Briala and Leliana discuss the true meaning of liberation and a young transbian Orlesian bard comes to a realization about the extent of the violence that fuels the empire. The last third is my cute kinky transfem autistic elven mages flirting and going shopping together :) Merrill x Imerati is not something I planned to write by a long shot, but their interactions thus far have just been too cute to pass up the opportunity to make them kiss :D Their gay little t4t conversations write themselves, basically

9:34 Dragon, 23rd day of Cloudreach, 13 hours past midnight

Every hero and heroine of legend had their story told with that one idiosyncrasy that was instantly recognizable to the listener. When you heard their name, every child could tell what quirk that hero was famous for. When Imerati’s consciousness began forming full sentences again and she strained to open her eyes, she knew how they would tell stories of the Heroine of Ferelden, Queen Imerati the Last: She always somehow managed to get knocked unconscious on important missions.

The room around her was surprisingly tall and had walls made of hardwood planks that were stitched together by rusty metal beams. Architecture she had seen a bit of in the last weeks; this was quite certainly Kirkwallian.

She was on a relatively short bed probably designed to be used by a singular person. There were several simply round desks next to the bed, empty wooden food trays swarming with fruit flies on them. Others were home to large piles of books, some opened, some closed. Some had fallen down on the floor. The poor paper. The other corners were occupied by larger and smaller piles of clothes. The lantern on the other side of the room had also become an involuntary clothes rack, having a light green undershirt carelessly placed over it. Given that this was clearly a fire hazard, whoever owned this room must have last left it in a hurry. No matter the intent, the room was lit up in a soft green. Not as uncannily green as the fade, though. More inviting. More alive.

On the table directly next to her face was one of the mirror shards, activated. It showed Merrill, working with some sort of tool on the large mirror she had recovered from the Fade. She seemed extremely focused on her task, carefully running the tool along the mirror’s edge.

Imerati concluded that she was safe and tried to stretch out her hand towards the mirror shard. Her arm felt heavy and hurt all over, as if she got run over by a herd of wild brontos. A curse left her lips, and it clearly startled Merrill at the other side of the shard. It had not been Imerati’s plan to disturb her.

Moments later, the door on the other side of the room opened, revealing that Merrill had been working in the room quite next to her. With much intent to her movement, she navigated through the mountains of clothes towards Imerati.

“I am so glad you are awake, lethallan. Please do not strain yourself too hard. Your body has undergone an unprecedented change since exiting the Fade and your entire system will take a bit to recover.”

Imerati knew that this was meant to calm her down, but was certain that the opposite was true. “An… unprecedented change?”

Merrill sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched her hands out over Imerati, surely performing some spells Imerati could not understand. “The part of the Fade we visited underwent a massive haemoenergetic shift once Hawke was absolved from her torment. It latched on to the qualities of your blood and sucked them deeper into itself to compensate for what it had lost. Well, that’s my theory. There a reports of another warden mage who underwent a possibly related phenomenon quite a while ago… I wish I could study her as well…” Merrill’s mind drifted off as Imerati focused even more.

“What… are you implying?”

“One second!” Merrill stormed out of the room and returned with a vial containing a dark red substance. “Here, can you hold this for me?”

“Of course… but…”

“Do you know what this is?”

Imerati shook the vial lightly. “Blood?”

“Yes, but more precisely, darkspawn blood.”

“But… I don’t feel anything,” Imerati wondered.

“Exactly!” Merrill smiled.

“I lost the taint,” Imerati concluded. “Divine Mythal…”

“It would be more accurate to say that the taint was violently ripped out of you, but yes.”

“Well…” Imerati blinked. “Coming to think about it, losing the taint was the least likely reason for me to wake up in your bed at this point in time.”

“Unlikely perhaps, but it is easy to think of many scenarios more unlikely for that. A ghilan-somniari might have randomly opened while you slept and transported you here. That would be just as unlikely, by my estimations of their natural occurrences. Of course, the longer their distance, the more unstable they get, and I doubt my bed represents a particularly weighted point of the fade.”

“Oh. Sorry. My comment was an idiomatic allusion to… uh… sometimes people avoid saying that someone slept with somebody else by saying that they woke up in somebody else’s bed, you know?”

“I have never understood why people here in the south and especially shemlen go to such lengths to avoid the word ‘sex’. There are so many expressions whose sole purpose is to avoid that word. It makes no sense! Just say that you had sex with someone! I mean it can be fun to make jokes about sex but half of the time I can’t understand them because Trade is such a weird cultural language! Also, most of the time, when I wake up in someone else’s bed, it’s because I slept over when I visited them! At least choose idioms that make sense.”

“I… Sorry. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by saying this.”

“No, not at all. You are beautiful and kind. The thought of sex with you does not make me uncomfortable in the slightest.”

A very heavy pause emerged in which Imerati struggled to sort her thoughts. “Is… is the city safe?”

“Yes. They proclaimed Hawke the new Viscount a while ago. Things are comparably peaceful again.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good. I just hope Leliana and Briala are…” Pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place in Imerati’s mind. “Without the taint, I can be subject to transformative blood magic…!”

“You could do that. It certainly worked for me. I could perform the same spells on you that I performed on me. If you want.”

“So… are you telling me… you are hanalen-ma as well?”

“Yes, I am. Are you surprised?”

“No, you just never told me…”

“Why should I have told you?”

“Fair point,” Imerati shrugged. “How difficult are these spells? When can we begin?”

“I would like to point you to another option. Have you ever heard of the Black Emporium?”

“Perhaps, a long time ago… The name is faintly familiar. Why do you ask?”

“It’s a special, hidden shop in a pocket bubble of the fade. There is a mirror there, an eluvian that is connected into itself, that has extremely interesting properties. It allows you to modify your body much more intimately than I could do simply with spells.”

“Does it cost anything?”

“No, but I’d have to ask Xenon if you could receive an invitation. No one enters the Black Emporium without an invitation.”

“If you could ask them for me, I would certainly like to try it out.”

#WIP #The Ridge of Thedas

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 5

Summary: After a short two day break, Adelaide finally comes back to the cottage. During their next challenge however, things don’t go to plan.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 7.9k (I know, this is a lot, but I don’t know what happened to me

Warnings: Descriptions of a haunted house and what can be found in them.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

I’ve been here in Italy for a week and a half now, but I have to take a small break, because the I had to travel to Switzerland. It was only for two days, to sign some papers and meet up with the director. The filming process isn’t starting for three more months, but it’s nice to know a bit more about it and to finally see the director in real life.

Plus it felt like I finally had time to breath, when I’m not being surrounded by camera’s. Henry and I prerecorded our challenges, so the schedule isn’t messed up.

Two days ago, the second episode aired and I actually liked the way people write about us and me. For once I’m not the ditz, but I’m the daredevil and actually quite smart.

I’m in the back of a taxi, as the driver soars over the roads. Thankfully he can’t hear me because of the plastic that separates us and from the looks of it, he doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s a good thing, because I see my dad wants to FaceTime me. ‘Hi,’ I say when I pick up.

Ever since I have been making a lot of money, he started to look even better and better. Not because I’m paying for his botox, but because he finally can relax. Years of overworking himself, stressing over me and my mom, it took a toll on him. Though he still works hard to make sure my mom is happy, it’s nothing compared to what he had to do.

The smile on my father’s face when he sees me is priceless. Even when I was younger, his entire face would light up when he saw me. I’m happy to know that I still have that effect on my dad, even when there is an ocean in between us and we’re on FaceTime. ‘You look so pretty,’ is the first thing he tells me.

He is an absolute sweetheart. ‘Thank you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a taxi, appa. I went to Switzerland for my new movie. Now I’m on my way back to Italy, to the cottage I’m staying at.’

‘Right,’ he says. He tilts his head. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m totally fine,’ I tell him. ‘Why? Don’t you like the show?’

He smiles, holding his phone very close to his face, as if he is closer to me then. ‘I do, but you look tired.’

I simply shrug. ‘I’m okay. How is eomma? She likes the show?’

Dad nods. ‘She is resting now, but she loves the show. Tell me, you like this Henry guy?’

Why am I blushing? What a way to give yourself away, Adelaide Park. ‘I like being around him, yes.’

‘Don’t lie,’ he says. ‘I taught you better than to lie to your appa. You like like him, right? I can tell, you know. Your smile when you’re with him tells me enough and you do that thing.’

My brows furrow together. ‘What thing?’

‘You touchy.’

‘That sounds perverted,’ I say. ‘And by the way, I’m not touchy.’

‘You are,’ dad tells me and this man is dead serious. ‘You touch his arm in your sleep. You always do that when you sleep, touch the other person. I remember when you were little girl, maybe five, and it was summer. It was very hot. Normally at that age, you always lay next to me, very close, because you were scared. But it was too hot, so you only placed your hand on my arm, because you couldn’t sleep without psychically knowing that I was there.’

I’m so grateful that there are no camera’s around, because this is one way to get exposed.

‘Also, you are happy around him. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time,’ he says with a smile.

I lean my head against the head rest. ‘I’m always happy,’ I tell him. ‘Not just because of him.’

He simply nods. ‘I see you don’t want to talk about it. That’s okay, I understand. You don’t want to talk about your love life with your appa.’

‘This is barely a love life,’ I chuckle.

‘It’s more than you have now.’

I purse my lips together, to not burst out into laughter. ‘Thanks for putting it into perspective.’

‘You take good care of yourself?’

‘Yes, dad.’

He nods. ‘I’m very proud of you,’ he says in all seriousness. ‘Only a daughter of mine eats fried spider like it’s nothing.’

I keep thinking about that challenge. It was disgusting, sure, but it’s true what I said: I can eat anything. One time, we didn’t have anything to eat and my dad was desperate. After spending an entire day at school, with only half an apple, I was starving and crying. It was pretty rough weather outside, so he couldn’t go on his usual round of finding food behind the restaurants, something he did when it was a situation like this. He went to the garden and found us some earthworms. My mom refused to eat it, after dad sort of made a meal out of it. She told him she wasn’t going to accept that we were that poor that we needed to eat earthworms.

What was next? He was going to snatch the snails out of the yard? He was going to catch a pigeon? Go fishing in the lake a few kilometers from our house?

They started fighting. My mom was mad at my dad, my dad thought she was being ungrateful. Just to stop them from fighting, I ate the fried earthworm and despite it being disgusting, I was too hungry and needed something in my stomach. It instantly stopped them from fighting and my dad was proud of me eating it. My mom even ate one, because she didn’t want me to think any less of her, she told me years later.

We talk for a bit and then he has to hang up, since he needs to do some groceries. I stare at the picture he send me yesterday. We don’t have many pictures of us from when I was younger, but he actually found the only one we have of the three of us. It was during Christmas. Both him and my mom were home when I was seven and the neighbor came over with her polaroid camera. She made a picture of us and during a clean up session, my dad found it again.

I remember what he texted with the picture: I loved you when you were born, I loved you when you were my little princess and I still love you now you are my hardworking princess. I’m so proud of you.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts, when I see that Henry wants to FaceTime. I answer the call and see his handsome face appear on my screen. ‘There you are,’ he says, a grin spread across his face. ‘Are you almost home?’

Home. I never had a place that I called home. It was always the people that made a place home. My parents were my home and since I moved out for my career in the acting industry, I have an apartment where I stay, but it’s never a home. I can’t seem to turn it into a home.

But staying in this cottage with Henry, felt homey, but I didn’t dare to call it a home, not wanting to come across weird or desperate.

However Henry does it now and it makes my heart skip a beat.

I look at the navigation screen and say: ‘Forty minutes.’

‘I miss you,’ he admits.

This shouldn’t make me blush like it does right now. I can’t stop my smile. ‘You miss me?’ I teasingly ask.

‘A whole lot, Addy. The place is so quiet without you here.’ He flashes me a dashing smile and sits outside on the doorstep, in the nice evening sun. ‘How was Switzerland?’

‘It was okay,’ I tell him. ‘The place where we are going to shoot is beautiful.’

‘Did the director have someone in mind for the love interest?’

I nod. ‘Yes, he is thinking about asking David Castañeda again. We also starred in another movie together and he liked our chemistry.’

When I told Henry about what the movie was about, he simply raised his eyebrows. It’s about a woman who goes to Switzerland, she is a journalist and needs to write a story about a mysterious man who owns way too many dogs and no one seems to understand him.

I don’t really need to explain how the rest of the movie will go, since it’s still a romantic comedy, thus pretty self explanatory what is going to happen.

‘But if David says no…?’

‘We’re back at square one,’ I say. ‘You sure I can’t pursue you?’

‘You, Addy, can pursue me any day.’ He winks at me, but I don’t understand the joke. ‘I think you wanted to persuade me, not pursue me.’

Oh shit, this is embarrassing. I’m tempted to open the car door while we’re going this fast, simply to throw myself out. ‘Yeah, I meant persuade. Sorry, English is hard.’

Henry smiles, but it disappears when he looks at me on his screen and he tilts his head in the process. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You have watery eyes.’

I clear my throat, before I blink away the tears in my eyes, because I indeed have watery eyes. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

‘Sure?’

Though I want to tell him a bit more about my private life, the words never roll out of my mouth. Like something is physically stopping me. However, now I say: ‘My dad called me. Just wanted to know how I was.’

Henry nods. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Think eight months ago. I just miss him a lot, just like I miss my mom.’

‘Understandably so.’ He leans against the doorframe, while he simply stares at his screen. ‘What did they think of the show?’

‘They liked it, but they like every single thing I’m in. They rewatch interviews, movies and episodes of Remembering High School when they miss me.’ I smile, thinking about the millions of videos that my dad send me of them rewatching episodes. He would film himself and say sweet things about how his daughter is the most talented one on the screen, or that his daughter is the prettiest. I know that he sends those videos to me, but he also sends them to friends. ‘I think I just realized now how much I miss them.’

‘That’s totally understandable,’ Henry says. ‘Are you going to visit them once this is over?’

‘I think so.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, they can be proud of you and they should be. I am proud of you too,’ he says. ‘I mean, you totally put me to shame with that food challenge. I even got a message from Angela Bassett, saying how you are by far the coolest and that I’m a wimp.’

I chuckle. ‘That’s sweet and she is right.’

We talk for a while and those forty minutes fly by. The taxi stops in front of the cottage and Henry stands up with a bright smile. He always looks so happy to see me. The chauffeur hands me my bag and after I thanked him, he gets in again and drives off. Henry walks over to me and snakes his arms around my waist, lifting me up after he pulled me close to his body. ‘I’m happy to know that you aren’t going to leave me here again in this cottage,’ he says. ‘It felt like every second went by at least seven times.’

Sure, what he said was sweet, but I can’t seem to focus on those words, since this is the tightest hug someone has given me, apart from my parents of course. This is actually the first time he is hugging me. I press my nose in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent and I close my eyes.

I’m really home now.

He lets go of me way too quickly. ‘I made you dinner.’

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘What did you make me?’

‘Pasta bolognese. When in Rome, right?’ He points a daring finger at me and says: ‘Don’t you dare say we aren’t in Rome.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ I chuckle. He holds out his hand and I give him my bag, before we walk into the cottage. During dinner, I tell him more about the movie and how beautiful the little town was where we’re going to film.

‘Isn’t it tiring, though?’ Henry asks. ‘To constantly play in romantic comedies?’

He asked me this before, but I didn’t know him that well to answer truthfully. Now I do know him well enough, to at least be sort of honest, without sounding like an ungrateful bitch. I simply shrug. ‘Sometimes I wished I would get other offers, but I guess I just have the face for romantic comedies.’

‘What kind of genre would you like to play in?’

‘Like a thriller or an action movie,’ I say. ‘More serious, you know? Maybe even Lara Croft one day. That would be amazing.’

‘You would nail Lara Croft,’ he says. ‘I feel like you have a lot of potential to play in tons of different movies. You would do great in a drama too, but a thriller is something I would like you to star in. Really different from what you do now.’

‘Don’t you ever want to play in a romantic comedy or something really serious?’ I ask him. ‘A drama for example?’

‘I would like to try it out one day,’ he says.

‘I think you would be great in a romantic comedy. You have that charm that women fall for.’

Henry cocks an eyebrow. ‘A charm you say?’

‘Yeah, exactly.’ I smile at him, stirring through my pasta. ‘What is a role you really want to portray one day? I mean, you already played Superman, that was pretty awesome.’

He nods. ‘Maybe James Bond one day.’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘I mean… It’s James Bond. That’s almost every men’s dream.’ Henry takes a sip of his water, as he clearly is studying my face. ‘Why? Don’t you like James Bond?’

I shake my head. ‘My mom hated the movies with a passion when I was growing up. It’s kind of sexist, really. I feel like, if you should ever play a movie with something like that, you should look into a movie where they create a whole new legendary character. Just like Keanu Reeves is the start of a John Wick legacy, you could be the start of something else.’ I smile at him, before adding: ‘You deserve better than to portray James Bond, Henry.’

He plays with his food for a second, before he looks at me again. ‘You think so?’

I nod. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, I’ll consider it.’

After we finish our dinner, I take a shower and get dressed in my pajamas. Despite the fact that I only drove back to the cottage today from Switzerland, I am really tired. Before I would go to bed early, simply to avoid falling in sleep in front of him, but now we usually get in bed together. We talk about tons of stuff before we actually fall asleep, still with the wall of pillows between us.

My mind is nearly in Dreamland already. I turn on my side and wrap my leg and arm around the pillows, my fingertips accidentally caressing his soft skin. ‘You don’t mind me doing this?’ I groggily whisper, still remembering my dad’s words that I’m apparently doing that thing.

‘I don’t,’ Henry says. ‘I think it’s sweet.’

I open my eyes for a brief second and I see him already looking at me, a smile toying on his face.

‘Go to sleep, Addy. Tomorrow you and I go swimming in the morning, remember?’

‘Oh right,’ I yawn, closing my eyes again. Somehow my hand finds his and I hesitate for a second. Should I pull my hand back or just leave it here? Thankfully I don’t have to think about that, because Henry wraps his fingers through mine and whispers: ‘Good night, Adelaide.’

‘Good night,’ I mumble, slowly drifting off to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next morning, I’m back in the insanely cold pool again with Henry. We’ve done this two times before now, but I still don’t trust myself enough to do something alone in the water. Even if it’s just holding the edge, as I’m sort of swimming by myself, Henry close by. I know that even if I do that, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

‘No, no, no,’ I quickly say, when he suggests that same idea, for the second time this morning. ‘Don’t let go of me, please.’

‘Addy, have I ever let go of you, when you didn’t want me to?’ he asks me. He decides to answer his own question. ‘No, I have never done that, so I’m not going to do that now. I’m just going to remove one hand from your waist to hold your hand, okay?’

‘No,’ I whine.

Henry starts to chuckle. ‘What’s up with you today?’ he asks. ‘You’re shaking. Is the water that cold or are you scared?’

‘I’m scared,’ I admit. ‘I know that I have to do it myself one day and at least try a bit alone, but not today. Please.’

‘Okay, not today,’ he assures me. ‘You seem a bit tense. Is everything okay?’

I sigh. ‘I just got a text from my dad this morning,’ I whisper, but loud enough for him to hear it, maybe not loud enough for the “hidden” camera’s that are stationed in the garden to pick up. ‘It’s just that my mom has a cold and that always worries me.’

‘Why?’ he asks, as he stops walking in the water.

I don’t want to tell him, but I know that I eventually will. My arms are wrapped around his shoulders, while his fingers are circling on my skin. It’s such a small, yet caring gesture from his side. ‘My mom is paralyzed from the waist down,’ I tell him. ‘But… She… After she got paralyzed, she never got back to her old health, if that makes sense. She is very prone to colds and a simply cold can turn into a nasty flu and that can result into her needing to go to the hospital. She ended up in the emergency room a few times and each time I wasn’t home. My dad always tells me not to worry about her, just like my mom tells me not to worry, but it’s hard. I worry a lot about them all the time, especially when she’s sick.’

Henry doesn’t say anything, he simply studies my face. ‘I had no idea,’ he tells me. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me towards his body and I nuzzle my face in his neck. ‘I’m so sorry, Addy. I understand you worry a lot about them, but… I just have to ask: why don’t you tone it down with the movies, so you can be with them?’

I pull back and say: ‘Because… I want to provide for them.’

‘Why?’ His blue eyes almost look innocent. I have to hold myself in, not to brush the wet curls out of his face, not to press my nose against his cheek, to kiss his jaw, feeling the short hairs puncture my lips. I can’t stop myself falling in love with him. He is everything that I was apparently looking for in a man. He is kind, he is patient and he is caring. He knows how to cook, he can read me like the back of his hand and yesterday, the way he held my hand when I went to sleep, is making me feel all sorts of things.

But there is one thing that I know: if he ever becomes a bigger part of my life, he should know more about me. I have been dodging it for too long now, but I should tell him. And even if we don’t become an item, I know that we will end up as friends. I know that after the Celebrity Project ends, I don’t ever want him out of my life again.

‘When I grew up, we were very poor,’ I say. ‘Like, my dad had to work long hours in a factory, my mom became a live in nanny and I had to raise myself. My dad barely ate after a long day of work, so mom and I could have most of it, when my mom would be home to eat it. I went to one of the only schools that was close by and was free. It wasn’t a great school, I don’t even think my teachers remember me at all. We couldn’t afford testing for me, something that my parents didn’t even know about, because they couldn’t miss a day at their jobs and I did my own parent teacher meetings.’

‘Geez, Adelaide,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

I clear my throat, because I don’t want to cry. ‘When I was nineteen, I was working at a diner, to help meet ends back at home, since I couldn’t go to college, my mom was hit by a car and left paralyzed. The medical bills were out of the roof and she needed physical therapy, but we couldn’t afford it. And that’s the whole reason I started acting in ‘Remembering High School’. I had zero acting experience, but I needed the money. After I made that money and my year on the show was up, I got offered two different movies. A romantic comedy or a thriller, but from the looks of it, the romantic comedy would definitely make more. Thankfully I chose that movie, because the thriller was a big flop. Every penny I earned from that movie and a few after that, went to my parents, for their bills.’

Henry nods and removes his hand from my waist, so he can wipe the tears of my cheeks. Not that it helps, since his hand is still wet from the water. ‘You are amazing,’ he says. ‘I think you are by far the most amazing woman on this earth. Do you still do that? Give your money to your parents?’

I nod. ‘I don’t really know what I should do with it and my parents worked so hard for me. This is my way of thanking them.’

Henry pulls me closer to him, his arms around my body and I let out a tiny sob that I was holding in, when I bury my face in his strong shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘If you want to go home, you just go home, okay? I totally understand. Your family is more important than this show.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

‘No, no, no, don’t say something like that. I understand. It’s very personal and this isn’t something that you just tell people. You are amazing, Addy, please remember that, okay?’

I nod, before slowly pulling back, so I can look at him again. Henry is smiling. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘You just keep on surprising,’ he says. ‘And in these days that I’m spending time with you, I’ve gotten to know you in a way that I never thought would be possible. Angela spoke so highly of you, though she barely knew you. Now I know you quite well and I can’t speak anything but highly of you.’

I let out a nervous chuckle. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘But I will anyways,’ he smiles. ‘Let’s get out of the pool now, you are freezing.’ We go to the edge and when I climbed out, I grab my towel and wrap it around me. Henry’s perfectly shaped body, with the right hip-shoulder ratio… I can’t help but look.

‘Henry,’ I say, causing him to look up. ‘Thank you.’

He chuckles. ‘Not a single problem, Adelaide.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Dad: No need to worry. Eomma will make it, it’s a tiny flu.

Adelaide: Sure?

Dad: More than sure. Enjoy your time.

Dad: I love you 😘

Adelaide: I love you too 😘

I keep thinking about my dad’s texts. I mean, he tells me that it will be alright and I should believe him. Back in the day, he was always right and that shouldn’t change now.

After our little swimming adventure, Henry and I got ready for the day and now we’re standing in front of a haunted house, waiting for the host of today to get ready. What exactly the challenge is for today, I don’t know, but I’m not looking forward to it at all.

The rest on the other hand seem to be totally fine. Henry places both of his hands on my shoulders and I look back, placing the top of my head against his chest. Even upside down, he is beautiful looking. I bet I look like a moron. ‘Are you okay?’ he quietly asks.

‘I’m fine.’ Thankfully over the course of the years, I have become a better liar, which I think is a skill thanks to my acting career. I have always been a master at hiding my emotions, but when people get closer to me (just my parents, but nowadays Henry too), it’s harder, because they see right through me.

And right now, I’m not fine. My mom is sick and I don’t know how she is doing as we speak. We have to go through the haunted house and I’m afraid that they are going to make us go individually. I really want to go with Henry, because then I can just hop on his back, bury my face in his neck and not look.

However, this show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever participated in, because we have to go through the haunted house all by ourselves, while even doing some challenges while we’re inside.

My heart is racing and I can’t even look at the big screen outside of the house, without jumping. Henry is still standing behind me, with his hands still on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles to make them less tense. ‘Relax,’ he whispers, when someone else is going inside. ‘You’re going to be fine.’

But I can’t believe him. I’m not going to be fine. Justin screams his lungs out when someone pops up in front of him, as he is trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Jennifer is hiding in a corner, while she is singing one of her own songs. And when it’s Henry’s turn, he has to solve a sudoku, but he jumps at every little sound and that is really not easing my mind. If a man like him, who nearly tripped over his own feet because I moved the fried tarantula in his face, screams like this when he hears water drip on the floor, how the hell am I supposed to do this?

After watching everyone else go, it’s time for me. I feel like my petite frame reminds them of a kindergartner, because they all wish me extra good luck. Jennifer even pulls me into a motherly hug and whispers that I’ve got this.

But do I have it in me to finish this?

I push open the door and I step into the house of horrors. I could eat the most disgusting looking snacks and people called me a daredevil. I can manage this. This isn’t that terrifying. It’s just fake, it’s like acting.

Only this set looks scary as hell and there is no one out here to say cut.

The lights start to flicker, something they didn’t do before. How am I supposed to read and answer eventual questions if I have to do that? I take a step forward, but my heart is pounding so loud, that my eardrums hurt.

The steps are minuscule, but at least I’m taking steps forward. Every door, every corner, every closed window… It makes me hesitant, but so far, nothing has happened. Maybe the actors that work here feel sorry for me.

I could crawl over the floor, I think to myself. Maybe that would be—

Something falls down from the ceiling and bounces on the floor. I jump backwards, letting out a scream that is more a high whistle note. When I finally can open my eyes again, I notice it’s a head and just a head. ‘It’s fake,’ I tell myself out loud. ‘It’s fake.

But then the head starts to scream, causing me to scream and a tiny sob escapes my lips. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

I quickly jump over it and hurry myself through the rest of the hall.

Because I’m simply just walking and not paying attention, I bump into a wall and I go left, but someone with a fucking knife comes out of the door and I stumble backwards. Thankfully this person keeps standing in the doorframe and I crawl past them, but he or she keeps standing in the doorway, not attacking me. ‘Thank you,’ I squeak, my throat tightening, almost like someone is physically choking me.

Okay, I managed this and I see a clipboard with some questions on a table. I press my back against the wall, so I can see everyone.

What is the capital of Russia? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, I think to myself. If these are the questions, I’m out of here within a minute.

I hear footsteps and the light that was flickering two seconds ago, is completely out. It’s dark. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

I can’t see anything, but I hear screams and dark voices. I try to catch my breath, when the light come back on and I’m surrounded by a bloody nurse, a creepy clown and oh my, is that not one, but three zombies? They are really close to me and I can’t help up but scream bloody murder, as I hide my face behind the clipboard. ‘No, go away, go away!’

Is that a fucking chainsaw?

I open my eyes for a second, only to see that someone who looks like Chucky is really close now with a chainsaw. This doesn’t seem fake anymore. This seems way too real and my brain is going crazy. What is happening? Am I dying?

I start to cough, as the tears run over my cheeks. ‘No, stop, please!’

I hear something, but the pounding of my heart is too hard for me to hear what is happening. All I can do is cry, shake and cough as the tears nearly make me choke.

‘Addy, I’m here,’ I hear a voice say, but I keep hiding my face in my face, kicking my feet and I hit something. ‘Ouch, no, no, it’s me, Henry. Don’t worry, it’s all over.’

I peek through my fingers, to see the lights are on and all the scary people that cornered me, are gone. The only one I see now, is Henry. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes hurt from crying. I try to say something, but my breathing is all over the place.

Henry holds my hands and places one on my own chest and the other on his. ‘Try to breath with me, Adelaide,’ he says to me. ‘Now breath in deeply.’ He takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, before slowly breathing out. I try to copy him, but my breathing is too erratic. It takes at least ten times before I’m finally sort of managing. ‘Very good,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘Very good.’

‘Is it over?’ I whimper.

Henry nods, holding my hand tightly in his. ‘It’s all over. I’m so sorry that this happened to you and I’m sorry I didn’t come in here way sooner. I should’ve noticed that this was too much.’

‘Did we lose?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says sternly. ‘You shouldn’t worry about that.’ Henry stands up and pulls me with him, but my legs feel like jello and simply give out, because of all the adrenaline that is breaking down. I cling onto his shirt, as he holds me up by my waist.

‘I can’t anymore,’ I cry, as I bury my face into his shirt, not caring about wiping my tears on the fabric. ‘I’m so scared.’

‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘Fuck, I know.’ He hoists me up in his arms, guiding me into wrapping my legs around his waist. ‘Don’t look,’ he tells me.

I don’t even want to look at this awful, awful place anymore, so I bury my face into his neck, as he walks out of the haunted house. He places me on the soft grass and he runs his fingers through my disheveled hair. ‘Addy, listen to me,’ he says, ‘you’re breathing is good, but you need to make sure that it stays like this okay?’

I simply nod. ‘I’m just so embarrassed.’

‘There is absolutely no need to be embarrassed,’ he tells me. ‘You can stop with this program if you want. I mean, I totally understand that you want to quit.’

‘I think I just want tomorrow off,’ I whisper. ‘And do nothing.’

‘I understand,’ he says. ‘You want to go home?’

Home. ‘As long as you are there.’

Henry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving you, Addy. Not after this.’

◎ ◎ ◎

When Henry and I are home, I feel disgusting. I could actually use a shower, but I’m too afraid of standing in the shower cabin by myself and I don’t want to shower with Henry (our friendship is too fragile for that), so a simple washing cloth should do the trick.

The producers of the Celebrity Project gave me the next day off and depending on how I feel after tomorrow, I will decide whether or not I’m staying here. I don’t want to give up and I think I can overcome this.

Henry sits next to me on the couch, as we both stare at the television. We have been watching Mamma Mia, simply because of the ABBA songs and the story line is predictable and predictability is exactly what I need right now. ‘You want something to drink?’ he asks me, when the credits are rolling on the screen.

I shake my head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Do you want to go to bed?’ he suggests. ‘We could do that. I bet you are tired.’

I am tired and the fact that he said that we could do that, must indicate that he is going to stay with me, right? I simply nod and he says he is going to close off. To be alone is not what I want right now, so I follow him around the cottage like a puppy.

When we’re in bed, I ask him if he wants to leave the light on his nightstand on. I still sit up straight in bed, my arms wrapped around my knees. Henry places a hand on my back.

‘I’m scared,’ I whisper, as I feel my heart pounding painfully in my chest.

He sighs deeply. ‘I know. Is there anything I can do for you?’

I turn my head to the side, so I can look at him. ‘Can… Can you… Can you hold me, please?’ Tears burn in my eyes. ‘I’m so scared, Henry.’

He throws the pillows from the bed, before I crawl into his inviting arms. I place my head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his waist. ‘Breath, Addy,’ he whispers. ‘It’s all okay now, I’m right here with you. Nothing can happen to you now.’

However, the tears come again and they aren’t stopping. His large hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath my eye. He lets me cry, even though I have been crying a lot for the past few hours.

I force myself to stop, because I’m out of breath and I’m just too tired to cry anymore. Henry pulls me closer to his broad and heavy frame.

‘There, there,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘You are all okay now.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper.

‘No need to be sorry, Addy. You just try and go to sleep, because you are really tired and after this day… You should just sleep, okay?’

During the night, I wake up a few times, but every single time I’m closely tugged into Henry’s protective arms. Sometimes he is behind me, his face buried in my neck or my hair, our hands linked. Sometimes I have my head on his shoulder and then my face is nuzzled in his neck. But every time I wake up, he is still awake. ‘Go back to sleep,’ he whispers, his fingers drawing soothing circles on my skin.

And as if his voice is working like hypnosis, I drift off right back to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next day, Henry has been nothing but a sweetheart to me and halfway through the day, I feel a whole lot better and decide to stay here and finish the competition. I don’t care that we are last and that we are probably going to lose anyways.

The two of us decide to take a walk through a large orchard, with trees filled with apples and oranges. We end up on a lovely field and I plop down in the grass. The sun is burning on my skin, but I chose a spot near a tree, so we can alternate between sitting in the sun and the shadows.

Henry and I lean against the tree when the sun is too hot for us to sit in, as we stare ahead of us. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I was wondering something.’

‘Tell me.’

‘You kept your personal life very private over the course of the years. Why was that?’

‘I thought it wasn’t anyones business.’ I look to the side and chuckle. ‘That’s the I try to be really tough-answer, but the truth is: I was embarrassed. No one at school knew about my situation at home and I certainly didn’t want the entire world to know.’

‘You didn’t have any friends?’

I shake my head. ‘Yet again: I was too embarrassed to share this with anyone. Besides, I was the weird girl who wore the same clothes for three days on end.’

‘Kids can be cruel,’ he says, referring to his own past.

I wrap my arms around his strong one, pressing my cheek against his bicep. ‘They can.’

‘Can I ask something else?’

‘You can.’

‘Have you ever dated?’

I place my chin on his arm, so I can actually look at him again. ‘No, I have never.’

‘You have played alongside quite a few single guys. Was there not a spark in real life?’

‘Goodness gracious, Henry, you sound like you’re in a retirement home. A spark in real life? Really?’

He chuckles. ‘You get what I’m saying.’

‘I do,’ I say with a smile. ‘But to answer your question, no, there wasn’t. I mean, I remain in contact with some of them and we’re still friendly, but I never let them in. Not like how I’m with you.’ I place my cheek against his bicep again, but one of my hands slides down his arm. He intertwines his fingers with mine and his thumb draws soft figures on my skin.

Henry nods. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘you are really one of a kind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you do something that no one else does. You haven’t mentioned my appearance once since we are here.’

‘Really?’ I ask frowning. ‘I thought about your appearance quite a few times.’

He smiles. ‘But you never voiced it. You know, it’s flattering that people comment about my appearance, but you don’t do that. You comment about my personality traits and I don’t want to become all sappy, but… It means a lot.’

‘You are sappy,’ I mumble, causing him to laugh. ‘But since we are being sappy with one another, I should tell you that… You are one of a kind too. You give me a chance. I remember one of the first times I was having issues with speaking and you didn’t fill in the rest. You just waited till I could finish my sentence. That means… a lot. Also, Henry, you… You ran into the haunted house for me.’

‘How…’

‘I saw the footage,’ I say with a smile, remembering what I saw this morning.

He was standing outside, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a deep frown between his brows. ‘Can you just leave the lights on?’ he asked. ‘Flickering lights make it harder for Adelaide to concentrate.’

But there was no response. He shook his head, clenched his jaw and eventually he simply walked away. He went in the haunted house, pressed the “Stop” button, before rushing towards me, pulling some of the actors away. ‘It’s over,’ he told them. ‘Get the fuck out of here.’

After seeing the footage, it made my heart swell like crazy. ‘Quite romantic, really,’ I chuckle.

He laughs, but it sounds more nervous this time. ‘Well… It was nothing.’

‘It meant the world to me,’ I retort. And because of that, I think I’m even more in love with you than I already was. However it doesn’t leave my lips. I don’t want to scare him off.

‘This never happened to me before,’ Henry says. ‘Feeling about someone like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how I feel about you.’ He squeezes my hand, before continuing by saying: ‘I care so much about you, Adelaide. Before you told me about your life, after you told me about your life. Even if we don’t win this contest, I did win something else. I won the privilege to get to know you.’

‘You care for me,’ I repeat, letting those words process for a bit. But that’s not falling in love with me.

‘And,’ he continues, ‘I’m slowly falling for you too.’

I resit, so I don’t strain my neck when I look at him. ‘What?’

He holds my hand tightly in his, as if he is afraid that I might slip away. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Adelaide Park.’

I bite my lip. ‘You are?’

‘I am,’ he confirms. ‘Even if we don’t win this show, I want to figure out how we can manage after this. Maybe you can even tone it down with your movies.’

I chuckle, hiding my face in my hand. ‘Maybe I can do that.’ I look at our linked hands and I whisper: ‘I’m falling love with you too, Henry Cavill.’

‘You are?’ he asks with a smile. ‘Lucky me.’

We don’t say anything. I just look into his eyes, trying to figure out what he is thinking. I can see him staring at my lips, before he moistens his own. ‘When I kiss you,’ he says, ‘there is one problem. I fear that I can’t stop then, but I also want us to remain a little secret. For time being of course.’

I nod. ‘Then you don’t kiss me.’

‘But I want to,’ he chuckles.

‘You have to pick one of the options.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I mean…’ I purse my lips together. ‘I wouldn’t mind if we kissed.’

Henry pulls me closer by my hand. I lose a bit of my balance, so I fall against his chest. ‘Careful now, Addy,’ he chuckles. ‘We don’t want any injuries, now do we?’

‘Shut up.’ I finally place my hand on his cheek and as my thumb is slowly caressing his soft skin, I accidentally graze over his velvety lips. He turns his head, to kiss the palm of my hand.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks against my skin, as he places his hand on mine, so he can press another, but more firm kiss on the inside of my hand. ‘You can say no.’

‘I want to kiss you,’ I hoarsely whisper. ‘Badly so.’

‘Badly so,’ he repeats with a self fulfilled grin on his face. He leans in closer to me and teasingly kisses my cheek, the tip of my nose and even my forehead. ‘Where?’ he whispers. ‘Where do you want me to kiss you?’

‘Right here,’ I whisper, before pressing my lips on his. They fit perfectly on each other. I cradle his face in my hands, as he pulls me closer to his body, though my legs are in the way. Without even thinking about it, I sit on his lap, causing him to smile underneath the kiss.

‘Badly so it was,’ he mumbles against my lips, his hands slipping underneath my shirt. He opens his mouth and carefully his tongue invades my mouth. I whimper, as his fingers dig into my back, his thumbs softly circling my stomach.

How many on screen kisses have I done?

Billions.

How many felt like this?

None.

I pull back, so I can catch my breath, but he is not giving me a break. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, pressing wet kisses on my delicate skin. ‘Can we stay here forever?’ he asks against my collarbone. ‘I don’t want to go back to the camera’s.’

‘Me neither,’ I whisper. I place my pointer finger underneath his chin, lifting his face. ‘How are we going to do this back at the cottage?’

‘Well,’ he chuckles, ‘we are already behaving like a cute couple, so we don’t have to change a lot about that. Just have to hold back the kisses.’

My fingers run through his curls, messing them up a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Henry simply smiles at me. ‘I think we can manage that,’ I say, smiling back at him.

‘Can I have another kiss?’ he asks.

‘You can,’ I whisper, before he captures my lips again. This kiss is even more intense and my fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt, when we hear someone clear their throat. We look up, to see a little boy staring at us, while his grandmother is screaming something in the back. ‘Maybe we should find another place,’ I suggest, stepping off his lap.

‘Yeah,’ Henry says, ‘maybe we should.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Adelaide: You were right.

Adelaide: I like Henry a lot

Dad: I’m always right

Adelaide: And I kissed him.

Dad: You didn’t?

Adelaide: I did, but please keep this a secret.

Dad: I can tell your eomma right?

Adelaide: Yes you can

Adelaide: I love you 😘

Dad: I love you too, future mrs. Cavill