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emeraldzephyr · 1 year

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Glory Days: A Baseball AU Fic

Part 1 of my Baseball Player Steve Harrington Fic!

Eddie Munson was at the last place he thought he would ever be on a Wednesday afternoon.

After arriving in Chicago for the next stop on Corroded Coffin's Raising the Dead tour, their manager, Nancy Wheeler, presented them with suite tickets to the Chicago Cubs game.

"One of the player's brothers is a huge fan" She said as she passed over the envelope, "It would mean a lot to go, and it's good press."

"Nancy," Eddie started, and the rest of the band sighed, preparing for his rant, "We are not sports sorts. In fact, it was those same types that made our lives such hell in school. And yes, that was 10 years ago but I have a very good memory, and even a few scars to remember it by!"

"Look, it's 3 hours tops, there will be food and drinks in the suite, and if you get pics at the game I bet you sell out the rest of those tickets before the show on Saturday. Chicago loves the Cubs, and Steve Harrington is their golden boy."

Eddie looked to his band members, eyes darting between the three of them.

Gareth shrugged "Might as well, maybe it could be fun."

Eddie frowned, and glared down at Jeff, "Weirdly enough, I kind of like baseball."

Eddie gasped, murmuring traitor under his breath.

Finally, he leveled his gaze to Frank, who gulped before sputtering out, "I mean, free food and drinks is nice."

" Ugh… .fine!" Eddie snaps, throwing his hands up and flopping down on the couch in the hotel suite," but don't expect me to be happy about it."

Which brings us to the present, where Eddie sits in the cushy Legends suite at Wrigley Field. At least the day was nice, the sky a bright blue with fluffy clouds, a chill breeze just enough to cool the warm rays of the sun.

A bat cracked, and Eddie flinched. He knew there was netting keeping the balls from getting to them but that didn't stop his anxiety from expecting every single one of those fuckers to come flying at his face like some kind of jock powered magic missile.

“I would say you get used to it, but you really don’t.”

Eddie turned to see a woman with short brown hair and blue eyes seated two seats over. Her long legs were propped up on the seat in front of her, and she wore a white and blue striped jersey with HARRINGTON across the back.

“I mean, I’ve been going to Steve’s games since college and I still flinch every time.” She said, chuckling to herself, “I’m Robin, by the way.”

“Ah, so you must be Harrington’s lucky girl!” Eddie exclaims, sweeping his hands open in a dramatic bow, “Eddie Munson, pleasure to meet you.”

“Eww, no.” Robin clips, “Steve is my very platonic best friend. And roommate, but I am but a humble graduate student and he makes fuck you amounts of money.”

Eddie barks out a laugh at that as the loudspeaker in the stadium crackles to life.

“Batting Number 4, Your Shortstop Steve Harrington!!”

The crowd roars to life, Robin cheering enthusiastically next to him, and Eddie’s jaw drops open as he hears a familiar drum and guitar riff before his own voice shouts through the stadium “I don’t need your crown!!”, the fans echoing his words as the guitar and drums kick into a fast and heavy riff. When Jeff explained the concept of walkout music to him earlier in the game he never expected to hear one of their own songs blasted through the stadium.

“Holy shit!” Gareth shouted, shaking Eddie by the shoulders “Harrington has our song as his walkout music!”

Eddie looks up to the jumbotron screens to see a close up of Harrington as he steps up to the batter's box, a beaming smile on his face as he taps the end of the bat on each shoe before bringing the bat up and squatting slightly to get in batting position, his eyes focused like a laser on the pitcher.

The first pitch flies in just below the strike zone, the second in the dirt.

“Ooo, they’re scared of him.” a curly haired man says, plopping into the empty seat between Eddie and Robin.

“Scared of him?” Eddie questions, tilting his head at the new arrival.

He turns towards Eddie and a look of recognition crosses his face, “Holy shit, you’re Eddie Munson! Steve said he was giving you and the band tickets but I didn’t think you’d actually come! I’m Dustin, his little brother!”

Dustin grabs Eddie’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically as Steve fouls off the third pitch.

“They’re scared of him because he’s a damn good player,” Robin fills in, sitting up just enough to make eye contact with Eddie over Dustin’s head.

“Yeah, they don’t want to give him anything he can get ahold of,” Dustin muses as the crack of the bat against the ball rings out through the stadium.

The ball rockets up the middle, cutting between the second base and shortstop and rolling through center field. Steve takes off at a sprint, rounding first base and making it comfortably to second before the ball flies in from the outfield.

“Hell yeah Steve!!” Dustin shouts, with Robin whistling.

* * * * *

Eddie spends the majority of the game talking to Dustin and Robin about a variety of topics. Eddie learns that Dustin is working at a tech company that does…something with radio waves. Honestly Eddie was lost on that one after about three words. He also learns Robin is studying linguistics at the University of Chicago. Eddie talks to them both about his music, their tour, and a few early ideas for songs.

The group always stops when Steve comes up to bat. It’s endearing how much the pair cares about Steve, contrasting with how little they care about the rest of the game. It honestly surprises Eddie how good of a time he is having.

Steve’s next two at bats are a sacrifice fly, putting the Cubs on the board but still behind. His second at bat ends in a double play, giving Eddie precious little time to admire the man as he ran the bases. And Eddie was a weak, weak man, and those baseball pants hugged just right. He should honestly know better than to crush on the straight jock, but looking was fine, right?

It was the bottom of the ninth and the Cubs trailed 4-1 when Steve came to bat, bases loaded. After Steve’s walkout music cut off you could hear a pin drop in the stadium. Pitch one was a fastball, rocketing in right down the center of the strike zone. Steve stood completely still, taking the strike. The next, a breaking ball down and left, outside the strike zone. One and one count.

“Holy shit this is stressful,” Eddie said through clenched teeth, twisting the rings on his fingers nervously.

“No kidding,” Robin mumbles, her knee bouncing anxiously as Steve stepped back into the batter’s box.

Pitch three was a fastball that floated just outside of the strike zone, pitch four a curve ball fouled off into the first base stands. The count was even, and it felt as if the stadium itself was holding its breath.

Pitch five was where the pitcher made a grave error. It flew straight down the center of the strike zone, but Steve was ready for it this time. The ball cracked off the bat, soaring towards right field. The stadium erupted, growing louder and louder the further the ball flew, until it landed in the right field bleachers.

“HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A WALK OFF GRAND SLAM!!” Dustin screamed, as all of them jumped to their feet, shouting and cheering as Steve and his teammates all rounded the bases.

The entire stadium was whipped into a frenzy, the team included. Steve rounded third base and beamed as his entire team waited for him at home plate, where they instantly swarmed him, multiple coolers of gatorade dunked on his head as the team celebrated.

Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys couldn’t help but be swept up in the kinetic atmosphere of the stadium, jumping and cheering. His eyes locked with Gareth’s when the entire stadium began to sing.

“Go Cubs Go! Go Cubs Go! Hey, Chicago, what do you say, The Cubs are gonna win today!”

“They have their own theme song?” Gareth exclaimed, “We gotta do a cover.”

“Wouldn’t be the first!” Jeff shouted over the crowd, slinging an arm around Gareth’s shoulders, “Pantera wrote a song for the Dallas hockey team that they play when goals are scored.”

The crowd continued singing as they all filtered out of the stadium, while the suite that Eddie and the others were in continued their libations. After a few minutes, the door swung open and a chorus of “Steve!” rang out from the box.

Eddie may as well have looked right at the sun with as bright as Harrington was beaming as both Dustin and Robin threw their arms around his shoulders, both speaking lightning fast at him in their excitement. His eyes darted between the two of them, trying to keep up with the separate streams of conversations, when his eyes finally settled between the two of them on Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Frank.

“You must be Corroded Coffin!” He greeted, slipping between Robin and Dustin and walking over to shake hands, “I’m really glad you could make it, Dusty and I are both big fans.”

“Gotta say,” Eddie started as he shook Steve’s hand, “I didn’t expect a pretty boy jock like yourself to be a metal fan.”

Steve flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, well Dustin was the one who got me into it in all honesty. That plus a smidge of teenage rebellion was the right combination I guess. Plus, it makes great workout music.”

A woman’s head popped into the door as the group chatted, “Steve, we have a presser in 5.”

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder at the door, “If you don’t have plans after the game, we are doing a barbecue at my place.”

The Corroded Coffin boys all looked between each other, Jeff nodding enthusiastically. Frank shrugged, and Gareth smiled mischievously at Eddie. He didn’t like that look one bit.

“I guess we can swing by,” Eddie said, eyebrows knitted together in confusion at Gareth’s expression, then turning to smile at Steve.

“Great!” Steve beamed, clapping Eddie on the shoulder, “Robin can give you the details.”

Steve walked up to Nancy just before leaving, giving her a hug and lifting her slightly off her toes.

“It was good to see you Nance Pants,” he grinned, “See you at the barbecue!”

"Nance Pants?" The band choruses in unison.

"We are NOT talking about it."

#baseball player steve #musician eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stobin #baseball!au #stranger things #emerald writes

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creacherkeeper · 2 years

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happy sleepover saturday!! who's your fav character in arthurian legend? what's your favorite movie that makes no goddamn sense?

oh this one is Targeted

okay so first my fave and then my fave obscure/underappreciated character

fave is of course my boy gawain. i want to put him in a jar and shake him up until he cries. like. my man is so interesting. all the people close to him agree that he's super noble and kind and goodhearted and just. but also he has a sense of humor!! and even more interesting than that is he's willing to throw himself under the bus for the betterment of others

in sir gawain and the green knight, when the green knight comes to challenge someone in a duel to the death, gawain makes a big show about how he's Clearly the most suited one there and how it would be silly to challenge anyone else and no one could really take on the green knight except for him. he makes himself look like a completely pompous asshole. but also that spares literally everyone else from having to rise to the challenge of facing a very terrifying and clearly magical foe. everyone gets off scott free by saying "ugh big headed gawain showing off again, lets all watch him get his ass kicked" while they can secretly be relieved none of them had to step in, or WORSE say no to the challenge and make king arthur and his court look weak. by making himself look like a dick (something everyone there knows he isnt) he lets everyone save face while also protecting them from almost certain death and he does it SO well that the green knight is none the wiser. like. big brain moves only from my boy gawain

in a COMPLETELY different tone he's such a fucking horse girl and in one of the stories (i cant remember which one. yvain maybe???) gringolet his horse gets stolen and the man just like lies on the ground crying about it. he loves his horse so much!!!! and its so funny!!!! he's so strong and brave and his horse gets stolen and its full toddler hours from noble knight gawain. the other knights are like my man you gotta pull yourself together and gawain is like *snot and tears* MY BEST FRIEND GRINGOLET

now my favorite obscure/underappreciated character from the arthurian canon is moriaen. i dont blame people for not knowing him because his story is very rare and hard to find but more people should!! he's the only knight of the round table who's canonically black and he's really fascinating

its very clear in the text that, while there's some stuff thats obviously MMMM,,, today, it was the author at the times attempt to be really progressive and accepting. moriaen has very dark skin and a lot of the characters in the story have never met a black man before and are originally very scared of him. however in his story moriaen comes to be known as the MOST christian and noble of all the knights of the round table (in a time where christian = good and moral) and the people who were originally afraid of him are so impressed by his good heartedness, morality, and strength, that they come to value and praise him. also his father, who is a white knight of the round table, actually ends up going back to [unspecified country in northern africa] to pursue justice for his mother's kingdom. like its very elementary social justice kind of stuff today but for the medieval period this was RADICAL and its really really cool to me

on the topic, for the movie question, everyone should watch king arthur legend of the sword (2017) because like. is it good. no. does the story make any sense. no. is it historically accurate or faithful to the canon. god not even a little. does it fuck severely for no goddamn reason and go so fucking hard at every opportunity? GOD. YES. its genuinely a piece of ART and i mean that in the most derogatory and highly affectionate way possible. it makes no goddamn sense but its SUCH a good time everyone should watch it

#THANK YOU BRO HAVE 18 PARAGRAPHS OF INFODUMP

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loopy777 · 1 year

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While streaming has it's hiccups, yeah the video game tools up to the CGI Donkey Kong Country even if mostly so bad it's good is crazily available through legal, free channels. The Mario, Sonic tools, plus The Legend of Zelda and DKC? TubiTV and Wildbrain Cartoon Super Heroes, plus Treehouse Direct UK and Retro Rerun for DKC. WCSH also has Captain N The Game Master, the Battletoads pilot and Pole Position. Tubi has Sonic X and the 90s Double Dragon Animated Series. Crackle has as mentioned before the Street Fighter Animated Series. Wing Commander Academy is among the free selection of shows from Peacock TV. Only ones I can think of missing on that count are Mortal Kombat Defenders of the Realm and Saturday Morning Supercade.

That's pretty cool. But at the same time, I can't help but think that this is the way it's supposed to be? When I was growing up, cartoons weren't entertainment. Sure, they could function as such, especially for little kids, but the main purpose behind cartoons was to be advertisements. Their reason for existing was to get me to buy more Transformers/Thundercats/NinjaTurtles toys, or make me aware that Mega Man 3 is out, or get more more hyped for Disney Ducks, etc. And as such, the people producing these cartoons wanted them as accessible as was possible before the internet was a thing.

Now, the internet is indeed a thing and the exist of propaganda cartoons is no longer limited by TV channels, and yet I have to subscribe to Netflix to watch He-Man (or She-Ra or My Little Pony or Voltron or LEGO or Sonic the Hedgehog)?! I have to actually get Paramount+ in order to watch the latest Transformers cartoon?! This boggles my mind. How are you going to sell Transformers toys to kids if their parents dropped Paramount+ after sitting through all of Picard?

So it's good to see that old video game stuff is still available to everyone.

Hope to hear your opinion on King Scoopa Koopa as a whole. Also as much as they overhated on junk food, you ever watch a PSA on the dangers of fast food consumption and it ironically makes you all the more hungry for some artery clogging meal?XD

King Koopa's "dumbclucks" was everything I hoped it was, but I thought it kind of hilarious that the horrible unhealthy thing that he was selling was egg sandwiches. That's actually pretty healthy, compared to the meat-byproducts used in most fast food. I guess there was a big cholesterol scare at the time it was written? Also, the message really failed, considering that as a youth, I didn't know anyone who ate fast food because they thought it tasted good; people wanted fast food because of the toy in the Happy Meals, the convenience, or the price. But Luigi and Yoshi mutating because of the food was a fun escalation, so it managed to be entertaining, even if the message failed.

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pranolagunk · 2 years

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Personal Post // TW alcohol and smoking

Hicks took over the karaoke bar we've been going to for a while now, and i got tired of hearing the same 5 Toby Keith songs, so me n the other punx started chillin at this beautiful old Irish Pub up the road. Their smoking area is better because it's bigger, more concealed from outside eyes, and has a wood picnic table u can carve your name into. Last time i was there a pretty girl was like "i need a big strong man to carve my name into the table uwu" and i imediately pulled out my multitool like the gay simp that i am.

(Note: She was so cool, she played a game where she saw how many guys would give her free drinks. She got 3 when I was there and was apparently on a roll before that. What a legend.)

The pub's drinks cost the same too. They already remember my order (which I mean, it isn't hard because I look distinct and always order vodka shots and a Whole Can of redbull, highly reccomend if you hate yourself btw).

Catch me and The Lads bastardizing your favorite songs on Saturday nights and then terrorizing the 24 hour gas station next door for late night blue raz slushies + spicy chips we will be sure to regret later.

Cheers

#personal #tw alcohol #tw smoking

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bqstqnbruin · 2 years

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2011

Ok so this was inspired by the new 5SOS song 2011 and naturally I had to be angsty and give you another mean ending because of who I am as a person and where I am in my love life so yeah

Shoutout to @broadstbroskis for encouraging me to post this, if there are any typos I'm not sorry I'm relying on spell check to count them.

Flashbacks are in italics

Word Count: 2604

Warnings: I don't think there are any besides sadness?

______________

“Can you believe we met 10 years ago today?”

“You remember that?”

“Are you kidding? Like it was yesterday.”

“Watch out!” you heard a voice calling from behind you, your inability to skate making it hard for you to turn around in time before you felt someone crashing into you, sending you right down to the cold ice where you already knew a bruise on your legs was going to form. You look over to the boy sitting next to you, probably around the same age as you were, trying to get up off the ice before he would peel you off and back onto your feet. “Sorry about that, I’m trying to break the new skates in.”

“Not going well?” you mumble, brushing the ice off the back of your pants, already hating that you were dragged to the local rink in town as it was, now having to deal with the injury from a random boy on top of it? Not how you wanted to spend your Saturday afternoon.

He shakes his head, snow from the rink somehow falling off him in the meantime. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “I should give these to my brother and see if he can use them.”

“Seems kind of mean,” you tell him, debating whether or not to just leave him standing there or to wait to see where the conversation was going.

He laughed, the red on his cheeks getting deeper. “It’s just sibling stuff, don’t you have any siblings?”

“An older brother.”

“And he doesn’t do anything that makes you just a little irritated?” he asks you, a mischievous grin on his face as he started to slowly skate around the rink, something about him and his charm begging you to follow him.

“Always.”

“Because it’s his job as the older brother,” he says. “I’m Cale, by the way,” he tells you as you continue to follow him around the ice.

“We really had no cares in the world about anything that day,” he said to you, reaching out across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb tracing a pattern on your skin. It all felt so different at that moment, and there was nothing you could do to figure out why.

“I wonder when that all changed?”

“What are we going to do when you go off and play hockey all over the world?” you asked Cale. The two of you were lying in your backyard, one of the last nights of summer before school started; the sun was setting, the air was getting cool, both of you wishing the days were longer and the summer wasn’t ending.

You heard Cale laugh, feeling his eyes on you. “It won’t be all over the world, just two countries on the continent.”

“Caler, I’m being serious,” you said, calling him your nickname for him.

“Nothing’ll change.”

“Everything will change.”

“You’re being paranoid. Do you really think that we wouldn’t be best friends if I go and play hockey somewhere other than here?”

“You think we’ll always be friends?” you ask him, sitting up and pulling your legs to your chest. You were terrified of him leaving. You were already the worst when it came to him leaving for a weekend tournament, the week-long ones left you a mess. You were fifteen years old and already freaking out about a boy who would spend every free moment by your side leaving you forever. Part of you thought that there was no reason to even think about him staying or hope for it for that matter. He was destined to play for the NHL, win a few cups in his lifetime, and retire a legend. There was no way he wouldn’t be great in what he loved. There was no way he wouldn’t leave you forever.

“No, I don’t,” he says, after what felt like a horribly long moment of silence.

“What?”

“Well, I take that back. We’ll always be friends, but we’ll get to a place where we’re also more at some point.”

“Caler,” you start, trying to figure out what he was saying.

Before you could ask, his mom called from inside your house, telling him it was time to go home. He got up, that stupid grin of his on his face as he winked at you, running off and leaving you alone.

“What even did change?” he asked, his voice small. All the years he knew you, he never thought he would be faced with the chance of losing you. He never thought there would be a time in his life since the two of you met where you wouldn’t be together, physically or in spirit. He didn’t think there would be a time one you were his, once he was yours, where the two of you didn’t exist together.

You look up at him, swallowing hard. “We did.”

“Cale, I can’t fly out to see you this weekend.”

“Why not?” he whines on the other end. “I have one last game to play and then I have finals, and then I’ll be home anyway. I don’t want to wait that long to see you. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in two months. I’m lonely. I’m forgetting what she looks like, what she sounds like.” You could hear the playful tone in his voice, the stupid pout you knew was covering his face.

“You’re on the phone with her right now, you dumbass. And because I have finals and papers to work on, too, Cale. I can’t just drop everything whenever you want me to come to see you,” you protest, despite wanting to see him. “You never come to see me.”

“Now, that’s not fair.”

“Well, you don’t. I know you have games and everything, but even before your season started, before you started practicing every day, you had plenty of weekends where you were able to see me and you didn’t. I can’t keep spending the money I don’t have.”

Cale hung up on you, the beep of the disconnect ringing in your ear. There was no way he could be mad at you for not having time to see him during finals.

You didn’t hear from him until the next day, the day he had originally asked you to fly out when you started making plans the year he committed to UMass. His contact picture of the two of you came up on your phone, a Facetime from Caler flashing across your screen.

“You didn’t have to hang up on me yesterday,” you say to him, not giving him any other greeting.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you tell him. “You know how hard it is for me to have you on the other side of the continent, let alone when I have to tell you I can’t come see you.”

“I just miss you. I miss seeing you. I miss the summer before I left when all we had to worry about was what time we were waking up and going to sleep.”

“I miss you, too, Cale.”

“I guess I’ll just see you when we’re both home for break?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, letting out a sigh. “I wish we could turn back time sometimes.”

“Yeah?” he asks, shifting so his face was resting on his hand, propping himself up on his elbow. “To when?”

You sat and thought for a moment. Anytime before that year would have been fine. You missed him like crazy and knew it was going to be hard being away from him, but nothing could have prepared you for this. Even when he was playing games near you, he was just far enough away that you still couldn’t see him. “What about the night of our first real date?”

Cale lets out a laugh, throwing his head back on his pillow. “You mean when I spilled my milkshake on you to end the night and then was too nervous to kiss you good night that I waited until you texted me that you were up the next morning to go over and do it then?”

You couldn’t help by laugh thinking about that night, that perfect night where you consider everything between you two to have officially begun, those few years ago when you were both 16 and the only thing in front of you was your teenage dreams of being together. “Yeah, exactly. That night was perfect. We haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

Cale smiles at you before looking down at his mattress, a sad expression covering his face, “Yeah, we’ve both been busy, haven’t we?”

The silence between you in the loud restaurant was almost too much to bear. You didn’t know what it was, being there right next to the man who was the love of your life, the one you had trusted with everything for the last ten years that you knew each other, the one who you thought would be there with you for the rest of your life, and feel so far away from him. You were sitting there touching him and it felt like he was just out of reach.

You hadn’t seen Cale in what felt like forever. In reality, it had only been a few weeks since the Avalanche had been in Calgary and Cale had all of twenty minutes to spend with you. You had your suitcase, your phone in hand, standing outside of his apartment building, shaking in nervousness like you never had before. You checked his location, seeing and confirming again that he was in his apartment.

You reach up, knock on his door, and try to be patient while you wait for him to answer. You hear him yell, “Door’s open!” from the other side, his invitation to you to let yourself in.

“You really shouldn’t just let anyone in,” you call, poking your head around the corner to his couch, to see him sitting there with another girl. She was pretty, looking too comfortable for your liking considering she looked like she was alone in your boyfriend's apartment with him, especially since Cale was looking panicked while she wasn’t. “Hi?”

“Oh my god!” Cale yells, jumping up from the couch while you stand there, trying to keep your face as expressionless as possible so he wouldn’t think you were thinking the worst, which you were. You trusted Cale, but something about seeing the two of them too comfortable on his couch together made you nervous. He wraps you in his arms, the smell of what you could only believe was her perfume filling your nose instead of his normal cologne. “God, I’ve missed you,” he mumbles, his face buried in your shoulder, his lips finding your neck and for a moment forgetting the other girl was there. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I would come surprise you, but it looks like you already have company,” you tell him, trying to hide the hint of pain that you knew was coming through in your tone. “You sounded like you were expecting someone else when you answered?”

“Yeah, this is Emeline, one of Tyson’s girlfriend’s friends. Tyson and Anne were supposed to be coming over, I thought you were them.”

You let out a sigh of relief, thinking you were crazy for believing Cale would do anything like that to you, even for a second. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you tell Emeline, waving at her as she gets up off the couch.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, but I think you two deserve some alone time. Cale’s told me how much he misses you. You should spend all the time you can get together,” she says, leaving as soon as she could.

“It’s so weird that you’re here,” he tells you, taking you over to the couch, the two of you sitting the same way you found him and Emeline minutes before.

“Yeah, but I had a break in work and I wanted to come surprise you,” you tell him, taking his hand in yours. “I’ve missed you.”

He lifts your hand to meet his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ve missed you, too.”

The two of you shift, your head now on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you, your hands still intertwined. It felt like you had never left his side in all those years you spent apart, and yet, something felt different. You couldn’t figure out what it was, but something was.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Cale says, breaking the silence between the two of you.

“About what?”

“What if you moved here?”

“With you?”

“Duh.”

You sat and thought about it for a minute. Living in the same city as Cale again was everything you had wished for during the years you spent apart. He was your guy, the one you loved the most, the one you saw so few times during the year that you weren’t even sure you could really consider you two a couple. You tried to think of the two of you living together, still spending so much time apart while Cale was traveling for games. You couldn’t picture it.

You pictured a perfect world where you and Cale were living together, somewhere, but not in Denver. You pictured a life where the two of you were together every night, where Cale wasn’t playing hockey every other night and traveling somewhere else on the continent at least once every other week or so. You pictured you and Cale, living this ideal life that you had always dreamed of, the life that you knew could never be a reality.

But it was living with Cale. It was knowing that you would see him in a few days if he was gone for a road trip. It was living with the man you had longed to see every day for almost ten years since you met. It was moving in with your boyfriend who you loved more than anything.

“Well?” he asks, a growing feeling of nervousness and impatience overtaking him.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

You were sitting across from Cale at a restaurant you had both been dying to try. You were there with the man you loved, thinking of all the times that you knew you were in love with him, the days where it felt like only the two of you existed, the days when nothing was wrong and everything was right.

“I wonder how our lives would be different if we never met,” you ponder, knowing how so much of your life wouldn’t be the same.

“You probably wouldn’t be in Denver at all,” he says, something you already knew was true.

“And you wouldn’t be here right now, probably.”

“My life wouldn’t be as good as it had been these last few years.”

“My life would still be back at home.”

The two of you sit in silence again, silence so thick you could cut it with a knife, the agony of not even knowing what to say to him causing you more pain than any physical wound ever could.

Cale lets out a sigh, closing his eyes before he looks down at his plate in front of him. “I wish we could go back to any of those days when everything felt like it was perfect. When everything was perfect,” he says, the grip he had on your hand starting to recede.

“I wish we could go back to before things were over.”

#cale makar #cale makar imagines #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #avalanche #avalanche imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

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Fire on Fire - Chapter Three

Chapter two // Chapter four

“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.

Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.

Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.

They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.

“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.

“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.

“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”

Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.

She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.

“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.

When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.

She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”

Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.

“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.

“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.

“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.

“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.

“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.

“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”

“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.

“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.

“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.

“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.

“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”

“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.

“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”

“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.

“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.

“What’s your type of woman?”

“Everything you aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.

Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”

“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.

Rowan was mesmerized.

The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.

He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.

She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.

With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.

And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.

So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.

Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.

Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.

She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.

Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.

The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.

“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.

Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.

A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.

Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.

“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.

“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”

“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”

“You got it all right.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.

Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.

Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.

Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.

It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.

“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @mx—spelled //

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #fire on fire #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius

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utilitycaster · 2 years

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Spoilers, Tags, and How to Act Right in the Askbox: an Updated Pinned Post

The Askbox

Do not ever send me spoilers unless I've indicated it's okay. You will be blocked.

The askbox is a place to ask me things. It is neither your megaphone nor a means of seeking personal validation. If you send me something in my askbox, even if it's a statement, I assume you want my opinion and I will give it to you. That opinion might be in disagreement with yours. In short: questions are both welcome and encouraged! But if you're just looking for a yes-woman, you have really misread the situation.

Spoilers

I typically watch (and live-blog) the first half of Critical Role when it airs, then go to bed and watch the second half on Friday morning (or afternoon if I can't make it work with my schedule). From when I go to bed at the break until I finish I have the entire Critical Role tag and several common spoiler tags blocked. Please do not send me spoilers or put them in my notes during this time. You will be blocked. I typically make a post when I'm going to bed and a post when I finish the episode that you can find to get an indication of where I am in the episode.

For other shows/podcasts, it honestly depends. When in doubt feel free to just ask "hey, can I ask you a question about the most recent episode of X" first, since I don't always listen/watch right away. Sending me spoilers to the askbox for other shows will get a block, but doing so in the notes won't necessarily since it's at times unclear, but still...be cool.

Tags

I tag spoilers for Critical Role until the YouTube VOD is posted. Otherwise, I tend to use the spoiler tag until the next day for podcasts/shows. The spoiler tag is always the tag I use for the work, followed by the word "spoilers".

Frequent tags are:

critical role. If I have something I want to be able to find later but seems weird to put in the main tag, I often tag it with "cr tag". Not split by campaign.

tlovm for The Legend of Vox Machina; tagged with spoilers until the Saturday morning after an episode first drops.

dimension 20; individual seasons are also referred to by season name (eg: fantasy high) and the spoiler tagging is by season (eg: starstruck odyssey spoilers)

rqg (Rusty Quill Gaming)

taz (The Adventure Zone); individual campaigns are referred to with their name (eg: taz ethersea) and spoiler tagging is by campaign (eg: taz ethersea spoilers)

naddpod (Not Another D&D Podcast). Not split by campaign.

d&d for general D&D things

d&d mechanics for particularly crunchy mechanics questions

My discourse tag is relatively recent; it's "tenser's floating discourse" and it's primarily so that people who follow me can either avoid it or get all the tea, so to speak, depending on preference. If something's tagged with that, it's probably not maintagged.

Other

As of posting, I've read three of the Wheel of Time books and watched the show. My tags are m reads wot and m watches wot. I'm far less of a stickler on spoilers for the books because they've been out for over 20 years in most cases, but in general, again, be cool.

I occasionally post other fantasy media and the tags are going to either be the main tag (eg: The Witcher) or of the form "m watches/reads X". (M is my first initial and what I usually go by in anonymous spaces on the internet).

If you have tagging questions or requests, feel free to ask! I can't guarantee anything but I will take it under consideration and provide a respectful answer, even if it's a no.

#housekeeping #welcome new followers! the commandments are be cool about spoilers and if you're looking for a people pleaser keep looking

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

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Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 3 - Bonding

Welp…there he was…in an intermediate dance class, thankfully Bert taught the class (he actually taught a good handful, he was just the main beginner class teacher) so Harry wouldn’t be thrown into a whole new class with no familiar faces. Harry held down a smile as he remembered the jealous faces of his ex-dance classmates as Bert told him about his ‘level up’ the day before. He had only been at the studio for a month before he was leveled up, his schedule had changed a bit as well, before he was only going to the studio three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Now he would be going Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. His hour-long classes turning to two as Bert led Harry’s fellow dancers through new and much more complicated steps.

The only good thing that had come out of this was that his classes now ended at the same time as (y/n)’s, and now he would be able to go across the hall to pick her up instead of going from the back of the school to the front as he did when he was still in beginner.

Harry sat on the floor as he slid on his ballet shoes, strapping them to his feet and tossing his bag against the wall, standing with a sigh and walking over to where Bert was talking to the dancers.

“Any of ya hear of the ol’ bamboo?” Bert asked, taking a step back and grabbing a long stick, twirling it in his hands. The whole class shook their heads, well minus Harry, who just rose his brow. “well, this is what ya gonna be learning for the end of spring performance next year, the beginners are doin’ Step in time, ya will be doing ol’ bamboo, and the expert class is doing ballet, with miss charming as their star” Harry perked up at that, so that was the performance Esmerelda was talking to (y/n) about huh?

“So!” Bert clapped his hands, grinning at his students “let's start with the lyrics, shall we?! It is a musical performance after all”

By the end of the two hours, Harry was kinda exhausted, less exhausted than the rest of his classmate's thanks to his isle-bred stamina but still…very tired and very sweaty. Harry wiped down his face and neck with a cool towel and changed out his shoes.

“Hi~” Harry looked up, unable to keep the smile off his face as (y/n) looked down at him, hanging her head upside down while doing so “How was class?”

“Like usual” Harry simply replied, looking back at his shoes “Wha’ are yeh doin’ here? I thought yer class ended a bit after mine?” (y/n) just hummed, grabbing Harry’s bag and holding it open for Harry to toss his dance shoes in, then handing it to him as he stood.

“Ended early, Esméralda had an appointment…do you want to go get ice cream?” Harry rose his brow as he looked to (y/n), who gave an unsure smile.

“Ice cream?” Harry hummed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked to the ceiling “Do I-Harry Hook-want ice cream?” (y/n) rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder gently. “Ice cream sounds good” Harry chuckled, patting (y/n)’s head and offering his arm again, once again ignoring the spark running through his skin as (y/n) hands wrapped around his arm.

“Yay! There's this new place I've been wanting to try! But no one will go with me! I'll drive us there!” Harry smiled at (y/n)’s rambling, leading her to pull him along to the parking lot where her car was.

“No-no no no no, the egg travels back in time and it creates a new timeline, and then later it's revealed that there's another egg that was corrupted that ALSO traveled back in time, but that one’s helping the yiga clan.” Harry licked his lips free of his chocolate ice cream, narrowing his eyes as (y/n) finished her mini-rant about one of her favorite games lore.

“So,” Harry started, setting down his spoon and tilting his head “the egg? Is-a time-traveling mini guardian?? And-the princess, Link or whatever-“ (y/n) looked at him with puffed cheeks.

“Zelda! Link is the knight! Zelda is the princess!” Harry made a face.

“But if the stories mostly follow Link, why is it called Legend of Zelda!?” Harry gave a smug smirk as (y/n) huffed and wiped the corner of her lips free of her ice cream.

“Becauseeeee oh! I remember! Well don’t quote me on it, but the first game was originally going to be about Zelda exclusively, then they made Link and they found the new story worked better, they just kept the original title.” Harry hid his smile behind another mouthful of ice cream, (y/n) was pretty cute when she went on her video game rants, Legend of Zelda being one of her favorites. “Okay, at some point you have to play one of the games, especially breath of the wild, you can barrow my switch” Harry chuckled, setting down his now empty cup of ice cream.

“Alright then” Harry started, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth “sounds fun?” (y/n) beamed in excitement, dancing in her seat a bit.

“Yes!...I can’t wait to see your ass kicked by a lynel” (y/n) cackled, laughing louder as Harry gave her an odd look.

“From how yer laughing, that tells me it's not a fun thing ta fight?” Harry guessed, smiling as (y/n) nodded through her laughter.

“Lynels are harder to beat than the final boss, which is bullshit but I digress” Harry turned to see Audrey, who was smiling at (y/n)s giggling self “side note; it’s a little odd to see you two hanging out” she waved off Harry’s slightly offended look “not in a mean way, more; you're both from a different crowd and Chad likes to say shit about you to (y/n)…though she” she gestured to (y/n) who was coming down from her giggle fit. “doesn’t like listening to Chad, so I should have expected this.”

“Damn right, hell will freeze over before I actually listen to his dumbass” (y/n) chuckled, finishing off her ice cream and looking up at Audrey, who was picking up her shopping bags again and going to leave “What are you doing here by the way?”

“Oh just some shopping, trying out a new style and all that, good day you two!” Audrey sauntered off, leaving (y/n) and Harry alone once more.

Harry looked back at (y/n) at the same time she did, they both smiled and (y/n) nodded back towards the parking lot of the mall they were at “Wanna get started on breath of the wild?”

Harry smiled, turning to toss his empty ice cream cup in the trash can behind him “Sounds fun”

“No! Dodge to the side! YES! Okay, mash the Y button!” Gil and Uma stepped into (y/n)s dorm room, having been looking for Harry for the past two hours after he didn’t return from dance class, and Gil had suggested looking for Harry in (y/n)s room.

Uma had thought it was a stupid idea but humored Gil, only to be surprised to see Harry and (y/n) in bean bags as Harry button mashed the controller he held in his hand, sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration. “Uhhhh Harry?” Uma called out, leaning back a bit as Harry shushed her.

“I’m fighting a lynel and am about to die I need silence!” Harry yelled, leaning forward into his controller, tossing his hands up in shock as the red-maned lynel finally died “FUCKING FINALLY!” (y/n) cheered along with Harry, laughing as he pulled her into his side.

Uma and Gil gave each other a look, Uma smirking before walking towards the two and pulling Harry up to his feet “Awesome, you beat a video game mini-boss, I've been looking for you for two hours” Harry seemed to come down from his victory high and gave a sheepish smile.

“Oh uh…sorry?” Uma hummed and nodded, grabbing his arm and waving to (y/n).

“Say bye to (y/n) Harry” Harry waved (y/n) goodbye as she giggled and saved Harry's game, switching the profile to her game.

“Bye (y/n)” (y/n) beamed at him, waving at him as he was pulled backward by Uma towards the door.

“Bye Harry!”

Uma pulled Harry out of the room, rolling her eyes a bit as Harry continued to wave until he was out of (y/n)s sight. Gil followed them out and closed the door behind him. “You are so smitten” Gil laughed, very much enjoying the way Harry’s face lit up.

“No-no I’m nae” Harry stuttered, pulling out of Uma’s grasp and stomping ahead of them “Yer out a yer mind Gil” Uma and Gil shared another look.

“He’ll realize it at some point, I give it another month or two” Uma mumbled, smirking as Gil patted his pocket where his wallet was.

“Three, twenty bucks” Uma nodded and the two shook hands to seal their bet, jogging forward to catch up with their flustered friend.

Jane sat against the wall of mirrors, watching you move about the almost empty room as you practiced your part from the duet Esméralda had assigned you. Jane wasn’t all that knowledgeable in the world of dance but it wasn’t hard to see you were struggling, not in the way of movement but in the way of conveying emotion in your dance.

It almost seemed….stale, if anything, the dance was supposed to convey two people falling in love, but Jane; as far as she knew, knew you had never fallen in love so it would be hard to convey that exact emotion. You had really only known platonic and familial love.

You stopped, collapsing to your knees as you heaved for breath, sweat dripping off your brow. Jane furrowed her brows in concern and stood, grabbing your water bottle and walking over to you, she kneeled beside you and handed you the bottle, staring at you as you greedily downed the water. “Are you okay?” Jane asked, mentally wincing as it was obvious that you weren’t.

You gasped as you finally took the bottle away from your lips, shaking your head “I just-I just can't seem to get this right, Esméralda says if I can't find the emotions I need to convey in this duet then she’ll replace me and-and” you sighed, letting your head fall between your shoulders. “I can't let them down” Jane furrowed her brows.

“Let who down?” Jane asked, unsure of who you were talking about, as far as she knew your parents didn’t really pressure you about your dancing, they were wholly supportive and understanding through every bit of your journey through dance.

“…I don’t know” you whispered, curling up and resting your chin on your knees. “My parents? Me? Grandpa? Esméralda? I’m not sure…but I feel like if I don’t get this right, I’ll be letting someone down” Jane rubbed your back, unsure of how to comfort you. You stood after a few moments and walked over to the stereo. “One last time, okay? Then I’ll be done for the day”

“Okay,” Jane mumbled, going to sit back down against the wall, starting up the camera on your phone to record you one last time at your request so you could see any mistakes you made.

You stood in the middle of the room, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as the music began.

And you danced.

-end of part 3-

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @thecaptainsgingersnap @rintheemolion

@imtryingthisout @verboetoperee @jatp-rules-my-life

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #dancer reader #ballet dancer reader #dancing troubles

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

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Love Talk - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 6.1k words

Genre: romance, minor fluff, mild smut

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello cuties! Welcome to the Love Talk scenarios.

In these small series we’ll see how the guys handle the turn-ons turn-offs conversation, talking about their previous relationships, kinks and limits.

In this first piece we’ll see how our perfect leader plays his cards with his not-yet girlfriend, fondly nicknamed Vixen. It’s their fifth date and Vixen meets him at hers for a lovely homecooked meal. Expect the situation to escalate.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol (wine), swearing, toxic past relationships. Discussion of sexual topics, [DDLG/daddy kink, oral, voyeurism, sex toys and impact play, restraints (handcuffs and manacles, spreader bars), lingerie fetish, discipline and rules, mind games, pornography, slight roleplay, sensation play, edging, orgasm deprivation and control, bruising and marking kink, blindfolds. Mentions of angst about Vixen’s past relationship. Mentions of a series of hard limits (hardcore bdsm, heavy pain kink, knife play, electric play, suspension play, water sports, degradation and humiliation, chastity devices, infantilization, dubious consent, asphyxiation, triple penetration, touch deprivation). Just in case you didn’t know already, Vixen is a brat and Joon is the smoothest brat tamer to exist (Can you imagine him sweet talking and tricking his brat into obedience? I. Am. Shaking.)

Wordcount: 6.1k (listen, these two flirt a lot, they like talking to each other and Joon could dirty talk for days. Anything less than 5k would be an insult to them and I GOT CARRIED AWAY) Also, here is my Masterlist

Do you want to read what happened next? You can find it here!

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He didn’t expect it. Yeah, last time you’d made out in the backseat, the driver hopefully uninterested in your anthem, but that doesn’t mean he expected you to ask him out. Usually he was the one texting first and asking out.

International, Korean or fusion? The text read.

Are you thinking of bringing me lunch?

I’m thinking of asking you out this Saturday. If you’re free, of course.

Picnic at Han river? He asked, hopeful.

They say it’s gonna be stormy. Dinner at mine. I’ll cook.

You can cook? His computer went on screensaver mode. He was too caught up texting. He was already done with the demo anyway.

You’ll see. You teased.

He smirked. Then it’s a deal. Want me to bring wine and dessert?

Just wine, you wrote before adding a flirty smirk.

He was blushing. You’re so naughty. He replied. A pause. Cook your signature dish.

Don’t get ideas. You texted back cheekily.

That was nice. However, a few seconds later you found yourself questioning how long it would take you to lose your cool and throw yourself at him. The night was going to be disastrous.

That’s how you found a drenched Namjoon on your doorstep the following Saturday. “Sorry, my umbrella broke on the way. I’m a mess.” He spoke, checking how bad he looked, the words spilling out of his mouth lightning fast. With an apologetic smile he looked up at you, his jaw going slack, a little shocked. “Wow.”

He noticed you had dolled yourself up. You blushed and thanked him for the compliment quickly, your main interest focused on taking care of his situation. You quickly dragged him in, already fussing over him before he got cold, your apprehensive side taking control.

You smiled at him and asked him to wait for a towel. When you came back you noticed he was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, now perfectly sticking to his skin. You were ready for self-ignition. Fortunately, you managed to find a spot for his dripping jacket and tell him to get comfy. He was already barefoot, his sandals on your entry mat. You offered him your oversized sleeping t-shirt and left as he dried himself and got dressed.

“Let me see if I have a pair of sweats for you.” You came back a few minutes later with some basketball shorts you didn't even know you had. “Sorry, I don’t have boxers. You could use one of my thongs, if you fancy those.” You smirked, giving him an awkward thumbs-up. He snickered at that, shaking his head.

God, he felt fond of you already.

After a few minutes he was sitting at the kitchen table, looking like boyfriend material in his exceedingly domestic outfit, and fidgeting with his hands. Previously you had led him to the bathroom, giving him space to change and asking him to give you his stuff so you could put it in the dryer. In the meantime he had noticed the small details in your bathroom. Your pink toothbrush. Your sleeping robe hanging from the heater. And a small collection of delicate lace — too delicate for machine washing and drying — hanging from a small rack.

Fuck.

“It’s almost ready. I hope you like lasagna. It’s a classic.” You called from the stove.

“That’s nice.” He admitted. “It feels amazing in here. Smells good. And it’s nice, toasty. Great autumn vibes.”

He was probably talking out of nerves. He should stop. He was painfully close to slapping himself.

“Thank you. I know you like hardwood. And that’s exactly the vibe I go for.” You said referring to your furniture.

“Your house is truly lovely, ____.” He spotted more details, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach, both from nerves and the mouth-watering scent coming from the oven.

“I’ll give you a tour later. Don’t expect a lot, though. It’s just the living room, the studio and the bedroom. Other than the bathroom and kitchen, that is.”

Bedroom. Hell. Keep calm, Namjoon, she said don’t get ideas. “I’d love to.”

Dinner was easy, you talked about his job and your job, and how you’d moved to Seoul and found that incredible, small apartment in such an exclusive neighbourhood.

Together with conversation flowed the wine. You both were red cheeked by the end of the meal and your head felt a bit light when you stood up. He noticed and smirked kindly. “Need help?” A hand sweetly supporting your waist.

You were standing in front of him now and you couldn’t help but notice how his head reached your navel while he was sitting. “Have I already told you you look breathtaking tonight?”

You blushed. “Maybe.” You stroked his hair back, the gesture incredibly intimate. He closed his eyes and pushed his head against your hands, inviting you to do that again. You obliged. “And you look ravishing in my pink and frilly sleeping shirt.” You joked.

“Yeah I feel incredibly cute. But don’t jump my bones, please. Right now this place feels like the dragon’s den.” He confessed. “And you keep luring me in.”

“I might eat you. Be careful.” You teased. “This dragon can be very hungry.”

He looked up at you and smiled, his eyes crincling. “That sounds amazing.”

You took your chance and poked his dimple, then you grabbed his hands and removed them from your waist, getting ready for dessert. You started collecting the dishes and bringing them to the dishwasher, leaving only the wine and glasses on the table. As you turned and bent he let his eyes run down your tight-fitting dress, biting his lip as he noticed the lack of panty lines on your behind. “Do I get the dessert now?” He growled quietly. You turned your head, pretty sure that he was enjoying the view, which you had no intention ruining.

“Have you been a good boy?” You questioned playfully.

“I’m always good.” He replied “Maybe not a good boy, but good for sure.”

“You can go in the living room, we’ll eat dessert there.” You directed him.

He let his hand caress your lower back, catching your attention. “Need me to take the wine and glasses there?” He asked.

“Yes, thanks, sweetie.” You whispered, somehow entranced by the small touch.

You were starting to get intimate and it felt right. Comfortable. You took a few minutes to yourself, cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, then trying to get dessert ready, your movements slower both because of the wine and because you felt like you needed more time to get psychologically ready for him and your bantering.

Meanwhile he reached the other room and fumbled around a little, searching for the light switch. Suddenly the place felt comfy. And dangerous. The lights were low, the sofa looked soft and inviting with a big woolen comforter thrown over it.

You were well-read. He knew that already, but noticing the big library and the books laying a little bit everywhere really made him wonder how many things you knew. He put down the glasses and bottle and explored, careful of where he put his feet.

You had Korean books and English ones. A few in one or multiple languages he didn’t know. On your wall there were a few movie posters. Studio Ghibli. The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lost in Translation. Lolita.

He knew that one. He would ask about that later.

Moving back to the library he noticed other books he knew. The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Again, Lolita. The Memoirs of a Geisha. The Delta of Venus. A thorough guide to the language of sex… A thorough what?

“You found my forbidden stash.” You asked him, propped against the door jamb, dessert in one hand, spoons in the other.

“If it’s forbidden, then why are you displaying it so openly.” He asked, moving away and innocently sitting on one edge of the sofa, legs closed, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

“No one visits here, usually. And why should I hide being interested in erotism?” You laid the heavy bowl on the table. “It’s tiramisu. It’s coffee-based. I thought you would like it. If you’re bold enough I might tell you the story of it.”

“Come on, try me.” He teased.

“It was invented in Italy. It’s said that prostitutes would make it to reinvigorate their clients.” You took a spoon and dipped it in before bringing it to your mouth.

He laughed. “Really.”

“It’s a quite popular legend.” You smiled.

“Did you learn that in The thorough guide to the language of sex?” He asked flirtily, his ears blushing.

“I learnt that during my cuisine lessons.” You replied matter-of-factly.

“And what did you learn from that interesting book?” He wondered, keeping eye contact as he fed himself some cake.

“A lot of things, actually.” You lowered your eyes, playing hard to get.

“And have you ever used them?” He asked, his curiosity now poked and fully awakened.

“Are you asking me if I’ve had sex before?” You questioned.

He shook his head. “I assumed you have.” He stopped, embarrassed. “I mean, you’re in your mid-twenties and you mentioned having a couple past relationships.”

“Correct. Even though those factors are actually insignificant. But yeah, I’ve done it before.” You shrugged. “So have you, right?”

“Yes. I’ve had three committed relationships. A few casual flings. That’s it.” He admitted, completely unbothered by the fact.

You looked at him, swallowing your mouthful before asking: “Now we’re gonna talk bodycounts and turn-ons, right?”

“Only if you want to, darling.” His voice became soft, caring. He was your boy now.

“Then yeah. Well, let’s go through some history.” You poured some wine in both glasses and took a sip of yours. “Lost my virginity at 19. First serious boyfriend. He was a lot older than me. A lot. Like a loooot.”

“How old?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Like… twelve years...” You said, as if it were a question.

“He was… thirty-one?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah...” You exhaled.

“And why did it end?” he asked.

“We were together for two years. Then he wanted family. I wanted career. Seems fair.” You told briefly.

“He must have been important, then.” He assumed out loud.

“We’re actually still friends. He has a family. But he really made me what I am. Actually, he helped me grow up and past some traumas.” You admitted with a smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, again warm and comforting.

“The usual. Daddy issues.” You giggled.

He bit his lip anxiously. Now what?

“I was overly responsible from a young age. I wanted rules, restrictions. Attention from my parents. I was always wound up tight and with no one taking care of me.” You shrugged. “He helped me find an outlet and discover how my mind works. I realised sometimes I just need someone to take care of me when I'm too tired to do it myself.”

“I noticed the Lolita theme. I was going to ask you about that, honestly. Is that what you’re into?” He asked, tiptoeing around the huge black hole that was calling to him. Asking you to get into his lap and then praise and cuddle you until the little girl eventually came out to play.

“Are you asking me if I have a daddy kink or if I like owning multiple versions of the same book in different languages?” You asked, putting some humour in the heavy conversation you would be diving into shortly.

“Obviously the different versions.” He shrugged with a teasing smile.

“Yes.” You took another small sip. “To both of those.”

He felt like he needed to stretch his neck. “I’m glad this came up.”

“I’m pretty sure you have one yourself, don’t you?” You licked your lips before taking some more dessert.

He took a sip of his wine. “Yes. I think.”

“From one to ten, how far up?” You asked, eyes sparkling bright.

“I would say eight. Maybe nine.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re safe with me. I was hoping that by now you knew I wouldn’t ever judge you.” You murmured, a pout on your lip.

“A solid nine. But I won’t go higher up. There’s some kinky stuff out there that I’m seriously not into.”

“What’s that?”

“Stuff like pacifiers and drawings and plushies and playing tea party. That’s not me.”

“No, I’m not into infantilization either.” You agreed. “Honestly I’m more of a brat than a baby girl.” Now that the ball was rolling it was easier getting to the core of things, using terms and explaining kinks. The initial dive is always traumatic, but now you only had to swim. Metaphorically speaking.

“I could tell.” he smirked. “Too teasing and independent to keep your head low and say “yes, sir”, aren’t you?”

“You got me.” You lifted your eyes to him, batting your lashes a couple times. “And where’s the fun in that? The fun is in the chase. All the sweet talking and the manhandling that lead to surrender and conquest. I need to be won, earned, deserved. Of course I will bend, but I want you to show me how much you want me, how far you’re willing to go to get me. If it suits my taste, I will give in.”

He swallowed and took another spoonful of tiramisu. You were getting to his head faster than the wine. “So you’re a brat.” He stated, then licking his lip.

You nodded.

“What else are you into?” He asked, his stare dark and serious.

You subtly clenched your legs. “I like the fight. I like the sensationof my partner overpowering me. But I also like feeling loved and taken care of.”

“That’s right and natural, darling.” He supported you.

You felt your body caving in slowly, the desire in his eyes felt intoxicating and the sweet understanding and tenderness oozing from his mouth made you want to please him immensely. You were already yielding without him even touching you. “I like rules.”

“Oh, you do, sweetie?” He lured you in, inviting you to share more details.

“They make me feel like the other person is giving me boundaries to protect me.” You confessed.

“I like those too.” He diminished the power imbalance between the two of you, showing you his more delicate side. “I like giving them. And I like receiving them. I also feel like the other person is teaching me how to respect them. How to love them right. And is also indirectly protecting me from harm.”

“That’s right.” You agreed. “That’s exactly how I feel.” You smiled shyly.

“Do you like punishment, in any forms?” He asked, his voice so delicate it felt like a butterfly landing on the tip of your nose.

You blushed and exhaled. “I like spankings.” You bit your lips, hiding your face in your hands.

He caressed your hands tenderly. “I’d love to spank your perfect ass, Vixen.”

You giggled at the nickname. He’d used it at the end of your fourth date, when your hand had started playing with his belt.

Mood lightened, you lifted your head, smiling brightly. “I like it barehanded. It’s my favourite. But I also like the paddle and the hairbrush.”

“Not afraid of bruises?” A shiver ran down his spine, even though his blood was boiling.

“Not really.” You took more dessert. He stared at the spoon as it disappeared in your mouth, your lips latching and sucking at the silverware. His eyes then moved to your fingers as they held the spoon elegantly but energetically. “Actually the more the better. But tell me about you.”

He took in a deep breath before exhaling quickly. “I like bruising. Of different sorts. As I said, I’d love to cover your behind in those, if you’ll ever allow me to, that is.” He put down the spoon after he realised he was gesticulating with it. Dangerous. He was getting dumber. “This might sound very horny teenager but I like hickeys. Loads of them. Like marking. I really like marking.”

Your attention sparked up. He could claim you like that whenever he wanted to.

“And other stuff like biting. Licking. A lot of mouth activity in general.” He admitted, toying with his hands and shifting in his seat.

You couldn’t contain a small squeal and a giggle. “Oral fixation. Sounds nice. I have that too. Official member of the oral squad.” You grinned as you saw the gleam in his eyes. You took a small pause analysing your next move. “However, I can assume from your size that you’re a lot.” You gestured to his shoulders and height.

He only opened his mouth, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze.

“And my gag reflex sucks. So I can only guarantee you I’ll try. Enthusiastically. Over and over.”

He felt like evaporating. “The only thing that counts is that you’re okay with receiving.” He waited for your answer expectantly, eyebrows raised, heartbeat galloping.

“Yes. Anytime.” You deadpanned. Eyes already closing at the thought of his mouth between your legs. “But don’t expect me to be shy about it. I will ask for it. Repeatedly. Until I’m a blabbering mess.”

He could make you a blabbering mess right in that second. He took a deep breath. Don’t start thinking of that.

“Come on, say it.” You flirted.

He laughed his big old grandpa laugh. “Say what?” He looked at you, happy and excited.

“Come on, you’ve admitted it to national tv but won’t talk to me about it.”

“Oh, you mean porn.” He blushed to the tip of his ears. “Fuck. I’m so fucking dumb.”

“Just clumsy. It’s lovely.” You complimented. “It’s a nice contrast to the hot daddy look you have eighty percent of the time. But don’t get distracted. Talk to me about your voyeurism kink.” You spurred him on. You needed to unlock that part of him. Craved it.

“Okay, fine. but we’re getting back to the hot daddy part later.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” You quipped. God, the chemistry was getting insane.

"Honestly, back then I used to watch it a lot more. Now I'm sort of… Lazier. It's so difficult finding what I like, and actually liking it the way it is carried out."

"Like, you're not sure you like how they're doing it." You suggested.

He clicked his tongue in agreement. "Yes. And it just lacks that… Spark. The intimacy, you know."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I one night stands aren’t it for me. I need to build that trust.” You admitted.

"I feel the same. And I get it, sex is amazing and everything, but only when you do it right. Like — with the right person. Someone that understands you and someone you're free enough to do it with. Someone you know, mentally and emotionally."

"Sex that comes from knowing and understanding is so much more intense." You said with a dreamy tone.

He looked at your face, longing blatant on your lineaments. He wished he could give you that. He wished he could take it from you. "That's the right word. Intense. You know, like the way lovers look at each other, like ‘yeah, I know your tits look great but you know what looks even greater? The way your chest flushes when you're close and your eyelids flutter and you subconsciously wet your lip with that little, oh-so-familiar flick of tongue’."

You felt your body soften at the words, secretly answering to his description. "You just explained intimacy." You agreed, nodding along and picking up a spoonful of dessert.

"That's why I watch a lot more amateur stuff these days. I would never have the audacity to film anything — too risky for my taste — but I like watching, at least."

"And how do you feel about watching… Live?" You asked, curious but also guarded.

"You mean watching my partner as she touches herself?" He asked, eyes blown wide.

"Yes." You said, shrugging.

He licked his lips and gulped, though his mouth was awfully dry. Wine. That's what he needed.

As he downed a large sip, you waited for his answer expectantly, almost ready to change topic when he started talking.

"Yeah." His voice was deeper now and an obscure part of you stood to attention, your hearing enhanced to capture any order he was ready to give you. None came. "I would love to. I love looking at a confident woman showing off her lingerie — and don’t think I forgot about your little collection.” He licked his lips and parted his legs, trying to ease his discomfort. “Sadly, I think that the vision would be an exercise in restraint, since I have zero patience and I can't stand being provoked. But I would watch, were she to touch herself with bare hands or with… Toys."

Lord, save me. You thought, your legs squeezing tighter.

This time it seemed Namjoon had noticed, although he did not show any reaction except for a cocky smirk, which he hid readily.

"If it's such an exercise in patience maybe some restraints could help you rein yourself in." You suggested.

"Being tied up by you as I watch you take off your lovely, expensive lingerie set and then watch you touch yourself? Is that what you're asking me?"

"A girl can dream." You teased with a cheshire grin.

"Good thing dreams do sometimes come true." He suggested, an eyebrow raised, mouth quirked to the side, panty-dropping dimple in tow.

You smiled and moved half an inch closer to him.

"You said once you did it a lot more. How much then and how much now?

"Well, back then I did it at least once a day or every two days. Now it's three times a week, roughly." He looked just slightly ashamed, but not really. You couldn't quite decypher his mind in that second. "May I ask about your… Needs."

Your brow creased, fingers entangling. "If I watch stuff? Or how often?"

He looked stuck somewhere in his brain and you tried helping him out. "Yeah."

Both, then. "Not films. Usually it's just pictures or short clips. When I'm especially needy I might listen to audios—”

"Of people having sex?"

You nodded. "Yeah, or just having some alone fun-time. "

God, he wanted one of those. Of you. "That sounds interesting."

"Sounds interesting in more ways than one, indeed." You offered back with an innuendo.

Your silver tongue and quick brains would be the end of him. "Talking with you is like a dangerous tango. Like that scene from Mr and Mrs Jones."

You laughed. "I'll have to catch up on that one."

"We could watch it together, next time." He suggested.

"I'd love to." You were sure that watching the film would probably be the last thing you’ll do. If you did it at all… "About frequency…" You took a pause, trying to verbalise decently what you felt wasn't decent at all. "I must say I'm quite high maintenance."

He poked your side, leaning across the sofa, but staying respectfully two feet away from you. He wanted to see if you would come closer. "Don't be shy. You made me grade my daddiness, now grade how needy you are from one to ten."

"Nine?" You were getting panicked. "Ten?"

"How often, baby?" His voice was so deep and husky it made your stomach shake with the reverberations of it.

"Like normally at least once a day?" You confessed in a shrill, insecure voice.

He nodded with a dark smirk. "Very needy indeed." He turned towards you slightly, his body language showing openness and inviting you to cuddle up next to him.

He wanted to touch you. Platonically. He wanted to comfort you throughout this conversation as you opened up and showed your vulnerabilities to him, but he also wanted to respect the distance you were keeping. Little did he know it was just a facade. All you wanted was to feel his hands combing your hair, his solid chest pillowing your head, his lips whispering sweet nothings at your ear.

"So you said you like rules, spankings, power struggles and discipline, anything oral, toys and mature content. Anything else you need me to know, little vixen?" He asked, and the addition of "little" to your nickname made you understand that you were completely out of your mind for this man. You were ready for anything he commanded you.

"I like restraints." You admitted. "I tend to fight back a little unless my daddy sweet talks me into things. Sometimes I like feeling a bit helpless, like my daddy can manhandle me and maneuver me into positions. That's why I like harnesses and cuffs, especially thigh cuffs. Also spreader bars. And manacles. I don't like handcuffs, they hurt and leave marks which are a bit difficult to hide, and embarrassing to explain."

Namjoon's mouth watered at the thought of thigh cuffs. Of the way your flesh would swell there, of how much skin there would be to bite. However, he also realised he had a lot to learn about you. And he needed to learn new things to play with you.

"I am absolutely okay with that. I must admit I have never explored this deeply into restraints, so I need to tell you I'm inexperienced with stuff like spreader bars and bondage. I know basic knots for wrists, but that's it. I don't usually have much patience for shibari and the likes. The furthest I've gone is handcuffs and using ribbons or belts, on wrists only." He explained.

"That's okay. Bondage is something too tricky for me too. Lengthy." You admitted. "Do you have any special need I should know of?"

"Not really. Except privacy and absolute monogamy." He states coldly. "I like experimenting, and you mentioned a spreader bar earlier. I'd love to try that. Both on you and on myself. Same thing about manacles. They seem less aggressive than handcuffs."

You nodded and explained further. "The pressure is distributed on a wider surface, which minimises the risk of injuries and markings. Especially on rebellious… individuals." You chose your word carefully.

Namjoon bit his lip and hummed in understanding. By now the discourse was getting highly technical, the need to verify and negotiate interests and limits coming to the surface. "We're both voyeurs, but I'll ask anyway, what about blindfolds?"

"Soft limit. Really depends on how you handle it. I need constant reassurance and guidance, it really destabilizes me."

"Understood. I might be into those when paired with sensation play, but we'll get into that when the time is right." He conceded tenderly. "Just one last thing, baby. I need to know your hard limits. Stuff you really don't want to do."

"Degradation and humiliation are a big no no. My second — and most recent — relationship was with a degrading bastard. He hurt me in ways I'm not comfortable remembering."

"Okay, love." He looked you in the eyes and waited a second for your approval before caressing your face in comfort.

"Stuff like hardcore BDSM, water sports, triple penetration and most anal play. And asphyxiation or choking."

Namjoon nodded quickly. "Anything else?"

"Okay, orgasm denial and chastity devices are an absolute no. That should be it, about hard limits. There are a few things that make me safeword but that I can stand to a certain point, like edging, blindfolds, and touch deprivation."

Namjoon nodded once more, waiting for you to finish."Okay. I think that the only stuff I might meddle with is blindfolds and edging. I have no interest in controlling your orgasms — our aim is to please." He winked and smirked at you, your knees growing weaker and weaker. "Also, believe me when I say I tend to assume a very nourishing and protective role, therefore it would go against my nature to humiliate you or degrade you. I don't intend to attack your emotional stability, so if you're interested, we can tackle the problem with blindfolds a bit at a time. Same with edging, we'll take baby steps if you decide you trust me and want to give me the honour of trying." His brow creased as he tried to remember the other thing he wanted to say. "Oh, about touch deprivation, I always need my little one close to me, so you should never feel touch starved." He took a meditative pause." And I intend to touch you a lot, baby."

You shivered and leaned closer to him, attracted to the comfortable nook he was creating while leaning on his side against the back cushions of your sofa. It looked so warm. And safe.

He noticed your wandering glance and quickened the pace. He had ideas. And he needed you closer.

"My hard limits are including other people in our intimate life. I don't share like that." He warned perentoriously. "Also, you know my clumsiness. If there's any chance that it could damage you, then there's no going that way. I'm thinking of stuff like knife play and kinks that involve obviously dangerous material. Like violet wands. Anything involving hardcore BDSM, suspension play, infantilization and dubious consent is a non-negotiable hard limit. Are you still with me, baby?"

You nodded, making eye contact.

"Good. I might be interested in some anal play. No penetration and no strap-ons. Maybe rimming. Both giving and receiving. But we'll see. Same for sensation play." He scratched his neck, trying to think of things he doesn't like doing. "I don't like being edged and I have poor control of myself, so orgasm control and denial are kind of softish limits." And then you noticed the shift, like his spine getting straighter, his shoulders rolling back in the process, looking broader, still his voice came out sweet and caring. "Listen carefully now, little vixen. I have little tolerance for disobedience and insubordination. If you have a temper or challenge my dominance, you will have to face consequences. Also, I like claiming my partner entirely. What is mine is mine. I don’t like sharing. Infidelity is a deal breaker. Understood, ____?"

"Yes, sir." You replied, automatically, without even intending too. You did’t feel ready for that title. And sir felt neutral enough.

"Such nice manners." He praised with a proud smile. "Now, would you like to come closer, baby?"

You batted your eyes a couple times. You were sliding into subspace quickly and you found yourself questioning whether it was a good idea to get closer. Still, your body was faster than your brain, making you nod and crawl next to him, settling inside his embrace. "Can I sit on your lap, Joonie?"

He blushed, smiling kindly at you. He was beginning to melt at your complicated charms. "Of course, babe." He sat elegantly with his back leaning against the sofa, legs slightly parted so you could place yourself between them, your thighs across his and your side pressed to his front as his arms slowly wrapped around you, ready to retreat at your first show of discomfort. "Does it feel nice, darling?"

"Yes." You whispered. You were so close to him, his body warm while the late summer night felt chilly on your skin.

He cupped your cheek with his hand and pulled your head to his breastbone, building a calm cocoon for you. "You mentioned I look like a hot daddy before. Care to elaborate, little one?"

You purred at his term of endearment, cuddling into him some more. "You look so hot with your glasses on. Sometimes I close my eyes and still see you in your outfit for Gayo Daechukje in 2019. Grey three piece suit, necktie and glasses. Everyone was fantasising about you as their hot kinky professor in classroom roleplay."

He had some troubles reminiscing the details, but he saved in his mind some keywords. Glasses, suit, necktie, kinky professor roleplay. With your face burrowed in his chest, he propped his chin on top of you hair, his spare hand soothing your skin from your waist to your knee, raising goosebumps in its wake.

"Did that outfit cause discomfort, baby thing?" He questioned, hands caressing your hair gently.

"It did fuel some steamy dreams, yes." You conceded.

"And did you wake up all hot and bothered for me?' He kept teasing.

"Mh mh." You confirmed, head nodding slowly and timidly.

His chest shook in a breathy laugh. "Poor little girl, so desperate for the hot professor."

He sounded so cruel, basking in your needy struggles. "I'm so lucky I'm a smart girl who can take care of herself." You counterattacked.

"Smart indeed. But now that I know maybe I can take care of it for you." He pressed a kiss to your head. It was the first time he did a gesture so tender and so intimate.

"What else gets my little girl all ticklish and lightheaded?" He asked, curling tighter against you and around you.

"When you call me little." You admitted.

"Do you like it, ____?“

“Yes, Joonie. I like it a lot." You replied meeting his gaze.

He leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to your earlobe, a spot he had discovered during your first make out session. "What if I whispered it here, little vixen?"

Your eyes closed, lost in sensations, your insides clenching so violently that your body followed the movement, knees pressing against each other, thighs squeezing for relief.

"I guess you really like this spot, am I right, little girl?" He pushed you closer and you started recognising the shape of him against your hip. The basketball shorts he was wearing did no good job at hiding him.

"Please Joonie."

"Please what, darling?" He pressed his lips there, kissing you with a featherlight touch, impossible to perceive, were not for the sound of his disclosing lips. The tip of his tongue met the skin there, your back arching into him. "When I first saw you you looked like a wet dream, _____, in your smart formal attire, looking like the most confident, adult, unbreakable woman in the world. Legs for days and an ass I wanna bite like a ripe, juicy peach. You looked polished like a model, negotiating over the price of a painting in a private gallery. You looked so damn hot." He bit into your neck, moving your hair aside. "You looked like the most refined and expensive thing I have ever seen. Polished, edgy. So sexy." He bit into you again.

This time you whimpered.

"I thought I stood no chance, with my clumsy character and boyish ways." He giggled, and his voice vibrated against your throat. "Now you're in my arms, all cosy and needy, begging me to please you with your big doll eyes and pretty, plush lips, behaving like the cutest, sweetest little girl I could ever dream of." He sucked at the column of your throat gently, hard enough to cause a blush but soft enough to avoid a bruise. He leaned closer to your ear. "You're my fucking wet dream, Vixen."

You whined loudly, turning your head towards him, hoping he would put you out of misery and kiss you.

Instead he grabbed your cheeks passionately and murmured on your mouth, staring intently in your eyes. "All mine. To enjoy, to ruin. But most importantly to protect and nourish and care for." He kissed you like you were made of porcelain, lips stiff against yours, afraid of letting go. "What do you want, little girl?"

You stared with equal intensity in his eyes. "Kiss me. Please, daddy, I'll be so good to you." You had no problem using his title this time, your brain completely surrendering to him.

"Good girl." And as you felt your lungs bloom at the praise, wetness pooling between your legs, you slowly gave in to him, opening your mouth, letting his tongue dance with yours, mixing with the fruity taste of the wine and the creamy texture of the dessert. His hand stayed at your waist while the other, once gripping your face, slithered into your hair and cupped your nape, dragging you closer. You didn't know what to do with your hands.

He kept kissing you as your lungs began burning, his technique impeccable. He kissed you thoroughly, licking your tongue and angling your head to give you access to his mouth. He fuelled your desire with short jabs of his chin, giving you the feeling of him caving in but then retreating and making you chase him. It was… Heady.

"We need to stop, little one. We need to take our time." He exhaled heavily, his cheek against your forehead as he calmed down. "Why don't we cuddle as we watch something?" He suggested.

"No more making out?" You cried out in tiny disappointment.

"You told me not to get ideas. First I'll learn about you. Properly. Then, when my brain gives me the green light, I guarantee you my body won't hold back. Just, give me time, ____.” He explained, controlled and at the same time empathetic.

You nodded in understanding, caressing his face and pressing a kiss to his chest. "I wanna kiss you again though."

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have the chance later. Let me calm myself down first." He replied, adjusting you in his lap, trying to separate you enough for decency.

You were glad that at least the dampness between your thighs was matched by the severity of his hard on.

"What do you say, I go to the bathroom, recompose myself real quick while you choose something to watch?"

You agreed.

Date five finished with a sweet kiss at the doorstep as he left after the film you watched together.

However the following morning you found a lengthy paragraph in your chat with Namjoon containing a detailed description of his intentions towards you. Let's just say you were glad for the girthy, buzzing friend you keep in your bedside table and for its assistence as you read his text and crumbled, calling his name.

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon one shot #Namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon fic

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supimjustwriting · 4 years

Text

Halloween Dress Up Fun!

Author’s Note: STORY TIME! As an Asian with long black hair who takes showers at night. I have made the mistake of wearing a white night gown, soaking it with my hair because I like air drying my hair. Then scaring myself in the mirror as my hair covered most of my face. All I wanted was a glass of water ;w; I was what I was scared of the most. An Asian horror ghost.

I also couldn’t see how headcanons could work for this request. So, I ended up doing scenarios with a sprinkle of headcanon. I hope you enjoyed the way this flower patch bloomed!

Dorm Leaders REACT!!

Reader Dresses up as Sadako or Kayako ~!

Riddle Rosehearts

Let me paint you a scene ~

The strawberry headed male let out a deep sigh as he looked down at his watch. ‘Being late is unbecoming of a person. What on earth is taking them?’ Riddle thought to himself, clicking his tongue.

A shiver ran down the young male’s back, goosebumps tingling his skin while a cool breeze blanketed him. “Now, now, Riddle. Don’t let your imagination get ahead of you now. That was a simply a horror story from Y/N’s world. No, need to get worked up over fiction now.” He reminded himself, cursing at how run down the Ramshackle dorm was. Riddle knew that ghosts resided in the dorm but why did this feel so different?

“Y/N?” He called out curiously to the sound of creaking floorboards. Slowly a low croak echoed through the air, closely followed by soft thumps. “Hardy, har Y/N. I know it’s you. This is all too cliché. Of course I won’t fall for-” a stone formed in his stomach as a disheveled woman crawled head first down the stairs.

- To say that Riddle screamed is down playing his reaction. This boy shrieked with his two ahoges sticking straight up like a Saturday morning cartoon. It was safe to believe that those within earshot thought someone was being murdered.

- After failing to cast ‘Off with your head!’ upon the ‘ghost’. Laughter tickled his ears as his grey eyes met with your familiar gaze. If looks could kill, you would’ve fit your costume perfectly. Luckily for you, a boyish giggle filled your dorm as Riddle offered his hand with a smile.

“I heard that Halloween is the time for tricks. I hope you didn’t fall too behind on your studies to plan all this out. Thank you for the scare,” his smile twitched with annoyance as you grinned widely at him all the same.

Leona Kingscholar

A knowing smile painted the lion’s lips the second he set foot into Ramshackle; the stale air, the chill breeze blowing the front door behind him. The voicemail that simply hissed “7 days.”

“‘Like a cub learning how to hunt,’ he thought to himself, tail swishing side to side behind him. Leona couldn’t help but be reminded of Cheka and his attempts to pounce on him.

Making his way to the living room. The brunette already caught a strong whiff of your scent coming from the TV. He raised a brow as he saw water slowly pour out of television all the while you crawled into the scene.

Chuckling, Leona walked up to you unfazed, offering his hand to help you up. “I must say. You really outdone yourself to hollow out a TV and wait there until I arrived. Though,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. “I would make one change. The makeup you use has a strong chemical scent to it. If people get too close, they’ll find out it’s you right away.”

Mission failed. We’ll get em’ next time.

Azul Ashengrotto

“Y/N?” The silver haired male questioned, humming to himself curiously as no one greeted him at the door. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m letting myself in. You’re the one who called me over. The least you could do is welcome me,” he teased softly entering the dorm.

To his surprise his eyes met a shivering incoherent Grim, cowering under a table.

“She got her! The ghost caught Y/N and-and- She’s gone! My beloved henchman is now gone!” yowled the cat, covering his eyes with his paws.

“Pardon?” The simple question was only answered with more groveling while Grim pointed upstairs. His whines never stopped, even as Azul made his way upstairs.

Upon reaching the final step, a gurgling filled his ears. Azul furrowed his brows, mouth becoming dry as he halfheartedly decided to investigate the noise. Hesitantly, he opened the door to your room grey eyes widening at the still figure that stood in the corner of the room. Then it rushed him.

- Azul screamed bloody murder. A dark blush painting his face as your familiar laughter tickled his ears.

- He swears you to secrecy. All the while his heart is trying to thump out of his chest. If the tweels catch wind of this, he’ll never hear the end of it.

- Bad news. They heard rumours of screams coming from Ramshackle around the time he was supposed to visit and the pair put the pieces together quickly. Of course, they only teased him away from curious ears. Azul still has a reputation to uphold after all.

Kalim Al-Asim

“You managed to get a hold of a horror movie from your world? Let’s watch it together! I can get Jamil to-” scarlet eyes gazed at you curiously as you insisted that it should just be the two of you. “Ahh! I see. It would be scarier that way, huh? I’ll be sure to tell Jamil all about it once we're done!”

Later that night you watched ‘The Ring’ with Kalim. The snowed haired male clung to you for most of the film, screaming at jumpscares and then laughing joyously at himself. The dorm leader gazed at you like an abandoned puppy as you said that you were gonna use the washroom.

Surely you wouldn’t leave him all alone after watching such a scary film. He teased softly before waving you off playfully. That’s all it was. A work of fiction made purely for the fun of it, right?

The chime of his phone caused Kalim to jump. Chuckling to himself, he thought it was Jamil checking up on him as he promised to be back in the dorm by now. A shiver ran down his spine as he saw it was an unknown number. ‘Maybe Sadako is calling me! How spooky,’ he joked to himself before picking up the phone with an upbeat “hello ~!”

“Seven Days”

Cue the boy’s phone flying across the room. It’ll be fine. He can afford a new one anyways. If he could survive the week. Kalim jumped to his feet to look for you, only to freeze in place at the sound of something wet hitting the ground.

“Y/N? Very funny but even if it was real, I’m supposed to have seven days. Can’t you give a guy a fighting chance?” He joked, a lump forming in his throat.

“Seven Days..” You hissed before being bombarded with pillows and blankets.

- Proud ghost hunter Kalim is proud. He was about to call Jamil about his incredible feet until he heard your familiar voice muffled by all the pillows and blankets.

- Quickly frees you from your cozy prison and questions you thoroughly, making sure you’re the real Y/N. Once you passed his test, laughter fills the room once again as he looks over your costume and makeup.

- He showers you with praise and even asks if you could try to scare Jamil as well. Tonight was so fun! Of course he wanted to share the experience with the person he grew up with. Jamil hates surprises. Kalim please don’t.

- Expect him to try to scare you throughout the week to get you back. It’s nothing malicious. Just harmless heart attack inducing fun!

Vil Schoenheit

“So, this is your costume, potato?” Vil’s gazed buried deep through your simple once pure white nightgown, examining each stitch and blood splatter. “It wouldn’t be something I choose for myself but I have to say, it isn’t the worst I’ve seen. I can’t wait to see you up yourself next year.”

- Surprisingly supportive.

- If you play your cards right. I do believe you can give him a scare. Though please be prepared for a heavy scolding. Stress isn’t good for the skin after all.

Idia Shorud

“A little girl that can travel through TV screens just because you watched a certain tape? Firstly, she needs to upgrade to downloads. Secondly, the 7 day buffer is such a huge lag spike. Isn’t there a way to make it faster? It does sound convenient though.”

- The origins of your costume interest him more than the costume itself. Can’t really blame him on that since Sadako is technology based. Though he doesn’t appreciate the drowning part. Water and electricity just don’t mix well.

- He’d hesitantly ask you more about her legend/movie and if there’s anything similar. It’s not like there are cursed video games out there, right? You’ve met with a terrible fate haven’t you?

Malleus Draconia

“What a tragic and gruesome tale humans can spin. Do you think you’ll end up the same as her?” A shy smile graces his lips, “I jest. There’s no way I’d let such a thing happen to you.”

- Like Idia he was more interested in the story behind the costume. After all, it’s quite interesting for humans to dress up as a ‘monster’ for a night. Just what counts as one anyways?

- The sight of you covered in blood is more unsettling more than anything. With how dangerous Twisted Wonderland is. Could this possibly be a sight he’d see one day? Shaking away the thought. Malleus simply complimented your costume and contently spent Halloween night by your side.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #Azul Ashengrotto #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #kalim al asim #malleus draconia

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cc-tinslebee · 3 years

Text

Hey!! Real quick -- thank you @demetriandelibinaryboyfriends for the tag!!

It's the year 2021 and you're obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?

I wasn’t not expecting this in the slightest— I decided to watch Cobra Kai on a whim in January while my mom and I were dying my hair, and somehow it became my second hyperfixation of the year?? Wack??

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?

Actually, my first introduction to the Karate Kid was the 2010 film with Jaden Smith. It came out when I was younger, so I used to watch it religiously. Then after watching The Outsiders in eighth grade, my dad convinced me to watch the first two original Karate Kid movies before they were kicked off Netflix. Lowkey, the entire time, I was like, “Johnny Cade??” I still haven’t seen the third film because Netflix DVD is homophobic (/j), but I didn’t really get into it until Cobra Kai.

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character:

🎶Demetri and Eli, binary booooyfrieeends brooootheeers.🎶 You already know. Somehow relate to both of them a little too much— also Moon!! My beloved!!

Favorite ship:

Elimetri, MoonPiper, and Samiguel all have my heart 🥺

Underrated character:

*takes out a list that hits the floor and keeps rolling* Okay so—

I’m just playing— for underrated-underrated characters, Moon because she’s overshadowed by Yasmine and misogynists, definitely Chris because he’s a legend, and Bert/Nate because the wiki always says ‘some kid’ in reference to them which is like ://

But Moon and Demetri are 100% my biggest underrated-even-though-they’re-a-somewhat-big-character characters. Moon is not a villain and Demetri is not the worst, thank you very much. *points at Reddit and The Cheat Sheet* y’all are just misogynistic and neurotypical.

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):

MoonPiper is kinda underrated, I think? A good chunk of the fandom is adamant on it, which is great, but in the lense of the show, not so much right now. Also torisha kinda! My girls!!

And Shawbby!! Let Robby have a bond outside of this karate nonesense!! It’s what he deserves!!

We’re not gonna talk about my season one-exclusive Moon/Eli/Demetri ship, we’ve already been over this—

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?

Sweep the leg, babey!! I’m definitely on the side of @demetriandelibinaryboyfriends about how it’s genuinely amazing how Demetri just took the move Eli used against him and ran with it. Yes, he is petty, and we love him for it. Me too tbh

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?

Dork man TKK-era Daniel had the best fashion sense tho

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver:

At first, I was going to say I couldn’t think of anyone, but now!! Bring back my boy Freddy Fernandez!! He totally disappeared after the beginning of the first film, and I wanna see him again!! Also Ali’s friend Susan!

Scene that lives in your head rent-free:

Any Moon & Demetri scene, and I am once again asking them to pay rent— also 100% the Valley Fest scene where Eli pulls Demetri onstage. Iconic of them.

Also, lowkey, any Torisha scene. Somehow so unintentionally gay?? I legitimately thought they were telling me that Aisha had a crush on her??

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?

Lowkey, please gods no. Didn’t he appear, like, one (1) time in season three? I think it’s good that they have a comic relief character that’s involved in the conflict by extension, but not actively involved. It’s great to see the LaRusso family, two of them in the midst of this big fight, another getting roped into it and being extra passionate about her husband and daughter being hurt, and then you have the youngest child, serenely playing video games and not giving any fucks

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war. Which dojo do you join?

I second Bri’s remark — having done karate in the past, Cobra Kai would eat me alive, and I don’t trust Johnny to teach another neurodivergent queer kid. I could probably stand to gain from Daniel’s patience; I’d definitely be Demetri in that situation.

What’s your training montage song?

Dude, I have an entire playlist that I work out to, and I’m very indecisive, so I’ll just say my my main hype song, House of Wolves.

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?

You already KNOW I’m saying Kickin It. I won’t go in-depth because I already have, but the absolute power they’d have. Demetri and Milton, our favourite sassy Jewish nerds and their aggressively cool (respective) boyfriends Hawk and Jerry. Kim vibing with Sam like they deserve (and give me that good Kim & Bert cousins content, hand it over 🤲🏻). Miguel talking with Jerry in Spanish and, like, idolising Jack!! And you already know the comedic opportunites the Falafel Phil/Anoush thing could have.

Not sure if y’all have done this yet, and don’t feel pressured to if you don’t want to, but I figured I’d tag you folks!! @spidercrush3 @brattycobra @latetoalltheparties @binary-boyfriends4life @transdaniellarusso

#cobra kai

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flightofaqrow · 3 years

Note

I hope I'm not late but my favorite thing about your Qrow is he's so cool like sexy badass cool but he's also a bit of a dork, a bit anxious about his feelings and it's natural, very true to the character. Personally, I want to kiss him. It's that beautiful writing style of yours that gets me hmmmm and your muse, he smexy. Mr. Branwen, I am free this friday night hello💚

the deets ** always accepting

I’m crying this was so nice to receive when I thought it was all over. I stan badass mofo qrow, he’s a legend people need to give him credit and maybe i overcompensate but he deserves it. Shrimp you’re too nice to me we adore you. he was passed out Fri but listen listen. if u got a Saturday maybe we can set something up yknow what im saying, yknow yknow.

#* open and wide and forgiving like a hot meal after a cold night = courtclover *#* behind closed doors = ooc *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#dfkjhkjhdf i can't express gratitude enough plz

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onewfantaesy · 3 years

Text

Foster Kid AU (Rain Version)

Taemin is confused. That’s the only word to describe it as he sits across from Rain. The Rain. His idol, his role model, his inspiration for as long as he can remember. This legend of a man is sitting across from him in his case worker’s office, smiling, talking about dancing and singing and trying to encourage Taemin to open up and talk a little himself.

“He’s interested in adopting you,” his case worker says gently, patting Taemin’s hand. “Do you think you’d like to try it out? Schedule another meeting together?”

Taemin stares at her for a minute before snapping his head back to Rain.

“Really?”

His voice is breathless and laced with an overwhelming amount of disbelief.

“Really,” Rain says, a smile still on his face.

Taemin is still nervous, still confused, still fidgeting his fingers on top of the table before turning back to his case worker and asking quickly, “When?”

“Next week?” she suggests. “We can go get lunch. On Saturday?”

“Have a schedule,” Taemin mumbles.

“Sunday?”

Taemin snaps back to Rain, waiting, hoping.

“Sunday sounds great,” Rain says.

They get lunch together on Sunday and talk more. Taemin opens up a bit more, starts talking about SHINee schedules, radiates pure joy when Rain starts giving him advice on how to navigate idol life.

Then the sleepovers start. It starts as a weekend or two. Then a week here and there. And it’s fun. Rain’s house is exciting and huge and full of all sorts of gadgets and gizmos and games that he gives Taemin free reign to use as he pleases. A bedroom to call his own. There’s hardly any rules or supervision and Taemin pretty much gets told he can do whatever he likes so long as he comes home before midnight and doesn’t get into any trouble.

It’s fun. It’s exciting. Rain goes to his own idol schedules, sometimes brings Taemin to the studio with him, brings him into practice rooms and gives him private lessons on dancing, singing, interviewing. Taemin still can’t quite believe it’s real.

“Just a couple more months and I can finally adopt you,” Rain tells him one night. Taemin has since moved in with him full time, when he isn’t staying at the SHINee dorm. They’re eating take out on the couch, watching a movie. “It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Taemin says, and he smiles, but he plays with his food and pushes it around the plate.

It’s exciting. And it’s cool. But it’s not the kind of family Taemin always daydreamed about. Rain is gone a lot. Busy a lot. Leaves Taemin to his own devices and hasn’t once told Taemin to so much as make his bed in the morning. The closest thing to it was when Rain came into his room one day, saw the teddy bear on Taemin’s pillow, and teased him by asking, “Aren’t you a bit old for a toy like that?”

So Taemin hid his teddy bear under the pillows instead, not wanting his idol to think he was a baby. But he didn’t think dads were supposed to say stuff like that, even if it was only teasing.

He still wants the adoption to go through. Of course he does. But he’s a lot more subdued about it now. Less excited than he used to be at the idea of one day getting parents.

It makes his perfectionism slip. He stops caring so much about being the perfect student, the perfect idol, the perfect kid, the perfect son. It’s exhausting, trying to be perfect when no one even notices.

He stops doing homework and starts practicing with SHINee more. Stops even trying to keep his room clean. Stops coming home before the loose curfew Rain has originally set. He wasn’t going to notice if Taemin came home anyway.

It’s just one week before the adoption is supposed to be finalized when Rain finally comes into Taemin’s room after knocking softly on the door. Taemin is napping on his bed, it’s only ten in the morning, he’d only just come home an hour before from hanging out with Jongin all night in a company practice room. His room is a mess, there are clothes and shoes scattered everywhere, his school books are halfphazardly stacked on the desk. He barely even turns to acknowledge Rain has entered the room.

“Your room’s kinda messy, don’t you think?”

Taemin shrugs and grunts into his pillow.

“So I got a call from your teacher yesterday,” Rain says, moving a pile of clothes with his foot and putting the stack of papers from the desk chair onto the desk so he can sit down. “She said you haven’t been turning in any homework.”

“Yeah,” Taemin mumbles.

“I was gonna talk to you about it last night,” Rain says, sounding a mix between uncomfortable and irritated, “but you didn’t come home when you were supposed to.”

“Got busy,” Taemin says.

“Can you turn around and look at me while we talk?”

Taemin sighs and rolls over, but doesn’t sit up.

“Wanna tell me why you’re not doing your homework?” Rain tries.

“Been busy,” Taemin shrugs.

“The same sort of busy as you were last night?” Rain asks. “Wanna tell me exactly what you were doing?”

“Practicing,” Taemin tells him. “At work.”

“Idol or not, ya know, school is still important. You need to do your homework.”

“Why?”

“Because learning is important.”

“Says you.”

“Excuse me?” Rain asks, sounding surprised. “You’ve got a lot of attitude today for someone who can’t even sit up in bed.”

“Why do you care so much?” Taemin asks, his voice quiet and muffled as he turns his face into his pillow.

“Well, because,” Rain starts, stammering a bit, clearly confused at the question. “Because I’m going to be your dad soon. Dads care about this sort of stuff.”

Taemin does move much or say anything to contradict him. All he does is move to poke one eye out, one of his hands under the pillow to grip his teddy bear.

“Look,” Rain says softly, moving the chair closer to the bed. “I’m new at this, ya know? The whole being a dad thing. And I’m trying. Because I think you’re a good kid and you’ve really wormed your way into my heart and all that mush. But I can’t fix something I’m doing wrong if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place.”

“I don’t know,” Taemin whispers. “I’m new at it too.”

It makes Rain laugh, softly at first, but then loud and amused. He moves a hand to ruffle Taemin’s hair, laughing more when Taemin whines and tries to swat it away.

“I know,” he says gently. “Why don’t we start with something simple then? Like cleaning your room today?”

“And if I don’t?”

Rain pauses, but doesn’t look mad.

“If you don’t,” he starts, sounding unsure of himself, “then you won’t be allowed to go out tonight. Even if it’s just extra practice.”

“But that’s for SHINee!” Taemin argues quickly, sitting up and looking angry.

“Then you’d better tidy up your room by dinnertime,” Rain warns him.

“Will you be home for dinner?” Taemin challengers, a pout firm on his face.

Rain looks taken aback, contemplates the question for a minute, then says in a gentle voice, “Yes, I will be.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes, Taemin looking anywhere but at Rain, and Rain looking straight at Taemin.

“Do you,” Rain asks, “do you want me to be home more? To have dinner together more?”

Taemin can’t find his voice to say yes, so all he does is nod his head and keep staring at his crumpled up bed sheets.

“Then I’ll be home more when you are,” Rain promises him. “Maybe help you get your homework done too.”

“Okay.”

“So,” Rain says, nodding his head and patting Taemin’s shoulder. “Get your room cleaned up. And after dinner, if you’ve cleaned your room, I’ll drive you to practice.”

“Okay.”

Taemin can only sit on his bed when Rain leaves the room, trying to process everything that just happened, that was just said. After half an hour, he looks around his bedroom and tries to figure out just where he’s going to start with cleaning up this mess. It’s a nightmare, really. Shit is scattered everywhere, he doesn’t know which clothes are clean and which are dirty, what’s his own and what’s stuff that he stole from the dorm and probably should have taken back weeks ago.

He starts with his desk, cleaning up the clutter and the mess of papers and notebooks and workbooks. It helps get him into a cleaning kind of mood. Seems a little less daunting of a task once his school stuff is all organized.

Two hours later, Rain comes in and praises him for doing such a good job so quickly. It makes Taemin’s chest swell, makes him feel proud and happy and makes him stand up a little straighter.

“Do you want to come practice with me this afternoon?” Rain asks. “Then we can go grocery shopping and figure out what to make for dinner.”

“Okay!”

Taemin is already picking out practice clothes and beaming and chattering about what sort of new dances he’s learned lately.

It’s not the SM building, and Taemin still feels a little weird and out of place when Rain brings him to practice with him, but it feels easier this time. Maybe it’s because they’re sort of in the same page now. Maybe it’s because Rain had said they’d spend more time together from now on. Maybe it’s because Rain is holding his hand this time and talking with him about what sort of dances and vocal exercises they should practice together. But Taemin feels comforted and even loved when Rain introduce Taemin as his soon-to-be-son to a security guard.

At first, Rain had felt very similar to how Jinki felt when Taemin first met him. Like a big brother. A mentor. But not like a dad.

Now though, as he’s helped with his homework and has a clear set of house rules they’d written together held up on the fridge by a magnet and has weekly Sunday night dinners, Rain really feels like a dad. Especially now that it’s official. Now that Taemin has legally been adopted by him. Now that Taemin officially has his family name, officially has a family, even if it’s just the two of them.

#taemin #shinee #foster kid au

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astonishinglegends · 3 years

Text

Ep 202: The Scrying Game

“The scryer does not seek reflections, but visions.”

– Donald Tyson, author of "Scrying for Beginners: Use Your Unconscious Mind to See Beyond the Senses

Description:

Who among us hasn't wanted to know the future or have insight into the hidden, at least in passing? From the first instance a human had a premonition that came true, it seems likely that the adventurous who were shocked and astounded wondered how those without the "gift" could duplicate this impossible experience. Then, when someone stared too intently into a reflective pool of liquid, a glowing ember, or even the night sky, and experienced an extrasensory perception, a technique and its medium are discovered to tap into a sixth sense. Practiced now for millennia, this procedure for obtaining occult information has become known as scrying. One interesting observation is that although there are general guidelines for preparing oneself and performing a scrying session, many mediums can facilitate the phenomenon. It appears that any object can be used that can capture the light and dazzle the eye, or a reflective surface that can offer deep introspection or a dark void that focuses the senses. But then the burning question becomes, how does this process work, and from where does the information come? Does this "second sight" materialize from deep within ourselves, external omniscience, or some combination of both? In tonight's episode, we'll look at the elements, the history, and the concepts behind this ancient and mysterious means of knowing the unknowable.

Reference Links:

Scrying on Wikipedia

The 1992 motion picture, The Crying Game

Samhain

Lori Williams’ Controlled Remote Viewing website IntuitiveSpecialists.com

Russell Targ

Crystal Gazing – Its History and Practice, with a Discussion of the Evidence for Telepathic Scrying, by Northcote W. Thomas, M.A.

Benjamin, from the Old Testament or “Hebrew Bible”

“The Forgotten Art of Scrying” by Fernando S. Gallegos on ExploringTraditions.com

Bernardino de Sahagún

Moctezuma II

Nostradamus

John Dee

Edward Kelley

“Notes on John Dee’s Aztec Mirror” by Ed Simon on NorthernRenaissance.org

Horace Walpole

“Making a Sigilum Dei Aemeth out of Wax [Esoteric Saturdays]” on YouTube

Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn

Thelema

“Joseph Smith's "Magic" Glasses and Other Bizarre Objects from Mormonism” on ranker.com

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Credits:

Episode 202: The Scrying Game. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel. Sound Design by Ryan McCullough; Tess Pfeifle, Producer, and Lead Researcher; Research Support from the astonishing League of Astonishing Researchers, a.k.a. The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2021 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

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