#or at least crop it differently or put it in opposite order

[il-predestinato]

🤦‍♀️.

#omg if you’re gonna steal my edited photos without credit can you at least not do it in the immediate next post of the tag? #or at least crop it differently or put it in opposite order #come on now #i don’t mind the stealing but at least be creative about it #😁🤣 #cr: thank u gen for showing me ‘Twas a good laugh indeed

[trin-gvf]

soft days - S.F.K

sam x fem!reader

2.4k words, minors DNI

WARNINGS: oral sex (fem rec), unprotected sex

pls lmk if i missed any!

When you had awoken, you rolled over, seeing your fiance, already wide awake staring at the view outside your window. When he realized you were awake, he smiled at you, placing a kiss to your lips.

“Good morning, lover.” he softly spoke, not wanting to ruin the energy of the morning. You let a hand brush through his messy morning hair, slightly combing it out with your fingers. He looked so pretty in the newly dawned light. He looked quite literally like an angel on earth.

The sun was causing his skin to glow and his vibes to thrive. You cherish mornings like this, when you could lay in silence with each other, just soaking in each other's company.

You wrapped yourself in Sam’s arms, your legs wrapping around each other. You could’ve stayed like this all day if you could.

“I was thinking, can we walk Rosie and Salem today? Then stop by the coffee shop and then the pet shop and get some of those treats that Cosi really likes.” He said, closing his eyes, hiding them from the light.

“That sounds like fun.” You smiled, looking over his features. 

You nuzzled into him even closer. He was so warm, all of the time. He was the polar opposite of you and you two fit like pieces in a puzzle. Sam wrapped his arms around you and you stayed like that for at least another 30 minutes until Rosie came in to give you good morning lovings. 

While Sam said good morning to Rosie, you got out of bed and gave your Cosi good morning kisses. She was old, almost as old as you, but she was your baby and you’d love her until the end of your time. You woke her up from the doggie bed that was placed next to yours. She did a big stretch and followed you to the living room. She slowly trudged behind you as you opened the sliding glass door to the backyard. As she did her business, your beloved Salem came to give you her daily “hello mom!” 

You gave her, her very deserved pats and loves while slowly getting ready for your walk. You put on some sweatpants, a cropped tank top, a sweater and a baseball cap. You put your favorite sneakers on and walked out of your walk in closet. Sam was ready too, he had on a pink long sleeve, sweatpants just like you, a fanny pack and some slides. You tried your best to not laugh at the fanny pack, he would always complain to you when you did. He called it fashionable.

“Ready to go?” He asked, putting Rosie’s leash and collar on. You nodded while you put Salem’s on. As you walked out the door, you gave Cosi a kiss to her forehead.

“You be good, Cosi, we’ll be back.” You cooed. 

She laid on the doggie bed you had in the living room and you were off. You admired your garden of different flowers and plants, laughing when one of the dogs would stop to sniff them.

You and Sam took your time on your walk, taking in the sights of the city and pointing out different cars Sam thought were cool. 

You eventually reached your local coffee shop. It was your favorite, they were animal friendly and gave you a free pup cup for each coffee you bought when you brought your pets in. The staff had known you two very well, you two always came in on saturday mornings with Salem and Rosie. 

“Hi guys!! The usual?” The barista asked, getting ready to put the order in on her computer. 

“Yup.” You smiled at her, watching her coo at the dogs.

You sat at a table as you waited for your drinks. The view was nice from the coffee shop window. 

“I love days like this.” Sam spoke over the lower murmur of the other people in the shop. 

“Me too, they’re my favorite.” you responded, petting Salem on the head. 

Soon enough, the barista sat down your drinks and two pup cups for your babies. 

“Here’s a caramel iced latte with oat milk for you and an iced americano with salted caramel creme. And as per usual, two pup cups for the girls.” 

You both thanked her, taking a couple sips of your drinks before allowing the dogs to lick up the whipped cream. Once the dogs were done with their treats, you threw the trash away and picked up your drinks. 

You started to walk to the pet store when you saw a group of three girls walking towards you, giggling into their hands. 

“Um- so sorry to like totally invade you but we were wondering if we could get a picture?” One of them asked, holding her phone up with shaking hands. 

“Oh my god! Yeah of course!” Sam answered with a smile. 

“Everyone get in!” You said, holding the phone. You took the picture and the girls squealed.

“I love you and the band so much we’ve been listening forev- is that a ring? Oh my god are you guys-” another girl started to speak before noticing the rings on your guys fingers. 

Oh shit.

“Oh- these? They’re just- just promise rings really.” Sam tried to play it off. No one was supposed to know yet. 

“Don’t worry, we can keep a secret.” They laughed. They all gave you hugs before parting ways.

You both would have rather not talked about it, so you talked about this and that until you made it to the pet store. It would have been a short trip but Sam wanted to look at all the fish they had in the back of the store. You, being the sucker for Sammy that you are, couldn’t deny him. 

You had fun looking at the different fish, seeing the colorful ones, the black goldfish and even some that would glow under blacklight. Salem and Rosie started to get bored in the store, whining every so often and huffing. You finally checked out and got the treats for your baby back home.

The walk home was much shorter but by now it was almost 12:30. You didn’t have plans for the day but you did want to be able to relax in the comfort of your bed most of the day.

—

You were finally home and were greeted by Cosi, her little paws tapping against the floorboard when she noticed you were finally home was one of your favorite things ever. You sat your drink down, grabbing the treats out of Sam’s fanny pack. You gave 3 or 4 of them to her, smiling when you saw just how happy they made her.

“Hey babe! I’m going to do skin care, wanna come do it with me?” You heard your fiance shout from the bathroom. When you heard the question, you smiled wider than you ever had before.

“I’m coming!!” You responded, running to the bathroom. 

Sam had some of your favorite products out. You did his skin care and he did yours. He placed the creams on so delicately, not wanting to get any in your hair, or even worse, your eyes. You guys moisturized, exfoliated, cleansed, anything you had in your bathroom cabinets. You took goofy pictures of Sam with face masks on, almost immediately posting them to your private snapchat story.  You both laughed at the stupid comments that his brother made in response to the post. Everything felt perfect. 

When you finally put your last lotion on, you were sat on the counter by the sink. You brought Sam in for a kiss when you finished rubbing in his lotion. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his went straight to your waist. 

What was supposed to be an innocent kiss, turned to much more. You were pulling Sam closer, feeling as if he was too far even though his body was flush against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding onto him. You’ve had sex almost every night since he’d got home from tour and it never ever seemed to be enough. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

Every bit of him was captivating your senses. You were breathing him, seeing him, tasting him. He was fucking perfect in every way. 

You were so in your head about him that you barely realized that he was carrying you into your shared bedroom. You were dropped onto the bed and he removed your sweatpants, along with your panties within seconds. He couldn’t help himself from diving into your cunt. He closed his eyes as he put his hands over your thighs, scratching at the skin below his fingertips.

Your hips were fucking themselves up into his mouth as a hand flew into his hair, pulling and tugging on it. 

It was soft despite the energy in the room telling you otherwise. The vibe was heavy and dark but Sam felt as if it was just right to go slow. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head before closing. Your mouth was left hanging open as you let out soft moans. He barely gained speed, just enough to push you over the edge. Although he’d been down on you for less than ten minutes, you were already so close, you were somehow still sore from the previous night of sinful actions. 

“Don’t fight it, sweet girl, let it happen.” He said, looking up at you through his eyelashes. You did as he said and let your pleasure wash over you. It felt like heaven, you were in complete awe. 

When you came down from your high, you were dizzy, needing to catch your breath. As you watched Sam kick off the lower half of his clothes, you felt more and more needy. You could already feel the sinfully delightful stretch of his cock. 

You almost cried as you watched Sam’s cock hit against his stomach as it was set free from his boxers.

“You love it that much? You’ll whine just seeing my cock? Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you love it.” He ordered as he slowly pushed into you. 

“I love it so much. It’s so perfect for me. Fuck it’s so good!” The longer you went on, the louder you got due to him speeding up and hitting deeper inside you. 

“You feel so perfect around me. So warm and tight around my cock.” He grunted.

He looked fucking beautiful, his hair was sticking to his face and his eyebrows were furrowed, god was he a sight to see. He buried his head into your neck, softly kissing and biting at it. You took the opportunity and lifted his shirt up, leaving scratches on his back. He moaned out particularly loud when you did so. 

You smiled at the action, doing it once more.

“Shit don’t do that or- fuck- I’m going to cum.” He said between moans. 

“Do it for me Sammy, cum for me.” You whispered in his ear, you being on the verge once again. 

He listened to you and let his cum paint the inside of your cunt. 

“Oh fuuuck!!” He moaned out, trying to get as close as possible to you. You were experiencing your own orgasm, this one being much more powerful than the last one you had. You were seeing stars and the only thing keeping you grounded was Sam pushing his body up against yours. 

You finally came down when Sam had pulled out and watched his cum spill out of you. It was one of his biggest guilty pleasures. 

He helped you clean up, getting you in new pajama pants and back into bed for a much needed nap. When Sam got to his side of the bed, he cuddled into you, breathing your perfume in. 

‘I love you so much, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He softly mumbled to you.

“I love you most, Sammy.” 

“Not even possible, love.”

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #jake #gvf #sammy #danny #greta van fleet smut #sammy kiszka smut #danny wagner smut #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf #jake gvf #josh #danny gvf #sammy gvf #sam kiszka #joshua kiszka #jacob kiszka

[dragonmuse]

AU of the AU strikes again! Being sick seems good for these.

Lothlorien on AO3 asked what would happen if Charlie met Izzy as an adult in an AU where Izzy was better adjusted. Would they hook up? So I thought long and hard about this and honestly, I don’t think Izzy would hook up with Charlie unless he was the exact opposite of well-adjusted.  I made an age adjustment here, but the difference is still a huge gap, so be forewarned: Izzy is 45, Charlie is 22 when they meet.  Stede and Mary had their kids much younger. 

This one is inspired by one of my favorite toxic couples, pour one out for Brian and Justin of Queer as Folk, and it’s called ‘wake myself in the shadows’. To the bulleted list: 

-Just like..buy a shirt in a color. Any color. I might even give you a lighter shade of gray if the rainbow is too scary. Then go to a gay club and dance with someone. Be nice to them and try to get laid.

-Izzy doesn’t know where to go. There’s the Revenge. The not-quite invitation that Spriggs  had issued. He wants that. But fuck, it makes his stomach cramp with fear. Spriggs will want things from him. Things he might not have to give. Alternatively, he can keep going as he has, put the t-shirt back in a drawer. He can be a model train, running on its useless track until he gets lazy or makes a mistake and someone finally puts an end to it. 

Or he can follow the order. He’s never been to a club on his own volition, but he’s wound up in dozens of them nonetheless. For the job. For Eddy sometimes. Once to retrieve Jack. Some of them had even been gay clubs, but he hadn’t gone there with intent.  

-The club is dark at least. It’s loud, pulsing and bright. He’s older than half the crowd, but not alone in his gray hair.  He skirts the edges of the dance floor, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to any of this. It’s overwhelming and disconcerting and after a single overpriced drink, he knows he’s made a mistake. The whole place pushes against him. A vast unwelcoming pit. He should go. 

-”It’s a horrible song,” someone says and he turns, nerves alight. There’s a man beside him, taller by a mile. He’s barely dressed, mesh tank top that shows off a hard body, and short shorts that show off the curve of a tight ass. His blond hair is cropped short, glimmering in the flashing lights. His face is angular in an interesting way, a little foxlike. The close cropping of his hair makes his eyes huge.  

He’s a sculpture of a person. Beautiful and finely made. And he’s looking at Izzy like he’s dinner.  

“Does it always sound like this?” He asks, instead of anything remotely like what he wants to say. 

“Oh yeah,” the youth smiles slowly, showing off a line of even white teeth. “But sometimes it’s good. Want me to show you?” 

“Yes,” he forces out. Or what is he even doing here?  The youth takes Izzy’s drink out of his hand, there’s a violently pink band around his wrist, so he’s at least 21. Good thing as he knocks it back, then sets it on the bar like it’s nothing, takes both of Izzy’s hands and tugs him onto the dance floor. 

Izzy doesn’t dance, but he barely needs to move. The youth slides arms around his neck and doesn’t so much dance as he writhes against him. The beat, previously an annoying and throbbing sound, becomes all at once incredibly suggestive and seductive. 

He doesn’t dance and he hasn’t fucked in years beyond counting, but his body remembers more than he counted on and he’s pretty good at moving in dangerous situations. It’s not hard to slide his hands up over that mesh tank so he can feel the play of muscle under his palms. Easy enough to move his hips in the same rhythm. 

-They dance for a long hypnotic string of minutes until the youth lowers his mouth to Izzy’s ear, a warm breath of air against his overheated skin, “Take me home.” 

“Could be dangerous,” Izzy chokes out. For him. For the youth. For both of them, 

“I always carry protection,” the youth nips at his earlobe. 

-Izzy hopes the fresh air will sober him up. Shake sense into him, but if anything it makes it all worse. It’s real out here, not the dreamy pounding noise of the club. Out here, it’s all shadows and promises. The youth doesn’t give him any breathing room, no chance to back down, just crowds up against him and leans down for a kiss that’s more tongue than lips. It shoots straight through Izzy like an arrow.  Every inch of him wakes up, begs to be touched. 

“What’s your name?” Izzy asks, desperate to find a space to breathe. 

“Oh, you can call me ‘C’. What about you?” 

“Alex,” he says easily. C isn’t a name. Alex is his fallback fake I.D. They’ll be strangers to each other. That’s fine. 

-The drive back to his apartment feels like a hundred years and ten seconds all at once. C buckles his seatbelt, all very neat and properly, then skews himself so he can watch Izzy drive, legs spread and inviting. Izzy keeps his eyes on the road and considers the very real possibility of crashing the car. 

-Izzy doesn’t turn on the lights when they get into the apartment and C doesn’t ask him too. Instead, he says, 

“Could’ve done it in the alley, but I love a bed,” and unerringly walks into Izzy’s bedroom. He sheds what little clothing he has on as he goes. 

Izzy trails after him, drawn to him like a magnet. C doesn’t wait for Izzy to get with the program, just drops to his knees and starts unbuttoning Izzy’s jeans. 

-There’s not a lot to compare it too, but Izzy has never has sex like this. C is forthright and carefree in his joy in the act. He tells Izzy what he wants to do clearly and concisely before he just dives in and does it. He says things like ‘fuck, you’re really fucking hot’ and ‘I don’t call anyone Daddy, but I’m sorely tempted’ and ‘Yeah...oh that’s good, do that again...just like that...you’re really good at that...” 

He’s everywhere, has a ton of energy, and is very very flexible. It’s like something out of a very dirty dream. 

After, he collapses heavily next to Izzy with a laugh, “You wore me out.” 

“I wore you out?” Izzy watches him carefully. 

“Uh huh. I usually clear out, but I’m beat. Mind if I catch a few hours here? I can sack out on the couch if that’d be easier.” 

“Stay,” Izzy shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him. It’s a one-night stand. Of course it is. Normal people have those all the fucking time.  Jack practically had them on tap and if he could do it, Izzy certainly could. 

He won’t fall asleep, even after C sinks into it, relaxed and trusting. What an idiot. Izzy could be anyone. Did he do this often? He must, seems like he has a whole routine. How has he not gotten in trouble already? Or maybe he has and like Izzy he just keeps sticking his hand back into the cookie jar even though it sometimes bit him. 

-Izzy falls asleep. C, no matter how muscular, simply doesn’t register as a threat. 

When he wakes up, it’s still very early in the morning. The bed is empty, but there are quiet sounds in his kitchen. Wary, he pulls on underwear and goes to investigate. 

C sits at his countertop in his little short shorts, tank top shoved into a pocket, some of the material hanging loose. He’s got one of Izzy’s mugs, steam raising from it in one hand. In the other, his phone. In the early light, he still looks like a sculpture. But also more clearly very young. 

“If you want to kick me out, that’s fine,” C says without turning around. “But give me a second to finish this text. My roommate likes to know I’m not dead.” 

“Not kicking you out,” Izzy says. He’s not. He doesn’t think he could.  

“Your coffee is fucking great,” C hits a button and looks up. He takes Izzy in. “You don’t do this much, huh?” 

“You can tell?” That’s horrifying.  He decides he needs coffee to deal with this and heads to the machine. C has refilled the bean hopper and left another mug under the spout. Waiting for him. 

“Yeah. Guys that have been around the block a few times have a whole routine. There’s the shovers, want you out immediately. The wooers. Make you breakfast and ask for your number. The thanks for all fish. Polite, let you stick around a bit, but you know the door is open.” 

“What’re you?” 

“No one gets to come over to my place,” C says easily. 

“Because of the roommate?” he guesses. 

“Nah. I just like my space. Might give you my number if you ask though.” 

“Don’t do me any fucking favors,” Izzy mutters. 

“Aw, it’s not a favor to you,” C sounds like he’s grinning and Izzy has to turn to see it. He is smiling. It’s a great fucking smile. “Be a favor to me.” 

Izzy doesn’t make him breakfast. He does take him back to bed. Or rather, let’s C take him back to bed. His input is minimally required. 

He does provide his number, in the end. C puts it into his phone as ‘Alex’ and Izzy lets him.  He immediately gets a text, but doesn’t check it until C is out the door with a last little wave. 

C: Love the tats. Text me when you want them spit-shined. 

-He didn’t have work that day, just errands to run and chores to do. He stops constantly, some slight twinge reminding him of what had happened. What he’d allowed to happen. A stranger in his bed, between his legs. A gorgeous, unattainable type of stranger.  He should let it go. 

Should forget it. Buckle down, Hands. Focus on the work. But fuck the work is dull. Jackie doesn’t catch him slacking because he’s still twice as good as most of her guys, but he drifts. He makes it all of five days. 

Alex: that a real offer?  

C: Real as they come. Busy until 9ish tonight if you’re game then.  

Alex: I’ll be here. 

C shows up in regular clothes. Just baggy shorts and a t-shirt with a faded logo. He’s still beautiful, and he’s still intense, barely waiting for the door to close to be all over Izzy. It’d be off putting if Izzy wasn’t equally starving. 

“You shouldn’t say yes again,” Izzy warns him as C makes himself a cup of coffee after even though it’s late. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m a jealous man,” he says simply, eyes falling to the red mark on C’s hip that he didn’t put there. 

“Sucks to be you,” C shrugs. “I go where I want, when I want. And I want you, so you better figure it out.” 

-What Izzy does is go back to the club. He has no idea how regularly C goes there. Maybe it was a one off. But he lucks out the second night he tries. C is on the dance floor with someone far closer to his age. They make a pretty picture and C drags the guy out into the alley with him. Izzy should leave. 

Instead, he goes out and watches. C is clearly enjoying himself, on his knees in filth. Izzy watches and it’s not like watching Eddy with someone else at all.  C is too easy about it, to loose and clearly doing this purely for himself.

“You just want a free show or you want to have some fun?” A guy asks him, startling Izzy almost out of his skin. 

Izzy checks the guy out. Not particularly tall, but broad and dark-eyed.  

Up until last week, Izzy figured he was a straight guy with one throbbing exception. Who hadn’t turned out to be an exception.  But C had broken right through his walls and now they lay crumbled at his feet.  

Izzy had poured the last of his booze down the drain. Maybe it was time for a new sin. 

“What the fuck ever,” he says to the guy and doesn’t kiss him, but he does let him go down. If he’s watching C the whole time, then the guy doesn’t complain. 

C: I saw you. That was hot as hell. Next time let me know, we can coordinate. 

Alex: Just a one off. 

C: Doesn’t have to be.  

It turns out it really doesn’t have to be. Izzy, who has never had occasion to flirt and has been reliably told that he’s an off putting human being when he opens his mouth, learns to keep it shut. 

“Here,” after they coordinate twice, C comes over ahead of time armed with a shopping bag. The clothes aren’t garish or uncomfortable. They’re all in black. Just tighter things, a little more revealing. “Trust me on this.” 

Izzy doesn’t say a word. He just dances with C, let’s him go when he finds another play mate and easily finds his own with a dark look, his new clothes and his old feral smile. Plenty of the hot young things glide their eyes straight over him, but there are other men his age or more adventurous youths. 

The change venues sometimes, C finds other clubs, other places to hunt and Izzy follows his lead.  They chase the high of sex and Izzy keeps an eye on C. When a guy gets rough, Izzy doesn’t give a shit who he’s pushing off his dick to get to him.

“You don’t have to protect me,” C protests, but it’s weak and he's holding onto Izzy like a lifeline. 

-They always go back to Izzy’s afterwards. C stops asking after the second time. He just assumes he’s welcome and Izzy never corrects him. They share the bed and coffee in the morning. Eventually, Izzy gets too hungry to worry about whatever bullshit category  C wants to put him. He makes himself toast, offers some to C too. 

“Yeah, thanks,” C says lazily. “Got any jelly?” 

-They learn things about each other. It’s inevitable. 

“What’re you reading?” C taps the e-reader Izzy left out. 

“Bosch series,” Izzy says because they’re just books. Don’t say much about him anyway. 

“The mysteries? I liked those. You ever read Chelsea Cain?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“You’d probably like them.” 

So they talk books that day. That becomes a thing they can do.  

-Another morning, C gets a text, frowns darkly on it and taps back quickly. 

“Room mate?” It’s the only person Izzy knows about in C’s life and even then only that they exist. 

“No. My fucking dad,” C drops the phone to the counter. “He walked out on us years ago to come out of the closet. Saw us once a year. Now he wants to ‘reconnect’.” 

“Sounds like an asshole.” 

“The biggest,” C agrees. “He doesn’t even know I’m gay.” 

Izzy sets toast in front of him, laden with jam.  

“Not like my father does either,” Izzy says roughly and there’s no way C can know it’s the closest he’s ever come to saying the words. “But he would’ve murdered me. Sounds like yours wouldn’t care.” 

“He’d want to bond over it,” C pulls a face. “Sorry about yours though. Sounds like a dick.” 

“He is.” 

-Weeks become months. It’s freezing one night, C comes in, bags under his eyes. 

“Can we just stay in? Sorry, I’m fucking wiped.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy says like he’s not starving for exactly that. “Sure. You want dinner?” 

They eat what he’s made and they watch a movie C picks out. Not horror, to Izzy’s surprise, but nothing even a little romantic either. Just an old thriller, where the con doubles back over itself again and again. Somewhere in the middle C slouches and then just lays down, head pillowed on Izzy’s thigh. Tentative, Izzy runs a hand over the soft stubble on top of C’s head and C doesn’t stop him. 

Next time, they hit up the club again as if nothings changed. 

But C stays later the next morning. Just stays as if that’s okay. 

And it is. Oh, it is. 

-”I know it’s a big ask, but are you around next week? I just..I need a ride,” C says and it’s almost the afternoon. Izzy has been contemplating offering him lunch, but that means alerting them both to how much of the day has passed. 

“I’m around, what day?” 

“Wednesday, around one?” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

“You’re the best. I’ll meet you here.” 

-Izzy drives him nearly an hour away.  C gives directions that lead to the kind of college campus that has genuine ivy on the walls as well as in the name. 

“What the fuck?” he asks because he can’t stop himself. C is dressed like a professional something today. Ironed clothes, starched shirt. 

“I applied to their combined Masters and Doctoral program. I didn’t know they did an in-person interview,” C says like it’s nothing. “I took a semester off after I graduated,  but I’m getting bored, so it’s time to figure it out.” 

Izzy has never run a background check on C. He easily could. He could know everything about him. But he’s been reluctant. Maybe terrified is the closer word. Like all of this was a soap bubble waiting to pop. 

“I knew you were smart,” he says, “I didn’t realize you were a genius.” 

“I’m not,” C laughs. “I just write a mean paper and I’ll do anything to stay out of the job market, even do a million more years of school. I should only be there an hour or so. You don’t have to wait here for me.” 

Izzy watches him go into the building. He gets out of the car and walks slowly around the campus. It’s quiet, class must not be in session. He pokes into the buildings out of idle curiosity. It’s like visiting someone else’s life. Is this where C is supposed to be instead of in his bed? Probably. 

When he emerges and circles back, he finds C already released. He’s sitting on the front of Izzy’s car, shoulders slumped, head down. Izzy goes to him, 

“What happened? Did something to wrong?” 

“No,” C shakes his head. He spreads his legs, inviting Izzy to stand between them. To get closer. He does. “I’ll get in, I think. They want me.” 

“So why are you upset?” 

Charlie leans forward, wraps his arms around Izzy’s waist. Izzy holds him back. Feels him shaking. 

“I don’t know. This should feel like something, shouldn’t it? I can’t feel anything.” 

Izzy presses his hands to him. 

“I don’t know,” Izzy says weakly. “I don’t feel much either, most of the time. But...” 

“But what?” C presses, holds onto him a little tighter. 

“I feel you. Always.” 

“Oh, fuck, Alex-” 

“Izzy,” he corrects like he’s wanted to since that first morning. 

“Izzy,” C repeats. “What’s that short for?” 

“Israel.” 

“Can I call you that? I like how it sounds.” 

He should say no. No one calls him that, but his asshole family. And Faith. Faith never called him Izzy. 

“Yeah,” his voice is rough in his ears. “If you want.” 

“Charlie. I’m Charlie.” 

“Okay, Charlie,” he says easily. Charlie seems right. 

-It shifts again. Names make things realer, it seems. Charlie comes over more than once a week. The still go out that often, but then other nights, Charlie just appears and holes up in Izzy’s life like he’s always had a niche there. Eventually, Izzy hands him a key, presses it into his palm without a word. 

That makes a magic trick. Sometimes Izzy comes home and ‘presto!’ Charlie is already there. 

It briefly occurs to him that maybe Charlie is after money, but the kid always seems flush and he buys things for Izzy more often than Izzy buys things for him. Eventually, he has to just ask, 

“Do you want me to buy you things?” 

Charlie gives him a disdainful look, “Why? I’m a trust fund baby.” 

“How was I supposed to know that?” 

“Israel, my sunglasses cost more than your mortgage payment.” 

So that’s that theory gone. 

-Charlie does get into the program, but it’s months from starting. A distant problem. A more immediate one rises up as summer jogs around. 

“I’ve been invited to my father’s wedding,” Charlie announces. 

“Are you going?” 

“Fuck no. My sister is going. Morbid curiosity, I think.” 

Izzy returns his attention to the dishes, only to hear Charlie heave a sigh. Okay, so apparently they weren’t done. 

“What?” 

“Just...part of me wants to go,” Charlie grumbles. “Bring you with me. Let Dad get an eyeful of that. Bit of shock and awe.” 

“You don’t really want that,” Izzy determines easily. Charlie, for all his showmanship on the dance floor, has a talent for disappearing. His father can never seem to pin him down anyway, texts ignored, calls sent to voicemail. His mother and stepfather get easier access, but not by much. The sister never seems to reach out. 

“No, I don’t,” he admits. “I’ll probably just go and stand there like a good little boy and applaud for him.” 

“You don’t have to fucking do that shit either.” 

“He’ll be disappointed if I don’t. Hurt.” 

“What day is it?” Izzy demands. 

Charlie tells him. 

“What a coincidence,” Izzy pulls out his phone. “That’s the day we’re leaving.” 

“Where are we going?” Charlie asks, lips tugged up into a faint smile. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

-They wind up in Florence. Izzy has been to Italy a few times on business, but never as a tourist. Never with someone like Charlie. Charlie loves museums as it turns out and all the old churches. He likes tours and art and stuffing his already full brain with information. Izzy has never given a shit about any of it before, but riding along on Charlie’s wave feels good. He learns things. He listens.  

They stand at the foot of David and Izzy says, 

“Looks a little like you. From the waist up anyway.” 

“Thanks,” Charlie laughs. “For not saying from the waist-down.” 

“I only need glasses to read,” Izzy snorts. “I know what you look like.” 

“David was a little gay.” 

“Don’t remember that part of the Bible.” 

“Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan took off the robe that was on him and gave it to David, with his armor, even to his sword and his bow and his belt.”

“So what, you think they were getting married?” 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I think Jonathan wanted something David couldn’t give. Or maybe he thought he could. Maybe it’s just old words translated badly, I don’t know.” 

Charlie finds them places to eat that are somehow allergen-free and beams every time Izzy thanks him, until he says, 

“It’s the bare minimum, stop it.” 

Izzy stops saying it. Doesn’t stop feeling it. 

In return, Izzy finds a pool. Their hotel doesn’t have one, but there is an indoor facility a few miles out of the city. He delivers Charlie there and the man practically squeals when he realizes where they are, racing to change. 

“Wait,” he says just before he dives in. “I never told you I was a swimmer.” 

“You smell like chlorine all the time, even more when you sweat, “ Izzy rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t take a genius.” 

He gets to watch Charlie dive in. He knew Charlie swam, figures it’s a regular exercise, part of his routine. Within a minute, it’s clear that it’s more than that. Charlie swims faster than anyone else Izzy has ever seen. His strokes are precise and he cuts through the water like a shark. Izzy sits the fuck down and pays attention. 

“Holy shit,” he says when Charlie at last slows and grabs the wall next to Izzy’s legs. “You’re really fucking good at that.” 

“I know,” Charlie laughs. “You should see me fully warmed up.” 

“I haven’t yet?” Izzy asks, slyly and that makes Charlie laugh harder. He likes when Izzy attempts flirtations.  

-They go back home reluctantly. Charlie parts with him at the airport, but not before handing Izzy a bag that he didn’t catch Charlie acquiring. He opens it when he gets home. There’s a watch inside, expensive and sleek. It’s chrome and black as his apartment and when Izzy turns it over there’s an engraving: 

‘For My Silver Fox, From Your David’ 

He puts it on and doesn’t take it off. 

-They have to deal with Charlie moving eventually. 

“I’ll be back a lot. Not giving up the apartment just yet. It’d be shit to do that to Amir,” Charlie tells him.

Amir, Izzy has learned, is the roommate. A college friend, already in med school in the city. They split the rent, but unevenly, Charlie paying the lion’s share. 

“You getting a car?” 

“The train station isn’t that far,” Charlie shrugs. “And you could come to me, you know.” 

“Don’t want to ruin your reputation.” 

“What reputation? Anyway, I’ve got a hot older boyfriend. So that’s points in my favor, I think.” Charlie says it with confidence than falters, “I mean. That’s not what I- I should-” 

“I don’t think I’m points in anyone’s favor,” Izzy reaches for him. Tugs him in close. “But you’re  hundred points in mine.” 

“Does that mean you’ll help me move?” 

-The first time Izzy sees Charlie’s apartment, it’s to help him leave it. It’s a nice place, on the small side, but there’s a good view. Amir’s bedroom door is closed, he’s not home. The place is fairly neat, Charlie has almost everything already in boxes. 

Izzy sees the plaque on the wall though. Slows. He reads it. He’s only fucking human and if Charlie invited him here than he wants him to know. 

He’s got a familiar last name, but so do a lot of people. Anyway, that’s not what’s eye catching. 

“Charlie,” he says, “are you a fucking Olympian?” 

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Charlie keeps walking. Izzy watches him go, looks back at the framed photo. He’s smiling in it. His gorgeous smile. 

“It’s a big deal,” Izzy informs him and follows after. “A hundred and five points in my favor at least.” 

“It’s the past,” Charlie says more to the boxes than to Izzy. “Anyway, you’ve got talents too.” 

Izzy doesn't ask which ones. Just takes the boxes Charlie hands him. There’s only a few things left out. 

“Didn’t take you for an Eagles fan,” Izzy notices the hat. “Thought they were having a rough season.” 

“A dozen rough seasons and I’m not,” Charlie snorts. “Relic from a hookup. Amir can have it.” 

-It became a new routine faster than Izzy was expecting. Charlie makes sure of it. They’re together most weekends. Izzy drives out to see him. Charlie has grad housing, his own room and access to a kitchen. His housemates are gone most of the time and if they’re around, they mind their own business. 

Other weekends, Charlie takes the train. He sees Amir at some point, but he always winds up with Izzy. They go out, they hookup, they come home and Charlie sleeps with one hand on Izzy’s back like he’s grounding himself. 

They start talking more during the week. They can’t hide behind sex on the phone (though they’re not chaste there either). They learn bits about each other. One dark night, Izzy tells Charlie about Faith in tiny broken up pieces.  Charlie tells him about the last years of college, the dark void that had opened up after the Olympics with nothing there to fill the place the dream had been. 

“I’ve lived there,” Izzy tells him. “I’ve been in the dark.” 

“What brought you out?” Charlie asks helplessly. 

“You showed me the way out,” Izzy tells him.  

“Oh,” Charlie’s voice goes tight. He maybe cries. 

Izzy gets in his car that night and stays on the phone the whole time. Charlie doesn’t realize where he’s going until he’s there and then maybe they’re both on the bitter edge of something as they crash together in the dark of Charlie's room.

-”I’m going to see the school counselor,” Charlie decides, “Maybe you should see someone too.” 

“No,” Izzy says, but he does. He’ll always do what Charlie wants in the end. 

-Izzy’s therapist has a lot of questions about Charlie. So he tells her about his childhood instead. About Eddy. About all the things that come before. There’s more than enough fodder there to keep them both busy for a long time. 

“It seems like you hate your job,” his therapist observes when he has successfully dodged another volley of Charlie questions. “Have you considered a new field?” 

He hasn’t. But he has considered that Jackie is one bad decision away from his knife at her throat and it’s likely he’ll be the one that ends up dead. Anyway, Charlie doesn’t like his bruises much.  

He’s fucking sick of this place. Sick of himself all week, of his own company and his own routine. 

“What do you think of off campus housing next year?” Izzy asks Charlie.

“Israel,” he says delightedly, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

-Getting an apartment in a new city to share with his young lover is probably some kind of rare middle age milestone. It’s likely a sign of something bad to sell his old place with no more sentiment than tossing an ill-fitting shirt.  

He takes up accounting instead. It's a reliable income, he makes his own hours. He finds the kind of people that look at him and think ‘yeah that’s my kind of taxman’, who are shady, but pay in cash.  Charlie doesn’t pay rent, and he has sex with whoever comes within his agile fingered reach. He also cleans the bathroom and he kisses Izzy hello like they’ve been parted for days when it’s only been hours, every time. 

They haven’t said I love you. Instead, Izzy learns how to grade papers so when Charlie is snowed under, he can help shovel him out. Instead, Charlie buys Izzy a suit and takes him to department functions and introduces him as ‘my boyfriend’ with unflinching steel. 

-Amir comes to visit, eventually. He takes in Izzy with a long appraisal then smiles wanly, 

“Yeah, that’s about what I pictured,” he declares and takes off his shoes at the front door. So that’s all right. 

Generally, Izzy stays out of their way. But he doesn’t feel shut out. Amir is a little reserved with him, but he’s not rude or obnoxious. He does hear him ask Charlie softly as he goes to leave, 

“He’s good to you?” 

“Yeah, man,” Charlie says, warm and sincere. “He’s the best, pretty much.” 

Amir visits more after that. Izzy likes him, in a distant approving way. He goes on staying out of their way for the most part. 

-Would that all meetings were so easy. 

-The knock takes them off guard. Izzy had been watching something, he can’t remember what because Charlie had woken up in a mood and was now stretched over him, kissing and nipping his chest, intent on taking his sweet time about what he was doing. 

“Ignore it,” Charlie orders and Izzy didn’t need him to say that. No one knocking on a Sunday morning was doing anyone any good. 

Another nip. Another knock. 

“Charlie, I know you’re home! You left your bike in the hall. Is that safe?” 

Charlie froze. 

“Who is that?” Izzy asks. 

“My fucking dad,” Charlie chokes. “What the hell does he want?” 

“I can find out.” 

Charlie stares at him, Izzy stares back. Then Charlie nods once and rolls off him. Izzy pulls his t-shirt back down, runs a hand through his hair. He hasn't had to meet the parents in twenty years, but he’s well aware that this was never going to be a good one. 

He yanks open the door as the knock sounds again. Catches the man with his hand raised. 

Shit. 

Shit. 

Not a coincidental same last name. Izzy is a fucking idiot. 

“Hello,” Bonnet frowns at him. “I’m sorry, do I have the wrong apartment?” 

Of course Bonnet doesn't recognize him. They never really met. Eddy might’ve shown him one of the few photos lying around, but that would’ve been a while ago if ever. 

“That depends,” Izzy crosses his arms. “Who are you looking for?” 

“My son, Charlie Bonnet?”  

Izzy glances over his shoulder. Charlie is gone from the couch. He catches the sound of the bedroom door closing. 

“He’s not home," Izzy decides. 

“I see,” Bonnet eyed him warily. “And you are?” 

Izzy didn’t have permission to say, exactly. But Charlie had left him out here. Let him be the face of the conversation. He knew what that meant. 

“I’m his boyfriend,” Izzy says with all the steel that Charlie usually uses and then some. 

“Excuse me?” Bonnet’s voice canters up several octaves.  

“There’s no excuse for you,” Izzy hisses. “You don’t get to pick and choose to care about your kid’s choices when it’s convenient for you. You’re a rotten excuse for a parent. Back the fuck off.” 

Izzy slams the door in Bonnet’s stupid fucking face and it so satisfying that he has to fight the temptation to open it again so he can repeat it. He locks the door, listens mercilessly as Bonnet pounds on it. He hears Charlie’s phone ring then get cut off into silence. 

He goes to their bedroom. Charlie isn’t on the bed. He’s on the floor, pressed up against it, knees pulled to his chest. Izzy doesn’t say a word, just gets down there and holds him tight. 

He waits a few hours to tell him, 

“Listen, it’s going to come up, but I didn’t put two and two together. I know your step-parent.” 

“I know,” Charlie says listlessly. He hasn’t really fully come back yet. “I figured it out a few months ago. You keep mentioning your old boss and you said their name once.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Izzy asks, fighting down anger. He tries so hard to not get angry with Charlie. He knows Charlie can take it, but he shouldn’t have to. 

“Didn’t want you to freak out. I know they meant a lot to you. Thought maybe if you thought too much about them and me and our ages....dunno.” 

“There’s nothing new that’s going to change my mind about you,” Izzy says firmly. “We’re in it now. I’m not backing out. Could get messy though.” 

“Fine,” Charlie closes his eyes, lays his head on Izzy’s shoulder. “Then let it.” 

-Mary shows up first. Charlie takes her out to lunch. Comes back red eyed and drifts away, leaving them to each other. 

“I would prefer if you’d leave him alone,” she says curtly. 

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Izzy tells her. He’s inclined to like her more than Bonnet, but not by much.  

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” She glances around the place. “Money wouldn’t do it, would it?” 

“No.”

“Do you love him?” 

“He gets to know that,” he folded his arms over his chest. The watch glints in the light. “Not you.” 

“I’m his mother.” 

Izzy doesn’t say another word to her. Let’s her lace into him a little. Let’s her rant. Let’s her leave. Then he goes to find Charlie. Takes the man’s face in on hand, looks him in the eyes. Tells him at last,

“I love you, you prickly little son of a bitch.” 

Charlie knocks him to the floor, kisses him like that first time all over again. 

“I love you too,” he tells him. 

So that comes out of it at least. 

-The sister shows up a month later. Charlie and his mother have had a few hushed phone calls that leave him tired, but not upset.  Alma arrives without fanfare, looking like a goth fairy queen. She greets Izzy with, 

“So you’re the old man,” she eyes him up and down. “I get it.  Charlie! We’re getting lunch, move!” 

“Fuck off!” He yells at her, but comes out dressed. 

They get lunch and Charlie comes back smiling. Izzy decides he likes Alma just fine. 

-Before the oncoming train can hit them, Izzy takes Charlie to Ireland. He always liked Ireland when he worked there and he figures Charlie might enjoy the history. They stay for nearly two weeks, drifting in a slow circle around the edges of the country. Charlie lingers at the Giant’s Causeway for hours. Izzy takes a picture on his phone as the sun sets, painting his lover gold at the footsteps of ancient rock formations.  

“What if we lived here?” Charlie asks dreamily. 

“Out here on the rocks?” Izzy teases. “Pitch a tent and all?” 

“We should go camping again.” 

They’ve gone a few times since discovering the mutual interest. Charlie is lovely in nature, sure-footed on trails and full of facts that he shares as readily as his body. 

“Any time you want.” 

-The inevitable comes. If anything, they walk towards it. They go back to the city for a few days, get a hotel room, make a thing of it. Charlie and Izzy take Amir out to dinner along with his current boyfriend. The guy is a flatliner, but Amir likes him so they both pretend to like him too. 

They go to the Revenge on a Friday night, wait until the show is underway. 

“Charlie!” Spriggs greets as they take their seats. His eyes cut like a knife to Izzy. “Charlie’s older boyfriend that I’m not supposed to let in here! Hello!” 

“Hi,” Izzy says mildly. 

“Hi, Lucius,” Charlie takes his seat. “Can we get two vodka tonics?” 

“I’m serious, Charlie,” Lucius says even as he takes down two glasses. “Your father was pretty adamant even before he knew you two were a thing. Not sure Eddy will be too pleased either.” 

“Sucks to be them, I guess,” Charlie shrugs. 

Izzy stays. He gets his drink, but he barely touches it. 

Eddy gets on stage and she doesn’t look anything like the person he used to know. His heart still pounds uneasy in his chest, but Charlie has a hand on his knee. That hand is shaking. That’s all he cares about. 

“No matter what, we go home after,” he reminds him. 

“I know, I know.” 

The confrontation waits until the show ends. Until half the audience has drained away and the lights have come up. It waits until they emerge from the dressing room, cleaned of characters, only themselves, towering pillars of fury. No wonder Eddy liked Bonnet, Izzy realizes dimly. He doesn’t mean to put himself between Charlie and them. It just happens, instinct older than Charlie himself. 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve,” Eddy growls at him. “This is some very low shit. Digging this deep to get one over on me?” 

“I didn’t know who he was,” Izzy says, and doesn’t give an inch. 

“You expect me to believe you randomly found the one person in the tri-state area that could hurt that much and you never ran a background check?” Eddy barks a laugh. The bad one. The old one. 

“You can believe what you want, but that’s what happened. We didn’t set out to be like this. It happens, I’m told.” 

“Back the fuck off,” Charlie snaps and it’s cold and fierce. He steps around Izzy, his chin jutted out. 

“Charlie,” Bonnet pleads. 

“No way. We came to you out of some...courtesy. Let’s go with that,” Charlie stares them both down. “If you want to go on thinking that Israel has been fucking me for the better part of two years to get at you, that’s your own business. It’s a pretty shitty way to look at the world, but I can’t stop you.” 

“Two years?” Bonnet’s voice breaks. “I didn’t even know you were interested in men.” 

“You never fucking asked, did you?” 

“I see the language has rubbed off,” Eddy muttered, still glaring daggers into Izzy. Some small part of him still wants to apologize. To beg her to see reason. To look at this mess and say ‘this is what I saw coming, we could’ve avoided it’, but it’s a very tiny part. The rest just wants to take Charlie and run. 

“He was like that when I found him,” Izzy says, not without pride.  

“Turns out I’m a whole ass human being that you didn’t really want to meet,” Charlie takes a step back, takes Izzy’s hand in a way he never does. “So...you know. I just came to tell you that I’m happy, if you care. And if you want to talk sometimes, that’s fine, but I’m not taking on critiques about a life you haven’t bothered to understand.” 

“He’s my age, Charlie,” Bonnet looks to Izzy, a slight frown. 

“Don’t worry, my therapist says it only counts as daddy issues if I call him that in bed,” Charlie says flatly. “Let’s go, Israel.” 

Izzy gives Eddy a last look. Flashes a very old hand sign. ‘Danger. Danger. Danger’  A warning. Eddy doesn’t return it. Just watches with fire in her eyes as they go. At least she doesn't follow.

-Charlie goes on talking to his sister and mother. Izzy is reluctantly invited to holidays where he turns up, stays very quiet and offers to wash dishes. Doug likes him, seemingly despite himself, and Izzy cultivates that as best he can. They swap recipes mostly. It’s fine. Mary stays chilly with him, but in a polite way.  Alma, seemingly just to be contrary, decides that they’re friends. She sends him texts occasionally, mostly memes that go over his head so he has to ask Charlie about them which he suspects is the point and he sends her back incomprehensible series of emojis which she seems to find hilarious. 

He has his allies. 

-He waits anyway. Waits for Charlie to finish his masters and get settled into his doctoral program. Waits for the third year to nearly complete. Four years seems round, even. Auspicious. 

“Let’s go away,” he offers. 

“Where to?” Charlie asks. 

“How about New Orleans?” 

It’s lush there. The wrong time of year for travel maybe, already thick with humidity. But Charlie finds the best places. They go to clubs,  practice their craft, and seduce a whole new crowd. They have a threesome in someone else’s hotel room, the first time they’ve shared a partner and it’s odd that it took that long because it’s more enjoyable than hooking up separately.  

Afterwards, they leave their victim in sweaty, satisfied pile and take to the streets. In the morning, Izzy buys Charlie beignets and coffee, indulges himself once he’s sure that’s all the make.  

“Do you like it here?” Izzy asks as they walk in front of a huge white church. Neither of them are religious, but Charlie likes the imagery. 

“It’s awesome. I want to go on a cemetery tour later, can we?” 

“Yeah, all right,” he smiles, “but one thing first?” 

Charlie turns to him. Izzy drops to one knee.  

“Yes,” Charlie says before Izzy can produce the ring. 

“C,” he chides, but he’s laughing because of course. Charlie is always racing ahead. But he always circles back eventually. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he laughs. “Ask me.” 

Izzy asks, Charlie gets to say yes again. He takes the ring, heavy gold band, engraved with ‘My David’. 

-The wedding is small. Charlie invites his whole family. Most of them turn up. His father comes, Eddy does not. A relief for Izzy, a tight lipped acceptance from Charlie. Bonnet is blessedly quiet, his presence a strain, but not a dramatic one. Alma insists on playing Izzy’s best man and wears a tuxedo tailored beautifully for her. 

Amir makes a nice speech. Mary cries, hard to say if it’s the moment or if it’s true sadness. Izzy has a handkerchief for her at the ready and she takes it bewildered and with a quiet thank you. 

-Charlie glows. He’s so handsome and polished in his suit that Izzy itches to remove it. To find the man he knows better beneath it. Someone takes a picture in the restaurant after and Charlie hangs it proudly in the kitchen, the two of them in matching suits. Izzy barely recognizes himself. 

-When he introduces his husband, someone always has a sidelong look. A question hiding behind their teeth. Izzy takes delight in it after a while. He almost wants them to ask.  

Ask me how I got this beautiful man. Twenty-six, fit, funny and brilliant. Ask me how I keep him when I’m broken down and roughshod. 

Because he would tell them the truth. That he has no fucking idea, but now that he has him, he’s not letting him go.  

Not when at night, Charlie stretches across the couch, lays his head on Izzy’s lap, captures his hand, kisses his palm, then sets it on his head so Izzy will scratch through the bare inch of hair Charlie allows to grow there. 

“Let’s go away,” Charlie says dreamily. 

“Where?” 

“Anywhere. Take me anywhere, Israel.” 

And Izzy does.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #au of the au #wake myself in the shadows #charlie bonnet #izzy hands #idek with this one

[practicalsolarpunk]

Let’s talk about seed bombs

They’re pretty cool, right? Planting flowers, saving the bees, guerilla gardening, what’s not to love? But there are some things to consider before jumping in, in order to ensure that they are effective and to avoid causing any harm to the local ecosystem.

1. Native species

Many of the seed bombs available for purchase are... less than responsible about what kinds of seeds they use, even the ones that advertise as native. Read the list of species, look them up, ascertain whether or not they’re actually native to your specific region.  Take the U.S. for example. It’s a massive country, and while a particular plant may be native to the country in general, it may be native to a state on the opposite coast. Do your research, make sure the seeds are actually native to your specific area. 

Some resources to help with that*:

https://www.audubon.org/native-plants

https://www.wildflower.org/plants/

https://www.nwf.org/NativePlantFinder/Plants

https://xerces.org/pollinator-conservation/pollinator-friendly-plant-lists (scroll down on this page and there’s some international resources, too)

2. Where to place them

This one is a bit harder, because there are so many variables.  Is the soil bare? Why? Is the soil so poor nothing will grow there, not even the most tenacious weeds? Is it high traffic? Is it heavily compacted? Some kind of pollution leaking into the soil and making it inhospitable?

Or is the soil covered? Is it grass? Is it a native grass? Does it get mowed? Is it going to get sprayed? If it isn’t grass, what’s already growing there? Is it native species? Is it naturalized, polite, nonnative species that aren’t threatening the biodiversity of the regions? Or is it a highly invasive nonnative that will choke out anything else trying to grow?

Observe the area for a while.  What kind of sunlight does it get? Is it wet? Dry? Is there erosion? Mixing many different types of seeds together into one bomb might not be the best idea - even plants that are native to your area can have vastly different needs. The resources above should also have information about the growing conditions for the plants. Again - do your research. 

3. Saving the bees

Not to stir the pot too much, but honeybees, while facing issues due to pesticides primarily, are not really in danger of extinction, they’re supported by humans enough to survive.  Native bees, on the other hand, are, and we depend on them just as much, if not more, for pollination of our food than we do on honeybees. Pretty much globally, native bees and other pollinators and insects in general are in dire straits.  They are desperately in need of love, less poison, habitat, and food sources.  So, what kinds of bees and other pollinators do you have in your area? Which ones are most threatened? What do they eat? Where do they live? Many times, native insects have their own niche they fill, with specific plants that they depend on, and those plants depend on those specific insects in return.  It’s pretty fascinating to do a deep dive into local insect and plant species, and their interactions. Once again, research is the way to go!

Some resources*:

https://www.nrcs.usda.gov/wps/portal/nrcs/main/national/plantsanimals/pollinate/

https://saveplants.org/pollinator-search/

4. Over seeding

Ok, some of the recipes I’ve linked below call for absurd amounts of seeds per batch - don’t do it.  The seeds won’t spread out, so they’ll all be attempting to grow in maybe a few square inches of space at the most.  Each bomb should only have a few seeds, otherwise in their fight for space, sun, nutrients, and water, they’ll all die.  Putting a dozen or more seeds in a single bomb is wasteful, expensive, and counterproductive.  There is literally no benefit to it, please, for the love everything green and growing in the world, don’t do it.

Now that we’ve covered some of the things that need to be taken into consideration, let’s talk about how to actually do this, hopefully successfully!

1. Seriously consider making your own! The process of making them involves wetting all the ingredients, including the seeds, which may start the germination process.  If they then dry out again, they likely won’t grow.  It will likely work best to make them right before planting, and toss them before they have a chance to dry too much.  Also, if you make your own, you can be 100% sure that the species are well suited for the area, because you’ve done your research! Good for you, working hard to ensure those little bombs have a big impact!

Here’s some recipes, take your pick! (But, as mentioned above, ignore the parts that say to use too many seeds - you only want a few in each bomb. depending on the type of seed.)

https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/actions/how-make-seed-bomb

https://littlebinsforlittlehands.com/make-seed-bombs-earth-day-activity/

https://seed-balls.com/basic-seed-ball-recipe

And a handy image via this site:

[photo id: a graphic titled How to make seed bombs. Below it reads: You will need: meadow flower seeds or seeds collected from the garden, peat-free compost, water, powdered clay from craft shops - use clay soil if you can’t find any, mixing bowl.  1. In a bowl, mix together 1 cup of seeds with 5 cups of compost and 2-3 cups of clay powder. 2 Slowly mix in water with your hands until everything sticks together, then roll mixture into firm balls. 3 (no words, but a drawing of seed bombs laying on grass). 4 Now for the fun bit - plant by throwing your seed bombs at bare parts of the garden!]

2. Toss them out in the spring (or whatever season they germinate best in), when you know there will be a few rainy days in row.  Seeds need wet to germinate, and good, steady moisture for the first bit of growing.  If that isn’t feasible in your region, consider going back to water them gently at least once a day for a few days or a week or more, until the seedlings are strong enough to withstand a bit of drought.  Unless, of course, the seeds are wet loving, and have been tossed somewhere that already maintains a decent moisture level for them.

3. Where to get seeds

Collect from native plants already growing in your area, that you have permission to collect from, or that are on public land.  Make sure you are 100% sure of your id - don’t want to be spreading invasive species around!

Buy them from a reputable source such as*:

https://www.prairiemoon.com/ (they have lots of awesome info about native species in north america - a great resource!)

https://www.nativeseeds.org/  (focuses on food crops mostly, but a fantastic resource all the same)

https://www.seedsource.com/

Another method if you’ve got space is to buy seeds, but plant them in your own garden and collect seeds from them. Those seeds can get really expensive, so this way you only need a few, and then with time they’ll multiply!

Try to make connections with people in your area already growing native plants - they’ll probably be happy to help you get started with some seeds!

Phew that was a lot of information! I hope it helps you all in your bombing adventures!

- Mod S

*North America focused, I’m sorry, I tried to find resources and databases for other regions and couldn’t find ones that looked reliable or comprehensive. If anyone has any, please add it on or send in an ask.

#seed bombs #guerilla gardening #gardening #plants

[anasticep]

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 1 of 3

· NOTE: if somehow you happen to like my gifs, please, feel free to use them. But, please, don’t crop or change.

· NOTE 2: This meta has been flourishing in my mind for quite a long time, but it was @catty-words meta on Perfect Harmony that inspired me to actually put it all on paper

· NOTE 3: I planned two parts of this, but ended up with far more gifs than a post allows. I dunno. Not sure if anyone will actually be interested in this rumbling. Probably it won’t even be a new and outstanding thinking. I’ll see how it goes.

What sets a good show apart? I’ll tell you exactly this: the pilot and the finale.

Whether it’s a season finale or a grand finale, it doesn’t matter for a scenario. People tend to forget the middle, that’s why all we remember about LOST is this weird full of dead people church that simply left the fans heartbroken. But frankly speaking, LOST ended so much better then most modern shows. And honestly I get why it’s so hard to keep track on things after 6 years and such a long row of characters. That’s why making a season in one take is so much better, when writers do not depend on what the fans think or like or ship. They simply do their job.

Do I need to say that our brain clearly remembers everything we throw at it? We think we forget, but that’s not quite true. That’s also the reason how we distinguish what we like and dislike – we remember all the small things and foreshadowing. Also that’s why we keep re-watching the shows we love: we simply acknowledge what our brain already knows. We simply find that thread that links everything together.

And they can be simple things. But first on what made this script a masterpiece for me: first and last scenes in the studio (+some things from 0102 band circle scene of 0109).

1. The Studio Intro

In 0101 Julie hesitates to go in the garage. She was reluctant to go in the first place. It signifies everything she’s lost: mother, music, voice. She inhales deeply, steadying herself. She can do this.

In 0109 it’s quite the opposite. She wanted to go there even though she knew the guys had already crossed over. Now this place signifies everything she gained back and more: music, voice, friends and, of course, a way back to her mother. She did it.

And this is a perfect visual explanation of the line “It’s not what you lost, it’s what you gain raising your voice to the rain”

2. The Band Intro

Can you see it the way I see it? It’s not a coincidence, it’s been done on purpose. Julie is mortified both times but for completely different reasons. In 0101 she is scared OF them. In 0109 she is scared FOR them. It’s so heartbreakingly beautiful it even hurts.

3. Personal space

In 0101 Julie and Luke are both scared of each other. See that extra step she did to push him away? Or the way he acts as if Julie is really a witch that could curse him? And who needs any personal space in 0109? These scenes show their journey in the best way possible.

4. You have to leave

In 0101 after accepting the fact that she was sane enough and these three ghosts really existed Julie is simply annoyed. She orders them to leave. She doesn’t what them to exist in her life. She has no time to deal with these dead cute boys. She wants them gone.

In 0109 after acknowledging that their plan has failed she also wants them gone. She orders them to leave again. But she wants to save them and for now that’s the only way she can think of. It’s better than not existing at all, even if it means not existing in her life.

And just look at the directing. The shots are almost twins! Julie mimics the scene from 0101 almost entirely, although it hits on a different level. I don't exactly know why it makes me so excited, probably I'm just very tired of mediocre scripts.

5. Maybe she’s a witch

I’m sure she is at least to some extent. It’s such a wonderful foreshadowing. I hope in season 2 we'll find out more but I think the perception on this in "Feels like I’ve opened my eyes again" by @pink-flame is very close if not almost entirely accurate to what I thought about season 2 and all this magic thing. Such a masterpiece of a fanfiction btw, I wish I found the show sooner and was reading it chapter by chapter. One of the best things I've read so far in any fandom.

6. Attached to our souls & 7. She's warming up to us

Do I need to say much? That’s the magic Julie has: her love for these boys. They are attached to her soul.

8. We had nowhere else to go

To think about it, they didn’t need Julie’s permission to stay in the first place. Like… How on earth would she even get rid of them? But that’s what defined these friendship from the start. They asked for permission in 0101 and in 0109 Luke’s words are almost apologetic that they ended up in her garage again.

9. I'm sorry we came into your life

Again, look at how both episodes have been shot. 0101 they stand apart, not knowing anything about each other yet. They both are not very comfortable with the whole situation and Luke voices what Julie might be thinking: why me? In 0109 Julie answers her past self that it was a blessing and a miracle. They are the closest they've ever got to be and the most sincere.

10. I have space for only one more gif and I'm simply fond of this parallel. We need a Witch!Julie AU)))))

________________________

Due to the pics limit I have to stop here. But there is so much more to say. So stay tuned to see Parts two and three if you liked this one. God, I hope you did

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #my first real post here #jatp meta #jatp analysis #my gifs #my edits #don't crop #please be nice

[amitlee]

hello there :) uhm would it be possible to do 10 and 14 (if that’s okay) with lee!techno and you can choose the ler! :)

Barriers

10. “Im not ticklish.”

Lee!Techno Ler!Ghostbur

I completely forgot to put 14 in there somewhere, but I kinda did 10! Also, sorry I left in my inbox for so long!

———————————————————————

“Technoblade! The most wonderful thing happened today!” Ghostbur enthusiastically explained. To his friend who was currently bent over farming potatoes. He doesn’t understand why he still grows the vegetable since the contest had been over for many months now.

Technoblade shot up from his bent over position having been startled from the unexpected voice. “Hello Ghostbur, I’m busy.” He said, now settling back down to continue his work. Don’t get him wrong, Ghostbur was a delight to have around, but the reminder of Wilbur was something he didn’t want at the moment.

The ghost’s smile never faltered as he went on to tell the hybrid about his day. The story was rather uninteresting, but Techno listened to the rambling as if it was background noise. He was mostly tuning it out until he heard a series of strange events begin to unfold.

“-so I threw him over my shoulder and his axe fell out of his hand, thankfully because you never kno-“

Techno cut him off with a raise of his hand. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about again?”

Ghostbur sighed impatiently and placed a hand on his hip, he looked like a disappointed mother. “I knew you weren’t listening. I’m talking about tickling Tommy.” He paused for a minute in thought before looking back to the hybrid. “Say Techno, are you ticklish?”

Techno froze for a split second but tried to act natural. “I’m not ticklish. At least I don’t think so. You were saying?” He willed the ghost to simply forget what he’d admitted.

Ghostbur didn’t forget. “You think?” He questioned with a curious gaze.

“Yep.”

The younger man hummed in thought. Techno seemed like he wanted to be left alone, but he was intrigued at this point and tasered the man’s sides without a second thought.

Techno expected him to try and had attempted to ready himself for the oncoming sensation. He managed to stifle his reactions except for the physical twitch of his body. He cleared his throat, “See, not ticklish.”

“No wait, let me try again. Here, turn towards me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the best ide-“

“It is, I promise it is. Now turn”

The eldest sighed and turned as ordered. He was now looking up at Ghostbur, who kneeled in front of the man and set his hands on his sides before pausing.

“Just tell me if you really want me to stop, okay? But don’t worry, it should be fun.” The ghost said with a reassuring smile.

Techno had never been the best at eye contact, it was strangely intimate. His eyes shifted from the ground to his hands, only occasionally sneaking glances at his acquaintance.

The sensation was strange to say the least. Ghostbur was very gentle in general, it seemed to carry over to his touches as well. While it usually took more pressure to get any significant reactions from the warrior, tingles erupted from the areas the ghost touched.

He was unsure of if he should hold his reactions back. After all, he did have a reputation to keep up. But Ghostbur was so nice and whatever was going on with his hands definitely added onto the feeling.

Noticing the lack of response he was getting, Ghostbur moved his hands to now scribble a little firmer on the hybrid’s stomach.

The change was immediate. On Techno’s end, the feeling was stronger and more satisfying than it was before. It now drew huffs of laughter that bordered into titters when Ghostbur skimmed over a particularly bad spot. On Ghostbur’s end, he saw a small change, but it was all he needed. Now motivated with the knowledge that Technoblade was at least a little ticklish, he continued.

His hands drifted downwards to Techno’s hips as he kept up the firm yet gentle scribbling. As he got lower, Techno’s squirming became apparent and he let out slightly muffled titters. By the time Ghostbur’s hands made contact with Techno’s hips, the restricted laughter became more unfiltered.

“Ohohokay, you gohot me Ghohohostbur. You can stohop now.” Techno uncharacteristically giggled out. He didn’t want it to stop, but was unsure of what to do with himself at the moment.

Ghostbur slowed to a stop, not wanting to overstep but clearly disappointed. “We were just getting into it! Do I really have to stop?”

Techno was much better at masking his emotions than his companion and was able to seem somewhat nonchalant in his reply. “I guess you can keep goin’ if you want to. But you aren’t going to get much more than this.”

Whatever repressed embarrassment he felt was overshadowed by the look of pure excitement on Ghostbur’s face.

The excitement transpired into his touches as he went back to the man’s hips and tried squeezing instead. It worked like a charm, having caught him off guard. The shock caused Technoblade to fall onto his back, Ghostbur following suit and not being affected by the change in position. If anything, he had access to more exposed areas. He continued the light hearted assault of gentle squeezes, the grip on Techno’s hips keeping him pinned on his back.

The touches stayed the same, an unyielding flurry. Another consistency was the silence from Ghostbur, making Techno’s laughter the only sound. Even though he hadn’t been flustered by previous teasing, the silence seemed to have a completely different affect.

“SAHAhay sohomething!” Techno practically squawked out. He was surprised at the amount of strength Ghostbur had, he had no trouble holding the warrior in place.

Ghostbur honestly hadn’t meant to stay quiet at all, he simply got lost in thought and concentration. He couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with the outcome, however, and couldn’t help but be a little smug.

“Like what?” Ghostbur asked. “Like how fun this is? I’m having so much fun with you, Technoblade! I think your laugh is as bright as the sun, and I’ve gotten pretty close to the sun, so I’d know.”

Ghostbur decided that getting to watch the normally stoic Technoblade hide his face and emit muffled giggles was one of his new favorite things. And it would definitely be worth whatever revenge was surely coming his way. As the idea of revenge came into his mind, he couldn’t help but lose some of the small ler mood he’d developed. But, there was still a chance to tire the piglin hybrid out enough to at least hold off revenge for the near future.

The ghost thought long and hard about how to tire him out without overdoing it and overstepping any unknown boundaries. He didn’t remember ever seeing Techno being tickled. But, he did recall seeing Phil scratch behind his ears, Techno leaned into the touch and smiled every time.

He noticed Techno starting to squirm more and being his hands near the ghost’s. Having no other bright ideas, he stopped the tickles on his hips, and brought his hands to the man’s ears. He began gently scratching behind them towards the base, similar to what he’d seen.

The reaction was small, but the ghost found it incredibly endearing. Techno leaned into the touch, as expected, his hands came to hold Ghostbur’s forearms but didn’t try to pull him away. Instead, he let out occasional huffs of air through his nose and grinned widely. His eyes closed and he closely resembled a happy cat.

Ghostbur repressed any verbal reactions as to not disturb Techno in such a vulnerable state. But when the man started to stur, he slipped a hand away from his ears and let it gently scratch around his stomach.

Now with gentle tickling on both his stomach and ear, Techno all but melted. The occasional huffs were replaced with much bouncier chuckles. The feelings were not overwhelming in the slightest for him, quite the opposite actually, as they left him feeling relaxed and wanting a nap.

Techno opened his eyes and looked at Ghostbur with a dazed but undeniably happy look on his face. Ghostbur had stopped the tickling earlier than he had planned, he recognized that he’d accidentally melted Techno before doing any real wrecking. But they were both satisfied.

Once Ghostbur had moved from his hips, Techno sat up. He looked to where he was previously laying and saw the smushed crops that would undoubtedly need to be replanted. He looked back to his friend, “I’m going to get you back for that in particular.” He teased light heartedly but there was no mistaking the statement for a lie.

Ghostbur gave a sheepish smile, “But not now though?” He questioned, not really minding either way.

“Nope. You’ll live to see tomorrow, maybe.” He shot his eyes back to the ghost at the last part with a playful glint in them. But his posture remained relaxed and there was still the nagging need for rest. He stood up and began making his way to his house. “I think I’m goin’ to go sleep now, thanks for that or whatever.”

Ghostbur scrambled to his feet as well and looked after the already walking hybrid. “Can I come too?” He called after him.

Techno gave a sarcastically exaggerated sigh and turned his head to look back as Ghostbur, “I suppose.” He let out another chuckle when Ghostbur cheered and ran up to join him at his side. Ghostbur had broken a barrier by the physical contact and the tension present in thier first moments together was long gone.

———————————————————————

I’m soft.

I also just finished state testing!!! Whoooo! In total, this past week I tested for about 11 hours...ouch. But I’m glad I got it done and I think I did pretty good!

Anyways, super sorry I let this sit in my inbox for so long, I just couldn’t think of what to put. I really like how this turned out though and I hope you do too! 💕💕

#mcyt tickle #mcyt tickle fic #tickle fic #lee!technoblade #lee!techno #Ler!ghostbur #dreamsmptickle #dsmpticklefic

[batarella]

Wallpaper (Jason Todd x Reader)

A smile so palpable, a smile you saw him look at and return, for only just so few a second, it stayed and delved into this threshold with him you never would have foreseen.

A/N: I just realized I haven’t done a one shot since before Bullet. Here’s a little coffee shop one where you find out your best friend’s home screen on his phone is a picture of you.

WORDS: 2081 WARNINGS: NONE BUT FLUFF

MASTERLIST

-----

Two espressos at ten that night. At this hour, there were three types of people in the café with you. The hard-working strivers with bloodshot eyes and five different highlighters, the laid back, unbothered students on their phones even with a book wide open in front of them, and the likes of Jason, the friends of the mentioned two, asleep on the couch and/or their desks.

And it was just that when you got to your table and Jason had already settled into his seat, crouched over and unmoving. You poked his shoulder with your elbow to wake him. “Drink.”

“I didn’t order one.”

“I thought you needed it, with you on patrol tonight.”

“How’d you know?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Wednesdays he patrols the alley, so he won't be getting any shut eye for the whole of the night. And he had an hour, maybe two, before he leaves. Still you convinced him to come with or the lack of company lulls you to boredom. And that wasn’t much an option even when it’d be inevitable having a paper due before AM.

Jason didn’t argue, and he wasn’t much to have caffeine before he goes on patrol. He just took the cup and sipped.

You pulled out your laptop. “Got anything to do for the night?”

From your screen, you looked up and Jason was on his phone. “Errands.”

“Errands?”

“Yeah,” he showed you his screen. It opened a text from Roy. “Is Roy asking you to do something for him?”

“Nah. I just need to reply. It’s been two days.”

“So errands to you is replying to text messages-“

“You know I don’t like texting when it isn’t necessary.”

“You reply to me.”

He snorted and sipped from his cup. “’Cuz you're tolerable.”

“Thanks so much.” You stretched out your fingers. “Now be quiet. I need to finish this.”

You never once would have thought that was the last thing you’d ever say to him that didn’t have any unusual undertones, when you didn’t have to think too much about what you’d say and what light you’d put yourself into. And what was worse, it wasn’t one you’d prepared for, neither was it anything to expect even when it was all in front of your nose for so many years.

“Bathroom,” he said to you after half an hour of silence.

And all else would have stayed that way if you let it. But even that had proven to be something so difficult for you to do.

It started when, out of the gaps from the supposed noise cancelling headphones you got from Wish, his phone rang. It was Roy. Because of those headphones, and how they failed at their one job, you heard that ringtone, the first of this descent, this succession you’d no longer knew how to stop.

You picked up his phone and told Roy he’d call him back.

Another step was looking too closely at his lock screen that opened just as you hung up.

It was taken from a couch. Your couch it seems. The one in your apartment that faced your window. And in front of it, too far for you to recognize immediately but close enough that you’d know, was a head of hair, back turned and facing out the curtains, with an arm outstretched so she was holding the fabric out the way to look out the glass.

Her hair was, however, something you could tell was yours. Because then you remembered the day this picture was taken. You invited him over to your apartment and a parade went on just outside your building. Jason didn’t care for it and stuck to the couch. You wanted to at least take a peek.

But it would have been nothing to think much of if it weren’t for the fact that the whole picture was centered on you, that it wasn’t the curtains or the windows or even the blank wall perfectly shined on was what the photo was so focused on.

It was ignorance, genuine confusion you just wanted an answer to.

But something, some voice perhaps, told you it was a good idea to snoop around your best friend’s phone, because that very voice knew there was so much more to this than you ever would have thought.

Another step you didn’t know would push you further into this fall was guessing his password right the first time.

It was then when you knew there wasn’t any turning back, whatever it was you’d gotten yourself into.

All it was, and all it should be, was a photo of you, one of you turning your back to tell him you’d seen god knows what outside your window, something that seemingly made you smile in a way you’ve never seen yourself before, so raw and candid, one you could never force yourself to have if you tried. Because it seems it came out when you weren’t. A photo that Jason had set as his home screen. All it should be was a photo, and a few taps of his fingers that should mean just as much as saying you looked at all decent. All it should be was pixels, a moment captured just because, something he’d look at amusingly that had nothing to do with depth nor thought.

All it was is you, his best friend, someone he took to prom once and ended up skipping because you had food poisoning that night, and he spent the night holding up your hair with your head in the toilet. All it was is you, the girl who tried and miserably failed to hook him up with so many others because no one seemed to stick with him long enough, longer than just a fling or enough to have meaning.

All it was is you. It was him. It was just Jason.

It can’t be anything more.

You put the phone down just as Jason came back from the bathroom.

“Roy called.” You found it difficult to even talk. “He wants you to call him back.”

The man just scoffed. “All he’s getting is a text outta me. You didn’t have to answer.”

You shrugged. Maybe you shouldn’t have.

But it shouldn’t matter if it didn’t mean anything.

That he didn’t actively choose to have your face to look at every day when you weren’t around, on his phone which he was on so much of the time, even when he barely talks to anyone.

That it wasn’t you, at a moment you didn’t even notice, and a photo he’d cropped out so it was you and you alone that he could see, that he didn’t care for the curtains, the view out the window, or the blank wall, that he only cared to see you.

That he didn’t choose to have you to look at every time he closes an app or sends a text or takes a photo or do anything with that little device.

It shouldn’t be any of those things.

But, even with your efforts not too futile, it didn’t even matter.

Ten years, more than that, without seeing him anywhere near that light.

But not one day out of those years did you remember looking up from where you were sitting quietly across him and notice how lightly his tongue dragged over his top lip to clean off the coffee’s brown, or how he ignores it when his hair tickles his eyelids but can’t stand it when it was on his nose.

You thought you’d never notice how that night, the dark circles under his eyes were more eminent than they’d so often be, how when he answered your call that late afternoon, he’d just woken up from a nap, or more likely, just had the time to at all sleep. How he didn’t even sound like it was a bother and went with you anyway.

How he’s never rejected a night with you at the café even when you thought he would, even when he’d barely do anything more than nap or fiddle with his phone. Sometimes he’d pretend to ask about what you were up to, pretend to be interested.

How he’s never said no to you at all. Even for the most trivial things, even when it seemed so unlike him to be invested in what you do, even when it doesn’t concern him at the least.

You never saw him in that light.

Suddenly he was shining under it brighter than any beautiful woman’s eyes or a concert stadium’s stage lighting.

At one point you couldn’t remember, you were told it was possible to fall in love in a day, and naturally you didn’t believe it. Or if it were true, that it wasn’t at all any deeper than a child’s play pool or a pond outside a garden.

And it was all too unlikely that you’d know all these with what time you had.

But you did.

All it took was an hour. Less than two.

And it was your chest burning, jumping even, that went with your stomach when he slid the small cake he’d ordered over to your side of the table so you could have a bite, even when you knew that little slice was barely enough to stuff him.

It was your eyes that took too long to linger on what was just his face, no longer just a face, but was now one you could stare at for so long as you could see, for so long that you’d take advantage of your sight and choose to only ever look at things so beautiful, such as him.

It was your hands, sweating profusely and defying all effort you’d pathetically exert, how they shook so much you had to fist them just to have some kind of conscious control.

But even that wasn’t possible. You had no control in any of this at all.

It was the opposite of gradual falling, the kind you thought would only bring out something so intense and genuine and at all real, something that’d last and evolve from the frantic beating in your chest into comfort you’d find in no one else.

It wasn’t something you’d seen come from so far and prepared for even with it so clear, that you’d look to yourself and actually watch yourself fall and at all have a say in any of it.

Because, if anything, it was tripping over a cliff that suddenly appeared behind you, or a beaver dam you thought was made of stone, but instead was filled with leaves and branches so brittle and fragile that the water broke through it easier with one, single ripple from its surface.

You watched yourself then, as everything you felt, every ounce of redness in your face that morphed into this fire that never would stop burning even with what you’d try to extinguish, that this shaking in your palms turned to this reeling, this desire to hold something or someone, someone that was him and only him, when you looked up and saw his hand and you realized it was what you were crying out to hold.

Like you’d transcended out your own body and saw what you never thought existed suddenly unfold.  

It wasn’t possible.

But you didn’t even allow yourself the time to deny it.

“Want me to get you more?” Jason asked you, and you realized you’d finished the cake he’d given. And you didn’t even like cake.

“I’d love one.”

Just as he started to get up from his chair, he looked at you quizzically.

“You alright?”

The nod you gave him was too subtle to imply truth, but he didn’t look into it twice. He just got up and bought you another slice.

Then he handed the whole thing to you, took one bite, then gave you the same fork he’d just raked over his lips.

A smile so palpable, a smile you saw him look at and return, for only just so few a second, it stayed and delved into this threshold with him you never would have foreseen.

But it was that very smile that sealed it, that locked you in, and right then you knew that perhaps, this was what you’ve wanted in a good life for so long.

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

You couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with him in eighty-three minutes.

But at the end of it, you didn’t even try to deny.

You did.

-----

MASTERLIST

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A/N: Let me know if you want on my taglist!

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish​, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo,  @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive @spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, 

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #batarella #batarella fluff #reader insert #jason todd reader insert

[sugar-petals]

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there’s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun #exo smut #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun hc #sub!baekhyun #baekhyun crack #exo crack #dom!baekhyun #baekhyun headcanon #sub!exo #baekhyun bullet points #exo hc #exo headcanons

[galaxywhump]

Warmth

For @whumpmasinjuly, day 12!

Timeline: set after Scars + Collared.

cw: slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, forced domesticity, referenced noncon, nudity mention, suicidal ideation, discussion of drowning, referenced animal attack, alcohol mention.

~~~

It’s always warm on SV-240.

They’re near the equator, Daniel explained once, the only part of the planet able to sustain so much flora and fauna - and human life.

Wren can’t help but bitterly wish Daniel had crashed anywhere else, the lucky bastard.

There are no seasons, just temperatures fluctuating from pleasantly warm to unbearably hot, occasionally dropping to where they need to wear long-sleeved shirts outdoors; but there’s no winter, no snow, no chilly wind, and even the rain is lukewarm. Adds to the atmosphere of permanent summer vacation that Daniel enjoys so much, Wren supposes, wiping his forehead, his gaze fixed on the ground as he tries not to trip and fall on a terrain that he, unlike his captor, isn’t used to.

It’s one of the unbearably hot days, and they’re both exhausted after working in the garden in the early morning; the crops had to be harvested and watered, and the heatwave has been going on for a few days already, so waiting for it to end was too much of a gamble. Afterwards they tried to escape the heat by hiding back in the house, which didn’t offer much relief with how hot and stuffy the air was, and opening the windows did the opposite of helping. 

“I have an idea”, Daniel said after a few minutes of miserably sipping on iced tea for a sliver of relief. “But we’ll have to walk for a while.”

At least this time it seemed unlikely that the idea would involve torture. Small mercies.

And so they’re walking through the forest, still and almost quiet, as if all the alien creatures have been defeated by the weather, forced to retreat into their lairs and burrows. Trying to find a bright side to the unbearable heat, Wren hopes that the predators are too lazy to hunt too; he remembers the attack, the creature biting into his leg and trying to drag him away, all too well. Daniel knows the planet, though, and has a weapon at hand just in case - a weapon that, Wren notes with silent resignation, can only be activated by him. Of course. It would be too beautiful otherwise.

“Almost there, sweetheart”, Daniel informs, and mere moments later they reach their destination.

It’s a small lake, closer to a pond, really, with impossibly turquoise water, like a kitschy postcard saturated to the extreme - but it’s real, surrounded by lush flora, with flowers (at least Wren chooses to believe they’re flowers) of vivid colors bobbing on the surface. 

For just a moment Wren allows himself to be enamored with the view, with the underlying beauty of his prison, as rotten as his captor has made it.

Daniel exhales with contentment and throws his backpack aside.

“There’s nothing dangerous here”, he says, taking his shirt off. Other than you, Wren thinks, but keeps the thought to himself. “And the water should be cool.”

It is, Wren discovers with relief when he crouches down on the edge of the lake and dips his hand in it. The water is crystal clear when he takes some in his cupped hands, and splashing some in his face is the best feeling he’s experienced in a while. He sits down on the damp sand and takes a deep breath, closer to feeling at peace than he has been in ages.

“Come on”, he hears and turns his head to the side to look at Daniel, the illusion immediately shattered. “There are swim trunks for you in the backpack. Oh, there’s some beer and tea in there too, put it in the water so it can chill.”

“Sure”, Wren sighs, slowly getting up.

Orders are infuriating, no matter how casual and innocuous they are, but at least they’re sobering. He wants to enjoy this day at the lake as much as he can, as long as Daniel doesn’t try anything, but he can’t let himself forget that he’s here against his will, that he’s a captive, even if he’s not restrained, in the middle of a forest that he could try to hide in if it wasn’t for the tracker under his skin.

I’m always restrained one way or another. Even if he wants me to believe otherwise.

He changes into the swim trunks as fast as possible while Daniel has his back turned. Sure, he’s already seen everything there is to see, but if Wren’s given an opportunity to avoid being naked in front of him, he’s glad to take it. He nests the bottles in the soft sand, making sure they’ll stay put, and then, opting against the rational option of slowly getting his overheated body used to the chilly water, he takes a plunge.

The cold knocks the air out of his lungs and paralyzes him for a split second, thousands of microscopic freezing needles pierce his body, but the shock is gone as fast as it appeared, and he relaxes, opening his eyes and watching air bubbles rise to the surface. He feels weightless, slowly moving his hands in a steady motion to stay underwater, and he shakes his head and smiles at the feeling of his hair flowing through the water. 

He could stay down here forever.

He could.

Suddenly he feels heavier as the thought appears in his mind, echoing the one burdening him on that nightmarish day, when he was staring at the wall, wanting nothing more than to take the plunge and never emerge. And now he’s here. He could inhale the perfect water, let it fill his lungs, close his eyes and finally be free.

It would be easy, and it’s so tempting, but...

Not like this. I can’t die here.

Expelling the last bit of air he has, he pushes himself off the bottom and swims up to the surface. 

“Thought I’d have to rescue you there”, Daniel comments when Wren emerges and takes a big gulp of air. “I never asked if you can swim, did I?”

“You didn’t”, Wren replies, drifting away a bit to discreetly put some distance between him and Daniel. “But don’t worry, you won’t have to play the lifeguard.”

He regrets his words as soon as he sees Daniel’s smirk.

“So I’ll miss out on mouth-to-mouth breathing?” He laughs when Wren groans. “Just kidding, sweetheart.”

Wren rolls his eyes and disappears underwater again, escaping from Daniel’s voice into silence. He sits cross-legged on the bottom with his eyes closed, submerges himself in the cold, and with how different it is from the warmth of the planet he lets his mind carry him to Earth, to the chill of winter he only now realizes he misses so much it hurts.

 ~~~

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#whumpmasinjuly #slavery whump #forced relationship whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #defiant whumpee #referenced noncon #noncon mention #nudity mention #drowning mention #animal attack mention #tw suicidal thoughts #suicide mention #alcohol mention #wren rackham #daniel rooney #sv-240 #look at that #i did a write #not escape arc but still something i wanted to write for a while #and it's been some time since i last wrote something for an event of any kind #so here's daniel being gross #as always #but they have a nice day outdoors you know #my writing #oh yeah i forgot #it's also wren's birthday! #so it's two birds one stone #excuse the vague pun

[archiveposter]

#Girlboss: Scarlett O’Hara and the Cult of True Womanhood

Much like death and taxes, the judgement of women by American society is a constant of life. The standard by which the female sex is held is ever-changing; what might be the ideal woman in one decade could be considered an insult to femininity in the next. In fact, for some, the desire to be akin to Venus herself can reach a fever pitch. America experienced such an obsession in the 19th century, particularly in the South. During this time period, the concept of “the Cult of True Womanhood” emerged. The ideology was relatively simple, yet extraordinarily taxing. In order to be the perfect woman, one must possess purity, be submissive to their husbands, be pious, and be able to maintain the affairs of her household. Christian theology was laced generously throughout the Cult of True Womanhood; according to Barbara Welter, the goal was to become “another, better Eve” (152). It is important to note that membership to the cult was applicable to only a subset of Americans: wealthy, white women. White women of lower class and women of color were excused, or rather excluded, from obtaining the title of the perfect woman. As with any popular facet of society, the Cult of True Womanhood started to become present in the literature of the time. When thinking about a character that conforms to the ridiculous standards of the elite, Scarlett O'Hara may come to mind. This thought has merit, at least on the surface. After all, the infamous O'Hara is the exact type of woman that the status of “true woman'' is built for: white, rich, and beautiful. There is little reason, according to the ideology, that O'Hara shouldn't be able to be Eve incarnate. However, throughout Gone With the Wind, the opposite occurs. Despite being an ideal candidate, the character of Scarlett O’Hara repeatedly exposes the contradictions in the Cult of True Womanhood.

Essay below the cut

The overarching theme in the Cult of True Womanhood was women being dedicated to their husbands, households, and children. The whole system was driven by the abstract notion of honor--not just the honor of the women who were subjugated to the high standards of perfection, but also the men in their lives (Faverty 17). When diligently filling the role of wife and mother, women were protecting their own honor, as well as that of their husbands and even their fathers. If a woman were to resist the role offered to her by society, it “threatened her reputation and both her individual and familial honor” (Faverty 18). However, providing for a family and continuously subscribing to the notion of protecting one’s honor--or the honor of male family members--is often in conflict with one another. This is especially true when considering the concept of honor in the Confederate South, which dictated that rich white women were not to engage in manual labor or violence. Scarlett O’Hara demonstrates the conflict in Chapter 26 of Gone With the Wind, when she kills the Yankee soldier that dared to set foot in her beloved Tara. When the Yankee is first detected, O’Hara has a choice: preserve her honor by fleeing, thus not engaging in any “unladylike” behavior, but leaving the other residents of the plantation undefended, or protecting her family and violate the honor of her late husband, father,  and herself. While in the first moments of panic, the heroine thinks to “hide in the closet, crawl under the bed, fly down the back stairs and run screaming to the swamp, anything to escape [the soldier]” (Gutenberg), she ends up shooting the Yankee with her late husband’s gun. How this violates her own honor is simple: she engaged in violence, thus directly rejecting the role of passive female. How the action violates the honor of her late husband Charles and her father is a little bit more complicated. Mitchell takes care to note that Charles’ gun had never been fired,  at least by him; she describes the pistol as something he had “worn, but never fired” (Gutenberg). By taking the pistol and using it herself, O’Hara is taking a symbol of his masculinity and appropriating it for her own purposes. Additionally, if a man never found a reason to shoot his own gun, his wife doing so would be a direct insult to his competency. As for her father, O’Hara does not even attempt to call for his help or even alert him to the situation. The male is supposed to be the protector, and by taking matters into her own hands, she is deciding that her father is not capable of helping his own family. While this is true, as her father has become senile following the death of his own  spouse, it is not supposed to be a decision that O’Hara makes. In protecting herself and loved ones, Scarlett O’Hara condemns the men in her life.

In addition to the incident described in the previous paragraph, there is a second instance within the text of Gone With the Wind that displays the glaring discrepancies within the ideology of the Cult of True Womanhood. While visiting the Fontaines, O’Hara mentions that while there is cotton in the fields of Tara, all the field hands are gone, rendering the crop virtually  useless to her and her family. When Grandma Fontaine points out the fact that O’Hara is perfectly capable of harvesting it herself, the younger woman is taken aback and exclaims “Like a field hand? Like white trash? Like the Slattery women?”(Gutenberg). O’Hara’s reluctance highlights two different problems present within the Cult of True Womanhood rhetoric. Similar to the first incident described, the novel’s heroine is caught between providing for the current residents of Tara and preserving her perceived “role” as a distinguished southern woman. Both are required in the Cult of True Womanhood; however, in order to do the former, the latter becomes impossible. On the other hand, in order to satisfy the latter, Scarlett O’Hara would allow for a critical element in restoring a semblance of normalcy to her beloved plantation to go to waste. It becomes a dilemma of reputation versus survival. To modern readers, such an internal battle may seem unnecessary and even borderline silly. However, the importance of being an esteemed Southern woman in Civil War Georgia is proven by how long O’Hara struggles with the decision. While she finally succumbs to working  in the fields, thus making the decision to abandon--at least temporarily--the elitism that is associated with being a “true woman”, the conflict that she experiences demonstrates how the standards of the Cult of True Womanhood can not coexist.

A final conflict in the Cult of True Womanhood that Scarlett O’Hara exposes revolves around the concept of piety. According to Laurie Bonventre, “women were supposed to have an especially strong religious side and it was supposed to be natural for them” (33). O’Hara shows a modicum of  religion throughout the novel. For example, after things started to improve at Tara, “she thanked God for the pale-blue sky and the warm sun, for each day of good weather put off the inevitable time when warm clothing would be needed” (Gutenberg). However, any inclination towards true piety is overwhelmingly dashed by both the  context of the prayers and the decidedly non-Christian attributes of O’Hara’s character. She prays almost solely for her own gain, rather than for the benefit of  those around her. She is vain--she marries her first husband, Charles, out of revenge and not love. Such a union violates the Christian concept of marriage, which dictates that a couple must be bonded spiritually and not for earthly reasons. Finally, in killing the Yankee, O’Hara commits a mortal sin. While arguably an act of self-defense, the action directly goes against the Sixth Commandment (Britannica). Gone With the Wind’s lead heroine is far from taking advantage of her “divine right” (Bonventre 20) of religion, and yet would be considered a true woman by many of her contemporaries. Thus, the concept of piety in the Cult of True Womanhood is not a deep one, but a performative version. As long as a rich white woman adheres to the basic traditions of a Christian life, she may qualify to be a true woman.

As established previously, the features of an ideal member of the female sex are as follows: piety, committment to family, purity, and being submissive to their male spouse. The first two qualities were most certainly found in enslaved women. Religion played a critical role in the lives of the enslaved. While some attempted to stay true to their heritage, many slaves converted to Christianity upon arriving in the United States. It was a source of hope for those who were subjected to the dreadful conditions of plantations; oftentimes, the Bible was used by abolitionists to justify rebellions. (PBS).  In addition to this, enslaved women were dedicated to the health of their families. In the South, “ [enslaved] women cooked, cleaned, sewed, and washed for their families'' (Oxford Handbook) while men hunted. The concept of submissiveness to men is a problematic topic to discuss in regard to enslaved women. Sexual coercion was common, and not just by white plantation owners. High-ranking male slaves were encouraged to procreate with the women of their choosing, which led to interactions of highly  questionable consent (Oxford Handbook). The idea of purity is nebulous; Scarlett O’Hara qualified for purity, however, after marrying twice and pursuing a third lover. Therefore, many enslaved women should also meet the standard. The truth, though, was that women of color were not considered true women by southern society. Therefore, for all of its requirements, the Cult of True Womanhood mainly cared about two things: the color of a woman’s skin and  her family’s pedigree. The fact that O’Hara would qualify even after her abandonment of the culture’s core values displays the hypocrisy.

The idea of a perfect woman was revered in the American South during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It was in this society that the Cult of True Womanhood emerged. The concept was theoretically defined by piety, submissiveness, purity, and a dedication to family. However, in Gone With the Wind, Scarlett O’Hara consistently exposees the conflicting nature of the Cult of True Womanhood. Ultimately, it was not the attributes that made a woman perfect, but her family name and the color of her skin.

#analysis #literature #gone with the wind #Scarlett o'Hara #English

[socalwriterbee]

Confessions Part 4

Catch up on Confessions

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Marie Castro x Sam Dalton, Jordan Le, Jenny

Rating/Warning: Teen+, Some Adult Language

Word Count: 2,339 +

Song Mention:

You Oughta Know By Alanis Morissette

Si Una Vez By Selena

Summary: After a breakup, Marie seeks her best friend out.

A/N: Songs that were mentioned are in italic. Tried to my best to translate the part of Si Una Vez as best I could.

Tag: @thenannyaffair-fanfics

Characters belong to Pixelberry

********

Marie patiently waited for her friend to respond to her message. If anyone can help make things better it was her best friend.

Jenny squeals as soon as she swings the door open, really finding her best friend standing before her with a new look.

“Marie, how is it possible for you to look like a thousand times better in person?” Jenny hugs her tightly, gently pulling at the ends of her hair, not knowing if she really just a chopped off a good amount of her hair.

“You can stop pulling my hair. I really did cut it.” She laughs at her friend. “Are you gonna let me in? The champagne is waiting.”

Jenny releases her, pushing her to arms length, really taking in her friends new look. Skin tight black pleather pants paired with black Louboutin pumps, a revenge red colored crop top and her newly cut hair.

Jenny drags her by the hand and leads them into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“Don’t kill me Marie, but you didn’t happen to bring any orange juice?” Jenny asks, making her way across the island.

Marie shakes her head at her best friend, she wasn’t surprised Jenny didn’t have anything in her apartment. She had been the one who would stock up the fridge and cabinets with food. If it had been up to Jenny, they would only have vodka in the freezer. One she would bet a good amount of money on that being the only thing in the freezer right now.

“Jenny, do you at least have something to nibble on while we drink?” Marie asks.

She places the two bottles of champagne down on the counter, watching Jenny open and close the cabinets, then moves to the fridge.

“Here put this one in the fridge while I open this one. We’ll just order something to be delivered.” She tells Jenny, handing her one of the bottles.

“I have apples.. well an apple.” Jenny points to her sad looking fruit basket.

“One that seems to be well past being edible. it’s beginning to shrivel up.”

The popping sound of the cork makes Jenny jump, pulling out two glasses and handing them to Marie. After pouring and ordering some food, Marie kicks off her heels and takes her usual spot on the sofa, when one of them is going through a breakup, tucking one leg under the other. Jenny takes the opposite side of the sofa.

“What do we toast too?” Jenny asks.

“The future.”

Marie raises her glass to meet her friends, clinking their glasses together. Jenny eyes her with some concern, wondering what her friend had been through in the last twelve hours or so.

“To the future.”

Jenny takes a good drink of the champagne, while Marie tosses her full glass back, the bubbles tickling the back of her throat, leaving it empty and reaching for the bottle to pour more.

“So Marie, what the hell happened? Wasn’t everything going well between you two?” Jenny asks while tapping her well manicured nails on the fluted glass, impatiently waiting for her to answer.

“Is this situation fit for just drinking champagne? Or do I pull out the Vodka from the freezer?”

“It’s a start. It’ll get the job done.” She gives Jenny a wide grin. “Like I told you, it’s over between me and Sam.”

“How? Why?” Jenny sits up a bit straighter, again waiting for an explanation.

“Sam caught me kissing Jordan.” Marie tosses another glass back. “No.. No..” She wiggles her finger at Jenny “Sam walked in on Jordan kissing me.”

“Why would Jordan do that?”

“He confessed he has feeling for me.”

“No!” Jenny mouths drops open at the revelation.

Marie just nods her head. Last night coming back to her, making her head spin. “That’s not all, he told me Sam was seeing Lana behind my back.”

“That uptight blonde from the house warming party, the mother of one of Mason’s friends?” Jenny asks.

“The one and the same.”

“I’m gonna need you to start from the beginning and everything in between that led you to..to this new look and you chugging champagne like its grape juice.” Her friend said.

Taking a deep breath, Marie began the events of last night from Jordan surprising her at work to him telling her how he feels about her. The moment Sam walked in on them, him storming out, not waiting to hear an explanation of what he saw. It felt like she had been talking for hours, the one break Marie took was to get the other bottle of champagne while Jenny got the food they ordered.

“You need to try this hash..it's amazing.” Jenny hands her the container, as she takes the one Marie had in her hands.

“He just walked away. Left me there standing like a fool. All because he wants space. Because I believe or believed he would cheat on me. But look at how we started, Jen. He was engaged.” Taking a spoonful of the corned beef hash, the different textures from soft to crispy pieces to the exploding flavors of the salty, spiced and sour make her moan in agreement with Jenny.

“Sweetie, don’t get mad at me but.. are you sure he wanted to end things?”

Marie notices a shift in her friend, shaking her head at Jenny. She played Sam’s words again and again last night.

“I’m positive. He wanted to slow things down, wanted space. As far as I know we’re done.”

Jenny stayed silent.

“You don’t understand, wanting to slow things down from a relationship in the dark, a relationship a handful of people knew about. That’s what he meant Jen.” Marie snaps at her.

“Ok.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to..” Marie trails off.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides I got something, that always works.”

The look that appeared on Jenny’s face was a mischievous one, one she knew all too familiar, it was the same one she would give her when Jenny was going through a rough time with a guy.

Getting up from the sofa she walks away, coming back in a few seconds with a full bottle of vodka. She grabs her phone, connecting it to the sound system.

Marie hid her face in the palms of the hands, knowing what was about to come. “Oh no!! no..no..no!” She shook her head.

“yes…yes.. yes” Jenny begins to dance before the music starts. “Come on Marie, this song has gotten us..ok mostly me through breakups.”

The beat of Alanis Morissette’s ‘You oughta Know’ fills the apartment..

An older version of me

Is she perverted like me

Would she go down on you in a theater

Marie began bobbing her head to the beat as the song went on, until she jumps up and stands on top of the couch with Jenny, the both of them singing at the top of their lungs.

And every time I scratch

My nails down someone else’s

Back I hope you feel it

Well can you feel it

Well I’m here to remind you

Of the mess you left when

You went away…You

You..oughta know

As the song comes to an end, adrenaline runs through Marie, ok mostly the alcohol they had been drinking. But at this point it’s what she needed to get every feeling out of her system. Jenny’s breakup playlist continues to play and after finishing the second bottle of champagne, they made it to the bottle of vodka

They didn’t care how loud they were singing or the noise they made from dancing and the things that hit the floor after bumping into them. It was something they did, two best friends trying to help the other navigate through this moment in life.

“There’s a song.. a song.. I want to add..add..yeah” The words coming out of Marie’s mouth a bit slurred.

She grabbed the phone from the coffee table, trying to focus on searching for the song. Swaying back and forth, she jumped with drunken glee once having found it. The Marachi/Cumbia infused ballad came through the speakers, her hips moving to the Cumbia beat.

“Yass.. Get it girl.” Jenny encouraged her as she sat down, taking a little breather.

Marie did her best Selena impression, twisting and doing flamenco moves. She began singing.

Yo, Te di todo mi amor y más

(I gave you all my love and more)

Y tú, No reconoces ni lo que es amar

(And you won’t recognize what it is to love)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, hoy me arrepiento

(If I told you once that I loved you. Today, I regret it)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, no sé lo que pensé, estaba loca

(If I told you once that I loved you. I don’t know what I was thinking, I must’ve been crazy)

Si una vez dije que te amaba

(If I told you that I loved you)

Y que por ti la vida daba

(And that I’d give my life for you)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, no lo vuelvo a hacer

(If I told you that I’d loved you. I won’t do it again)

Ese error es cosa de ayer

(It was an error that was made in the past)

Jenny cheered her on until the end, not knowing what her best friend just sang and danced her heart out too.

After a moment of trying to catch her breath, she watched as Marie fell to her knees and began crying, her body shaking as it released every emotion she had bottled up. The act of trying to be strong came crashing down around her. She went to her and hugged her, whispering that it’ll all be ok.

******

Once she had sobered up somewhat, Marie called an Uber to take her back home, against Jenny’s best efforts to try and make her stay. They had come to an agreement of her moving back in. She wasn’t going to live in a place Sam was paying for besides she couldn’t afford the rent on her salary.

Making her way to her apartment, her vision a bit impaired, she fumbled through her bag for the keys, jingling as they fell to the floor.

“Shit.”

Bending down to get them, she stumbles a bit to the side, balancing herself against the wall before she could trip and fall over her own feet. The vodka and champagne still running through her system, she could make it, once she got up it was only a few more steps, she told herself.

Marie noticed a pair of shoes making their way towards her, her gaze began to travel until they stopped on grey eyes, his lips a thin line. He was reaching down to help her.

“I don’t need your help!” She put a hand out, stopping him before he could touch her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Come on Marie, let me help you up.” Sam voiced calmly but filled with a bit of concern for her well being. “How did you get here? How much have you had to drink? And your hair, it looks..”

“What’s it to you? I’m a bit more sober then I was earlier. I’m perfectly..perfectly fine.”

Marie stood up too quickly and stumbled, she felt Sam wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her weight against his body. Grabbing her keys, he leads them into her apartment.

“Just stand there for a moment while I lock the door. I’ll take you to bed..I mean..uh help you into bed.”

“I’m fine Sam, I’m inside this beautiful penthouse you got for your mistress.” She twirls around, showing him the space around her. “So, you can see your way out. You can stand on the other side of the door to make sure it gets locks.” Marie hiccups, maybe she wasn’t as sober as she thought.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re ok.”

Sam makes his way past her, grabbing her by the wrist and leading her towards the bedroom. Letting her go, he begins tossing pillows off the bed keeping just two. He pulls back the comforter to allow her to crawl in.

“Oh that’s real nice of you Mr. Dalton. Do you do that for all your employees?” Marie asked staring at him as he reaches for her.

“Get into bed, you need to sleep your over-indulgence off. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Marie starts to undress, pulling her top over her head.

“What are you doing?” The words coming out as a raspy whisper from Sam.

Marie stares at the man that left her. She was going to show him what he was going to miss. She began by taking off the heels that had been killing her since putting them back on. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, slowly lowering them and stepping out of them. Marie stood there in a see through black lace bralette and matching thong.

She could feel Sam’s burning gaze taking her in. She heard his breathing hitch and a smile came across her lips.

“I’m just getting ready for bed, Mr. Dalton. Just like you said.” She says coyly.

Walking pass him, running her finger tips across his chest. She climbs into bed, the softness of her sheets envelope her semi-naked body.

As she begins to doze off, the side of the bed shifts under her. “What are you doing here?” She asked him again.

She didn’t hear Sam respond, so she kept going.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s over between us.” She yawns as her eyes begin too close. “Sam? Are you still here?”

Marie could feel her back pressing against the side of his leg. Sam caresses the newly cut strands of her hair.

“I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere..” He whispered.

“Can you do one last thing for me?”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it Marie..I’m sorr..”

“Don’t fire Jordan.” She said before her eyelids became too heavy to keep open and slips into a deep slumber.

#the nanny affair choices #choices sam dalton #sam dalton x mc #tna sam #tna fanfic #choices tna #the nanny affair fanfiction #choices stories you play #fanfiction music #the nanny affair 2

[prettyyyboyluke]

The Dark Room

you guys asked what the dark room is all about, so, here it is 

~ 

i was coming back from helping my brother move into his new house. he has horrible taste in furniture, so i was helping him pick out new pieces that compliment the modern home he just bought. once i walked in the door, i expected to see at least calum and michael sitting on the couch playing video games, but no one was in the den. the whole house stood silent. i checked the kitchen, the gym, every room we had on the main floor was empty. i opened the door to the basement, which i wasn’t allowed down there, but i felt like they could be there, since the upstairs was just all of our rooms and the light room. the basement was where the dark room was, and no one except ashton and luke had a key to it. i’ve never even seen what it looks like, i have only passed by it when ashton was having a very interesting conversation to luke and they immediately shut the door, leaving me with questions.

when i came to face the black door, i turned the knob, and to my surprise, it opened. i was met with luke’s dark eyes, clearly watching something very intense on the computer. i heard footsteps in the back of the room, but couldn’t exactly make out who else was in here. i’m assuming it’s ashton, since the other two don’t have access to this room. “what do you think you’re doing down here, angel?” luke asks, getting up from his seat on the bed and walking over to me. “i-i didn’t know where anyone was, so i figured you all might be down here. i’m sorry, i’ll go back upstairs.” i said, a little scared and intimidated to see what punishment could come from this.

i never heard luke’s voice like that before, it was weird, and the amount of dominance and darkness that came from it made me sink immediately. i walked back up the stairs to see who i wanted to see in the first place, calum and michael. “where were you two? i just almost got smacked down there!” i exclaimed running into calum’s arms. “we were in the studio, we just got back. what happened down there?” calum asked, running a hand through my hair. “i didn’t know where anyone was when i got home, so i decided to go look in the basement, and the dark room was open, so like any curious person, i opened it, and luke and ashton were down there. and then luke asked me what i was doing and i was so scared. his voice was so deep, i felt like i was gonna get locked up or something.” i explained, my voice shaking a little bit.

we were all sitting on the couch now, and i was ready to jump out of my skin with every movement i heard. they both just sighed, “you know you’re not suppose to be down there. hell, we don’t even have a key to that room.” michael said, pulling me into his lap. “i know, but, where else was i suppose to look? i know they wouldn’t be in the light room, since we only go in there for pleasure. what even is that room? i never got to ask either of you.” i said, putting my head onto michael’s chest. “when we all decided to be in this relationship, ashton and luke had this idea to build the dark room and the light room. you remember when you had to be out of the house really early in the morning and couldn’t come back until one of them texted you? and how we had that fancy dinner with that contract?” calum began to explain, “yeah, what does that have to do with anything?” i answered. “that’s when they were building the rooms. but then, when you saw them two talking that one day, that’s when they got very protective of it. all four of us have a key to the light room, which is where we do most of our pleasure. and only luke and ashton have a key to the dark room.” he said, michael beginning to speak.

my head lifted from his chest, wanting to know more about this whole thing. “ashton has rules, sweetheart. and we all have to follow them, and if we don’t, we get punished. you’ve been very well behaved these past few weeks, we haven’t needed to punish you.” michael explained. “is that why we always go to the light room when i get a reward?” i asked. “exactly, pretty girl. but, since you broke a rule, a big one too, you might be seeing the dark room sooner than we expected you to.” calum said. “does this mean i have to start calling all of you daddy again? not that i mind, but, now i’m scared.” i whispered to michael. “probably, baby. how about tonight, you sleep with me, that way you’re not too scared to see what happens in the morning.”

~

the next day, i was completely on edge. luke and ashton had come upstairs for a short period of time, but they did not acknowledge me once. it made my stomach churn and my palms sweat. i had no idea what was coming, if i were to be punished tonight. calum came and knocked on my door telling me that dinner was ready. “i don’t wanna go down there, daddy.” i whispered. “you’ll be fine, pretty girl. i’m not going anywhere, i’ll be with you the whole time. so will michael.” calum reassured me.

when we got downstairs, my eyes looked down to the floor in an instant. “that’s no way to greet us, angel. head up.” luke said sternly. “sorry, daddy.” i muttered. the whole dinner was silent and filled with tension with the only conversation being carried by calum and michael. luke and ashton kept their responses very short, or didn’t say anything at all. as soon as dinner was finished, i stayed back and cleaned up, taking a bit of stress away. “you were a good girl tonight, sweetheart, don’t worry about what luke and ashton are gonna do.” michael came up and whispered, kissing the side of my head.

once everything was cleaned, i headed back up to my room and started getting ready for bed. as soon as i put on a pair of shorts and a bralette, there was a knock on my door. and when i opened it, luke and ashton were standing outside. i didn’t know what to do or say, my mouth opened, but closed immediately. “angel, you’re gonna have to come with us. we all need to talk.” luke said, grabbing my hand and leading me out of my room. i looked back to see if michael or calum was there, but nope, it was just ashton. my heart started pounding so hard i was certain you would be able to hear it.

“you’re about to see what happens to little girls who disobey orders.” ashton finally spoke. we were finally standing in the dark room. calum and michael were sitting on the bed, both with ties in their hands. i looked around, seeing every type of torture device that was available. “you’ve been very curious to see this place, baby doll. and after yesterday, we decided you should finally find out what goes on down here.” ashton said, ushering me further into the room. “this isn’t something we were ready to show you, but after calum and michael told you about it, we figured your pretty mind was racing.” luke said. i didn’t know where to look, this was something i was not ready for in the slightest.

the dark room was red and black. multiple floggers, whips, and riding crops filled up two walls. another had different chains, rope, and tape. there was a big red and black bed in the middle of the room, gold hoops on each of the four bed posts. the ceiling had holes in it so one could be hung from it with special hand cuffs. there was a red latex couch that had candles lit around it, some sort of melting wax for the skin. there was a giant X opposite of the bed that had ties hung from each corner. there were multiple dressers in the room, each filled with different toys. there was another door that lead to another room. “w-what’s in that room?” i asked, pointing to the closed door. “you wanna find out?” ashton asked. i nodded my head and made my way to the door.

this had more whips, more ties, and just more, torture. there was no bed, no couch, but there was some sort of chair that was slouched and had arm rests with cuffs attached to them. and then what really caught my attention was a chair that had a vibrator going through it and black ties attached to all four legs of the chair. across the chair was a one way mirror, i couldn’t see out of it from this end, but on the other end you were able to see a clear view of the chair. the walls were decorated with red lights with sayings on them, along with pictures of all of us. one with calum’s hand around my throat, another with luke pulling my hair up towards his back, michael sucking on my neck, and me lying across ashton’s lap, all in black and white.

YOUR PAIN IS OUR PLEASURE

YOU ASK BEFORE SPEAKING

YOU WILL BE TREATED LIKE A SLUT

IF YOU ACT LIKE A SLUT

i had no idea that when i agreed to this relationship, this is what i would be getting myself into after breaking the big rules. i backed out of the room and closed the door behind me. “enjoy that?” luke asked. “what is all this for?” i asked. “ash, luke, go easy on her, she’s already terrified.” calum said. “you see angel, we have rules for you and we expect you to follow them at all times. the first time you got a glance at this room, ash and i both knew that you wanted to get a closer look. but all of us explicitly agreed that we wouldn’t bring you in here, unless you broke a very big rule. that’s why we always use the light room, it’s much more your speed, and we didn’t wanna corrupt our little girl just yet.” luke said. oh how i wish to be in the light room right now.

“when luke and i were down here yesterday, we never expected to see our little girl walk through those doors.” ashton said. “then, why didn’t you just show me this place the first time i walked by?” i asked. “you weren’t ready, baby doll. but you came in here yesterday, and you broke mine and luke’s number one rule.” ashton replied. “so, am i getting punished now, daddy?” i asked to all four of them. “you have to learn your lesson, angel. and if it ever gets too much, just use our safe word.” luke said. i nodded to his words. “tell us you understand, sweetheart. we need to hear you say it.” michael finally spoke. “i understand, daddy. punish me.”

i have never been punished like this. the only punishment i ever got was a few spankings from ashton, and that was because we were in the heat of the moment. “where should we start?” calum asked. “i think we hang her to the ceiling first, just give her a little taste of being whipped.” luke said. “c’mere pretty girl.” calum beckoned me over. i walked over to him, putting my hands on his shoulders. his hands dipped into the waist band of my shorts, sliding them down my legs, my panties coming with them. they then went to lift up the bra i was wearing. he ran his hand through my hair a few times, making it look a little messier than it was.

my wrists were put through two thick handcuffs, with cushioning on the inside. they were secured against the ceiling and with any movement, they just moved in a jagged motion. ashton came up to me with one of the floggers, “i am going to hit you with this until you ask me to stop, do you understand, doll?” “yes daddy, i understand.” “good girl.” he grabbed the ends of the flogger and hit it against the skin of my back. my body jolted forwards making the handcuffs move with me. i felt this motion for a while until my back was burning. “how does it feel, angel?” luke asked, tilting my chin up so i was looking him in the eyes. it definitely wasn’t as painful as i expected it to be, but they trained me to have a high pain tolerance. “g-good. it’s not as bad as i thought.” i answered. “would you rather have something more painful?” “i-i don’t know. what would it be?” i asked, wanting to know what else they would do.

luke turned to one of the walls and grabbed a thick riding crop. “how about you try this ash, don’t think she looks phased by that flogger.” luke said, handing off the crop to ashton. ashton gladly took it in his hands, coming to face me now. “same rules apply, baby doll.” he said. first, he dragged it around my body, stopping at the insides of my thighs. he slapped the insides of my thighs causing me to moan. “doesn’t feel so good now, does it?” “please, daddy, do it again.” i asked, the pain making me want more. “oh, you want more? do we have a little pain slut we never knew about?” ashton said, repeating his motions. he slip the crop up, resting it against my heat. my hips instinctively bucked upwards.

ashton quickly slapped it against my clit, my legs closing around one another. “ah ah, open up those legs.” calum said, pointing to where my thighs met. i listened to his command, opening my legs again. ashton slapped me once again. my head was thrown back in pleasure, “please, daddy.” “please, daddy what? does it feel good baby?” ashton asked, hitting me for the third time. “yes! it feels so good, fuck.” i cursed. michael came around with nipple clamps. his tongue ran along one, then the other, making them pebble to their full potential. he placed each of them between the silicon covered clams, the chain hanging beneath them. michael then began to tug on the chain while ashton continued hitting my heat with the crop.

“daddy, i-i can’t take it.” i finally admitted. my body was burning with pain and pleasure, my arms were giving out from having them held up for so long, and my legs weak from standing. “wanna get taken down?” luke asked. “yes, please.” i answered. calum came up behind me, unclipping the cuffs from the ceiling. my arms fell to my side quickly, the nipple clams still holding on. luke was tugging on the chain, making me follow him to the couch. “bend over.” ashton whispered in my ear. i placed my hands on the back of the couch, my back arching like i was taught, and legs spread. calum came back with a bottle of lube and a small butt plug. i felt the cold liquid on my second hold, my skin getting goosebumps as it trickled down to my heat. “take a deep breath for me,” calum said, spreading my flesh. i took a deep breath, feeling to cold metal slowly sink into me. a small moan left my lips when it was fully in. “how does that feel, sweetheart?” michael asked. “different, but good.” i said.

i was flipped over, my legs spread with my arms spread as well. “now, we’re going to drip some of this wax on you, and while that’s being done, luke is gonna be holding this vibrator against your clit.” calum said. luke came between my legs, letting the vibrator hit each spot on my thighs, but avoiding where he was going to put it. “daddy please, i want it.” i whined. “you want it, angel? well, bad girls don’t get what they want, they get what daddy gives them.” he said, taking the vibrator away. when luke finally placed the toy on my clit, the wax hit my chest, making me yell. the wax was hardening quickly making calum pour more across my body. my stomach began to tighten and legs were shaking around luke. “is someone gonna cum? is someone gonna ask to cum?” luke asked, holding vibrator against me harder. “yes! please daddy, can i cum? it feels so good, fuck.” i moaned. my hips were riding into the toy, the inside of my walls began clenching down on instinct.

“luke, let her cum, look at her.” michael said from behind him. my head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut, legs shaking, hips rolling, everything that i was being given was making it harder not to orgasm. luke then added two of fingers into my dripping heat, curling them upwards. “oh fuck! daddy, daddy, please, that feels so good!” “you look so pretty angel, go ahead, cum all over my fingers.” luke said, moving his hand faster. my back arched high off the couch, with the plug still inside me and with me clenching around luke’s fingers, it made everything much more pleasurable. “oh my god, fuck! don’t stop, don’t stop!” i moaned, one of my hands now tugging on the chain connected to the clamps.

“that’s a good girl, let it all out for us.” ashton said. i saw stars, my body clearly taking over with the amount of pleasure it was given. once my high came down, luke took the vibrator and fingers off of me. i sat up, taking his hand and bringing them to my lips. i sucked on the juices that were collected by his fingers, swirling my tongue around them. “that’s so fucking hot, angel.” luke moaned. “can i have a kiss, daddy?” i asked, still sucking on his fingers. luke leaned up to me, his lips connecting with mine beautifully. i moaned into the kiss, not having any contact from any of them had me aching for some. i brought my hands up to his hair, my hands getting tangled in his curls. his tongue made its way into my mouth, exploring it like it never has before. i pulled back, taking his bottom lip with me.

“don’t hog her now, luke.” calum spoke from the back. luke finally pulled back, smiling at me. “you’re being such a good girl, doll, what do you want?” ashton asked. “i want your cock daddy, please! i want you to fill me up.” i was begging now for the attention of ashton. “think you deserve it? haven’t even gotten to the fun stuff, doll.” ashton chuckled at my request. “please daddy? i just want your cock, i promise you can do whatever you want to me after.” i said, batting my eyes at him. i’ve noticed that i can easily get what i want with each of them by simply batting my eyes and asking nicely. ashton, of course, being a little harder to convince, but once i pouted my bottom lip, he easily let me have what i want.

“on the bed, doll.” ashton sighed. i had a bit of a skip in my step, finally excited to get attention from him. “someone’s eager, aren’t you?” michael said, coming up to the other end of the bed. he had a blindfold and a cup of ice in his hand. “what’s that for, daddy?” “my little pillow princess* is gonna get a little sensory overload. while ashton fucks you, i’ll be dragging this ice across your body and maybe drip some more wax on you, we won’t tell you when and you won’t be able to see it coming.” he explained. i closed my eyes and let michael put the red fabric around my head. “daddy?” i called out for ashton. “yes, pillow princess?” “am i gonna be tied up?” i asked. “do you want to be tied up?” he asked back. “please?” i said.

now, my hands were being pulled back, i’m assuming to where the gold rings were on the edge of the bed. the rope was definitely softer than i expected it to be. once they were secured, i tugged on them just to see if i would be able to break out of them, but of course, they were stuck. “our little innocent girl doesn’t look so innocent anymore, does she?” calum said. “not at all, first she could take the flogger, next thing we know she’s asking to be tied up.” luke responded. i could hear ashton’s belt buckle come loose making me smile. “haven’t fuck you in so long, baby doll, you gonna be good and take all of daddy’s cock?” “yes daddy, i’ll be a good girl.” i answered back.

ashton tapped the head of cock against me, teasing me just the slightest bit. once he was fully inside me, i could feel the burn of my walls being stretched. he started off slow, his hands grabbing onto my hips, and thrusting in and out. once ashton found his pace, michael placed an ice cube on my collar bone making me gasp. since i was blindfolded, my other senses were heightened. my body shivered once it began to melt, letting the water trickle down my skin. my legs were bent making my thighs touch my stomach, since only my arms were tied up. the new angle making ashton hit deeper inside me. “right there, daddy! oh god please, don’t stop.” i whined. more wax and ice was being dripped onto my body, making everything spin. ashton dipped his head down to my lips, letting an ice cube pass into my mouth.

“look at you, haven’t even fucked you very long and you already look destroyed. what was it baby? the flogger? no, you liked that. bet it was when luke was holding that vibrator to your pretty pussy, wasn’t it?” ashton spoke through grunts. whines were the only thing i could muster while the ice cube was melting in my mouth, water and drool saturating the sheets below my head. when ashton’s hand came to rub my clit, my back arched towards the ceiling. “are you gonna cum, doll? wanna cum all over daddy’s cock?” ashton grunted. i nodded my head and let moans escape my mouth. my legs were threatening to close around ashton’s waist, wanting to cancel out the pleasure. “if you wanna cum, you need to ask, pretty girl.” calum said, removing my blindfold.

i looked at ashton’s eyes, a darker shade of green were met with mine. i sat up as much as i could to watch the euphoric scene happening below my waist. “please, daddy, can i cum?” i asked. “show me what a good girl you are.” ashton said. he held my legs open, and began to pound ruthlessly into me. the room was filled with both of our moans and curses, along with the sound of fluids being exchanged. “oh god, daddy, thank you!” i could feel myself floating. ashton put his thumb in my mouth, making my jaw slack open. my hips were bucking up to his, his thrusts becoming sloppy once he was closer to his high. “atta girl, c’mon, scream for us.” luke praised.

i felt a tingle in every part of my body, letting nothing but pleasure run through me. i could feel ashton’s cock twitch inside me, wanting to keep going, but ultimately couldn’t. “god, you feel so fucking good, princess. fuck, do that again.” ashton moaned. when ashton’s high was at his peak, he pulled himself out of me and let his load loose across my body. both of us caught our breath, eyes closed, chests heaving. his lips gave a long kiss before pulling back. the ties on my wrists were loosed, and there was a mark where i was tugging on them. “such a good girl, you want more?” michael asked. “please, daddy. i want your mouth.” i said.

michael wasted no time in pulling my hips down to his lips. his tongue made one long stride up my heat. still sensitive from my last orgasm, my legs closed around his head. one of his arms held one of my legs open, while the other one was pushing down on my stomach. his tongue repeatedly licked my clit. with the pressure on my stomach and his tongue enclosing around the bundle of nerves, my breath hitched in my throat. my hands were twisting the sheets below us, making more of a mess than i already have. michael snuck one of his down to push the plug further into me. “oh god! daddy, do that again!” i moaned. michael repeated his actions, pushing and pulling the plug in and out of my second hole, while his tongue continued to lick my clit. “yes, yes, please. god, i wanna-” my words were cut short when michael wrapped his whole lips around my clit.

i felt the same tightening in my stomach for the third time. my legs were spazzing around michael’s head, my knuckles turning white from twisting the sheets, my back arched higher than it ever has been before. i could feel something in my stomach threatening to spill out of me. michael rode me through my third orgasm of the night, and when he came up from my legs, his chin was soaked. “made you squirt, baby.” he said, wiping his chin. my cheeks were already hot, but now they were burning. “i-i didn’t even know i could do that.” i whispered.

i could feel my body get tired, and luke and calum hadn’t even had their turn with me. i sat up from the bed, and calum came up to me. “what do you say we take that plug out of you, and replace it with something bigger.” he said. “can you take off the clamps first, daddy? they’re starting to hurt.” i pouted. “that’s the point angel, but i guess we’ll take em off.” luke said. once the clamps were finally removed from my nipples, i could tell they were sensitive. calum had me laid back on the bed again, and was kissing down my body. stopping at my breasts, and taking each nipple into his mouth. his tongue soothing the pain over them. he gingerly let his tongue roll over them, letting my body gain some consciousness to it.

he then slowly took the plug out of me. he grabbed the bottle of lube again, giving both of us a generous layer before he slid his cock into me. “oh, shit. w-wait, daddy.” i breathed. “you alright, pretty girl?” he asked. “yes, just go slow.” i whispered. calum met my request and slowly moved in and out of me. he was holding one of my legs against him, the other bent on the bed. “that’s it, pretty girl, you’re doing so well for me.” calum moaned. this was such a new feeling, i had no idea what to expect. but, it felt good nonetheless. one of hands began to rub my clit, making the pleasure intensify more. “swallowing my cock so well, look at that.” he moaned. it was a very lazy and slow pace, but i was happy with it.

“daddy, i’m almost there.” i moaned. “don’t worry, ‘m gonna get you there pretty girl.” both of my legs were now around calum’s shoulders. i felt myself start to unravel again, my hand becoming lazy and let calum take over. just small moans were now leaving my lips, i could barely muster a sentence together. “daddy, please,” i whispered. “almost there, pretty girl, c’mon you can do it.” calum encouraged. my whole body was tired, with the slightest rush of energy going through it. “oh god, yes daddy,” i finally felt the intense pleasure point that i was craving. “there she is, c’mon pretty girl, let daddy have it.” calum moaned, his own high hitting him as well. calum’s entire body shudders, back muscles flexing and biceps growing taut. he collapses on top of me, face tucking into the crook of my neck, pulling me close as he bottoms out. “fuck me.” he groggily moans.

my body was exhausted, i was sure i wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. calum gets off of me, leaving me on the bed. “angel, look at me.” luke whispers, running a hand through my hair. my eyes lazily open to him, seeing him smile down at me. “you okay? we took a lot out of you.” he said. “i’m good, didn’t use the safe word, did i?” i giggled. “no angel, you didn’t. i bet you’re extra sensitive right now, gonna let daddy have a look?” he asked. as much as i wanted to have luke fuck me into next week, i don’t think my body could take a fifth orgasm.

but, i opened my legs always for him. he was now laying on his stomach, arms wrapped around my legs, and pulling me closer to him. “it’s so pink, bet your legs will shake if i touch you, hmm?” he whispered, prepping kisses along my thighs. and he was right, when his thumb lazily started rubbing my folds, my legs shook and closed around his hand. “can you give daddy one more, angel? we’ll be done after this, and then we can take care of you.” he said, fingers already pushing my folds apart. “okay daddy, one more.” i mumbled.

he brought his fingers up to his lips, letting his saliva coat them before bringing back down to my heat. he slowly moved them against my walls with his head resting against the insides of one of my thighs. “does it feel nice, angel?” “mmhm.” “you know, you look so pretty like this.” he prepped kisses on my thighs. i was biting down on one of my fingers, just letting luke do everything to me. “daddy, i wanna cum, please, make me cum.” i begged. “don’t worry angel, daddy’ll get you what you need.” he said. his lips pecked at my clit making my hips buck towards him. “not so fast angel, let daddy do all the work.” he said. “i’m sensitive daddy, please, i’m so close.” i whimpered.

luke’s pace was only quickened the slightest bit, his fingers curling upwards again. i let a long moan out, having nothing more in me to beg. “there you are, angel, give me this last one.” he moaned with me. my walls clenched around his fingers again, my stomach now tightening up for a fifth time with the tingling sensation that i got earlier. “daddy, daddy, yes, god, please.” i moaned very quietly. once i finally released for the last time tonight, i wanted to fall asleep right on that bed.

“you are such a good girl, baby. might be a little bit of a pillow princess, but such a good girl.” ashton praised, picking me up from the bed.

so that’s the dark room.

---

tag list: @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @haikucal​ @calumftduke​ @bettermcn​

also thank you @floral-suits​ for originally helping me come up with this idea, and talking about it with harry 

#calum hood smut #ashton irwin smut #luke hemmings smut #michael clifford smut #calum hood imagine #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings imagine #michael clifford imagine #calum hood preference #ashton irwin preference #luke hemmings preference #michael clifford preference #calum hood 5sos #ashton irwin 5sos #luke hemmings 5sos #michael clifford 5sos #calum hood #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford #calum #ashton #luke #michael #ch #ai #lh #mc #5 seconds of summer smut #5 seconds of summer imagine

[americasmarauders]

American Pie--Jason Todd.

author’s note: this has been on my drafts for an eternity. I finished this out of pure self-pressure and shame instileld by a tag game @batarella tagged me. I literally finished this in the treadmill, which I found is my favorite place to write.I wanna thank @batarella and @offendedfishnoises for being real troopers and encouraging me and proofreading this. 

words: 2284

Beware: curse words (cause i’m a potty mouth), Jason being a shy pinning boy. I reccomend you listen to (or at least look at the lyrics for) American Pie by Don McLean and OUr Song by Taylor Swift.

Silence.

         Excruciating silence. That was what Jason remembered from death.

         He remembered thinking ‘This will be the day that I die,’ before the world turning black and silence overtook his entire being killing what was left of his soul.

         After that it is all he remembered: silence.

        He used to think music was everything. When he was bored, he used to bolt out to the most random songs in his room at the Wayne Manor, to the point of an angry Bruce storming to his room and quietly turning down the volume.

        It took him a while to look fondly at those memories, and he still wasn’t sure if he did look at them like that. He was at the point of just thinking of them as just that: memories so far away from who he was, he considered them to belong to a different person entirely.

        Music just didn’t hold the same wonder and joy as it did. Jason didn’t belt out whatever song he wanted anymore, he just idly stood by as any song came on whatever radio he was listening while he waited on his patrols.

        It was like the music died with him.

        He sipped his drink as a light jazzy tune sounded in the background of his mind. He didn’t pay any attention to it, rather he was engrossed in his own sorrow to listen to any of the diner’s songs.

        He hummed in indifference, looking up from his cup and looking around. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the diner was mostly empty. There was a girl in the back, messing with the jukebox. Jason took a good look at her.

        She was wearing a plaid skirt, with a bright orange cropped blouse. She wore her hair loose. She looked too engrossed in her song choice to realize anyone looking at her. He glanced at the table next to her: filled with books and old cups he assumed were once filled with coffee.

        He heard an angry curse and saw her shaking aggressively the jukebox. “You, know,” he spoke up, “I’m not an expert on jukeboxes or anythin’ but I’m pretty sure that’s not how they work.”

        She looked at him bewildered. She narrowed her eyes at him, almost as if she were trying to dissect him in a split second. “This machine swallowed my quarter and will not let me select a song.”

        He abandoned his cup and got up, heading towards the weird lady. “Let me see if I can help.”

        She stepped aside and left room for him to see what happened. “By all means.”

        He quickly analyzed it. He glanced at the woman next to him, her arms crossed over her chest, meticulously analyzing what Jason was doing. He hit the spot next to the coin slot and heard the coin going down the mechanism. He got up and said: “There. All fixed.”

        “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying forever to get this thing to work and you come here and just make it work in seconds.” She turned to the jukebox and muttered, “Don’t you love me anymore, you silly machine?”

        Jason laughed. “I’m Jason,” he said, extending his hand.

        She took it and shook it. “I’m Y/N.”

        “Well,” Jason stated awkwardly, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

        “No, wait!” she said. “Sit with me. I see you’re there all alone, and I need someone to listen to my thesis,” she explained. “You seem like a nice guy, you know? What do you say? I’ll buy you a milkshake,” she smiled.

        Jason pondered. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. And maybe a little company would do him well. She seemed perfectly nice, albeit a little weird. Why not?

        “What are you working on?” he said, sitting opposite to where she was.

        She smiled and went on and on about her research. To be completely honest, Jason only understood about half of what she was saying, and every time he made a funny face she would pause and patiently explain it again until his face melted into something resembling understanding. She would smile at him, and his heart hiccupped every time she did.

        She bought him a drink, and they stayed at the diner for a while. Jason discovered she wasn't from Gotham--not that it was hard to see, she had invited a complete stranger to sit with her in a shady diner in one of the worst neighborhoods of the city. She was a student, getting her master's in something too complicated to explain in the hours they spent together. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she talked about her research. Jason liked that.

        He offered to walk her home. She refused. He smiled and gave her a knowing look. "Listen, I'm sure you know Gotham ain't a safe city,” he said. "Imagine it at night," he should know. He was a witness and victim of the horrors of Gotham.

        She budged. He carried her books for her. She seemed grateful. She tried the whole afternoon to get him to talk about himself. Jason didn't want to scare her off, so he gave her the bare minimum. Do you have a degree? No, but I'd like to. What do you do? I'm a freelancer. Do you have any siblings? No.

        Looking back at the moment she stood in front of her building, lit by streetlights, eyes twinkling with something Jason wouldn't recognize until much later, he knew he should have kissed her. He shouldn't have held her at arm’s length for so long. Alas, he had. He didn't kiss her. She says he was a perfect gentleman. He knows that. It doesn't mean he doesn't have regrets.

        She gave him her phone number. "I liked talking to you. If you're ever around the diner again, call me. I'll save all the good stuff for you," she winked. He laughed. He saved her phone number as if it was the most precious thing in the world. It kinda was.

 #

#

He texted her. He went to the diner, intentionally. He had to see her.

        No, he didn't. He didn't have to see her. If he didn't, it would have been another 'what if' of his life. He would survive, and maybe regret that he had chosen what he had chosen. The difference was he wanted to see her. And he hadn't done something he wanted in a very long time.

        He was the first to arrive. He sat by the window, looking at the city. The sun was setting, there was an orange glow illuminating the diner. He awkwardly fiddled with his straw, stirring the milkshake (strawberry as always, he wasn't an animal like Tim) calmly. He heard the bell ringing.

        She walked in and Jason swore she was an angel. The light hugged her, and he thought she was there to save him. Save him from himself, from the nightmares, from his job, from his trauma. She smiled at him and he was goner. Second time seeing her and he was gone. He fell for her.

        She was wearing glasses, her hair tied, sweatpants and a Gotham University t-shirt. Her bag hung from her shoulder, her hand wrapped tightly around the strap.  She wasn’t nowhere near as dressed up as last time he saw her. It didn't matter. She was beautiful either way. She fixed her glasses as she sat in front of him.

        She ordered some tea, and Jason thought who orders tea in a diner. She did. Y/N was extraordinary that way.  She said she had thought about him. He somehow believed her. He smiled back at her and sipped his milkshake.

        “I brought you something,” she said. She dug through her purse and took out a book.  She slid it to him over the table. His hands unfurled from his cup and grabbed it. His eyes skimmed over the hardcover. Shakespeare’s Sonnets. A rare edition at that. “I think you might've read it already,” she shrugged. “You mentioned you liked Shakespeare. I was walking through a book shop near the University and I saw this edition and I thought of you.”

        Jason flipped through the book, the smell of dust filing his senses. That was the smell of a good book. A book that had seen many lives. He loved it. He looked at her, her eyes expecting a reaction of him. He offered her a shy smile. She took it and her smile was so bright it almost blinded him. “Thank you. I—I— It’s very thoughtful of you.”

        “You’re welcome, Jason,” she replied. “I thought you would like it.”

        “Yeah,” he breathed out. He held back once again. He wanted to tell her that he loved it.  That it was probably one of the best gifts he had ever received. “I liked it.”

        She reclined on the seat and smirked. “It’s quiet here, isn’t it?” she said.  Jason looked at her quizzically, his hands resting on the book. He saw her get up from her seat, a coin on her hand. She put the quarter on the jukebox and selected a song. She seemed proud of herself as Jason watched her with nothing but wonder. She sat in front of him again, as a piano played on the background and a voice of a man sounded through the tune.

        “I love this song,” she stated. “Don’t you?”

        Jason shrugged. “I don’t know it.”

        She was shocked. “You don’t? That’s a first. Someone that doesn’t know ‘American Pie’.”

        “Isn’t that a movie?” he asked. With the limited popular culture knowledge he had, he still knew some things.

        “Yes it is, but it was a song before that. By Don McLean. 1971,” she hummed with the tune. “It’s like poetry.”

        He gave her a funny face. “I hardly think it’s like poetry.”

        She gasped, pretending to be offended. “Betrayal,” she whispered, but soon after she smiled. “It’s because you’re not appreciating it enough,” she answered. She grabbed another quarter of her purse and got up. She pointed to him as she walked to the jukebox. “Listen to it and pay attention.”

        “Fine,” Jason huffed. He didn’t want to tell her that his appreciation for music had died with him. Not yet.

        He listened to it. Really did. Truthfully, he hadn’t understood a single word of what he meant, but Y/N seemed happy that at least he had somewhat liked the song. It was catchy. But he would hardly classify it as poetry. 

        "I'll convince you. Music is everything," she said. 

        So it began her quest to culture Jason, as she called it. He found it endearing to say the least. His judgement was seriously clouded. 

        She would send recommendations to him, writing extensively how these songs were everything to her. Because of that Jason would pay extra attention to it. 

        It felt strangely personal to listen to them with them in mind. It was like listening to a part of her soul. It might as well be that. She was entrusting him with a part of her, and he wasn't exactly worthy of that. 

        He felt dangerously unprotected around her. Jason was constantly toying with the line between keeping up his eccentric bad boy façade and opening his heart to her. Who was he kidding? He already had opened his heart to her. He just hadn't told her yet. He didn't know if he was going to. 

        Reading the sonnets suddenly felt extremely personal too. It wasn't about appreciating art anymore. He was living the love poems. He was feeling everything Shakespeare was describing. Desperation rose in him the first time he realized that. 

        How was he supposed to continue with his job--oh God, his job--when there was someone out there that cared if he was dead or alive? How was he going to blackmail a drug lord when he himself could be blackmailed? What was he going to say to Bruce? What was he supposed to do?

        A soft pop song played on the radio. They were going through pop songs now. Y/N had said it was imperative that he'd listen to Taylor Swift. And Jason could admit she had a point. 

        As he drove through the quiet highway, his hand itched to hold hers. They were driving to Metropolis. She had said there was an exhibit that they couldn't miss. A science exhibit. Jason didn't care for science, but she did, and seeing her with that glint in her eyes was the best part of his day. 

        Fuck it, he thought. His hand left the shift and encapsulated hers. He could feel her gaze on him, he knew she was smiling. His heart almost jumped out of his chest. Thank God, he was alive. 

        She turned down the volume of the song. His eyes shifted to hers for a second, her expression neutral. "What's wrong?" He said, his voice bordering desperation. 

        "We don't have a song," she said, quietly. "We don't have a song," she repeated. 

        Jason's worry dissipated into thin air, and he opened a smile. "Of course we do."

        "How? I don't remember ever--" she trailed off, looking confused at him. His eyes once again went to her, his smile soft. 

        "How about laughs, the soft sound of cars outside? The jazzy tune you always play on the fucking jukebox," he heard her laugh, his hands squeezed hers. "Reciting poems, you rambling about whatever you discovered? Huh?" he hummed. "That's our song."

        She smiled at him one again. And that was when he knew what he was supposed to do. 

        He was supposed to live. And he was going to live with her by his side. 

author’s note: here is the link to my masterlist and  the link to my jason playlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd #red hood x reader #Red Hood X y/n #red hood #red hood x oc #my masterlist

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Trials and Tributes (Complete)

Summary:  

"There were witches who lived among them. Or so that's what Levi was told. He just could not believe for the life of him that she'd be one of them."

Levi is a soldier who interrogates witches before they are put on trial and Hange might just be a witch.

Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @cleacourgette 

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters:   1 2 3 4 5

Notes: Merry Christmas! @cleacourgette. Here is the completed story.

Although I did some research on this, I don't think I would have been able to pull this story off without taking some liberties on my end history-wise. If you've read Rangers Apprentice, you might find some slight Easter eggs here since I based a lot of the medieval setting from medieval fiction more than actual medieval history. I hope you enjoy this though! 

There were witches who lived among them. Or so that was what Levi was told.

Their powers manifested in the occasional droughts, the famines and most notably for Levi the plague that had taken his mother from him. That plague and the aftermath was what had him moving into a cabin with his uncle at the tender age of eight and training to be an assassin.

Having lived most of his young life in that small cabin, as a kid, Levi was never really able to pinpoint when exactly humanity decided to fight back against the witches. A few times his uncle had brought him to the square to watch the trials which usually ended with a witch being burned at stake or a witch being thrown into the sea.

As a child, he had felt his gut clench watching the desperate faces of the women tied to the stake as the flames licked at them for a few minutes before they started to consume them alive. By the time the flames did morph into a carnivorous tiger ready to devour its prey alive, young Levi would look away--- every single time.

That was more than a decade ago. Levi had seen more than enough trials and the crimes the women were accused of and the angry fathers and the crying mothers who broke down while they testified the crimes were more than enough for Levi to understand the need for retribution and King Fritz’s declaration to rid the word of witches.

They were responsible for the plague that had taken the first son of the parents, the child that had wandered into the forest and was eaten by a boar and the crop shortage in one village that had caused their downfall.

As the king’s right hand man and most trusted soldier, Levi stood at every single trial and every single execution. Compared to back when he was a kid, he at least had the stomach to look the witch in the face every time. His heart still clenched as he had made eye contact with them or caught the moment their eyes went dark as the flames consumed them.

It could just be their powers. If the witches had the power to start plagues and cause chaos in villages then they probably had the power to manipulate hearts too. Levi had to remind himself of just that every time he felt that bitter taste in his mouth at every witch they had executed.

It was a painful scene to watch every single time, only leaving Levi mentally exhausted and so mentally distraught that he would have preferred to have spent the day shooting a thousand arrows with the hardest bow or to do a thousand swings with the heaviest sword in the weaponry.

Instead of closing his heart to them though, he ended up doing the complete opposite.

He made sure to see a human in every single one of them. Willing himself to see it was a small, personal yet excruciatingly painful challenge Levi forced on himself every time. The more he allowed himself to sympathize, the more he would be able to get to know himself and his emotions and consequently the better he’d be able to stop himself from being manipulated when it mattered.

It was a lesson on mental constitution and loyalty towards his cause. Levi was determined to stand for it, unwavering. Levi found himself talking to them before they stood on trial, learning their back stories. Some had gone crazy denying accusations and even attacking him. Others had just laughed it off. Others have even remained catatonic.

Levi had become familiar with the many ways witches handled the accusations and the impending trial. The sights and sounds of witches and the way they had all handled their impending trials were all gut wrenching but routine. And routine was the only reason why Levi was able to stop himself from planning an escape route for every one of them.

Routines---like rules and all other things--- are meant to be broken and for most people, will be broken eventually. For Levi, it was broken when he entered that same interrogation room to catch a whiff of that scent. Levi had relied so easily on the sights and sounds, on the tears on the witches’ faces and their desperate final screams. Nothing had prepared him for the way witches could smell and the faint scent she had exuded as he entered the room. It only left Levi a little taken aback and maybe a little vulnerable.  

Others would have probably described it as flowery. To others it would have been fruity.

To Levi, those two scents were just too intertwined. If he did have to sum it up into one word, he would have just said ‘different’. It was fruity. Yet it was also flowery. The most glaring part about that scent though was the way it chilled the air closest to him. It entered his nostrils as a cool wind every time and even during the hottest days of summer, it would be winter in his nostrils. It was cold yet it smelled of late spring and early summer. So unnatural. So unique. Maybe that was what made it easy for Levi to connect that scent to one from some buried memory long ago.

Even before he took in the unkempt brown hair hastily tied up and those hazel eyes as they looked up at him, just by her scent, Levi knew for sure who it was and where they had met.

But why is she here? Levi thought to himself as he made eye contact with her.

“You sure she’s a witch?”

“She was captured in your hometown sir. In the nearby woods.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Of course she’d be there. That’s where I found her so many years ago. That’s where I fucking grew up.

The guard tensed up. “Sincerest apologies Mr. Ackerman. I don’t know the exact details. They will be made public in the trial.”

“Give us time and space then. I’ll ask her myself.”

“But sir, you mustn't stay too near. She might hex you.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk,” Levi said tersely as he settled himself on the seat in front of her.

“Sir, you’re our best weapon in the army. We ca--”

“It’s an order.”

The guard may have been a few years older than Levi. The latter had proven himself to be a competent fighter on multiple occasions, putting himself in a rank much higher above most of the soldiers. He never took advantage of it. Until that moment. Somehow, it felt like it was a risk worth taking.

Her face had matured yet the glint of mischief and wonder in her eyes had remained. He took in the view in front of him and indulged in the wave of nostalgia that came with it.

"Is the herb garden still there? Did you finally put borders around it so people wouldn’t mistake it for weeds?" He started with questions only she would have answered correctly.

                ��                   Trials and Tributes

Levi carefully trudged through the soil. The boots Kenny had given him actually worked to mask the sound of foot rubbing on earth and the spray of the sun as he did. It wasn’t enough though, the grass seemed particularly eager to announce the entrance of any human who stepped on them.

With every blade of grass he stepped on, he was probably killing more of them. It’s only natural that anyone would want their murderer caught red-handed.

Imagining the grass beneath him at least had some sentience was a small thought Levi decided to play with, having gotten tired of doing the same drills alone everyday since Kenny had left a week ago for a mission.

At that point, Levi was still learning to stay silent. The cloak he was given did a good job giving a base at which to work with. In the end though, it was only the weapon. A weapon is only as valuable as its user and while Levi still struggled to master the art of silent movement, the cloak can only be too valuable too.

The change was gradual but from the short patches of grass, Levi found himself entering an area where the grass shot up closer to his shins. The longer the grass was, the more challenging it would be to breeze through it silently. There was just more area for the grass to brush against, rustling and consequently making the sounds Levi had so wanted to avoid.

He had made at least a few feet, completely satisfied by the fact that he had not made an embarrassingly loud rustle just yet.

Just yet. Maybe he had been a little too careless or a little too excited. Maybe for a second he had been so into his little daydreams about grass being obsessed with justice that he had failed to notice the rustles, then the angry footsteps. It was only when the warm air was right on his neck did he realize he had been the one who had failed to notice that he was still very loud.  

“Hey! Get off my herb garden!”

                                   Trials and Tributes

“No. I’m not putting them in cages.”

I want them to grow freely. Putting up borders makes them look like caged animals. She had explained before that putting up fences and borders around plants had only made her heart hurt similarly for them as she had done for the many animals she’d seen in cages as a kid.

Witches were evil. All they caused were chaos, death, destruction. They were all in the testimonies he had watched so many times before. The proclamations by King Fritz.

Levi could not believe that someone with that much empathy for anything living could be what she was being arrested for.

Why did they arrest you? He’d find out the reason soon enough during the trial.

“What were you doing when they arrested you?” It was a question with an answer which was so commonly and easily twisted by the guards assigned to catch the witches that Levi always felt it so necessary to ask it to them directly

“I was in my cabin, mixing poultices and potions.”

My cabin. Somehow, the way she had said it brought Levi back to that isolated cabin in the woods he would visit when Kenny wasn’t home. He lived a little too far from the town square and had been swamped with combat training. He had craved for some company, ideally someone his age and she who lived in that little cabin surrounded by herbs had been the only one he could turn to.

“Poultices and potions for what?”

“Healing."

"Healing who?"

"The townspeople."

Levi could not help but smile. “Why am I not surprised that you got into that type of work.”

Of course, she has always been good at that.

                                     Trials and Tributes

“And this is why you shouldn’t be using a bow and arrow for that long.”

Levi bit his lip and looked away. The last thing he had wanted her to see was the tears he was fighting to keep in, just in case they did come out. He had had enough cuts, injuries and even close calls with death to know how many ways the body can get fucked over by nature and man made objects. Blisters ranked up there among the most painful wounds and  stubbing one’s toe.  

She was gentle though when she had wrapped the bandages. The poultice she had put on his blisters surprisingly did not sting. In fact within minutes, the stinging pain had calmed into something dull and easily forgettable.

“Did you make it yourself?” Levi observed more closely the interior of the cabin. There were glass bottles lined up on the wall with different liquids and preserved matter in them. He had been there many times already but it was only then, as he finally got to experience the healing powers of the liquids first hand did he really allow himself a good look at the room.

So many poultices and potions were lining the walls yet Levi had never seen anyone else in the cabin. He eventually figured out that was the only logical explanation. He was sure though she was only early into her teenage years, just like he was.

“Yes. I made everything here myself,” She answered, only confirming his suspicion.

“For what?”

“For fun. What else is there to do here?”

Share it to the world. Levi had wanted to say. He kept it to himself though. The way her face darkened as she asked that question only made Levi think that it was something he shouldn’t pry on her. When he did think about it, someone as friendly as her would not have lived in isolation against her will. Something must have happened.

“So what happens to the poultices you make?”

“They just sit here and when they go bad, I throw them away.”

Levi felt a second hand pain at the thought of wasting such effective ingredients. “Would you mind if I came back here more? So at least someone could use them?”

She beamed. “I would honestly love it if you did.”

                                   Trials and Tributes

“You look like you’ve grown since then,” she gave him a naughty smile. “Maybe an inch?”

“Watch your mouth. You’ll be going on trial soon,” Levi said sternly. He knew the smile which so naturally crept up his lips betrayed the tone of his voice. She had made that same joke many times before.  

“I meant you’ve changed,” she clarified.

“Of course, I have. How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Wow? That long? I’ve waited for you that long?” Her eyes widened in surprise. The brunette stood up and slammed her hands on the table. It was loud and maybe the way she stared at him and slammed her feet on the table was a little chaotic. They had dealt with crazier witches though and the guards did not even bother to peek in.  

Levi bit his lip, quelling the guilt inside him. He still remembered, he did promise her they’d meet again. I mean, we did meet again right? Levi thought wryly to himself as he considered the circumstances of their reunion. He had considered visiting a long time before. But the three day walk or the one day carriage ride just did not seem worth it, especially since he had gotten busier with work.  

“You said you’d be back. I had faith we’d meet again. I just didn’t think we’d meet like this.”

                                       Trials and Tributes

His uncle Kenny had been missing for over two years. He should have seen it coming. His uncle had said so himself multiple times, he was not fit to be a father.

The one thing that had made the isolation all the more bearable was the cabin only a ten minute walk away. They had gotten closer over time and Levi started to feel more and more at home when he’d stop by after a long day of training to get his cuts and blisters treated.

Every month, he would still make the long trek to the nearest town once or twice. That was where the opportunity to enlist in the king’s army made itself known to him. They had sold the idea as one for glory, for money. Levi saw it as something else.

The training his uncle had given him from sneaking skills, archery skills, knife throwing and combat skills had to have been for something. As the town crier stood on his platform  announcing the call for manpower for the next war, Levi’s mind was racing. Maybe it was an opportunity to find his uncle. Maybe it would be a good chance to see the world. Maybe it was a way to find out the origins of the witches that took his mother away from him so many years ago.

He knew though, to answer the many questions running through his head, he had to find a way out of their small village. The easiest way lay in front of him as King’s army enlistment. The town crier prattled on about free transportation, free weapons, free training and the opportunity to live a life of luxury in the capital but Levi did not listen. He had already made his decision.

“So you’ve finally decided to leave huh?” She didn’t bother to hide the disappointment on her face as she placed a mug of tea in front of him.

“There are just some questions I need answered. Can’t do it here.”

“Yeah, should have known. Nobody would want to live in a cabin in the woods their whole lives.”

“Why don’t you go with me?”

“I’ve told you before. I can’t leave.” She avoided his gaze. Why had she never left the woods?  He had asked that question so many times before, only for the conversation to shift elsewhere.

“You’ll come back though right?”

“Of course. I grew up here. This is still my home.”

“Then I’ll wait.” She went towards the cupboards, took something out, walked back to him and pressed it on his palm.

Levi could only stare.

“Why do you look so dumbstruck? It’s a poultice.” She explained. “You’ve tried everything else I’ve made. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why your aim is so good now.” She noted playfully.

Levi had to nod as she said that. Ever since he had started taking her potions and applying her poultices, he improved remarkably as a fighter. “What’s this one for though?”

“It can soothe pain, sores. I thought you’d need it fighting a war.”

He only needed to open the bag slightly for the scent to waft out and fill the room.

“It’s pretty strong so you’ll only need a pinch every time you’re injured,” She said as she quickly pulled the drawstring bag closed again. She was too late though. The strong scent had already settled in the air. “It’s my favorite. Definitely the one I’m most proud of. And you can get a free refill when you come back. Maybe I can even make a better one.” She smiled ruefully. “You promise you’ll be back though right?”

“Promise.”

                                         Trials and Tributes

The room had smelled just like the poultice when he had closed the door on her. That was the one poultice that saw him through the two year war, then three more years working for the military. Maybe that was why at that moment when he laid eyes on her in the interrogation room, it had brought him such a wave of nostalgia, making him recognize her almost instantly.

“Did something happen?”  His superior asked within a second of Levi entering his office. It was just like Erwin to know something was not routine at first glance.

“Hm?”  

“This last visit to the prison took you longer than usual. And you seemed a little distracted when you entered  my office.”

Levi looked out the window. The sun was far past the horizon already and the sky was too dark to even make out shapes against it. The prison was underground so it was a little more difficult to notice the passage of time there. He couldn’t help but note though that that was the first time he had come out of there to see that it was dark outside.

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Levi had rehearsed his lines on the way up. Only the king would be able to give him permission to do what he wanted to do and the only person who could convince the king was his superior Erwin. He trusted Erwin but from his eyes, his request seemed so out of character, he could not even predict how Erwin would react. With Erwin’s comment though, he had given Levi a good opening to ask.

It’s now or never. “I want to handle the trials of the witch I met in the prison today. The one who came from my hometown.”

“Hange Zoe?”

That was her whole name? Years ago, he had only ever called her by her first name Hange. He had even forgotten her first name. During the meeting, he had been so focused on how they had both changed, the promise he had failed to meet and the circumstances of their reunion. As his mind raced trying to process that piece of crucial information, Levi could manage a nod.

“I guessed there might have been something between you too. Your hometown was a pretty small place.” Just like Erwin to be a little sharper. “Also, this is strange. You never really wanted to get involved in the actual trials and executions. Until now.”

Levi was trusted enough by the king and the military for his presence to always be requested in every trial and every burning. Every trial had left his chest a little heavier and his mouth a little more bitter-tasting. Erwin had at least noticed that enough to never request Levi to be there to facilitate it.    

Regardless of his lack of history with any of those witches who had gone on trial, a heavy chest and a bitter taste in his mouth were always there, maybe they were even just the bare minimum of what he felt with every trial.

Compared to many of the others he had interrogated though, he had a history with that Hange Zoe. Levi knew he would be taking a risk. “She might just be the witch who was responsible for my mother’s death. I want to be there in the frontlines when justice is served,” he answered.

And that was a risk he was willing to take.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levihansecretsanta #levihanss2020

[royalynx]

(   *  💀  /  daniel ezra, cis male, he/him  )  —  is that kingsley shacklebolt i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty two year old gryffindor, returning for their seventh school year, but their friends would tell you that they are grounded & commanding as well as opinionated & strong-willed. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re pureblood, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: the calming presence in the back of the room, muggle records hidden in drawers, steaming mugs of tea, the warmth of a hug, the burn of quiet fury.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Luke Cage (Jessica Jones), Kingsley Shacklebolt (Books: Order of the Phoenix through Deathly Hallows), Jake Reilly (Private Practice), Terry Jeffords (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Alphonso ‘Mack’ Mackenzie (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Matt Simmons (Criminal Minds), Odafin Tutuola (Law and Order: SVU), Spencer James (All American).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ???

LINKS: Pinterest (Coming Soon). Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Kingsley Akiel Shacklebolt

nicknames ➵ King; Kings; Kas; Shack; Shacklebolt; Royal

pronouns ➵ he/him/his

orientation ➵ bisexual biromantic

birthdate / age ➵ May 8th, 1957, 15:32 am / 22 years old

birthplace ➵ Birmingham, England

childhood home ➵ Birmingham, England

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ atheist

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 10 1/2 inches / 179 cm

weight ➵ 78 kg / 171lb

body type ➵ mesomorph ( athletic; generally hard body; well defined muscles; rectangular shaped body; strong; gains muscle easily; gains fat easily )

hair ➵ black, shaved/cropped 

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ ambidextrous

FC ➵ Daniel Ezra

voice ➵ Daniel Ezra

special characteristics ➵

tattoo of a lion on the back of his neck that roars when danger is near

acne scars on cheeks

perfect posture

smells of ➵

broom wax

toothpaste

lavender, anise, basil, bergamot and lemon; geranium, ylang-ylang and jasmine; oakmoss, vetiver, tonka bean, patchouli, vanilla and sandalwood - Brut by Faberge

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ taurus sun (x); virgo rising; virgo moon

MBTI ➵ ISTJ (“The Logistician”)

positive traits ➵  grounded; commanding; courageous; considerate; observant; dedicated; forbearing to an almost mind-boggling degree; put-together; knowledgeable; self-reliant.

neutral traits ➵ fearless; calming; stolid; diplomatic; paternalistic.

negative traits ➵ opinionated; strong-willed; quiet; stubborn; high-minded; aloof to some; reticent; stoic; overcritical; has very high expectations of himself & others.

likes ➵ playing Quidditch; freshly baked bread; playing Gobstones at 3am; a warm bed; muggle record players; purple; watching the sea; forehead kisses; DADA; organized notes; wearing rings; honeycakes; David Bowie; dragonhide boots; chocolate frogs; firedrakes; Charms; Firewhiskey; watching the fire in the Gryffindor common room; twenty; red wine; laughing with Frank and Alastor; Transfiguration; The Beatles; his sister

dislikes ➵ legilimency; bigotry; raisins in chocolate; Divination; messy desks; foggy London; Sacred 28; people flaking on him; his team losing Quidditch matches; pumpkin juice; using school brooms; sushi; magic quills; pixies; History of Magic; the treatment of squibs by wizarding society; muddy orange; gigglewater; the texture of mushrooms; feeling unsettled; licorice; rollercoasters; toads; the word mudblood; Turkish delight

amortentia ➵

freshly cut grass

roast chicken dinner

aftershave

sandalwood

M A G I C

blood status ➵ pureblood

wand ➵ Alder wood with cherry trailed over the front like the path of a river, or a lightning bolt, White River Monster spine core, 14 and a 1/4 inches, solid

whilst Alder makes for an unyielding wood, its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. (Cherry, a very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.) The use of a  White River Monster spine produced spells of force and elegance. 

patronus ➵ Lynx

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Gryffindor, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Gryffindor Prefect / September 1980 - June 1981

Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team / September 1979 - June 1981

Gryffindor Chaser / October 1975 - June 1981

Charms Club / September 1975 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1978 - June 1981

Slug Club / December 1977 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

Arithmancy - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - O

now studying Alchemy ( predicted an O )

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

strawberry allergy

pets ➵ 

Archimedes; the family owl ( great horned owl )

handwriting ➵ Sebastian Bobby

F A M I L Y

Ora Shacklebolt (nee Kayoude) ➵ paternal grandmother; socialite; alive

Kingsley Shacklebolt I ➵ grandfather; Wizengamot member; alive

Yara Audley (nee Idowu) ➵ maternal grandmother; homeschooled; apothecary worker; alive

Akiel Audley ➵ maternal grandfather; homeschooled; Quidditch supply store owner; alive

Alaric Shacklebolt I ➵ father; Gryffindor; Senior Auror for the DMLE; alive

Meera Shacklebolt ➵ mother; homeschooled (opted out of attending Ilvermorny / Hogwarts); apothecary worker; alive

Eralia Audley ➵ maternal aunt; homeschooled; Senior Assistant to the Jamaican Minister of Magic; alive

Gabrielle Shacklebolt ➵ paternal aunt; Hufflepuff; Ministry employee; alive

Edward Shacklebolt (took wife’s name) ➵ paternal uncle; Hufflepuff; job; alive

Khenan Shacklebolt ➵ paternal uncle; Ravenclaw; curse breaker for Gringotts; alive

Kingsley Akiel Shacklebolt (II) ➵ self; Gryffindor; Future Senior Auror for the DMLE; alive

Bianca Omnira Shacklebolt ➵ sister; fifth year Ravenclaw; unknown future; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

his parents used to say he was born for diplomacy. that’s what they’d drilled into him since he was born: fight the good fight, be honest and good and stay calm, always. they can only catch you off guard when you aren’t. he’d always been somewhat of a natural diplomat — the oldest child, expectations hung from his shoulders as if they were coats and he, a coat rack. he’d always been a quiet child, somewhat unassuming, almost shy, content to play and be alone, often found even as a baby, simply amusing himself with his fist over crying, wailing for attention. when they attended the galas and balls befitting of a family part of the sacred 28, little changed. in fact, he was praised for it — how level-headed he was, even when all he wanted to do was scream and shout and set fire to the curtains by the window to stop them yammering on about the importance of blood purity and their precious, precious privilege, how he smiled politely and shook hands and never, ever made a scene. he hated them. he hated every last one of them. their fake smiles and empty eyes, how they hated for no reason and believed themselves to be superior — a kernel of a fallacy that kingsley, even as a child, could never subscribe to.

but kingsley was nothing if not a good man, and a good son, and so, he stayed silent — at least, to everyone who never crossed the boundaries of their home. to them, kingsley was a young wizard who showed particular promise in their circle, but to those who saw him at home, his internal torture over it was obvious. he had muggle neighbours, even muggle friends, people who made him laugh and gave his parents presents when his beloved baby sister was born, and he could not abide the dual life his parents were living. when they were home, they were tolerant — amused, even, by the muggles they surrounded themselves with, something his mother always said was to keep them grounded, because she’d already lost one sibling to pureblood mania and refused to lose herself, or her husband, or either of her children. when they were at the galas, they were cold, a little aloof, they laughed along with jokes at muggles expenses, they shook hands, ate appetisers, danced and never seemed to show any remorse for the roles they had to play those nights, though he knew they had to feel guilty (he hoped they felt guilty.) he knew they felt they had to do it to survive — to thrive, even, in a world in which they weren’t always welcome, but he hates it.

he loves his family. kingsley loves them with every part of him, loves his younger sister with his entire heart, is never not seen at home without her practically hanging off his ankles, and then his knees, and then his hips, until she’s too tall and too old for that, he loves his mother and relishes her hugs and the way she always knows what to say to make him feel better, he loves his father and that deep, slow river of calm that seems to run through him, the same river kingsley has always felt took root in him, but he hates their legacy. he hates their part in the sacred twenty eight. he hates every part of it. he hates that they agreed to this — to what feels like a mortal lock, an unbreakable vow, tying themselves to this until the end of time. he hates that he understands why — their blood runs pure, he knows, in other wizards standards, but knowing what the sacred twenty eight stands for? what it really represents? kingsley thinks that their blood is the blood that’s dirty, that they’re the ones who ought to be ashamed of themselves for their existence, that they’re the ones who value opulence and power over people’s lives and that makes them wrong and evil and undeserving of their magic. it’s the first time — the only time — his parents have ever seen him truly angry — he remembers it well, being fourteen and all uncontrolled fury for the first time, how the quiet anger had burned and swelled under his skin until he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and how he’d made all the glass windows in the dining room shatter, the glass raining like sand when his father waved it away with a swish of his wand, kingsley’s chest heaving as he yells, raging against their indifference, feeling oddly soothed when his mother pulls him into his arms and whispers that she’s sorry. she’s sorry. she knows, she knows. he wishes that were enough — that apology, that acknowledgement that they were — are — hypocrites.

even still, his love for his family, flaws and all, remains, though he’s slowly pulled back from any engagement with the pureblood world over the years. he’s very proud to be his father’s son — the son of an auror, recipient of the order of merlin second class — and his mother’s. he’s proud to be his sister’s big brother, her protector. he’s even more proud when he gets his letter to hogwarts, confirming what they all already knew — magic is strong in the shacklebolt family. he picks up the family wand, purchased in america in the early 1920s — alder with cherry trailed over the front like the path of a river, or a lightning bolt, white river monster spine core, fourteen and a quarter inches, solid — and he feels a piece of himself slots firmly into place. hogwarts is where his father went, where his father’s father went (over ilvermorny), and though he can no longer pretend to be complacent to their every whim in regards to the sacred twenty eight (something which both his parents have since begun to shun), he knows getting sorted into gryffindor would make them both proud, and that’s what he wants, so that’s what be did — the bat barely touched his head before declaring him a gryffindor. even now, as a twenty two year old seventh year on the brink of graduating into a fully fledged war, he wants to make them proud. he wants to be a pillar of strength, safety, tolerance, love, support, he wants to be the friendly face ushering people to safety, he wants to be the one raining hellfire down on the prejudiced idiots who think that they’re any different to anyone else, with magic or without, on this planet, that they’re superior in any way because of their blood.

#revelio.intro #kingsley; #i hate this graphic #but i am not remaking it bc it took me 50 years to find an image #skdjfnsdkfjnsdf

[bruh--wtf]

A Message

Thomas x Reader

Summary: The reader goes through the Maze trials with a message, but she has no idea who it's from. That is until he enters the maze. And he helps them get out.

Main Masterlist

Part 7

Previous Next

Maze Runner Masterlist

Warning: Spoilers obviously. This is based on the first movie. I don't know why you're reading this is you haven't seen the movie, but yeah, that's the warning.

The next morning, you and Minho walk up to the pit. Minho squats down.

"Hey, man, sure you don't want to sit this one out?" He asks. Thomas scoffs.

"Nah, get me out of here," he says. You smile a little as Thomas climbs out. He looks at you, dusting himself off a little. You look at Minho.

"C'mon, we don't have all day," you say, walking down towards the map. That's where you kept the runner gear.

After getting ready, you three go out towards the maze. It finally was showing a bit of light. You get there just as the doors start opening. Once they were wide enough you nodded at Minho.

"Lets go!" He says, and the two of you start running. It took a while to get to the back of the maze. Thomas soon follows. Minho guided you, showing the two of you to the inner ring. Passing five and six, you all slow down at seven.

"Strange," Minho says, as you all start to walk inside.

"What?" Thomas asks.

"Seven's not supposed to be open for another week," you explain. He looks at you, and you just keep walking.

"What the hell is this place?" Thomas asks. You glance at him.

"We call them blades," Minho says. You kept walking through, making it to the other side. Minhow bends down and picks up a bloodied shirt. You close your eyes, looking down.

"It's Ben's isn't it?" Thomas asks. Minho glances at you.

"Yeah," he says, standing back up. "The griever must have pulled him down here." You swallowed. You hated to think about what might happen to your banished friends. How they died. You hated it so much.

When walking down the seemingly new tunnel, you all stood there. Suddenly a beem of red came out, scanning the three of you. Thomas was holding the metal, and gates started opening. You stared in shock.

"You sure about this?" Minho asks. You look at Thomas, just like he was.

"No." But he keeps walking anyways. You and Minho exchange a look and follow him. There was a circular door at the end of the tunnel. Minho feels some of the slime. Then, another red bolt. The clicking starts and the doors start closing. The blades start closing and Thomas pulls you. The two of you get separated from Minho, and you speed up.

Thomas pushes you through one of the blades, throwing himself off.

"Thomas!" You yell. He jumps through, running into you. Minho balances the two of you, and the three of you keep running. When the ground starts cracking and the walls start falling, you start running again. Almost getting crushed. When the doors start sliding up, the three of you barely made it through.

Thomas lets out a breath, falling back and laying down. Minho chuckles, and you slap his arm weakly.

"What the hell was that?" You wonder aloud.

"The maze doesn't change during the day," Minho says. You gesture to the wall.

"It does now!" You exclaim. He laughs a little, falling back like Thomas. You look at the two breathless boys, a small smile making its way to your face. You chuckle, laying back yourself.

The three of you stay there for a little while, before getting up and running back.

"What the hell is going on put there?" Newt asks, the boys had gathered by the doors.

"What have you done now, Thomas?" You glare at Gally while Thomas starta to explain.

"We found something out there. A new passage. We think it could be a way out."

"Really?" Newt asks.

"It's true. We opened a door. Something we've never seen before," Minho says. You nod.

"It must be where the grievers go during the day," you say.

"Wait, woah, woah, woah," Chuck says. "You're saying you found the griever's home? And you want us to go in?"

"They're way in could be our way out, Chuck," Thomas says.

"Yeah, or there could be a dozen grievers on the other side. The truth is, Thomas doesn't know what he's done. As usual!" Gally says. Thomas snaps. He turns back to Gally.

"At least I did something, Gally. I mean, what have you done? Huh? Aside from hide behind these walls?" Gally gets in Thomas's face.

"Imma tell you something, Greenie. You been here three days, right? I've been here three years-" he goes to continue but Thomas cuts him off.

"Yeah, you've been here three years and you're still here! What does that tell you? Maybe you should start doing something differently!"

"Oh, and maybe you should be in charge then, right, Thomas?" He would have continued but Teresa comes over.

"Guys! Hey! It's Alby! He's awake," she says. You stare at her for a second before rushing off towards Alby.

The guys run in after you. You crouch infront of Alby. He barely looks at you. He seemed out of it.

"Alby... can you hear me?" You ask.

"Has he said anything?" Thomas asks.

"No," Teresa says.

Newt comes around and sits next to Alby.

"Alby. Are you alright?" He doesn't move. He doesn't show any sign of hearing us. Thomas crouches down next to you.

"Hey, Alby... Alby, we might have just found a way out of the maze. You hear me? We could be getting out of here," Thomas says. Alby looks like he's about to cry and it nearly broke you. The two of you had to be strong. You had to, for the others. And for eachother. If one of you broke, it all came crumbling down. Alby shakes his head.

"I can't," Alby whispers. You shift a little, putting a gentle hand on Alby's arm. "Can't leave. They won't let us."

"Alby, he's right. There's-"

"I remember," he says. You tense up.

"What do you remember, Alby?" Thomas asks. Alby turns his head and looks at Thomas.

"You. You were always their favorite, Thomas. Always," he says. You look at Thomas. He was staring at Alby. Then you heard some commotion outside. "Why did you do this? Why did you come here?" Alby asks. You look between him and the door.

"Jeff, stay here," you say, standing up as Alby puts his head in his hands.

"What's going on?" You ask Winston. He gestures to the doors.

"It's the doors. They're not closing," he says. You look over. Your group starts running towards the doors. Then there was a loud noise. The doors on the opposite was of the usual doors started opening. Then the ones to the right. Then to the left.

"Chuck, go to the council hall. Start barricading the doors," Thomas says.

"Winston, go with him," Newt says. You were in shock. Gally gives an order and Thomas turns to you and Minho.

"Minho, grab every weapon you can find," he says. Minho nods, running with a few of the others. Then he looks at you. "Let's get Alby, alright?" You stood there for a moment before nodding and going with him. But then commotion broke out again. The gladers started running back, and there was a roaring coming from within the maze.

"Everybody hide!" You yell. Thomas grabs your hand, pulling you. Teresa stands there for a second.

"Teresa!" Thomas says and she starts running with everyone. The griever come down, starting to attack everyone. You saw a few of your friends get attacked, and tried to go towards them. But Thomas stopped you. He grabbed your waist, pulling you back towarda the shelters with him.

"No! Thomas!" You say, struggling against him. He pull you down, in the taller crops, covering your mouth with his hand. You took a few panting breaths, stopping your cries. Letting a silence fall.

You heard yelling in the field, and closed your eyes. Thomas still held onto you, probably to make sure you wouldn't go anywhere. But his hand fell from your mouth, and a scream came from not far behind you. You flinched, causing Thomas's grip to tighten slightly.

Then the boy infront of you heavily gets pushed to the ground. Then picked up. You try to reach out for him, but he was already flying back. You scramble up with the others, Thomas still gripped your hand.

You saw a few going into the cage. But you all ran towards the village.

"Keep moving!" Thomas yells. One of the boys falls down and you stop to pick him back up. Thomas pushes the boy back as a griever lands infront of you. He pulls you back, putting you behind him. "Come on!" He yells at the griever.

But then something stops the griever. The boys that went to get weapons run up, and start bringing you all towards shelter.

Chuck waves you all over to the council hall. The griever pounded on the walls, trying to get in. Alby was in there. A claw reaches through the roof, grabbing the support beam, and knocking the roof down. It tossed you all back.

"Is everyone alright?" Newt asks. You nod, reaching over to grab a coughing Thomas's arm. He looks at you and nods quickly. You let out a small breath. But then you hear a cry for help.

Someone gets pulled out of the hut, and then a claw grabs Chuck. You quickly latch onto his hand, Thomas and Minho helping try to pull him back.

"Hold on Chuck, don't let go!" Thomas yells.

"No shit!" Chuck yells, getting tossed around a little bit and screaming. Alby runs at it, knocking the stinger off the claw before it could sting Chuck. Alby continues to attack the claw, before it releases Chuck and goes away. You pant, leaning down a little to help Chuck up.

"Are you okay?" You ask.

"Yeah I'm fine." He turns to Alby. "Thanks, Alby." Alby looked pissed, panting. Then there was another growl and you heard the mechanical noises approaching.

"Alby!" You yell. But he was grabbed by the claw. He held onto the wrecked roof, and you jumped up. Thomas managed to grab his hand.

"Thomas, get them out," you hear Alby say. Your eyes widen as Alby lets go of Thomas. Thomas jumps at the opening, trying to reach for him again.

"No!" He screams. You grab his arm pulling him away from the opening, but a tear managed to slip past your eye. Thomas pulls away from you, trying to run out.

"Thomas, no!" You yell, following him. You saw the glade burning. The griever were gone. You all gaped at the sight. You looked around. The home you'd built. That you'd seen every part of build up from scratch. And the boy that helped you keep civility in it was gone. Just like the home itself.

Some of the boys come out of the smoke, and Gally walks up to Thomas. "Gally-" Gally punches Thomas before he could get another word out. A few of the boys pulled Gally back while you went beside Thomas, helping him up. He breifly looked at you.

"This is on you, Thomas! On you!" He yells. You glared at Gally.

"Back up guys, this isn't Thomas's fault!" Minho yells.

"You heard what Alby said! He's one of them!" Gally yells.

"One of who?!" Someone yells.

"He's the one that put us all here! They sent him here to destroy everything! And now he has!" Gally exclaims. "Look around, Thomas! This is your fault!"

The boys continued to try and calm Alby down, and Thomas looks down. You put a hand on his arm.

"This isn't your fault Thomas," you say but he doesn't look at you. You follow where he was looking. In Chuck's hand was the stinger. You looked back up at Thomas. He grabs the stinger from Chuck's hand. He looks at it.

"Maybe he's right," he says. You shake your head.

"No, Thomas, he's an idiot. Don't listen to him." He finally looks at you.

"I need to remember," he says. You were confused. That is until he stings himself.

"Thomas!" Teresa yells.

Thomas falls down and all the guys run over to him. You go down next to him.

"Jeff, get the other syringe!"

#thomas maze runner #newt maze runner #alby maze runner #maze runner minho #the maze runner #maze runner