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baohanhanesel · 5 months

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New rookie with the mask

Summary: You go out to drink with the TF141 to celebrate your addition to the team! But... It is your first time drinking out.

Mentioned: Captain John Price, John Soap Mactavish, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Simon Ghost Riley.

You were a new recruit in the task force 141. You wore a mask covering the entirety of your face but your eyes. It was a simple black mask and also your pride. It wasn't like you had any personal reasons to wear it in order to hide your face but hiding it had many pros. It helped you keep calm and gave you a sense of security as well as grounding you. You were quite determined, and that much was why you were not in your previous team anymore. They all collectively agreed that you needed more action in your life after many successful missions you got back with. You couldn't have agreed more.

So that was what exactly led you in the base, standing in front of your new Captain. He welcomed you with open arms since he was the man who contacted you in the first place. You noted down his caring yet strict approach, there was no room for messing up with this guy around.

"Say," He paused his words and took in the sight of you. This man had done his homework, you could notice that much. "You are quite serious aren't you?" He laughed softly, attempting to ease the mood and perhaps get you to trust him. Something in you could notice how he could easily resemble a father figure for any newcomers.

"I wouldn't say all the time, captain." You looked at him with the dutiful look in your eyes. You respected this man a lot and wanted him to rely on you as well, as much as he wanted you to rely on him.

"So you aren't opposed to the idea of a celebration in a bar?" The words came out naturally. This man's hold and confidence was getting you more and more amazed by the second. You had never drank out with a team before... or drank in general. That would be your first time drinking. You weren't a teenager or young for that matter but you just never got the chance to let everything go and take a seat with a glass of alcohol at hand.

"Not really, no. I would like to celebrate my addition to the team for the sake of the future" You nodded at your captain, seeing the satisfied smile on his face. This man kept getting more and more admirable for you. "Thanks, sir." You felt like you had to add so.

With a nod of his head, you were dismissed from the conversation just like that.

First meeting with your teammates was nothing like you thought it would be. You were all sitting on the same table, they all had a huge smile on their faces and seemed very welcoming. There was this dude with the mohawk-- You always admired people who had different sense of style than most. And this sunshine of a man was sitting on the chair furthest from the wall. His body language showed that he was an extrovert.

"Another mask in the team?" He laughed, elbowing the legendary Ghost you heard so much about. He was indeed just like the rumours had been; a cold brick wall with a dangerous glint in his eyes. But somehow this didn't unease you even for a second. You were at the same side.

"Johnny."

"'ey, I am John Soap Mactavis'. You can call me Johnny or Soap."

"Nice to meet you Johnny." You nod your head, you are pretty sure you may seem distant in your outer shell but inside you are currently very warmed up to the team. "Call me (Reader), yea?"

"I am Kyle Garrick. I go by Gaz." You nod

"Nice to meet you as well, sergeant."

"Done your homework?" Price laughs, he is the one sitting next to you while Gaz, Soap and Ghost are sat in front of you on the other side of the table. You are pretty sure during the entire night all of you will be moving seats anyways, so you paid the current sitting arrangement no mind.

"Yes, sir." You turn to look at the other masked individual. "Nice to meet you as well, Lieutenant."

Ghost shrugs, you can notice his cold gaze trying to pierce through you. If anything, he seems more cautious than the others but still warm towards you. Even this guy right there knew what being teammates meant. "I figured you'd call me that. You are not any lower by rank, are you?"

"It must have been a long night with the homework as well, No?" You joke lightheartedly, quirking an eyebrow and looking into his eyes. He didn't want to be threatening, his amused tone proved so.

"Affirmative. You are a fellow lieutenant."

"It means nothing in this force. Your rank weighs more than mine."

"Well-spoken mate but I think we are pretty much equals now, no?"

"Yessir." You smirk under your mask. This guy has a weird way to keep conversations but you understand his warmth through the words.

When a barmaid came to your table to grab your orders they were quick to answer. Price and Gaz wanted a beer meanwhile Ghost and Soap stuck with tequila.

"You are celebrating quite hard, Lt."

"You're not any different Johnny."

You freeze a bit, tequila is too much for a first timer like you. So you sneak a glance at Price. Beer seems safe.

"One more beer," You nod at the pretty barmaid, the woman takes your orders and leaves the table.

"Hesitant there lass?" Soap is an observant fucker, alright.

"This is my first time drinking out sergeant."

And after saying so, all of them seem to get quiet. You didn't think they'd stiffen after you said so.

"First time?" Price didn't expect this at all. "You agreed even though this was a first?"

"Didn't have much time to try it out before. This is an important celebration as teammates. I would never refuse."

"You should've said so earlier. A cocktail would be more suitable for you." Gaz seemed considerate of you. Perhaps not wanting you to get drunk on your first day.

"A cocktail? Why do I feel this is an insult?" You bark a laugh, making jokes about the situation but really you are a very competitive person and think no alcohol would be able to have you drunk. You are a reckless fool, to state the least.

Your first glass and you already feel dizzy.

"I was wrong."

"Told you so." Gaz interjects.

"You are a very honest soldier. Never took someone as prideful as you to admit to your fault that easily." Price laughs, drinking his second glass of beer. He finds you very intriguing.

"I am not an expert in having fun, captain. Apparently not any better with alcohol too."

The table laughs, warming up to you and your jokes. Ghost has his mask rolled up till his nose, only showing his mouth to you all. He seems very relaxed in the environment his teammates are in. You also had your mask rolled up. It rested on your nose bridge.

"Getting dizzy aren't you?" Ghost looked at you, you must have been staring for a long time.

"No more, lass."

"No more." You agreed.

It made you feel relieved that all of them seemed to look out for you. At first you had your doubts that they'd shame you for not drinking alcohol till this age. But they proved otherwise. They didn't shame you or make fun of you, instead they stopped you from getting drunk and gave you a safe environment to feel welcome in.

You would treasure your team for this gentle gesture alone. You were not good at showing your emotions but you sure would try your best to have them understand just how great they all were.

#cod modern warfare #call of duty #cod #tf 141 #captain john price #john price #captain price #price cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #john mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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Fresh Ink

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: What about a juicexf!reader where she gets his crow on her ribs between the gap under her boobs, and he sees it for the first time during certain activities, and not only does it spurn him on - but he get's all fluffy after and it just makes him super happy. Then later on, she wears a crop top - that not only reminds the sons that she is stunning, but they see the crow and find out about the 2 of them, and then some more fluff/smut

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, smoking/alcohol

Word Count: 3k

A/N: As someone who just got another tattoo this past weekend, I was feeling this hahaha. Hope you enjoy it! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X)

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @adela-topaz-caelon @masterlistforimagines @mijop @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @multiyfandomgirl40 @kkim120 @everyhowlmarksthedead @toni9 @chibsytelford (If you want to be tagged in any of my stuff just let me know!)

You hadn’t mentioned to Juice that you were going to get your tattoo done. It was something that you wanted to surprise him with. You didn’t have a plan in place to actually pull him aside and show him—you were kind of banking on it just happening naturally and having him be shocked. The look on his face was going to be priceless.

When you first learned that the old ladies of the club got crows tattooed on them, you had no intention of following suit. It didn’t sit right with you, and it felt very much like it was a stamp that said, “Property of ‘Insert Name Here’” and that had never been your style. Juice never pushed you about it and realistically you knew that he would love you regardless of whether or not you got the tattoo.

However, the longer that you were with Juice, and the more time that you spent with the club, you started to understand why the women did it. You couldn’t speak for them but you weren’t doing it as a mark of ownership. It felt to you like it was more of a family crest of sorts. The club was your family. Juice was your family.

Getting the tattoo hurt, more than some of the others that you had gotten in the past. But it looked amazing. The linework was crisp and clean, the way your artist had taken your ideas and brought them to life left you speechless. The crow’s tail filled the space between your breasts, its wings spreading and taking over the space beneath them. It looked like it was diving headlong down your chest. Juice was going to lose his shit.

You’d spent ridiculous amounts of time standing in front of the mirror admiring it, and yet somehow Juice had never caught you. As much as you wanted to just pull him aside and show him, you almost liked the little game that it had turned into despite the fact that he had no idea he was playing it. No one else form the club knew you had gotten it either. You and Juice hadn’t really spoken to anyone about your relationship. They all saw you flirting, and they all assumed that there was something going on between the two of you, but neither of you had ever really made it official to the rest of them. It suited the two of you just fine. But it felt like so much to keep to yourself when you were so excited about it.

You found yourself at Juice’s house for the first time in a while. You were lying on your stomach on his bed, scrolling on your phone. The sound of the front door opening and shutting filled the house, and you smiled knowing that that meant in a few moments he’d make his way to you. You could hear his heavy footsteps as his boots clomped through the house.

You didn’t turn to look, but you knew that he was standing in the doorway staring at you. You’d showered as soon as you got to his place, and afterwards you’d just pulled on a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts.

The mattress dipped slightly as he sat down on the edge of it. You looked back over your shoulder and smiled as you watched him take his boots off. He looked over at you, a smile creeping across his features.

“I’ve missed you,” he said as he crawled across the bed to you, situating himself so that he was straddling your hips, practically lying on top of you.

You giggled as you felt him pressing kisses along the back of your neck, pulling the collar of his shirt that you were wearing to the side so that he could kiss your shoulders as well, “I’ve missed you too.”

He lifted himself off of you just enough to spin you so that you were facing him before settling back down against you again. You smiled as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. You got to revel in the closeness and just breathe him in for a minute and you felt your entire body relax, the same way that his did.

He pressed his lips against yours and you instantly pulled him closer to you. He let you wrap your legs around his waist, his hands running up and down your thighs as he continued to kiss you. You let out a soft moan as his fingertips dug lightly into your legs. You pulled yourself away from him just long enough to start undoing his belt.

You felt him laughing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he continued to cover you in kisses. There was always such a softness in the way that he touched you—it always felt loving and safe. You blindly pushed his pants down, unable to completely focus as his lips continued to drag across your skin.

In no time at all he kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, and also tossed his shirt to the side as well. You smiled up at him as you ran your hands along his chest, nails grazing lightly over the ink that covered his skin. His fingers looped around the waistband of your underwear, effortlessly sliding them down your legs before he tossed the off to the side with the rest of the discarded clothes.

He caught your lips in a kiss as his fingers slowly slip up and between your legs. You moaned into his mouth as he began to slide them into you, your nails setting into the skin on his back. You could feel him smiling into your kiss as he continued to get you more worked up than you already were.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you involuntarily let out a whine. He laughed and kissed you on the lips, “So needy,” there was a playfulness to his tone that you adored.

Your heart sped up as he reached for the bottom hem of the shirt that you were wearing. You were starting to think that he was never going to get to see it, but now that he was going to you found yourself feeling a little anxious. He was going to love it, you knew that, but you could still feel the nerves building up in your body. Not wanting to hold it off any longer, you lifted your shoulders off the mattress and let him pull the shirt off over your head.

When he looked back down at you after tossing the shirt with everything else, his eyes grew wide. He was transfixed on the ink that covered your chest, his fingers reaching and delicately tracing along the artwork. He didn’t say anything for what felt like hours as he looked at it. You remained silent as well, wanting to see how this all played out.

He finally forced his eyes away from your tattoo and looked you in the eyes, “Holy shit. You actually did it,” his voice was a whisper.

You nodded, “I did,” you paused, “You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” the pads of his fingers were still dancing across the new patterns on your chest.

You opened your mouth, about to tell him that you were glad that he liked it, that it had been so difficult not to say something about it, but you didn’t get the chance. He leaned in, lips crashing against yours. It was the neediest he’d ever been with you and you felt yourself practically melting underneath his touch. Rough wasn’t the right word, but the softness that he usually had was gone, desperation in its place.

He gripped onto your hips and pushed into you, causing you to arch your back and let out a moan. You cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, biting down on his bottom lip. He moaned as he tongue slid to meet yours. You kept your legs wrapped tight around his waist, wanting him as close as possible as he continued to thrust into you.

He pulled his lips off of yours and slid them down to your neck, instantly sucking a dark mark into the sensitive skin there. You raked your nails down his back, feeling him shudder beneath your touch.

His hands slid up from your thighs and came to rest on the bird inked into your skin. Even though he wasn’t looking at it, his fingers continually ran themselves over it. He leaned in close to your ear, whispering despite the fact that it was just the two of you at home, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The small house was filled with the sound of his name falling from your lips over and over again as his body connected with yours. His grip on you was tight, fingertips digging into your skin, and the fleeting sense of pain it caused was intoxicating. He kept his body pressed flush against yours, his pace increasing when he felt you starting to get close.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you pulled his lips to yours again as you came, nails digging into the back of his neck.

He moaned, arms wrapping around you to keep your bodies as close as possible. You could feel the urgency bleeding from his skin into yours. His breathing was ragged as he continued to coat your skin in kisses, lips attaching themselves onto everything they could reach. You felt his pace start to falter and you knew that he was close. You lightly nipped at his neck as you ran your nails down his back.

A moan slipped past his lips and his fingers dug into your sides as he came. He collapsed on top of you, face burying in the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You smiled as you reveled in the sensation of his chest rising and falling against yours. You lightly traced your fingertips along his mohawk and the tattoos that adorned each side of his head. You could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he soaked up the sensation of your touch.

After a few minutes, he slowly pulled out of you and rolled off of you, laying on his side so he could face you. He gently adjusted your body so that you were facing him as well. He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before letting his eyes stray back down to your tattoo.

He reached forward, tenderly stroking the ink with the tips of his fingers. It tickled and you fought the urge to giggle and squirm from his touch.

“I can’t believe you did it,” his smile stretched from ear to ear as he continued to stare at it.

You chuckled, “Was it a nice surprise?”

He looked up into your eyes for a moment, “An amazing surprise.”

You reached forward and cupped the side of his face in your hand, your thumb tracing along his cheekbone, “You are everything that I could have ever asked for.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he soaked up the heat emanating from your hand, “I love you.”

Both of you paused. He looked up at you, apprehension all over his features. There was never any doubt that there was love between the two of you, but neither of you had ever said it before. You could practically hear the thudding of his heartbeat as he waited for your response.

You leaned in and kissed him on the lips, “I love you too.”

He was beaming with happiness as he pulled you over onto him so that he was lying on his back with you straddling him. You laughed as he dragged his fingers down your chest. His smile was contagious—it was impossible to feel anything but pure and utter joy when you looked at the sparkle in his eyes.

“You really got the crow,” he chuckled, like he was still trying to convince himself that it was real.”

“Yea,” your fingers ghosted over the skulls on his chest, “You’re my guy, you know. You’re my family. And I love you.”

He smiled up at you, “I love you too.”

Things had always been good between you and Juice, but both of you could feel that things were different after that. It was like the two of you had leveled up—things felt a little more serious and intense.

You walked back into Juice’s bedroom after your shower, towel wrapped around you. He looked up at you as he laid on the bed and he smiled. You returned the gesture with a slight shake of your head as you made your way over to his dresser where he had cleared a couple drawers for you.

“You going tonight?” he asked.

You nodded, “Was planning on it,” you paused, gnawing at the inside of your lip, “Can I ride with you?”

“Yea?” he was staring at you, eyebrows raised slightly.

“Yea,” you twisted your hands nervously, “as long as that’s alright with you.”

“Of course.”

You smiled, sighing with relief, “Alright. Let me just get dressed real quick and we’ll be good to go.”

He smiled, “Take your time.”

He watched as you leafed through the clothes that you had brought over to his place. His stares were obvious as he watched you shimmy into your jeans. His eyes were glued onto you as you pulled on your shirt, a crop-top that was short enough for a good portion of your crow tattoo to be visible. When you looked over at him and saw the look on his face, you had to laugh.

“You alright?”

He forced his eyes away from your ink, “I’m great.”

You held your arms out, gesturing for him to come to you, “C’mere.”

He happily obliged, walking over to you and wrapping you in a tight hug before pressing a kiss to your temple, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You grabbed your leather jacket as you followed Juice out of the house, zipping it to protect you from the chilly night air and the wind that you’d be facing as you rode on the back of Juice’s bike. You settled against him, your chest flush against his back as he pulled out of his driveway and made his way towards the clubhouse. There were so many thoughts running through your head as he rolled into the compound.

A small cluster of the guys in the MC were all standing outside, smoking and sipping on their beers. You could hear the music and the ruckus coming from inside the clubhouse and it caused you to chuckled quietly to yourself. You pulled off your helmet and hung it off the handlebar opposite of Juice’s.

“Well, well, well,” Chibs said with a laugh as the two of you approached their little group, “look who showed up together,” he stepped in and hugged you, “Good to see you, love,” he turned to Juice and clapped him on the back, “When’re you gonna finally lock this one down, Juicy Boy?”

You could see the thoughts racing inside his head as he tried to think of the right thing to say. Before he could overthink it to much, you reached and pulled the zipper down on your jacket, shrugging it off your shoulders.

You tossed it to the prospect, “Can you set that inside behind the bar for me, Kip?”

He nodded, eyes instantly traveling over your body as quickly as possible before he could get called out on it by the guys, “Of course,” he scampered off into the clubhouse.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax spoke up with a laugh as he looked at the ink peeking out from under your shirt, “Riding in together is the least of your worries, huh?”

You chuckled, leaning against Juice’s side as his arm looped around your waist, “There is so much that you boys don’t even know about.”

“Apparently,” Chibs was shaking his head, “Christ, love, that’s not a small commitment there.”

You smiled, “I’m aware.”

Jax looked at Juice, “Guess we can’t keep givin’ you shit about it anymore, huh?”

“It’d be great if you would stop,” Juice said with a laugh.

“Well we’ll have to know. We have her to contend with,” Chibs said with a laugh as he nodded at you.

You couldn’t help but to nod as you laughed, “That’s right. That’s wrath you don’t wanna know.”

“Well c’mon then,” Chibs motioned for the group of you to follow him into the clubhouse, “let’s get inside—celebration is clearly in order.”

You and Juice were at the back of the pack, which suited you just fine. You could feel Juice’s eyes on you as the two of you got closer to the door of the clubhouse. You knew that he was glad that it was out there about the two of you now, and it made it even better that you were the one that broke the news, and with your tattoo no less.

Just before the two of you walked through the door, he pulled you to the side and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. You couldn’t help but to gasp at the sudden gesture—you could feel the heat soaking through his shirt and onto your exposed skin. He dipped his head down and kissed you on the lips. It was slow and soft, the same gentle Juice that you had come to know so well over the past months. You smiled as he kept his lips attached to yours.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, there was a giant smile on Juice’s face. He pecked your lips quickly once more, “I love you.”

You smiled, “I love you too,” you cupped his face for a moment, “C’mon, let’s go cause some more ruckus,” he laughed as you entwined your fingers with his and pulled him into the clubhouse.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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tobiosmilktea · 3 years

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serpentine — kozume kenma

4.2k words | genre/s: fluff | warning/s: cursing | pairing: kenma x f!reader

↪︎ in which nekoma’s new manager captures their setter’s attention

a/n: this was requested by an anon but i accidentally deleted the ask 💀 this wasn’t proofread btw since i’m posting this hella late (atp none of my works are anymore lmao) anyway, the ending is uhh... not good

it takes up to ten seconds for your brain to realize it’s making a decision. you weren’t sure how it all happened considering it didn’t feel like it took ten seconds, and yet somehow, in some way, you agreed to the offer. it was no lingering doubt in your head that you could very well have answered due to the way the third-year manager (all ready to graduate in a few months notice) was looming over you. the look on their face drenched in optimism and a coaxing smile. you liked to think you were a generous person and you couldn’t have possibly said no.

"thank you so much, (y/l/n)!” your upperclassman exclaimed, eyes widening in a bright blithe as they held you at your shoulders and shaking you. “you totally saved my ass getting beat by coach nekomata! see you after school!”

that’s when it dawned at you. were you seriously going to become nekoma’s newest manager for the volleyball club when you had zero knowledge on the sport let alone know how to properly manage a team full of towering individuals? your jaw was basically on the floor as you attempted to plead something back to their current manager, yet nothing was coming out.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

you slumped back at your desk, face still in awe as you couldn’t help but almost felt betrayed by your own selfish mouth that spoke before you could even fathom the task. a sigh escaped you when lunch came to an end and lessons came back in session.

it was no lie that you didn’t really pay attention much in class in the first place. you had a tendency to space out and daydream from time to time with thoughts that serpentine from one idea to the next. however, at one point all you could ever think about was the inevitable doom of having to go to the gym in just a few hours time.

the feeling wasn’t enough to cause an onset sensation of suffocation from nerves, but it was just rather unpleasant knowing that these volleyball jocks would be part of your daily life now.

like a plucked flower petal, your body stood from your seat the moment the final bell rang through the echoing hallways. as if you were moving on autopilot, you hadn’t even noticed how fast you were treading through the hallways. perhaps your nerves were the fuel to your fire as you forced yourself to slow down and mingle into the lightly crowded corridors. perhaps you were glad that your classroom was on the other side of campus from the gymnasium.

you were taking your sweet time and surely they would understand if you were a little late right? granted, it was all too last minute and who knows if you had plans after school or not. spoiler: you didn’t, but that’s beside the point.

at one point, you’ve concluded that you were still walking too fast on your way to the gym despite going at a snail’s pace. it didn’t matter either way as your honey-coated eyes had fallen over the doors of the gym. the right door remained shut while the left was wide open, letting sounds of squeaking sneakers, bouncing white volleyballs, and shouts emitted from the building.

your pace came to a halt just a few feet shy of the door. your hand clutching at your bag’s strap as you waited for a few beats to pass. you weren’t sure what you were waiting for, yet standing there felt like a safer bet more than anything.

“oh there you are, (y/l/n)!” a voice called out to you in the midst of your personal speculation. this forced your attention up to them as you gave them a meek smile. “don’t be shy, come in! let me introduce you to the boys.”

they grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you inside the gym as you shook your head. “uhh, you really don’t have to. i can meet them all later, everyone seems busy right now.”

“don’t be silly!” they wave their hand off like it’s nothing. you follow them to the sidelines of the court, eyes scanning the gym out of instinct—you’ve heard about the many horror stories of those who stopped by and ended up being the target of an oncoming volleyball. a broken nose was definitely the last thing you wanted.

your head turned from watching the volleyball players do their drills as you stopped in front of two bickering individuals. the shorter one with copper brown hair points an accusatory finger at the boy in front of him, the tip of his finger barely reaching the top of the other’s shoulder as he ran a hand through his gray hair. “i swear to god lev, if i hear another word from you i will—”

nekoma’s manager clears their throat.

“oh shit—ha, hey mizuhara.” so that’s their name, you thought. the shorter one greets with a smile, expression all normal as if a complete stranger didn’t just witness him yelling at his teammate.

mizuhara only scoffs, “you’ve always been one for first impressions, yaku, which is why i brought our new manager here in the first place, but i suppose i came at the wrong time.”

“this is our new manager?” the taller one then cuts in, completely pushing away yaku as if his shorter stature weighed like nothing. there was a swift kick in his step as he approached you closer, sticking his hand out for you to shake. man, was this guy tall. “i’m haiba lev, it’s nice to meet you!”

you shook his hand, nodding, “(y/l/n) (y/n).” you introduced before turning towards the poor volleyball player that was pushed out the way.

“yaku morisuke,” he answers without missing a single beat, “i’m nekoma’s libero—”

“that’s why he’s short!” lev interjects and yaku gives him a poisonous look.

you bite back a smile as the libero continues, “don’t be fooled by the height, though, i’m most likely older than you anyway and you look like the type to actually respect your senpais, unlike this guy.” yaku pokes lev.

“are you a third-year?” you ask curiously to which he nods.

“he thinks he can boss me around just because i’m only a first year, but the only one who can give me orders around here is coach and kuroo.” says lev with a smirk that radiated provocation. this seems to be a normal thing between the two of them.

“speaking of which,” mizahara chimed in, head turning towards the courts as your irises scanned for a specific person. “where’s kuroo? i obviously have to introduce our new manager to the team captain.”

“i think he’s still in the locker room talking with the coaches. i’ll go get him,” yaku muttered over his shoulder before walking away.

silence then ensued the trio like a wet blanket, nothing but the lingering sounds of volleyballs thudding against the glazed wooden floors and squealing rubber. everyone in the gym didn’t seem to be too phased by your presence and if they were, they were probably just too preoccupied with their own practice to even spare a single glance.

“so...” lev starts, teetering his weight back and forth as you look up at him. “you’re a second year, right?” you nod, words not wanting to come out. “cool. do you have a boyfriend—or a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re into. i don’t judge!” he laughs then, somehow easing your unease.

“stop asking such personal questions, lev.” a voice calls out from behind him, treading lightly towards you.

the first year shrugs innocently, “i was just curious, cap.”

“yeah, yeah,” kuroo waves him off, “go practice before i double your drills.”

lev nods, “yessir.” before dipping away.

kuroo then gives you a welcoming smile, one that feels quite genuine as his coaches appear behind him. “i’m guessing you’re our new manager in training, right? i’m kuroo if you don’t already know, it’s nice to meet you.”

you introduced yourself yet again, repeating the gesture to coach nakomata and coach naoi. they both radiated a calming, yet serious energy that you weren’t sure to be intimidated by. yet at some point, you shouldn’t even be thinking of such thing considering you would working with them for the rest of the school year and the year after that.

“here, i’ll call the rest of the team over to meet you.” kuroo suggests, his arm already waving everybody down before you could retaliate. “gather ‘round, we have someone you guys have to meet!”

his shout was accompanied by coach nekomata’s shrieking whistle, capturing the attention of the rest of the volleyball team as the sounds of hands impacting the white leather came to a halt.

perhaps that forgotten tingling of nerves had hit you right in the chest like a train the moment all their eyes fell on you. this was not it.

“a girl!” one of them exclaims, hair styled in a strange curly mohawk that charged his way towards you.

“jesus, take it easy yamamoto.” one with a darker complexion and buzzcut says, throwing you a pitiful smile as if to say ‘i’m sorry.’

“sorry, kai...”

you held back a bit of laughter behind your hand.

“everyone, this is (y/l/n) (y/n), she’ll be our team’s new manager.” coach naoi motions towards you, bag strap still clutched within your hands that your knuckles were turning alabaster. “please take care of her well.”

as kuroo opened his mouth to speak, the same one who shouted earlier—yamamoto, you think—cuts in again and says, “are you dating anyone?”

lev laughs from the back of the group, “i already asked her that!”

“but i still want to know!”

“please be respectful or i’m stealing your kneecaps while you sleep.” mizuhara deadpans before motioning for kuroo to speak.

the obsidian-haired captain rolled his eyes in amusement as he began introducing each member of the team one by one, “i don’t want you guys bombarding (y/n), so i’ll introduce you guys myself.” cue yamamoto groaning in disappointment, “the one that keeps asking you such personal questions is yamamoto, our wing spiker.” to which the same man salutes you and gives you a wink. “then there’s kai nobuyuki, our vice-captain. teshiro tamahiko, our pinch server. fukunaga shohei, our other wing spiker. lev and yaku, which you’ve already met. and kozume kenma, our setter.”

your eyes had landed on each and every one of them before abruptly stopping on the last one called. you knew of kenma and his familiar yellow-blond hair. granted, you were in the same year, but he was in a different class and just didn’t really have any interactions besides that one time you two had cleaning duty last year and had to take out the trash together.

the last time you remember him, he was quiet and didn’t speak much, yet there was always a charm within him that had you drawn to him from the start. it was a shame you two never really had a chance to get close.

you wonder if he still remembers you.

meanwhile, the moment your gaze landed upon him, kenma couldn’t help but choke back the rising lump forming in his throat. he surely never thought you two would meet again like this.

the last time he remembers you, you had quite the allure within the way you spoke so nicely. he recalls the way you two first met last year where he offered to take out your trash bag so you wouldn’t have to do work, but you utterly refused. your kind actions stuck with him and despite not being one to talk much in the first place, he couldn’t bring himself to ever speak knowing your lasting presence overran his nerves like a high wire.

kenma’s thoughts are interrupted by a pat on his shoulder, heavy and weighted. his looks over to kuroo’s giving him a sly side-eye as a smirk melted upon his best friend’s visage.

“everyone, go back to practice,” kuroo commands, “mizuhara will take care of the rest.”

a chorus of discernable groans and ‘yessirs’ erupted in the gym as the hoard of volleyball players turned their backs towards you. everything seemed to be back to normal the way the echoing sounds of a run-of-the-mill practice was back in session. and despite the attention no longer being on you (thank goodness), there was still an inkling in your chest of someone’s eyes lingering as you looked back to mizuhara.

“that’s the girl, isn’t it?” whispers kuroo to kenma, practically scaring him out of his unbeknownst trance that was stuck on you.

the setter didn’t answer right away as he twirled the volleyball in his hand, eyes searching the bronze floorboards below him to find an answer he knew he couldn’t find. “it is,” he sighs.

kenma didn’t like lying, anyway.

you weren’t sure how it really happened. you supposed it was just mere fate or purely the universe throwing you a bone that within two weeks of being nekoma’s newest manager, that you would somehow, someway, found yourself glued to kenma’s side for the majority of the day.

it first started off like this: normal. nothing much had changed to your daily school life besides the fact that you stay after school every day for volleyball practice now, but that’s was beside the point. It continued on like this for a few days, until your scanning gaze over the practicing volleyball players almost always ended up stopping on kenma.

it didn’t matter what he was doing at the time whether he was sweating his ass off playing a practice game or simply staying on the sidelines, body hunched over with his dyed hair falling over his face as he played his video game.

unbeknownst to you, though, your stares were everything but discrete. kenma had always been quite skilled at hiding his emotions and looking nonchalant as possible. either that or he just had no filter whatsoever—there was no in between.

at first, the attention would always send his heart spiraling out of control. you were always on the other side of the gym when this happens, and he’s glad for that fact considering you couldn’t have seen the way his hands shivered slightly at the way you looked at him.

don’t even get him started on the way his usual patience ran lower and lower the more his teammates flirted with you. from yamamoto’s blatant disregard of your crystal clear unease to lev’s constant presence around you, had affected kenma more than he had hoped.

god, he hated feeling this way, and yet it was addicting that why you still looked at him regardless.

perhaps it was the only reason why he started reciprocating your sly glances to vie for your attention—granted, he already had it.

the subtle linking of your gazes eventually turned into smiles across the court to kenma finally getting the courage to walk up to you after practice. the sky was dim, shrouded by the last few sunrays of the setting sun as he offered to stay behind to help clean up. usually, he would be one of the first ones to leave the gym with kuroo by his side to walk home, but it didn’t take much for his best friend to know what he was up to.

you were folding up one of the volleyball nets at one end to which the setter reached for the other. he folded along the lines, eventually meeting you halfway to which you could say that’s where it all started.

the blossoming of a new friendship.

something about the way you two complimented each other so much, that the moment you two even started talking, it felt like two old friends reuniting. you felt at home with kenma and he liked being by your side.

you supposed that sensation of familiarity you found in kenma led to your days of shy glances to each other turned into eating lunch together to even walking side by side to practice. you both had a knack for being seen with each other to often, that people started to suspect things. from your classmates to the rest of nekoma’s volleyball team did they tread lightly around the subject. it wasn’t like it was any of their business anyway, but good gossip is always entertaining.

“can you please help me beat this level, kenma?”

“absolutely not,” the setter deadpanned, flicking you a tired look as you two neared the opposing school’s gym.

poor kuroo was third-wheeling a few feet behind you.

the night prior, you and kenma stayed up until the sunlight’s orange hues teased away the shadow of the moon, the quiet night in suburban tokyo was filled with your laughter through your gaming headsets. you two stayed up all night playing video games or simply just talking the night away, bridging over the same gap that had already been filled. surely, it was a terrible idea considering kenma literally had a game the next day, but his only excuse was hanging out with you was much better than wallowing in nervous thoughts, so he digresses.

“why not?” you gasp with offense written over your face as clear as day.

kenma shrugs, “maybe after we win this game, i’ll help you beat it.”

you hum in response, tucking your phone back into your windbreaker as you felt the rush of air-conditioned cold air breeze through your hair. approaching the benches, you quickly greet the opposing team’s manager and coach before situating yourself back to nekoma’s side of the court. mizuhara was already in the process of taking out the empty water bottles and placing them into holders to fill them up.

“i’ll help with that,” you offer as you had already picked up a bottle, but mizuhara waved you away with a smile.

“no, no, i’ll take care of this. you can start telling the boys to get changed and have them gather around coach nekomata.” they say, feet already trailing out towards the water fountains as you nod.

your hand scratched the nape of your neck as you turned towards the boys, mouth opening to speak and yet they seemed to already be one step ahead of you. their red tracksuits were already off and stuffed into the deep ends of their duffle bags—it was obvious with the way their bags bulged from the crammed clothing items.

a sigh leaves your lips, shrugging to yourself as it seemed like there wasn’t much to do when the majority of the things were sorted out already. sitting atop the courtside bench, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, typing in your password as you immediately opened up your game. the real game wasn’t going to be starting for the next ten minutes anyway, surely there was enough time to attempt to beat a level within that time span.

your hands gripped the sides of your phone with eyes focused to each detail the flashing graphics shined upon your face. you were so caught up within your own little world, that the ambient sounds of talking murmurs and approaching footsteps bled together.

kenma clears his throat before dropping onto the bench next to you. he peered over to your screen for a second, almost laughing at how much he had rubbed off on you. he feigned himself from scoffing at the way you hadn’t even acknowledged him, but he couldn’t you. it was technically his fault for introducing you to this game. besides, you looked so adorable with the way you would bite your lip whenever you were at the verge of dying.

you groaned, dropping your arms in defeat as you pouted towards him, “i died again.”

“i can see that,” he amused. rolling your eyes at the look he gave you, you rested your elbows upon your thighs again as you reset the level. however, before you resume on playing, the setter swiftly snatched your phone out of your hand.

for once he had to help you with this one.

“watch and learn, (y/n).”

you huffed at his cockiness, resting your chin upon kenma’s shoulder.

usually, he would find himself tensing at your contact, but lately, he’s been treasuring these little moments with you. kuroo would often catch himself off guard whenever he finds kenma cozying up to you like a kitten. this was definitely not something he would usually do unless of course, it’s for someone he is absolutely in love with. it was obvious the way kenma tried so hard to hide his feelings, yet still failing despite the nonchalant exterior.

if only you two just confessed to each other already, this would’ve been easier on literally everyone here.

kenma seemed pretty confident—so incredibly sure that he would beat this level for you that you couldn’t help but find it the tiniest bit attractive... okay maybe a lot. from the way his fingers intricately worked at the game as if it was second nature. you wondered how in the hell he plays so well, but the hours he puts into gaming was no surprise. within minutes, he had already beat the level.

“holy shit!” you exclaimed in excitement as you pulled yourself off of him, grabbing your phone to look at the ‘VICTORY!’ screen just to make sure it was legit.

the setter couldn’t help but feel the ends of his lips tug into a small smile as he admired the glow in your eyes. he liked it when you looked like this—grinning as if you were an absolute maniac with sugarcoated teeth of saccharine.

you beamed at him, “you’re amazing.”

there is was again, his rapid beating heart causing an avalanche between kenma’s lungs. he couldn’t get used to the way you make him feel. it still felt like the same rising warmth that hugged him like a bear whenever you would praise him or let out a slick laugh. he really liked your laugh. he discovered that about himself the first time he made you giggle over your first discord call together. it sounded like a forgotten epiphany finally finding itself back to him that he wanting to make you laugh again and again. even though the low-quality grain of the microphone, it was enough to ease his yearning to just hold you within his arms.

hearing you laugh over a call was one thing, but it hit differently in real life.

“yeah, right,” kenma scoffs, almost unconvinced. he leans over a bit more, his shoulder touching yours as he tapped a few buttons on your screen. his expression was almost unfazed as you continued staring at him. “you don’t mean that.”

kenma looks back up at you. his lips purse together, forcing the lump forming in his throat when he noticed how close your faces were. his eyes flickered over your features, memorizing them as if this was his last time ever seeing your face. for a brief moment, you felt your heart stop again and again. it punched against your ribcage with such brutal force, you swore kenma could’ve heard it.

you chuckled nervously, taking a deep breath as the words spilled out of your mouth. “i don’t lie to people i have feelings for.”

it ended up being softer than you thought it was. you supposed it was the way you were so careful to approach kenma’s lips, slowly and gently, just in case he wanted to pull away. in fact, you did expect him to pull away no matter embarrassing it may have been. there was such a pouring downfall within you that maybe you were okay with that possibility of him rejecting your kiss if it meant that there was a chance he might return it.

his lips were like velvet when he kissed you softly. even if it was a brief moment of vulnerability, you were both aware of how inappropriate it was to kiss not only your closest friend, but a member of your team just minutes before a game.

you pulled away then, hands slapping over your cheeks to hide the crimson red blush that suspended itself all the way up to your ears. kenma looked just the same, but he simply looked away.

you prayed that the rest of the guys did see—but they did.

kuroo saw it first, having to do a double-take the moment you pulled away from kenma. honestly, no one would’ve noticed if yamamoto’s loud ass shout didn’t echo throughout the gymnasium. as if your sudden humiliation moved like a domino-effect, jumping from one person to another.

you pushed yourself off the bench, hoping your hair would cover your tomato-colored face as you excused yourself to the bathroom.

right as your figure left the gym, the boys immediately ran towards kenma, still in a dazed state. the poor setter’s lips still buzzed from the kiss no matter how short it was. it still sent flickers of electricity through him as kai shook his shoulder.

“since when were you and (y/n) a thing?” he questioned quite loudly.

he acted as if kenma even knew the answer to that. if anything, he was just glad that he was saved by the buzzer as the game was to start. he let out a sigh as he scanned all of his teammate’s expressions, pushing himself off the bench. “don’t look at me like that.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma scenarios #kenma imagines #kenma oneshot #kenma fluff #hq kenma

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serenawitchwriter · 3 years

Text

BNHA fusion (Bakusquad/Todoroki)

TodoBaku

i pity endeavor

somehow angrier than bakugou? like it’s less of a tsundere, shouty way and more of a punk rock 100% ready to throw down at the slightest provocation

has less tolerance for spice but will eat it anyway

spicy noodles

a lot blunter with his actual thoughts

so much fire, i’m imagining because of Baku's chemical secretion they could possibly make some kind of plasma, though i doubt that makes scientific sense.

also shoots steam out of one their hands

spiky red and white hair, not split down the middle but streaky. a bit like natsuo only more integrated

red eyes, no heterochromia, but keeps the scar

handsome, but constantly looks a bit constipated

really self-critical

incredibly good at mocking people. easily makes people cry with his insults because they’ll attack the thing about you that you don’t like

surprisingly unaggressive towards midoriya. like bakugou’s rivalry/aggression toward him is somehow dampened by todoroki’s love of mido

also tolerant of specifically mina, uraraka, and kirishima. everyone else push their buttons to the point of pissing them off.

i’d like to see them fight dabi because it feels like they’d have similar vibes, except todobaku is less theater kid.

would absolutely wear a leather jacket

despite their angry punk energy, they still pretty anal about self care and schedules. like they’re straight edge nerds about everything but fighting

KiriTodo

chaotic

like they aren’t a bad person but they are a dumbass and the shit that they get up to is spectacularly wild

completely red hair, silky texture. either slicks it back or spikes it into a mohawk. depends on the day

still scarred, red and blue eyes.

shark teeth but in a softer shaped face

usually shirtless, especially when it’s inappropriate

will eat literally anything

incredibly insecure but honest about it

clingy to his friends in an almost desperate way. like his friends will always be their for him but even then he’s struggling to feel secure about it

slow burn anger, but is the most terrifying person to see angry. you do not want to see him get genuinely pissed

an incredibly kind person

fantastic with animals

another elemental quirk user

i have the mental image of a rock golem running at the enemy while on fire and covered in ice. again, avoid pissing him off

pauses a lot while talking and uses a lot of filler words like ‘like, um, and uh”. almost like a valley girl

deceptively smart and emotionally mature. like they have their moments of being profound, of getting where others are coming from, of doing something totally genius

but is also a dumbass the vast majority of the time. like you’d be shocked at how stupid he can be

can’t fucking read

affectionate towards Bakugou and Midoriya. thinks they’re all best friends. isn’t entirely wrong. loves Mina as well

cuddly as hell, but is not comfortable to cuddle with. he’s too hard and he’s never the right temperature

TodoMina

chaotic part 2

a weird combo, probably not very stable

candy cane colored curls, with a pink transition color in their hair. still has horns.

it’s hard to tell that they’re scarred with pink skin. heterochromic eyes, one blue, the other yellow with black sclara

has a creepy laugh

fully into being an alien and is attempting to convince people it’s true, not in a joking way.

more plasma options in terms of quirks. i don’t know how freezing or heating acid effects it, but the effect can probably be used for something

will do basically anything they put their mind to, no matter how absurd. once they make a decision they’re going to do it hell or high water

shift back and forth between being incredibly hyper and on the ball, and being exhausted and antisocial.

overly invested in gossip and discovering the truth. nosy as hell

impossible to predict

probably into yoga?

manic pixie dream girl? definitely quirky

has a mean sense of humor, and is sometimes just mean in general. generally has good intentions but won’t hesitate to cut people down when they feel they ‘deserve it’

candy addiction

TodaKami

very stable

very funny and chill

stoner vibes regardless of if they do drugs

zones out constantly

black lightning in the white half, red lightning in yellow half of hair. fine and silky as hell

green eyes, no scar. probably needs glasses but doesn’t have them yet

weather powers. can make storms, clouds, effect temperature. can be effected by their own weather and injures themselves often

but is an op fighter anyway

both a memer and conspiracy theorist but in an entertaining way. could have a buzzfeed unsolved style show if they find the right skeptic. i feel like iida would be a cute partner for that. obviously todokami is the unhinged one

will eat literal garbage. i could see them eating from a dumpster because the pizza looked okay

rude mouth, says what he’s thinking regardless of how hurtful it is. isn’t intentionally trying to be mean.

obsessed with dragons

constantly tired. they sleep and sleep but it is never enough

pretty cuddly and quiet when zoned out

a fantastic hugger

baby

Todosero

weird but in an inexplicably normal way

like they’re not getting bullied for it, they’re not subverting society or being overly chaotic. they’re just kinda... odd.

possibly a fae in disguise?

fixed looking smile

scarred. small black eyes. hair is split to be red and white. but the roots are black

obviously still has tape elbows. quirk is probably some kinda fire and ice whip. makes a lot of icicles as well. has many creative applications, especially because they’re both range attacks

executive dysfunction anyone?

loves manga, particularly weird artsy kind, or horror and mysteries

will chill in high places for hours. probably makes a full spiderweb or cocoon or hammock.

just likes getting away from people

wears Hawaiian shirts casually. on the tame side

loves the beach

loves noodles more than life itself. has a mission to try every type of noodle

probably gets stuck places and gets lost easily

makes people uncomfortable. kind of person who just stands silently and stares at you. will wait until you notice him to speak. so sometimes he’ll just be standing silently behind you for five minute and than you’ll finally turn around and have a heart attack,

will otherwise jut kinda stand at the periphery of groups and stare blankly. like that vine of the guy disassociating at a party

never quite jives with the conversations, timing always seems off. they’re just really awkward

pretty fun loving given the opportunity. hanging out with friends is their favorite activity

vibes fairly well with ojiro and hagakure

TodoJirou

cool

makes ice puns, which is lame but gay/lesbian solidarity part 2

white and purple hair in a bob. no scar. has the earphone jacks. purple and silver eyes. petite

deserves to wear sunglasses at all times. probably doesn’t but they deserve to

incredibly chill

actually pretty lazy given the opportunity

still plays the bass and is quite passionate about it

husky singing voice. it’s good but unique, most suited towards indie stuff, not belting Broadway.

plays with earjacks constantly

in love with momo

powers aren’t particularly enhanced by each other. have to get pretty creative to make it effective. don’t mind that much, they aren’t trying to be number one, they’re just herre to help

probably always in a leather jacket

generally pretty sweet, especially towards close friends. it’s a quiet kindness. more shown by putting extra food on your plate when you’re not eating enough, instead of demanding you eat more verbally

sardonic

stable

easily annoyed, especially by injustice. if something is unfair they’ll get mad

generally incredibly mellow, one of the less feral fusion overall

(masterlist)

#fusion au #bnha #mha #bakusquad #todobaku #todomina #todokiri #todosero #todojirou #serenawitchwriter

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bassdaily · 3 years

Text

100 followers!

Somehow? I wanted to do something special for this landmark, but I can't draw and sprites go over like a fart in church. So instead, let's have some fun stats!

(And maybe a playlist. Tomorrow. Or next week. Maybe.)

The most impressive one, of course, would have to be you yourselves. Thanks for being here! Astonishingly... I can hardly believe it... it looks like each and every one of you is a real person. (That might not sound like much, but like 70% of my followers over on my personal blog are actually bots of ill repute. 😜) If you're an artist with Bass or Forte content, I've tried to get you onto the schedule. If I missed your work, my apologies.

General

These stats are as of 12/1/20, with a nice even 500 posts. Of those 500: 8 I'm supposed to delete and haven't yet, 3 are meta but not slated for deletion, and 3 are "not about that bass" (two of Treble, one of Piano). There are 82 of Forte.exe. I need to start posting more Forte.exe, he's only getting a whopping 16% total exposure here.

The most frequently used silly tag is for all music-based puns, with 19 posts. As you may guess, most of them are involve dubstep: "drop the bass". Meanwhile, the f-bomb has only been dropped 18 times: "only I didn't say 'fudge'".

Hair

There are 42 posts tagged "hairstyles", and 15 as "human au". There's some overlap between them... I'm inconsistent about the human au tag. Excluding duplicates, they break down like this:

16 are blond

21 are black or brunet

9 are purple

5 unknown

If it was lineart but the artist always uses a certain hair color, I went with that. If it was multi-color, I went with the largest portion (or the mohawk itself, for mohawks). Speaking of styles, there were 11 with long hair, 5 with curly hair, 4 with mohawks, 2 with braids, 1 bald. Most of the short haired Basses have the semi-canonical swept-back style... but not all. For those that are, half have bangs, and half don't.

Friends and Family

We have Mega Man: 115, Proto Man: 90, Roll: 54, which sounds about right. Mega Man is a little artificially inflated, since his tag is also used for the series itself (on the rare occasions I post New Content™). Treble: only 72? Dang. I should reblog more Treble, too.

Out of Zero's 41 posts, 36% are positive interactions, 24% are negative interactions, the rest neutral.

Out of Wily's 39 posts, 28% are positive interactions, 49% are negative interactions, the rest neutral.

A nice trend of happy Wily Bros art (...I don’t think I’ve posted any “cataclysm theory” stuff yet 🤔). And a disturbing trend for Bass and Wily’s dysfunctional father-son relationship. There might be some moderator bias there, but I think it reflects the fan art that’s out there.

Shipping

43 posts are tagged "shippy", which is a modest 8.6% of all posts. I kind of feel like I should post more ship content just because... well... there's so much of it. But I like keeping it restricted to once a month or less for the big three outside of ship weeks. Shipping posts breakdown as such:

“BassBlues” 39% [17 posts]

“BassRock” 35% [15 posts]

“Rollass” 32% [14 posts]

“Forte/Serenade” 7% [3 posts]

That gulf will get wider with time, as I've got about 200 each of BassBlues and BassRock on my spreadsheet, but only ~80 of Rollass. (Rollass shippers get on top of this! Chop chop!) I’ve yet to do any really minor ships yet, partially because I didn’t get to do an “other ships” week, which will be happening next year.

In closing

Is there anything you guys would like to see more of? Less of? Ideas for theme weeks? Asks are always open and I don’t bite.

Just kidding. But don’t worry— I’ve had my rabies shots.

Flash fact! The “only I didn’t say ‘fudge’” tag is actually there so it can be blocked to make this blog SFW or PG-13. I’ll never reblog stronger curse words than that, and I figured lesser ones would be too much work to tag are still mild enough to get by with a PG-13 rating.

#meta

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gilbirda · 4 years

Text

Eternal. Chapter 3

Elizabeth was a very old vampire, used to changes and tragedies, used to adapt to the evolving world. When one night she searches for a distraction she finds someone as lost as she is, a human man that sparks an interest in her. But will that be enough? Would she risk involving him in her ageless world?

Go to First || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

Chapter 3: Don’t make lemonade

Elizabeth rushed through the streets at full speed, barely realising that she had left her coat in the human’s house, not caring anymore about appearances and looking human anymore. Her mind was full with thoughts about the mistake she had just made, her heart beating a mile per hour in her chest, thinking that she shouldn’t have let her emotions guide her actions.

“Fuck,” she cursed while slowing down. She was really hungry now and nothing was helping her in containing her inner beast. Slowly, her mind focused on the hunger and only the hunger, the urge to sink her fangs on anything with blood on their veins, and she felt her body revert back to the state all vampires go under high pressure, guided by their lowest and more basic instincts.

Her nose caught a delicious scent in the air. Human. Right now she didn’t care about seductions or looking human or even talking. She wanted blood and wanted it now. And this poor human was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“What the-!” she heard the scream of the cold homeless person sitting by a burning trash can, probably trying to sleep at this late hour, in a filthy lonely dark alley where even in the bright daylight no one would dare to look inside.

A part of her mind wondered what she looked like to the man. A demon, maybe? Her reflection on his wide eyes as she grabbed his cold arm only gave her information she already knew, bright red eyes and very visible fangs poking out of her lips. Was the man religious? Was he able to understand what was happening as his blood calmed her primal state? Did he have someone who missed him at all?

She breathed some of the cold air when she dropped the now empty body at her feet. Her consciousness slowly came back like turning up the volume on a radio, and Elizabeth realized that she had killed the man.

She sighed. The world already had so much death and killing people was simply not her style; but it was her fault by not feeding properly and the vampire felt guilty for it.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured at the empty alley. No one answered.

***

“You did what!?”

“Let him leave without erasing his memories,” Elizabeth sighed for the tenth time, her voice muffled by the palm of the hand she was leaning on. She tried to look away from the eyes of her friend seated on the other chair of her kitchen table, afraid to face her wrath.

“Yeah yeah, I heard that the first damn time. Oh damn, Elizabeth, you really fucked it up bad now,” the other vampire in front of her puffed some smoke from her mouth, telling her that Lucy was really angry.

“I didn’t know what to do, ok? He said something unnerving and I… snapped. I didn’t want to erase his memories, Lucibelle, and it seemed like the best course of action.”

“‘Best course of action’ my ass, Eli.” The tiny vampire groaned and leaned back on her seat, careful not to touch the very flammable delicate wood of the ancient chair, “And don’t call me Lucibelle.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t worry. You are one of the few that know it anyways,” the vampire sighed. “There are less and less ancients on the active lately.”

“I heard about that,” Elizabeth was grateful by the change of topic. “I wonder what is happening for them to go out of reach.”

“Dunno. At least Jonathan keeps his phone on this time. But the others, not a beep.”

A comfortable silence established between the two friends, each one on their own thoughts. The older vampire’s red eyes coursed through the spitfire in front of her, grateful to be able to call her a friend. Lucy, as she liked to be called now, has been living with her for a few years now and was there with the whole ordeal of Suzie.

The vampire looked no older than a kid, around fifteen, but in her own time she was considered almost an adult, already promised to an abusive much older man, sold by her own family for money. She had told Elizabeth that she didn’t resent them, as she could see now the logical decision in that exchange; but still, when she found out many years after the incident that they died in the Great Fire of London, she just smirked at the irony of the situation.

Their friendship was a strange one, their personalities so different and coming from very different worlds, but somehow they connected through dark humor and valued the opinion of the other’s. Lucy’s snarky comments had saved her from more than one dangerous and probably fatal situation, and her advice during the worst break up of her life helped her go on.

Something she respected about Lucy was her ability to adapt to the changing world. She was even jealous of it. Being forever a teenager wasn’t easy, and she knew of really nasty experiences her friend had decided to share, but the golden eyed vampire surpassed every hardship and got out of them stronger and more powerful. She wasn’t known as the ‘Fire demon’ for anything, after all, and it wasn’t only because of her one-of-a-kind fire powers.

“What do you think he might be feeling right now?” said vampire asked, bringing her out of her musings.

“Probably angry. And betrayed. And kind of spooked.”

“Well, yeah, no one disappears like that. No one human, at least” she gave her a disappointed look.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth put her hands in the air in defeat, looking back at the golden intensity of her friend’s eyes. “I’ll fix that.”

“You’d better.”

***

A whole week had passed and Elizabeth was burning with regrets. Being inside everyday didn’t help at all, reading wasn’t working for her right now, and when she tried to play any game of any kind, her attention dispersed to her very brief encounter with the strange human. His words when he talked about his obsession with vampires still burned in her brain like coals, consuming her until the need to know more about what he thought about her kind grew almost as big as hunger.

It was a cruel flaw of hers, that insatiable curiosity. She always wanted to know more, to know why, how, when of everything; and while it helped her find some valuable people on her life (she tried not to think about Suzie, as it was her damn curiosity what attracted her to the human at that time), it had led her to almost get killed a few times.

So that’s why she found herself once more on the queue of “Midnight Blood” with her corset and gothic-like makeup, trying to choke down the blood she just had from a random hooker on the street on her way to the club. She had just the bare minimum and the woman was okay after she wiped her memories, only a little winded. Nonetheless, she bought her dinner.

“Your ID, lady” said the big man watching the door, his hand open and waiting for her. The vampire blinked and handed him the card, barely listening to the angry whispers behind her. It seemed that she was slowing the line. “Go.”

She thanked him in a low whisper and got in the club, her ears already hurting from the loud music playing in the enormous speakers by the stage. Tonight, a group was playing some kind of grunge-ish rock, big mohawks and shiny outfits accompanied with white makeup and thick eyeliner. The lady that was singing was really into the song, eyes closed, murmuring the words of the lyrics to the microphone and making gestures with the hands as if trying to touch something that wasn’t there. It wasn’t her style at all, but she could see the sentiment in the woman’s face as she sang about a lost love and despair. She respected that.

The vampire shook her head and focused on finding one human in the sea of human flesh dancing and moving at the rhythm of the music. She looked at the veranda on the second floor, maybe hoping that he was there waiting for her. It was silly, but she really wanted to make an impression on him like William did on her. Maybe he wasn’t as curious as she was? Maybe he was really angry and didn’t want anything to do with her?

Oh my God, she thought, panicking. She thought she saw him for a moment, her sharp eyes catching a glimpse of dark blonde hair in the distance. What am I going to say?

A second look confirmed that it was him indeed, and to the utmost horror of the vampire, he was looking back at her and seemed really angry. She gulped.

Slowly, mostly because of the mass of humans bouncing around in the dance floor that didn't let her pass easily, Elizabeth walked to the glaring human leaning on the wall, arms crossed. He looked disappointed, almost like he already knew what she wanted to say and was sad about it. She wondered what kind of betrayal had happened in his life to be like this.

“You,” he said when she managed to reach him, “have some explaining to do.”

#original fiction #gil writes #writeblr #writing #exophilia #exophilia fiction #vampire #vampire fiction #urban fantasy #bisexual main character #female vampire x human #queer characters

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years

Photo

Our third and final round of 3 Prompt Summaries!

Prompts by @riotwritesthings - Rainstorms, breakfast, firearms

Summary by @dreaminglypeach - Bucky’s not going to lie, Malaysia in the middle of monsoon season is far from his ideal holiday destination.��

And that’s before he winds up trading gunfire with Hydra agents before he’s even had his breakfast-curry.

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Prompts by @dreaminglypeach - Palace, cross-stitch, Valkyrie

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Valkyrie hadn't been to the Palace since her lovers death. Too shameful, too painful the memory of her greatest failure. She didn't want to join Loki and Thor back there, in the end she followed for her big guy Hulk, and her tiny scientist Tony. What neither had expected, was Hela already being there, trying to claim what had been hers rightfully once. The battle was fierce and the lose high, but in the end they managed to win and while the palace, while Asgard burned, Valkyrie stood watching.

"You know, my uncle Bucky used to cross stitch whenever he lost something. I started to do that, too."

With these words, Tony had pushed some cloth and a needle to her, giving her a gentle pat to the shoulder and left again. On the cloth was already the outline of the palace and Valkyrie had to chock back a sob.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts - jungle fever, meeting under duress, “punk”, palace

Summary by @riotwritesthings - For the record: it’s all Steve’s fault. Being lost in the jungle was supposed to be the worst part of Bucky’s day. Now he’s caught in a snare, dangling from a tree branch, and probably hallucinating, because he’d swear he keeps catching glances of a palace through the trees as he twists and dangles. To make matters worse, he can hear footsteps approaching and he has a feeling he’s about to meet whatever hunter set up this trap. If he ever sees Steve again, he’s going to kill that punk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by @riotwritesthings - Rainstorms, breakfast, firearms

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Steve hated that everything since they came back resolved around Stark Tech. Stark phone here, Stark Vision (not Vision but a television) there and ; "Oh Stevie! Look at this arm! It's full with Stark Tech. Tony even included firearms!"

If Steve was honest, it wasn't the tech itself that bothered him. What really got under his skin was Bucky making goo eyes at Tony, even before breakfast. What bothered him even more was, that Tony and him still hadn't gone back to their old... whatever they had.

When they were discussing where to have their weekly train session, Steve suggested to fly over to Wakanda and meet with T'Challa. If he was honest mainly because he wanted Tony and Bucky to be distracted by other people and not each other.

"There is supposed to be a rainstorm coming this afternoon, we shouldn't head out with the quinjet." Tony had retorted immediately.

"What's the matter, Stark? Stark Tech isn't water proofed or what?"

In hindsight, Steve shouldn't have challenged Tony there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by @blurockets - Captain Marvel, amnesia buddies, wolverine

Summary by @fightingforcreativity - Finding out that she was from Earth and not- well she really hated the whole Kree affair. Still, there were gaps in her memory, filling her with a sense of dread. judging by the way Stark and Rhodes looked at her she had known them once before.

She leaned on the railing, over-viewing the New Avengers training session when Barnes stepped next to her. "What can I do for you, Sarge?"

"I heard them talkin'. Wanted to know if it's true."

"What and who?"

"You've got memory... you're not remembering your whole life?"

She turned to the former assassin and her expression softened. If one person could relate to how she felt, it was Barnes. "Yeah..."

"... you wanna join our club?"

"Club?"

"Wolverine and I got the soldier being amnesiacs club going. Helps sometimes."

"Oh. Well, sure."

Somehow, Carol found herself a place amongst them, and this is her and their story of getting better together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts - Cross stitch, rainstorms, punk

Summary by @blurockets - Where Maria hill gains a new cross stitch buddy on a rainy day. Maria talks about punk history while she stitches. She pulls the needle through talking about the culture and brings it around as she talks about how it related to queer culture. Bucky listens to her talk about the ones that were lost in 'the crisis' with a passion he had never heard her express before. There was something military in her bearing as she went futher into detail about the things he had missed. Like she knew, and knew he would care. It was tragic the things he learned but knowing them. That they still survived. It was good. It was heartening.

The rain hammering the roof of the compound provided a backdrop as she stitched a 32-bit like figure (He will have to thank Clint again for explaining the styles of video games) with a bright green mohawk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prompts by

@blurockets - Captain Marvel, amnesia buddies, wolverine

@dreaminglypeach - Palace, cross-stitch, Valkyrie

@riotwritesthings - Rainstorms, breakfast, firearms

@fightingforcreativity - jungle fever, meeting under duress, "Punk"

"For f*cks sake!" Bucky was frustrated. His sisters had always made it seem so easy to cross stitch some patterns on a torn knee or shirt, so it looked good again. He just wanted to repair his shirt he had accidentally ripped earlier that morning because he had been in a hurry to get to breakfast after Steve's and his morning run. Steve, that punk, had laughed at him for ruining yet another of his shirts.

The kids of the X-man school were currently visiting and training with them, and thus the usual breakfast table was packed if you made your way to it too late. So it had been a frequent thing for Bucky, sadly enough.

A soft knock and a contradicting loud, "Sarge, what's up?" let Bucky look up and come face to face with Carol and Valkyrie.

Somehow those two were attached to the hip, often joined by Shuri and often enough Tony. Oddly, even Wolverine seemed to be around them way too often.

"You look like your birthday was crashed due a rainstorm." While Val really tried, she sometimes still slipped up phrases, just like that one.

"I'd rather face meeting some HYDRA assholes in a freaking jungle, catching jungle fever, then having to deal with this!" Bucky sighed, shoving his shirt aside.

"Awww, c'mon, bandit, let me help you. I mean from amnesiac to amnesiac, I gotta give ya a hand," Carol playfully drawled, which resulted in Bucky pouting.

"I should have taken T'Challa's invite to the Palace when I had a chance", he grumbled."

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #discord party #3 prompts summary game

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thebleuroseproject · 3 years

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Ludus

Name: Ludus

Nicknames: Many, but none that really stuck

Pronouns: They/Them, He/Him

Gender: Genderfluid

Sex: AMAB

Sexual Orientation: Marsic, but money is money.

Age: 23 (Lifespan 90-150 years)

Class/Status: Moderate. He gets by and has a little extra from time to time.

Physical Description:

Height: 6’5” | Weight: 10.5 stone

Ludus is wiry purple hellspawn with pupiless green eyes that can leave his face hard to read, as it’s hard to tell where he’s looking specifically. He’s hard to miss in a crowd, being tall, often covered in jewelry and clad in provocative clothing that colour-matches well with his skin. A prominent feature are his horns, small and neatly pointed; they curve around his skull elegantly, ending just a few inches in front of his forehead and sitting just above his browline like a sort of natural crown.They are a deeper purple than his skin, and are often covered in various tidbits of jewelry. His lips are naturally purple, only a little darker than his skin, but Ludus is rarely seen without black lipstick, as anyone with a true sense of style knows that this is peak fashion.

He looms over most people, with his intimidation showing not through his weight or size (because his ribs almost show through his chest) but through his cutting sarcasm and high perception when it comes to people, which some do fear him for. He isn’t afraid to get into people’s personal space when he wants to - which can leave many feeling unnerved, either by the lack of space, the headiness of the scent he wears or by physical attraction to him.

His physicality could still be seen as intimidating in some ways, as it’s clear there is some muscle behind those legs. Where one would expect those legs to end in feet, as they do on MOST humanoids, they instead end in a very solid pair of hooves inset with gold filigree - which look to be very painful if one was to be kicked by them.

There is no beauty without pain, and while Ludus has no tattoos (they don’t always match with their clothes), he has plenty of piercings from his ears to the tip of his pointed tail which he puts in or takes out to match with his current style. His thick black hair is shaved into a mohawk and grown from there, often braided and intertwined with yet MORE jewelry and dip dyed in a bright colour of their choosing. Like every part of Ludus’ body, it is cared for meticulously with an efficient routine. Only the best to look the best, he doesn’t care where it came from. If he needs to kill a puppy for good skin cream, then to the dog house Ludus shall go.

Quirks: Despite his best efforts, Ludus cannot stop chewing his nails. He often does it unconsciously and then becomes angry at ruining his own manicure. As a result, his nails are always short which is just as well really - it’s best they are to avoid any unnecessary injury in his line of work. Hellspawn nails, or rather claws at a certain point, can get VERY sharp. Aside from this, Ludus is a very clean individual - a very important habit as a sex worker.

Ludus ALWAYS buys gold jewelry but keeps (and wears) any he is given regardless of colour. He doesn’t mind silver, but in his opinion it doesn’t pop as much as gold does on purple skin.

He doesn’t have a phobia of anything as far as he knows - but he hasn’t exactly gotten out enough to find or SEE a lot of things to be scared of and is drunk most of the time due to his alcohol dependence. One thing he will flinch at occasionally, is someone raising their hand that he interprets to hit him. It’s a reflex at this point, and he hates it but isn’t sure how he can train it out of himself.

Morality: Neutral - “You do you and I’ll do me - unless I want something from you, or you’re being a shithead to something I personally care about.”

{Art by Kerry}

Personality

Strengths/Weaknesses:

Strengths: Perceptive, Bold, Enthusiastic

Ludus, despite his lack of a formal education, is a very quick learner - although this mostly applies to things of a sexual nature. They will learn very quickly how you like your blowjobs, or what exactly to say to get the job done as it were. His line of work has led him to be flexible and open minded in more ways than one, a fact they are very proud of. It's also given him an excellent fashion sense, although it does lean heavily into sexual wear.

When it comes to his work and his skin care routine, they are extremely diligent - and perhaps with the right call to adventure, this could be applied to other areas of their life.

For the most part, Ludus is reliable. If you need something done that fits in with his schedule and that he agrees with, he'll get it done. It can be difficult to negotiate with him, but 95% of the time, they're easygoing. The other 5% is when they’ve lost their temper - or when they’re paid to be the dominant or similar.

This easy going nature really does show in Ludus' enthusiasm and lust for life. They are ALWAYS down to party or throw down, and this energy can be very infectious in others. This doesn't mean that Ludus is loud and bouncing off the walls, but he’s definitely the type to have a small crowd around him at a table. He’ll often go with the flow and the desires of the group - but if uninterested, he will just leave. There’s no chance of them slipping away after all, so Ludus will just state his disinterest and take his leave if it’s something he’s not in the mood for.

Ludus is also bold, he is not scared to do what needs to be done (in his opinion - which can lead to trouble). They have NO shame or concern for their well-being or social grace, he grew up as a despised minority in a brothel after all - but please, don't punch the face.

Despite this mostly fast paced lifestyle, mostly given to him by his work, Ludus CAN be caring and does know when the party needs to stop. If he sees someone in trouble or someone that's clearly overworked and/or tired - he will slip them a mug of water or something to help them along. He often did this for his co-workers at the Lupanar, it has almost become second nature to help those struggling from fatigue or hangover.

Weaknesses: Insecure, Impulsive, Complacent

Ludus is not very forthcoming with his emotions due to his insecurity, and this shows through his flirting outside of work, which could be taken as platonic or sexual. He is bold, but he doesn’t think he’s worthy of actual love, and protects himself by being somewhat of a shy tsundere when it comes to people they like. They will help someone (eg, carry them to bed if they fall asleep somewhere) but will never admit to actually doing so.

This insecurity has led to a tendency to stagnate and just accept abusive relationships and situations as their lot. This has led to slow processing of trauma, and the unhealthy handling of it via the consumption of alcohol like it was water. Despite being a functional alcoholic, he is still a lightweight due to how little he eats, combined with his slim frame. As a result, Ludus is actually drunk most of the time, but you would find it hard to tell due to his experience in being drunk and due to the fact he is absolutely just as bold when he is sober.

He can be kind, but the side that shows most is the one that is judgmental and critical of others which leads to him running his mouth at the wrong time. You would think he would learn after getting hit at the bar/brothel every time he did so, but he doesn’t. He sees it as part of his ‘charm’, some clients like a challenge after all and he sees it as an integral part of his identity - one that he will never let go.

In spite of having a bold and outlandish personality - Ludus is not a leader. He loves parties, but he is not the type to plan them, purely because he is uninterested in the effort that it takes. He brings his ass and the wine, which is all he and anyone else needs (in his opinion). In non party situations, the lack of desire to lead due to effort remains. He’s no babysitter - he would just prefer to point out what’s wrong and let others fix it - rather than having to fix it himself. No one wants to be that sucker in the group project that ends up doing everything after all.

Skills:

Self taught makeup artist

Knows first aid.

Dances wonderfully

Decent pickpocket

Can use a knife as a weapon - their fighting almost looks like dancing.

Can tie all sorts of knots.

Has the ability to give almost anyone a makeover.

Good bartender, excellent mixologist, amazing dancer (modern).

Education: Ludus has never had a formal education, having been working from a very young age. Of course, his coworkers felt an obligation to teach him the basics (reading, speaking, basic numeracy) as well as skills required for the role (dancing, basic sewing, self defence)

His bardic powers were found by accident in his youth - and he doesn’t know too much about them or the extent of their abilities - he finds knives do the job in most situations. Ludus is very materialistic and prefers things he can see; he would need guidance to really start to focus on magic.

His intelligence comes from his love of gossip and people watching. They spend a good portion of time gathering information by loose lips either in public or the bedroom, and Ludus is often amazed at what people tell complete strangers.

Likes/Dislikes: In their spare time, Ludus can often be found at a bar. They love the taste of alcohol, especially STRONG sweet and fruity drinks. You’d NEVER catch them with an ale or similar unless they were paid handsomely to drink one. His casual drink is a GOOD red wine though, as they’re a bit of a wine snob and he always makes sure to stock up on bottles where he can.

(Fantasy note: Ludus would most likely have an unending flask of his favourite red wine.)

Since he isn’t a fan of eating unless he needs to, Ludus’ preferred side dish with his wine is a good old bitchy gossip. He loves hearing other people tell him about their lives and bitch about their problems, it fuels him somehow, makes his problems feel smaller - just for a little while.

When he’s not drinking and/or gossiping, Ludus is probably shopping. They love looking at clothes and perfume. He’s a fan of deep heady scents, such as jasmine and he likes people around him to be entranced in one way or another, as it’s easier to get what you want that way.

Ludus has learned to love certain parts of his work, even in his free time - he does enjoy good recreational sexual acts or even as a work around to get past certain people barring his path from certain things. In Ludus’ opinion, if you have a resource like money, make sure to use it.

There are other aspects of his work that he does not tolerate while off the clock, and one of these is rude clients - he is a gossipy bitch and a bit of a ‘mean girl’, so he does expect rudeness to be directed at him BECAUSE of this, but if there is no reason then Ludus will lose his temper very quickly. Being rude to those providing you a service or to someone you’ve just met is abhorrent, an attitude that has mainly developed not from rudeness towards him, but from the protectiveness he feels towards fellow sex workers. Ludus EXPECTS to be slapped and then to charm the slapper anyway, but the same treatment should not be given to workers just doing their job. He has no fear of any kind of bigotry, and will happily challenge anyone who doesn’t think his sexuality is ‘right’.

He’s also not a fan of anyone who doesn’t think or do anything for themselves, as they remind him of himself in the past before he realised the truth of his situation, and now this quality in others repulses him. This attitude has now resulted in Ludus doing things by himself as much as possible to the point where he rarely asks for help - even when it may be needed.

Childhood/Backstory:

Ludus was born a hellspawn to two highly religious humans, who were immediately appalled by what they had produced, as hellspawn were seen as an extremely bad omen, especially when brought into the world this way. He was immediately sold to the only person that would take him, the local brothel owner known as ‘The Wolf’, who “raised” them and set them to work in the brothel far, far earlier than they should have.

To keep Ludus, the Wolf kept a close eye on what Ludus learned and knew, forbidding them to ever leave the establishment due to hatred of his species and that he, as his guardian, had ‘saved’ them, rather than it being a rather cruel and illegal transaction. Ludus does not remember anything about their parents, and has no interest in ever knowing them after knowing what they did. He assumed the Wolf knew best, and followed his every order and command. Ludus knew no life outside of the Lupanar and didn’t need to - here they were lavished with many gifts from many appreciative ‘sugar’ clients and praised for being pretty. It was true that he was beaten occasionally, isolated outside of clients, and had to do things he didn’t want to do sometimes - but wasn’t that just life? Here, Ludus had everything he needed.

As a result of this lifestyle, Ludus became very materialistic and became obsessed with the things that earned him praise: his body and skill. After all, the prettier they looked, the less they got hit and abused because after all, people wouldn’t want to hurt such a pretty face. He became dedicated to dance practice and his skincare routine, and obsessed with what he ate for fear of getting fat - so he rarely ate at all - but drinking was often just part of the job. When he was being difficult, the Wolf would often get him drunk or drug him, so that the client could be satisfied. Ludus was assured that this was for ‘his own good’.

The Wolf and his coworkers were the only family he had, and while not all the other workers were complacent in their treatment - they had no choice. Bound by magical contract, blackmail or under similar delusions as Ludus, they were a tightly knit group who took it upon themselves to help and teach each other. This group was the closest Ludus ever had to a school, from them he learned to dance, to have sex, to read, to write, to sing and to defend themself when required with knives or information. The Wolf kept a close eye on all this learning, making sure Ludus believed he could never work or be anywhere else. It wasn’t safe, he was too stupid, he was only good here - so Ludus stayed.

It took many years for Ludus to build up the desire as well as the courage to rebel, and it was for the reason that there must be better wine out there. At age fifteen, they started to sneak out and rebel a little, frequenting other bars and offering their services and their discretion rather than the Wolf’s. While there he often got drunk and told his stories, to the horror of most who heard them. A child doing such things, and to sound happy about it, was horrific to witness firsthand.

Ludus was taken aback at these reactions as they told him what was done to him was wrong, abusive, illegal even!

No, that couldn’t be true…

With the seed of doubt sown, Ludus started to worry about his situation, but didn’t know how he could possibly leave a job he flourished in as well as his family. All he could think of was to gather information from clients, a task he had already been assigned to do by the Wolf. Sex workers were one of the ears of the city and their clients often had loose lips, or were persuaded to have them with pleasurable means. Ludus now started to hoard some of this information for himself, learning anything he could that could possibly be useful for an escape. Blackmail, ships, people of interest - anything he could find. He still had to tell the Wolf enough to satisfy him, but now Ludus did not tell him everything. Stealing spell books from clients and discovering that through his dancing, he could manipulate magic, he honed his talents in secret.

It took many years for an opportunity to arise and for Ludus to feel comfortable enough to leave. He started to distance himself from the other workers - passing it off as being too busy or too tired from work, but it was really just to make the ‘goodbye ‘ easier. On the week of the harvest festival, at the age of 22, Ludus disguised himself and “persuaded” the head of a large entertainment (the music and dancing kind) to hide him in their trailers so he could smuggle out of the city with a nary a word to anyone. He needed to leave the Lupanar at all costs.

While travelling to the next town - he met a couple people he liked and has so far stuck with them, although he is now developing the thick skin some of his other ex colleagues had and not getting too attached to anyone. Being on the outside and talking about his past is continuing to teach him the depths of the evil done to him, and he is not coping well. His trauma response so far has been to drink even more and in order to regain control over his body, he has taken to hypersexuality to do his old work on HIS terms alone.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t ask for help and often will push people away with a stubborn “I can do it myself” or “I don’t need help” which has led to a lot of trouble and members of the troupe having to drag him out of it. Ludus is strong though, and he staggers (metaphorically) along as best he can, determined to overcome his past.

Profession: Sex Worker | Dancer | Bard

Relationships:

The Lupanar

Ivellios | ‘The Wolf’ | Male High Elf | Age ??? | Max Lifespan: Around 750 years, presumably.

Ivellios ‘The Wolf’ - A High Elf Wizard that was disgraced from his settlement and family due to his dabblings in the slave trade. He decided to continue this work regardless, branching out into the sex industry. Starting small, he bought others and made them work for little profit until he could purchase a large building in a major city, naming it the Lupanar and really spreading his wings as a pimp that specialised in magical contracts. Ludus was sold to him after he had owned this building for twenty years, having quickly made a name for himself through this brothel. He raised Ludus for his own means with a combination of emotional, mental and physical abuse, forbidding his little toy from leaving the establishment and closely monitoring what Ludus consumed from outside those walls, shaping them into the perfect sex worker. He never thought Ludus would need a contract to stay but underestimated his quarry massively.

Kuqi | Stripper Name: Cookie | Female Goblin | Age 18 | Max Lifespan: Around 60 years

“Come and get your milk and kuqi’s!”

Kuqi ran away from her clan at age 5 (middle aged for an average goblin) before she had to mate with a variety of goblins she really didn’t like. Goblins usually live and die quickly, and there were not many of her clan left so as one of the remaining females, Kuqi was expected to be a brood queen to get the clan back to full strength. Unfortunately for the clan, Kuqi wanted something better, and so she ran away, eventually arriving at the city the Lupanar was based at. Ivellious was amused by her plight and so took her on as a worker at her request - the conditions of her contract being that as long as she continues to work, she gets bed, board and birth control and as a bonus - a longer lifespan than the average goblin.

Ludus was ten when she arrived, and the two have an odd relationship due to the drastically different age rates of their species, and arguably their heights as well. The relationship fluctuated from little sister to maternal figure for Ludus, and back in their youth they got into all sorts of trouble, both having a strong streak of mischief in them. He misses her terribly some days, but knows she wouldn’t leave the Lupanar as she is VERY grateful to Ivellios and LOVES her work.

Mival | Stripper Name: Angel | Male Aasimar | Age: 60 | Max Lifespan: Around 160 years

Born into a superstitious and mostly human community, Mival was revered strongly as a blessing and a saviour for their small village. He was commanded to do all sorts of petty tasks - ones he found hard to refuse with his polite and mild mannered self. As he grew older, the pressure grew on him - and eventually, he cracked. At age 17, he ran away to the city and he found himself with no shelter, no job, no long term means of survival. But he was very pretty, and a brothel was looking for workers. With no long term goals in mind and wishing to hide from his village - Mival made a pact with Ivellious. In exchange for his service, Merval would be hidden from the village and the people there. Of course, he can leave if he wishes, but his old village isn’t far from the city and he’s not hard to miss with his stark white hair that almost glows in the light. Not knowing what else he could do, Mival stayed.

As one of the first workers hired for the Lupanar, he was age 37 by the time a baby Ludus arrived in Ivellios’ arms. Horrified at Ludus’ treatment, but bound by contract to stay, he did the best he could to be a proper father figure to Ludus. Despite being asked to by a variety of clients, he never touched Ludus sexually and even was known to lose his rarely seen temper when pestered about it. He’s a gentle man, living up to his alias and race and there is not a day where Ludus doesn’t feel like he’s disappointed him during his struggle. A little of Ludus’ strength comes from the gentle faith that this man placed upon him.

Haze | Stripper Name: Haze | Agender Changeling | Age: 55 | Max Lifespan: Around 100 years

Haze is a mysterious figure whose past is unknown, but arrived at the Lupanar at age 32, covered in blood and looking for work… or as they put it..’something better to do’. Ivellios doesn’t like hiring anyone without a contract, but made an exception for a Changeling who he knew would make him a LOT of money in this business and that he could always get dirt on them for a contract later. To this day he hasn’t succeeded in getting Haze to sign anything, and it’s driving him to new levels of repressed rage.

Ludus was 16 when Haze arrived, but Haze had a tendency to keep their distance from everyone - despite being extremely charming while they worked. Haze’s ability is where Ludus got the idea to disguise himself to leave and he often finds himself wondering who Haze is and where they came from.

The Moondroplet Entertainment Company

The M.E.C is full of hundreds of entertainers, but Ludus travelled in the same trailer as these two and so often pairs with them as their dancer to make their performances more visually interesting. Each split off troupe has a quota to make each day and with Ludus’ “extra services”, his group surpasses that easily, and the three of them get on well enough although Henk and Ash have known each other for about four years.

Henk | Flute Player | Male Orc | Age: 28 | Max Lifespan: Around 75 years

Henk was previously a nomadic tribal orc, but was ostracized from his tribe due to a gentler nature than the rest of his species. One day, while out scouting for food he saw the line of trailers and caravans and saw an opportunity to leave his tribe for good. It took some time to convince them he came in peace, but eventually after a few days of camping nearby they allowed him to camp with the rest of the troupe even later, join them. He learned to play the flute by shaving his tusks - and now regularly makes a habit of doing so or removing them for better airflow. When people meet him, they are surprised by his gentle nature and his excellent flute playing.

Ashley/Ash | Lyre Player | Female Fire Genasi | Age: 26 | Max Lifespan: Around 120 years

You can’t miss Ash, she’s loud, proud and will bowl you over with her sound. The lyre player of the three, her playing is filled with fast, energetic melodies that Henk struggles to keep up with and Ludus relishes dancing to. Ludus and Ash bounce off each other very well, their banter often inducing a laugh out of their audiences on the streets and she’s even known to stoke a rare smile from Henk sometimes.

Ash rarely talks about her childhood, preferring to focus on the present with a crass and blunt attitude - but she does talk about her supportive, ex adventuring mother who told her to chase her dreams of being a musician. She regularly sends money back home to support her mother in her old age but curiously, does not speak of her father - who is rumoured to be a Fire Efreeti.

Location: ????

Previous: ‘The Lupanar’ - a large and well known brothel, owned by an elf known as ‘The Wolf, who has been in the business for many years.

Religious Beliefs: DND: Would most likely be a fan of a Dionysian type god, such as The Moonweaver. If there are no tangible gods like there are in DND, he would not give a toss. Money and himself are their gods then.

Goals:

1) To start living their life for them.

2) Finding other things to enjoy.

3) Learn to interact and bond with people outside of a sex work setting.

Other | Trivia

CANON VOICE: Toddrick Hall. Singing and Speaking. (was Alaska Thunderfuck)

Character influences: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Angel Dust, Irene Adler

Physical Afflictions: N/A

Mental Illnesses: Body dysmorphia, PTSD

COMPLETE LIST OF PIERCINGS:

Ears, both sides: Earlobe x4, Helix x4, Industrial, Tragus

Nose: Nose piercing, stud on each side. High Nostril, stud on each side, Septum.

Face: Eyebrow Piercing, one on both sides. (he wears the left the most.)

Lips: Snakebites, Medusa

Tongue: NONE - he has so many things in his mouth going in and out it’s dangerous.

Genital: Frenum ladder.

Tail: Eight, four on each side. Often studs, sometimes rings.

Other: Nipple (both), Hip, Collarbone, Naval.

He’s an aspect of me: Ludus is a fragment of me, specifically the part of my sexuality I can’t express because I’m not brave or attractive enough - so I made a character that was. He also got my eating issues from my youth, I didn’t eat sometimes because I didn’t want my father and brother to mock my cooking or what I was eating or because I just simply didn’t have the energy. I personally still have body issues but I’ve largely given up because I don’t want to exercise in a gym or people to look at me. Ludus is essentially made partially of a person I wish I could have been, mixed with my own repression. They’re their own person though, but they’re very close to my heart.

Ludus dances because I find good dance beautiful, it’s one of my favourite youtube rabbit holes I go down. He was made almost exactly a year and two months after a traumatic event, and I’m not sure if he’s a response to that yet. I think he’s mainly a repression response.

He’s attracted to power and people puppet masters but he knows they’re bad for him. Actual kindness is what he wants, to be someone's pet yet valued for who he is as an individual.

Intimidates others for power - Think IRENE ADLER

But they’re still mostly a sub and have to know they want something first, which is rare because he still doesn’t know what he wants.

He developed blackmail as a way to keep himself safe in the bar because no one else was gonna do it for him and it’s not like he could work anywhere else (well, that’s he was trained to believe).

Rarely shouts.

Can sing.

Urban Fantasy Setting Notes: His phone is black but usually has a bright pink bedazzled phone case with a pop socket. He adores it. Plays guitar in private (prefers acoustic - gentle vibes). Probably interested in learning piano. Has an OnlyFans and NSFW twitter under LEWDICROUS.

Fantasy Setting Notes: Dance bard. Fond of using daggers. Rogue /bard?

The Moondroplet Entertainment Company is indeed named as a nod to The Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities.

The lipstick comment “but Ludus is rarely seen without black lipstick, as anyone with a true sense of style knows that this is peak fashion” is absolutely a Homestuck, specifically a Kanaya reference, well, as close as I could get.

He was named on 27/07/2019 which is his sort of birthday, and he was tangled in with the “essence” of Lux for the longest time - I thought they were the same person. The original character idea was a half gnome/half tiefling bard with purple skin, and gold teeth. They were an absolute gremlin, but I couldn’t hone in on them because there was just nothing there - and then over a year or so Lux and Ludus developed. Arguably him and Lux are twins (not story wise tho), which is an idea I quite like.

#character profile #original character #ludus

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pawlmtree · 4 years

Note

How many of the shishigumi have kids? Which two are most likely to be very distantly related? Are any of them gay? Trans? Have any of them been in organized crime before being in the shishigumi? Which one has your favorite backstory? Does the length/style of their manes have any significance? If Louie weren't the boss who would be?

oh anon i love you for this thank you .. fantastic. amazing. wonderful. excellent. this is really making my night and whoever sent this I am sending you epic vibes you are so awesome

How many of the shishigumi have kids? this is a really interesting question which I haven’t considered! they're all dad aged but I have not thought about it. i think free has probably fathered a few kids maybe without knowing/meeting themWhich two are most likely to be very distantly related? interesting question as well!!! i headcanon Miguel to have had a brother who passed and therefore isn’t in the shishigumi but other than that I think that hino might be related to boss lion (he doesn’t have a name..the one who gets shot in the mouth) somehow, maybe one of his cousins or nephews or something ?

Are any of them gay? Trans? yes :]free, dope and Agata are bisexual; Miguel and Dolph are gay; sabu, jinma and hino we do not know.. and I think Agata and free are both trans (maybe sabu and dolph too but they are “stealth”?) anyway I love projecting. lions b transDolph and free have been married for a while I think.. and I'm in the process of considering Miguel and Ibuki having had been in a relationship as well. i think Agata has a crush on dope but dope doesn't know it lol

Have any of them been in organized crime before being in the shishigumi? yes! free was in a motorcycle gang lead by a large melanistic leopard boss and Dolph was in a smaller group of large carnivores when they met each other during a turf fight. i haven’t worked out how they both started working for the shishigumi after this though. miguel’s brother Monty did the dirty work for a gang of felines who had access to silvervine and beef with the shishigumi (this is how Miguel and Ibuki met I will explain this eventually)

Which one has your favorite backstory?currently I have the most written for miguel, jinma, free, Dolph, and agata. miguel’s has been my favorite to work on but it still needs more. (and ibuki needs work.. his ties in with Miguel's) i’m really excited to come up with stuff for sabu, dope, and hino.

Does the length/style of their manes have any significance?YES!!!!! (copy pasted with edits and additions since ive written abt this be4) the shishigumi are all very particular about their manes. miguel: keeps his neck shaved and the rest styled in cornrows/dreads pulled into a ponytail in the back. he puts a lot of time into keeping himself well groomed and shaven but he has a bad habit of pulling at the hair on his tail. ibuki: doesn’t shave any of his mane because he takes a lot of pride in it, he thinks it shows his pride and power as a lion (and his strength as an ex-ingredient) he combs it regularly.dolph: doesn’t shave or cut his mane at all, but it never grows quite as long as ibuki’s does. however, his mane is the thickest/toughest of any of them and he considers it very important to him because of the protection in battle it gives to him (he had a fight with the boss of free’s motorcycle gang and could have been killed but was instead admired bc his mane protected him enough to be a good fighter and guard) dolph’s mane is rougher than the other shishigumi member’s manes. free: keeps his mane styled in a pompadour, but shaves his mane from most of his neck. however, free keeps some of his mane down the back of his neck and on his chest. if you touch his pompadour he will beat the shit out of you LOLLL. only Dolph is allowed to.jinma: keeps his mane shaved completely off around his neck, but keeps some on the top and sides of his head. it’s often really choppy and flat looking because he does this himself (he doesn’t trust others to do it)sabu: keeps his mane in a mohawk, and trims his mane on his neck to be short but still visible. he doesn’t always have the energy to keep up the mohawk so he can be seen with more messy and experimental styles too from time to time.dope: keeps his mane pulled back in a ponytail, and trims his mane on his neck. he takes especially good care of his mane, and it is very silky from different conditioners. (also he smells like flowers and citrus) agata: has a curly mane which he does not trim but brushes regularly. it is important to him because growing his mane was a big step for him in alleviating his gender dysphoria and dolph’s advice to him about keeping his mane thick and un trimmed has stuck with him.hino: his mane is curlier than agata’s and he puts a lot of time and work into styling it. (he will try to sell you mane gen and whisker cream and profit off you joining his multi level marketing schemes) hino very rarely trims his mane because he thinks thinks it is one of his most attractive attributes.

If Louie weren't the boss who would be? IDK HOW FAR YOU ARE IN THE MANGA but the shishigumi are not happy with their current boss and many of them wish Louis would return but try not to dwell on the past as they know it wouldn’t work out. ideally, I think they could benefit from co leadership possibly between Dolph and free ? since they’ve been members for a long time. its unclear to me how melon became their boss in the first place and what requirements one has to fulfil to become their leader... with Louis it made sense, since he killed boss lion. after he left I wonder if the shishigumi were so lost and desperate they just accepted anyone ? or if melon threatened them or something(likely) idk . its 1am I need to sleep but thank you anon

#answers

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the-professor-of-gallifrey · 5 years

Text

Nalu Week: Stranger

Professor: Here is day two! I had a lot of fun writing this one. Hope you enjoy it! I do not own Fairy Tail.

Lucy looked at herself in the mirror, studying her appearance carefully.

“I don’t know...I think I look too much like Edo-Lucy.”

“Agreed, ebi.” Cancer nodded his head from where he stood behind her, “A pixie cut is the wrong choice. How about bangs, ebi?”

She tilted her head, trying to imagine the style, “No, I don’t think it’ll work. What if we go really long?”

“One moment, ebi.”

Cancer raised his scissors and a moment later, Lucy’s hair suddenly reached down to her knees.

“Ooh...I like it.” Lucy smiled at her reflection, “What do you think?”

“Very flattering, ebi.”

“Thank you. But are you sure it’s perfect? I want to look just right.” Lucy glanced up at her spirit, biting her lip nervously.

Cancer looked away from the mirror and looked at her directly, “Is there a reason for that, ebi?”

Lucy broke her gaze away, thinking back to what she had seen that afternoon, “I...just need to look perfect.”

Cancer didn’t respond for a moment. Then, he slowly nodded, “I understand, ebi. If you truly want something different, but perfect, we could change the color.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up and she looked at him with excitement all over her face, “That’s it! That’s a great idea! Thank you!”

He nodded, “Of course.”

One wave of his scissors and Lucy sat there staring at her long, bright red hair.

“Too much like Erza.”

Cancer nodded again and changed it to a light green.

“No, just no.”

Blue.

“Hmmm….I can’t decide if I look like an older Wendy or if Juvia will think I look like her to steal Gray away.”

Brown.

“Cana’s gonna assume I’m trying to be like her and use it as an excuse to take me drinking.” she groaned.

Orange.

“I’m a popsicle!”

Black.

“Why would you do this to me?” she sighed up at her spirit, “I don’t have the complexion for this!”

“Apologies, ebi.” he then turned it pink.

“Hmm….I like it, but don’t I just look like a female Natsu?” she raised her eyebrows at him.

He nodded in agreement, changing it instead to a dark violet.

“Oh! I love it!” she beamed at him, “It looks great!”

Cancer nodded again, “Rather perfect for you, ebi.”

“Well I think it stinks.” Natsu said, glancing over from where he lounged on her bed.

“WHA- When did you get here?!” Lucy screamed.

“Since Cancer accidently gave you a mohawk.”

“That was over an hour ago!”

“Well, you’re really oblivious.”

“I am not!”

“Tch,” he scoffed, “Whatever. Why are you changing your hair?”

“Because,” she huffed, “I am!”

“She won’t tell me either, ebi.” Cancer said.

“Thank you Cancer! You can leave now!”

And then she closed his gate before he could say a word.

“You still look weird.”

“Shut up!” she snapped before turning back to inspect her new hair again, “...You really think so?”

He nodded, “You don’t look like you. You look like a complete stranger.”

She winced, “It’s really that bad?””

“Yep.”

Lucy sighed. That was the exact opposite of the effect that she had been hoping for.

“So why are you doing this?” he asked again.

“Because, I needed to.” she raised Cancer’s key, prepared to summon him back to fix her hair.

“Tell me the truth Luce.” Natsu stared at her intently, looking surprisingly serious.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

Natsu sighed in exasperation before leaping up from her bed and walking over to her. Slowly and deliberately, he positioned himself in front of her, a hand resting on each of the arms of the chair, trapping the Celestial Mage in.

“I know you’re vain and stuff, but even you don’t usually take it this far. What’s going on?”

“I am not vain!” she snapped.

Natsu ignored her protests, staring at her until she caved in and told him.

(It took over half an hour cause Lucy was incredibly stubborn, but that’s besides the point.)

“I saw you earlier.” she finally huffed, “With that girl.”

Natsu’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “What girl?”

“Your date! At that cafe!” Tears pricked at Lucy’s eyes as the painful memory brought itself to the forefront of her mind.

The two of them had looked perfect together. Sitting there smiling and laughing...flirting.

Lucy had seen that and jealousy tore through her. She had vowed to stand out somehow, to get Natsu to look at her like that.

Obviously her plan had worked and she stood out, just not the way she had hoped.

Natsu, for his part, still looked incredibly lost, “What girl?!”

“The cute one you sat with!” Lucy yelled, “She was your height, with curly blonde hair and glasses!”

“W- You mean Laki’s cousin?”

“Laki’s cousin?”

“Yeah,” he said, relaxing his stance, but still keeping her in the chair, “She’s visiting for a week or two. Laki asked me to keep her company while she finished a job. I barely know the girl!”

“B-But you two were…” Lucy’s voice trailed off as soon as she saw Natsu shake his head.

“I was hungry, so we got food. She flirted, but I didn’t. I was just being nice, cause Laki told me that if I wasn’t, she’d set Erza on me.”

“How-”

“Laki isn’t afraid to lie about a destroyed cake.”

Lucy winced as she imagined Erza’s reaction. She really couldn’t blame Natsu for doing what Laki said after a threat like that.

Natsu kneeled down in front of her, dropping his voice to a whisper, “I wouldn’t do that. As adorable as you are when you are jealous, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Sorry, I just thought-”

“I know,” he cut her off again, “But you should know that there is only one blonde I ever want to be with.”

Lucy sniffled, trying desperately not to cry, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, “The only sad thing is, she’s not blonde right now.”

A smile began to stretch across her face, “Well, that’s an easy fix.”

“Good. I want my Lucy back. Not a stranger.”

Then he leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss, making her feel like the most loved and happiest person alive.

At least, until the next day when Naatsu told the whole guild about her other hairstyles.

It was chaos. Mira and Erza demanded to see the other hairstyles, the men started fantasizing, Levy was as sweet and supportive as ever, and, as expected, Juvia took it all the wrong way, assuming that it had all been to get Gray’s attention, not Natsu’s.

That lead to flooding and a lot of water damage to the guild.

Lucy both simultaneously vowed to kill Natsu and rolled her eyes in acceptance.

She should’ve known better than to fall for an idiot.

But he was her idiot.

And she was his weirdo.

No one else allowed.

Professor: And there we go! For this prompt I thought about what if a stranger flirted with Natsu, but then the idea that he didn’t recognize Lucy popped into my head and I thought ‘Why not combine them somehow?’ and we got this. I’m not sure that I really like the end scene with the guild, but I wanted to include them somehow.

See you tomorrow! Have a great day!

#nalu week #fairy tail #nalu #humor #romance #jealousy #lucy #natsu #cancer #guild #The-Professor's-Stories #fanfic

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

The Virgin (Social) Suicides

WRITTEN BY: @ally147writes

PROMPT 85: Katniss makes unsettling discovery that everyone in her close and extended group of friends has dated at least once and sometimes even each other. Except for her. The “late bloomer” teasing (b/c she’s never even been kissed) stings. Older boy Gale crosses paths with group, finds he shares common interests with Katniss, they get together to hunt, leads to him casually inviting her out for a real dinner date. Not feeling desire but pressure to “get it over with,” she accepts. Peeta has regrets. [submitted by @567inpanem]

NOTES: I desperately wanted to have this complete, but uni conspired against me. A million thanks to our angel mods, @xerxia31 and @javistg for holding this exchange, and allowing the extra week 😊

This is parts one-and-a-half (ish?) of a (probably?) four-part story. I won’t be posting to AO3 or anywhere else until the rest of it is complete. Parts 2, 3 and 4 are all between 30% and 75% complete already, so hopefully it won’t take me too long to wrap up.

Unbeta’d. All errors are my own.

Rated M for swears and discussions of sex (or lack thereof)

Thom and Lavinia’s engagement party is a sedate affair, which Katniss never would have guessed. Whenever Thom or Lavinia were left in charge of planning anything, it always started with them drowning themselves in cheap beer at Abernathy’s, got a bit muddy somewhere in between, and ended in a trip to the hospital for someone to get their broken wrist or dislocated shoulder set.

And once, to the police station, to face indecent exposure charges.

The doing of their mothers, Katniss supposes. (Probably a smart move, considering the alternatives; no one’s engagement party should end in a holding cell). They’re perched by the string quartet, amongst a cluster of white rose bushes, their oversized, feather-trimmed hats knock against each other’s with every exaggerated, bird-like nod and squawking laugh they release, while their husbands make awkward small-talk by the fence overlooking the golf course.

How they’re out there like that in the sun, in dark suits and all, Katniss has no idea. She dabs a napkin across her damp hairline and peels her sticky skin away from the plastic of the chair. An afternoon in the sprawling gardens of the Snow estate, when it’s pushing a hundred degrees out, isn’t exactly her idea of a good day — if she weren’t part of the bridal party, Katniss would have skipped out hours ago. Add that to the cocktail dress she all but shoved her body into and the hair that’s falling out of her braid and sticking to her glossed lips, she’s about ready to revolt.

But, she concedes, Thom’s parents are loaded up to their eyeballs, and they’ve made sure there’s free — mercifully cold — booze everywhere, so bottom’s up.

The happy couple don’t seem to mind the heat, or the change in pace too much. The groom-to-be dips his laughing bride over his arm and kisses her square on the lips, swaying along to the soft tones of the violin strings, the intimate connection between them somehow the simplest thing in the world. The scene should inspire at least a smile — she’s happy for her friends, right? But it tugs somewhere deep at Katniss instead, unrelenting and unrepentant, leaving behind an odd sort of hollowness, demanding more yet leaving her starving for… something.

“They’re sweet together, aren’t they?” says Madge as she sips her champagne.

Katniss shakes her head, but she can’t stop the nagging in her gut. “Yeah, I guess. It’s a little sickening, actually.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? They’re hunting for each other’s intestines through their mouths.”

“You are absolutely disgusting.” Madge swipes a celery stick from their shared crudité platter and nibbles at it like a rabbit. “Please stop speaking.”

“I’m still not wrong.”

“I guess it is kind of funny, though,” Madge goes on, chomping through the celery. “You’d never guess he could be so doting. I mean, when I dated Thom, the nicest thing he ever did for me was give me the olives off his pizza.” She sighs and smiles an odd little smile as Katniss’ hand freezes with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. “I guess it really does change everything when you meet the right person.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She drops the tomato, and it bounces off the table and lands on the floor, where someone will slip on it later, probably her. “You dated Thom? As in, Thom, Thom?”

Madge arches a plucked brow. “Well, yeah, a while ago now, not long after we first started college. Well before Lav was in the picture, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you knew about it; we were all friends then.”

Katniss frowns and tries to dredge the memory — what would Thom have looked like then? Was this during his mohawk days, or after? “For how long?”

Madge quirks her head to the side, and not a single strand falls out of her intricate up-do. “I don’t know. A few months, maybe? Not a long time.”

Katniss taps her index finger — unadorned with polish, to Prim’s everlasting dismay — against the pristine surface of the timber table. “Is it… weird? Being friends with him now, I mean?”

Madge laughs. “Kat, if it was weird to hang out with someone I’d dated before, I’d have to find a whole new group of friends.”

“Why?” Madge smiles that weird little smile again, and the urge to slap it off is overwhelming. “How many of them have you gone out with?”

“Uh…? Let’s see.” Madge counts them off on her fingers, like there’s a real need to keep track of them. “Thom, Darius, Gloss. Leevy a couple of times, too, but that was over pretty much as soon as it started. Oh, and Peeta once, as well.”

Katniss chokes on a piece of cucumber. Oh, god. “Peeta, too?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Katniss?” Madge flashes another grin as Katniss knocks back a hearty sip of her drink. “Jealous?”

“No!” she exclaims. But without even meaning to, she finds Peeta across the courtyard, where he’s entertaining Lavinia’s many nieces and nephews with embarrassing Dad-style magic tricks. The sleeves of his starched, pale blue dress shirt are pushed up around his elbows, and there’s a rogue curl stuck with sweat against his forehead. He meets her eyes and smiles at her, as warm and tangible as a touch. Her cheeks flood with heat and she tears her gaze away. God, it’s like they’re in school all over again.

Madge shoots a grin Katniss can only describe as shit-eating, and it’s all she can do not to throw her remaining champagne in Madge’s face.

“No, of course you’re not,” Madge says, like she’s talking down a screaming child. “That would mean you had a soul or something.”

There’s nothing she can say now that wouldn’t incriminate her further. Katniss turns to the dripping glass of ice water at her elbow and drains it.

“Well…” she says, once she’s certain the nuclear blush on her cheeks is under control. “Why’d you only go out with him once?”

Madge smiles that stupid little smile again. The secret one Katniss has no insight to or context for.

“Peeta’s… very sweet. He’ll make the girl he’s got his eye on extremely happy.”

The words are innocuous, but something in Katniss seizes urgently. “Peeta’s got someone in mind?”

Madge nods and adds solemnly, “Has done for years now.”

“Years?” There’s no good reason why this information should make her want to break something. None at all. “Why won’t he make a move?”

Madge snorts, and the sound is weird coming out of someone so refined. “Honestly?” she says, as she flags down a waiter for another class of champagne. “I’d say he’s terrified. The girl isn’t exactly one who’ll take his declaration with open arms.”

She shouldn’t — she knows she doesn’t want to — but she prods anyway. “You know who she is?”

“She was pretty much the basis of our one and only date. He didn’t think he had a chance, needed someone to wallow with, that sort of thing.” Madge smiles a dreamy sort of smile and tips her eyes closed. “God, we got so drunk.”

“…And?”

“I’m not going to tell you!” Madge nudges her with her bony elbow, but the effect is ruined by the draping, bell-sleeves of Madge’s deep-aubergine dress. “Ask him yourself if you’re that curious.”

Yeah, there’s not a prayer in hell of that happening.

“So,” Katniss says instead. “Have our friends always been so… incestuous?”

Madge rolls her eyes and, for the first time since this awkward line of questioning began, looks vaguely annoyed. “Katniss, what’s the problem? I’m pretty sure Annie and Finnick are the only other completely monogamous people we know. Johanna’s dated pretty much everyone, too. Cato made the rounds too, before he got his shit together with Clove. Darius dated Lavinia, too, when he and Thom were roommates. That’s how she met Thom in the first place.”

“So… yes?”

Madge laughs and sighs at the same time. “It’s people in their mid-twenties being people in their mid-twenties. Honestly, I’m surprised you never noticed before — it’s not like Johanna’s discreet about it or anything — but I guess you’ve always been a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“A bit… I don’t know… pure, I guess?”

“Pure?” She spits the word out like poison and leaves it in the air.

Madge pats her arm. “There’s nothing wrong with pure, Kat. It’s just… we’re twenty-five now, you know? You don’t need to be so embarrassed about anyone else’s love life. Hell, maybe we should get you a nice date of your own, so you’ve got something else to focus on.”

Heat crawls up her chest and settles in her face. Her fancy cocktail dress feels way too small and way too hot.

“Uh…”

“Kat…”

“… Yeah?”

“You have gone on a date before, haven’t you?”

“I… uh… no?”

She’s not sure why it comes out as a question. She sure knows about her complete and total lack of love life; no need to have other people confirming it for her.

Madge’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I joke about that?” she retorts. “And we’ve been friends for how long, now? How didn’t you notice?”

“I don’t know! It’s just that…” She scrutinises Katniss like she’s a wayward science experiment. “Really?”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Yes, Madge. Really.”

“Not even in college? No one? Nothing?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” Katniss snaps. “No, Madge. I have never, not once, ever gone on a date.”

“Well, you’ve… you’ve at least had sex before, right?”

Heat fills her cheeks until she’s sure she’s about to melt from the pain of it all, though she’s got no idea why it embarrasses her so much. It’s normal, right? Or normal-ish, at least. And it’s not like she planned on it happening. Or not happening. Whatever.

Her virginity isn’t some sacred, precious jewel she’s carting around in a bubble wrap-lined basket. And it’s not something she’s hoarding, just so she can get down on bended knee and present it to The Right Guy when The Right Moment comes along. It’s not a personal choice, a feminist statement or even a religious one. The opportunity to do so just hasn’t… come up, so to speak.

And it’s fine. She guesses. Most of the time, it doesn’t even bother her. She’s had enough going on in her life that it isn’t something she’s missed, or even had time for. And it’s not like she’d be any good at any of it, anyway. The hand-holding. The intimacy. The kisses.

The sex.

The mere idea almost makes her shudder. She’d suck. And not in the sexy way.

It might be nice. Maybe. One day. When she’s good and ready to make it happen.

Until then, though…

“Uh…”

Madge’s bright blue eyes blow wide. “Katniss!” she shrieks.

A hundred people turn and stare at them, Peeta included, not even slightly helping her blush to fade faster.

“For the love of God, Madge, would you keep it down?” Katniss swats at Madge’s arm and hisses down at the table, “No, I’ve never done… anything.”

Madge lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “Not even kissed?”

Right on cue, Thom kisses Lavinia again, long enough for it to get awkward. Katniss scowls and looks away. “No, Madge,” she mumbles. “Not even kissed. Or held hands. Or hugged or by someone who wasn’t an immediate family member.”

“What about yourself? Do you masturbate?”

“Fucking hell, Madge, really?”

“Okay, sorry. I just…” Madge gives a tight laugh and shakes her head. “I… You cannot be serious right now.”

“What part of this is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you’re gorgeous, for one. A great person, kind, generous, brave, loyal to a fault. Anyone would be lucky, you know?”

Katniss snorts and drags a carrot stick through a warm bowl of hummus. Why couldn’t they have held the party indoors, like normal people? Yeah, maybe she’d still be getting the third degree, but at least the condiments might be cold. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so.”

“Well,” Madge starts, leaning in so they’re a hairsbreadth apart. “Have you ever… you know, wanted to?”

There’s no right way to answer that question. If she says yes, she’s as doomed as if she answers no. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Are you…” Madge stops, starts, opens and closes her mouth like a fish blowing bubbles. “Have you ever thought that you might be ace or something?” She holds up her hands and all but yells before Katniss can say anything, “Not that there’s… it doesn’t matter if you are or anything like that, I just thought… maybe you’re —”

“— No,” Katniss cuts in, before Madge can hurt herself. “I’ve had… you know, crushes and stuff before, I’ve just never been in a relationship, and I wouldn’t have rejected one if it came along.” She shrugs. “It just never did, and I’m okay with that.”

But, is she? God, and she’s always thought of herself as an enlightened, modern, don’t-need-no-man sort of woman, too.

“Honestly, Kat? You’ve probably been hit on a thousand times, but it never registered in your head that it was even happening to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that… I don’t think you’re aware of the effect you have on people, that’s all.”

Katniss frowns at the wilting crudité platter. “You’re making me sound like a heartless bitch.”

Madge rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re not a heartless bitch. I’m just saying you should… I don’t know… open your eyes a little, take a second look, you know? Someone might really surprise you one day.”

Again — completely against her will, she swears — she finds Peeta across the courtyard. This time, he doesn’t look up from pulling a coin from a little girl’s ear. “I’ll think about it.”

“You definitely won’t, but I’ll give you a pass for tonight.”

Katniss cringes. “You’re not going to make it your mission to get me laid, are you?”

“This isn’t a shitty eighties movie, Katniss,” Madge says as she pushes her seat away from the table and stands on her ridiculous four-inch heels. “So, no. I’m not going to try and get you laid. Now, let’s go dance or something; it’s a party, for God’s sake.”

XXX

The next time they’re all together, at a reasonable temperature and in normal clothes, Katniss surveys her friends with a strange, acute sense of awareness she didn’t possess before. Annie perched on Finnick’s lap, feeding him pretzels like coins in a slot machine; Cato and Clove with their arms wrapped around each other so tight it looks like it should hurt; Johanna and Bristel with their tongues so far down each other’s throats that they’re probably going to leave and do God knows what before their next round arrives. All of them know a sort of intimacy Katniss can’t even begin to fathom. All of them… except her.

And it’s… weird. Like she’s on the outside of a joke that’s been going on for years.

How are they all still friends? How is it all so… natural for them? Granted, it’s not like she’s got any insight to what’s going on in their brains, but it must be awkward on some level, mustn’t it? How can you share so much of yourself with one person, then pretend like it never happened? And then, how can you do it with four or five or maybe even more of the people you hang out with the most? Katniss can’t wrap her mind around any of it.

Only Peeta, sitting beside her, seems to notice her out-of-body experience.

He nudges her ankle with his foot beneath the table and leans in to whisper, “Are you all right, Katniss?”

She shivers at the warmth and scent of him, of cinnamon and dill and all kinds of other delicious things. He’s never smelled bad in all the time she’s known him. “Yeah. Just, uh… weird day.” She tips back her gin and tonic and almost chokes on it.

He nods, thoughtful, and takes another sip of his own drink, the only one he’ll have for the whole night. “That sucks,” he says, and she can tell he means it, too. He smiles, and another shiver races through her. “Wanna talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Just the usual.”

“Another drink, then?”

“I think I’m done for the night, but thanks.”

He shrugs and takes another sip. “No problem.”

“Hey… is it true you dated Madge?” She wants to punch herself in the face as soon as the words leave her mouth.

He almost spits out his drink. “What?” He coughs and thumps his chest with his fist. “She told you about that?”

“She just mentioned it. I had no idea.”

“It was… uh, a while ago.” He drags a hand through his curls and surveys her with something almost like worry. “What else did she tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you guys went out a couple of times —”

“— Once,” Peeta cuts in, a tendon in his jaw twitching. “We went out once. Years ago.”

“All right.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry for mentioning it.”

“No, Katniss —” He breaks off with a sigh and twirls the last of his beer around in the bottle. “Yeah, Madge and I went out. It wasn’t a big deal. We were both dealing with… I don’t know, shitty personal lives, I guess?”

“Madge said it was to forget a girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ, would someone please, please, cut out her tongue?

“I… uh…” He chugs back the rest of his beer in one feel swoop. Awesome, now he doesn’t have to watch her tear at her hair. “I guess it was kind of like that. I think Madge had just stopped seeing that Blight guy? It was… a while ago, that’s for sure.” He looks at her critically. “Why do you ask?”

She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Just, she mentioned it and I was… curious, I guess.”

His lips quirk into a hint of a smile. “Curious about what, Katniss?”

Yeah, her brain taunts her. Curious about what, Katniss?

Even if she knew, she’s got no clue how to go about admitting it to Peeta, of all people.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles at her empty glass. “Nothing, I guess.”

Now, the concern is back full-force. “You sure?”

Not really, but she’s not so sure why or what or how anymore. “Yeah. I’m sure. But I think I’ll take that drink now, if you’re still offering.”

He flags down the nearest server and says, “Yeah. I think I might, too.”

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #ally147writes #Prompt 85 #567inpanem

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sapphicscholar · 5 years

Text

Pride Month Prompts Day 13: Graveyard Shift (Vasquez/Lucy)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want.

Day 13: Graveyard Shift

Pairing: Vasquez/Lucy

“Happy New Years to us, huh?” Vasquez asked, rolling their chair along the row of monitors that were, as they had been for the past several hours, rather quiet. Apparently even extraterrestrial threats thought New Year’s Eve should be treated as a holiday—hence the almost non-existent staff at the DEO’s desert base. Downtown? Sure, they got a few revelers who got a bit too drunk and caused trouble—enough to warrant keeping a team of agents on hand. But out here where they dealt primarily with long-term threats and research? Not so much.

“Beats going to a party and having the fun choice between standing alone when the ball drops or dealing with some drunk guy acting like he’s my knight in shining armor for offering to make out with me, as if it’s some great sacrifice on his part.”

“No way does anyone call making out with you a sacrifice.”

Lucy shrugged, her cheeks warming slightly at the earnest quality to Vasquez’s voice.

“I’m always stuck being DD.”

“Really?”

Vasquez spun their chair around. “You mention one time that you don’t really drink, and suddenly everyone thinks they can get as wasted as they want every time with a guaranteed chaperone to get them home in one piece.” They dragged their toes along the ground, slowing the movement of their chair. “And like, yeah, I’m not gonna leave anyone behind, but some nights it’d be nice if I could let loose a little. Not get drunk, but, you know, go to a different bar if the music sucks. Stop for a late dinner at a place that isn’t greasy fast food afterwards. Go home with someone. Not have to worry about throw up in your backseat.”

“Ugh, yeah, that doesn’t sound particularly fun.”

“It’s not. Especially not when it’s an every weekend kind of deal.”

“Well…is there anything we could do to make tonight more fun?” Lucy bit back a smile at the way Vasquez’s cheeks flushed as they rubbed at the back of their neck.

Still, they managed to come up with an answer after a few seconds’ delay as their brain ground to a halt, then restarted itself anew. “Um, you watch Brooklyn 99, don’t ya?”

“Okay, I’d do a lot of things for you, including taking a bullet, but I won’t get my ass handed to me for using our good fire extinguishers for a chair race.”

A loud laugh met Lucy’s words. “I was thinking more that we could see who can last longer without standing up. Like Rosa did with Hitchcock and Scully.”

“Oh! Yeah, alright.” After a moment, she tilted her head slightly. “Though is that really any different than anything else we’re already doing?”

“Good point. Hey, why don’t you go to the vending machines and get some things of M&Ms. I have an idea that I’ll get all set up while you’re gone.”

“They’re two floors down,” Lucy whined.

“That’s what you get for acting like the game doesn’t require skill. But if you want to be a quitter…”

Throwing a hand over her chest in mock offense, Lucy gasped. “Take it back.”

“Make me,” Vasquez taunted, arching an eyebrow and, for a change, not backing away from the heady undercurrent of flirtatiousness and desire that seemed to run between them whenever they were alone.

“I bet you I can be back in under ten minutes.”

“You’re on. I win, I don’t have to pay you back for the M&Ms.”

“I win, I get to use all the hair styling products I have in my bag to give you a new ’do.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Vasquez nodded. “Deal.” They looked down at their watch, counting out the last few seconds before the second hand hit the 12, then yelling, “Go!”

As Lucy’s chair skittered around the first corner, Vasquez pushed their own away from the desk, rolling over to their bag to pull out a laptop and a few cables. Within a matter of minutes, they had their computer hooked up to display on the massive center screen and a system in place for any alerts to override the speakers so they wouldn’t miss any emergencies.

With 30 seconds to spare, Lucy came sliding back in, hitting the edge of the desk and going spinning, finally stopping only after she crashed into Vasquez’s chair. “Bet I made it, huh?” Despite being slightly out of breath, she still managed to look smug.

“Barely.”

With a wink, she held her backpack aloft. “That’s ’cause I stopped and grabbed my bag from my office. Can’t wait to see what you look like a mohawk.”

“Maybe I won’t let you use my fancy computer setup to watch the ball drop after all.” Vasquez stuck out their tongue as Lucy pouted.

“C’mon, it’s just the two of us for the next four hours while Rosenberg and Anderson get to sleep before the overnight shift. Would you really deprive yourself of the fun?”

“Fine, fine.”

And with that, Vasquez ended up with an over-gelled mohawk. Which somehow turned into a game of seeing how many M&Ms they could toss into each other’s mouth and from how far away. Which turned into another bet. Which was how Lucy ended up with two pigtail braids that were perfectly even (“I had two younger sisters, don’t act so surprised.”).

Eventually, as the clock ticked nearer and nearer to midnight, Vasquez pulled up a live stream of the celebrations, and they settled in, side-by-side, to watch the countdown.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Vasquez whispered, nudging Lucy with their shoulder.

“Yeah… I did too.”

The clock hit 30 seconds.

Lucy cleared her throat. “I need to be honest. I lied when I said that no one else could work tonight.”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, no one else wanted to work tonight or anything, but I sort of wanted the excuse to hang out with you. So I, uh, I’m sorry. For taking over your New Year’s Eve.”

Vasquez glanced over at Lucy, inching their chair a little closer. “If I’d known that there was a chance for spending a whole night, just the two of us? I’d have fought anyone else who tried to take the shift.”

The corners of Lucy’s mouth pulled up into a soft smile.

Ten seconds left.

Vasquez reached out a hand so that their pinky finger was just barely grazing Lucy’s hand. “Hey, um, when the ball drops, I’d like to kiss you. If that’s alright.”

Three.

Two. Lucy’s hand curled around Vasquez’s, fingers tangling together.

One.

As the ball dropped and the night sky exploded with fireworks and confetti, Lucy leaned over and pulled Vasquez forward, pressing their lips together—soft at first, but building into something deeper, something that made Lucy want to abandon her chair and the game and crawl into Vasquez’s lap. But then the reality of where they were crashed back down as a local EMT alert for a small fire—probably some asshole with illegal fireworks and too much to drink—beeped at them, the sound amplified through the speakers.

“Happy New Year,” Lucy whispered, her breath a warm whisper against the corner of Vasquez’s mouth.

“Next time you get the day off work, maybe I can even take you on a date somewhere other than the DEO?”

“Wow, so romantic.”

“Hush. I’ll have you know I can plan a great date.”

“I didn’t doubt you for a second.”

#pride month prompts #lucy lane #susan vasquez #lucy x vasquez #nb!vasquez #ficlet #fanfic #supergirl #fluff #first kiss

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theliterateape · 5 years

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FAQs: My Hair

by Kari Castor

I love your hair color! Is it natural?

A. Yes, my hair naturally grows <purple/blue/pink/green/etc>. It’s a true miracle of genetics.

How do you keep the color bright?

A. I’m a witch.

B. Color-depositing conditioner. This is also the reason my fingernails are frequently tinted very slightly <purple/blue/pink/green/etc>.

Do you even remember what your natural color is anymore?

A. This may come as a shock, but my body produces hair in places other than my head, and I don’t dye it all <purple/blue/pink/green/etc>. Therefore, even if I somehow forgot, I’d still have other hair to refer to.

B. What the hell kind of stupid question is that, honestly?

C. You know that hair grows, right? That natural-colored roots grow out of my head?

D. No, all the hair dye fumes have made me very stupid and I’m no longer able to remember anything except the last five days.

Does the carpet match the drapes?

A. Unoriginal and uninspired. F.

B. Drown yourself.

Oh, what an interesting style/color. What does your <boyfriend/husband/male partner> think about it?

A. I don’t give a shit.

B. My hair looks like this and you’re assuming I have a male partner? I mean, I do, it’s just a weird assumption when I go out of my way to look this queer.

C. Oh, of course I asked his permission before I did it, just like I do about every decision I ever make. I truly love being nothing more than a living doll for him to dress and order about as he pleases.

D. Fuck off.

E. My husband likes it. My boyfriend likes it, too.

F. He thinks that I’m a fully autonomous adult human who has the right to make her own decisions about her appearance.

Are you a hairstylist?

A. Hahahahahaha, oh god no. Please don’t ask me to do your hair. The reason I usually prefer to keep so little of my own on my head is that my hairstyling ability basically boils down to: A) uh, I guess I can make a ponytail or B) fuck it, let’s spike this shit up. Option B is more fun and requires less hair.

Aren’t you worried about how it will grow out?

A. Yes, I’m terrified that someday someone will notice my roots and discover that my hair is actually not naturally <purple/blue/pink/green/etc>.

B. What makes you think I plan to grow it out?

C. I mean, yes, the in-between stages when growing out very short hair suck, but I am sure I will survive them if I decide to go that route at some point. Or I’ll wear a wig. Wigs are fun sometimes.

I wish I’d been brave enough to do something wild with my hair when I was young, but I’m too old now.

A. Yes, I am so very brave, thank you for noticing.

B. You’re not too old. Do it now. It’s just hair. Please don’t let society / other people / whatever bullshit you have internalized stop you from doing things that make you happy.

C. I’m 36. Do you think there aren’t loads of people who think I’m too old to have a <purple/blue/pink/green/etc> mohawk? Fuck ‘em.

#FAQs #Hairstyles #hair #Fashion #heteronormativity #unnaturally-colored hair #short hair

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incorrect91quotes · 5 years

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Point of No Return {91 Mafia!AU}

PROLOGUE

INTRODUCTION

Pairing: Idk yet x reader Genre: 91 Mafia!AU Warning: A lot of violence, some language

Summary: Ninety One, the most powerful gang in KZ, finds itself on the defensive when a new gang appears threatening to seize Ninety One’s empire. Meanwhile, Y/n somehow becomes embroiled in the ensuing gang war while studying abroad in KZ.

A/N: Here we go. Pls be brutally honest.

Azamat adjusts the cuffs of his expensive designer suit as he steps into the elevator. His hair is shaved at the sides with a mohawk loosely combed back. The jet black strands contrast with his skin beautifully, giving him an intimidating, almost ghostly look. His eyes are cold and unreadable and his overbearing presence is enough to make even the bravest of men cry. He smirks at the younger boy standing next to him – Daniyar – who seems to be staring at the older in awe. Daniyar reminds Azamat of himself when he was younger – before his final shred of innocence had been taken away. When the elevator doors open, Azamat takes the lead, confidently striding down the hallway with Daniyar following behind like a loyal little puppy. When he reaches the right room, he swings the door open without hesitation and everyone sitting inside falls silent.

Azamat and Daniyar’s footsteps sound against the polished wooden floor as they enter. Out of the corner of his eye, Azamat can see Daniyar’s face turning slightly red. He knew the younger hated to be the center of attention. Azamat sits down at the head of the table, Daniyar sliding into the chair next to him. No one dares to speak.

Azamat’s eyes wander around the room, looking at each person. Most of them stare at the table to avoid his gaze, but a few dare to lock eyes with him. Azamat’s eyes linger on theirs a bit longer until the once-brave souls regret everything and quickly look down at the table. He says nothing, his glances getting his point across more clearly than words ever could. Daniyar observes the other men, wondering which one will finally speak up. Sweat glistens on their foreheads and a couple of them are even shaking in fear. Fear that they will draw their last breath at any moment.

The door opens again, but no one except Daniyar looks to see who it is. A dignified man calmly saunters into the room and takes the other empty seat next to Azamat. As he sits, he adjusts the sleeves of his navy blue suit jacket and pulls a pair of glasses from his coat pocket. His profile is harsh, with a strong jawline and chiseled cheekbones, but there is kindness in his eyes. Thick, black hair sits atop his head, styled in the most pristine way.

The man leans in and whispers something to Azamat. Azamat’s authoritative eyes do not move from the others in the room. As the man finishes, Azamat finally locks his gaze on the man sitting on the other end of the table. Azamat clears his throat and everyone snaps their heads up to look at him, ready to hear what he has to say.

Azamat does not speak. Instead, he raises his arm and extends one finger toward the man across from him. The sweat on his brow begins to drip down the side of his face as a he hurriedly stands. Azamat nods slightly. The man tries to stifle every emotion that’s fighting to come out. He takes a deep breath and closes his before beginning with a squeak.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat to try again. “L-l-last night, uh, a rival gang…that is, the Russians – ahem, they disrupted our heist and um…they--” The man’s voice trails off as he struggles to find the words. Azamat merely raises his eyebrows in quiet concern.��

“They took the goods from us and…um…th-they…ahem, killed our guys.”

The room falls into silence again and everyone looks at Azamat uncertainly, afraid of how he’s going to react. Azamat remains motionless for a few moments. A small, seemingly amused smile crosses his lips and everyone seems to breathe a sigh of relief. Just as they’ve all calmed down, Azamat stands up, grabs a glass of water that’s sitting on the table, and throws it at the nearest wall. It shatters on impact, causing everyone to flinch. One of the men begins to whimper. Despite his actions, not a shred of anger shows on his face. Even when he threw the glass, he appeared cool and collected. Unfortunately, Azamat is most dangerous when he is quiet. The men know they will be punished to the fullest extent. After all, they’re indirectly responsible for the failed heist.

Azamat sits back down and points at the whimpering man next to Daniyar. The man scrambles to his feet, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his sweat-ridden face. He licks his lips a few times in an attempt to collect himself, but his voice quakes as he speaks.

“Yes, s-sir?”

Azamat’s piercing eyes meet his, like two swords entering a person’s flesh slowly to cause greater pain.

“Do you know how I got where I am today?” Azamat’s gravelly voice crawls out of his mouth, flat but firm, like a snake strangling its prey. With every word, the men feel like they’re being choked. The man manages to nod weakly. Azamat continues, his voice never changing in volume.

“Of course you don’t. I’ve never told anyone. But now I’m going to tell you everything. All of you. Maybe then you’ll understand why failure is not an option. Sit down.”

The man hastily takes his seat, nearly tripping out of nervousness. Azamat stands up and begins wandering around the room. Every so often, he stops to look at the paintings on the wall, but for the most part, he circles the table, staring down at each and every person.

“My parents were simple people. They worked hard to provide for their children. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. At the time, Atyrau was controlled by the Zhanibekov family. Dishonest, evil people, the lot of them. My parents paid them every month in exchange for protection. Not that they had a choice.”

Azamat pauses to scan each man, making sure they’re listening. He smirks at the fact that he has their undivided attention. He could recite poetry and they would still hang on his every word like their lives depended on it. Azamat continues.

“Food prices went up and wages were low. My parents chose to feed their children first. Yes, they had every intention of paying the protection money. It was one day late. One day. They shot my father first. Then my mother, who was crying over his dead body. But they never even acknowledged us. You remember that day, don’t you, Daniyar?”

He stops behind his younger brother, who seems to be angered by the story. Daniyar’s lips tighten as he nods.

“When I turned 14, I joined that sick family as a serving boy. The leader…ah, what was his name?”

The man in the suit and glasses speaks up suddenly, without looking up from his notes.

“Serikbolat Zhanibekov,” he says.

“Yes, thank you. Serikbolat Zhanibekov. He loved me like a son and I pretended to love him like a father. Until one day…”

Azamat drags his finger across his throat, his face remains stoic and his voice eerily soft.

“I killed him.”

Terror grips the men around the table. One man cups his hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. Another loses all color in his face. The other man starts whimpering again, this time much louder. Azamat continues to circle the table, staring at each person like a predator stalking its prey. The whimpering man has now lost all control of his emotions. Azamat offers him a tissue and he nervously accepts.

“I wanted him to know who was killing him. More than that, I wanted him to suffer. So I stood behind him.”

Azamat stops. The whimpering man can feel an overwhelming presence behind him, but he doesn’t dare look back.

“I made him look me in the eye.”

Azamat reaches a hand to the man’s head and grasps his hair. The whimpering man inhales sharply as tears stream down his cheeks like waterfalls. With a sharp tug, the man finds his eyes fixed on Azamat’s emotionless visage.

“And I stuck him like a fucking pig.”

Mere seconds pass as Azamat draws a switchblade from his pocket and shoves the knife into the man’s torso. Red liquid spills from the wound as the former soldier struggles to catch his breath. The entire time, Azamat keeps his eyes locked on the man’s, watching as the life painfully leaves them. He lets go of the man’s hair and the man slumps into the table with a loud thud. Daniyar lets out a gentle laugh.

Azamat cleans his blade on the man’s shirt and sheathes it for now. As he returns to his seat, he notices some blood staining his hand. It’s been a while since Azamat literally had blood on his hands. He savors it for a short while before speaking again, his tone unchanged.

“And what became of the Zhanibekov family?”

Azamat turns his palms upward and shrugs.

“They don’t exist anymore. I have taken their place. Azamat Zenkayev, the poor boy from Atyrau, single-handedly seized control of the most notorious crime family in Kazakhstan. I ended them.”

Daniyar smiles, flashing his brilliant teeth. He always looked up to his older brother, but this story made him especially proud.

“Batyrkhan.”

The bespectacled man looks up from his notes, turning his head toward Azamat, his sculpted features more visible straight-on.

“Tell me, where would I be if I had failed such an important task?”

Batyrkhan does not hesitate. He curtly replies, “Dead, sir.” Azamat nods and the man returns to his notes.

“Daniyar. Where would you be if I had failed?”

Daniyar’s smile grows. He tilts his head downward and casts an eerie glance at the remaining two men.

“Dead.”

Azamat nods his head fervently and points at the two gentlemen on either side of him – his younger brother and trusted advisor.

“Exactly right,” he mutters. “Now, with all that said, how do you think this meeting is going to end?”

He darts his eyes back and forth between the remaining soldiers who have lost all color in their face by now. Daniyar fidgets in his chair and begins tapping his fingers on the table. Before long, he is bouncing up and down like an impatient child waiting for ice cream. Azamat simply ignores and waits for one of the men to answer.

“Well?”

Finally, one speaks up. Cold sweat drips from his face onto the table. He struggles to find the words, the mere sight of Azamat sending shivers up his spine. The shivers cut like a thousand knives and the man reaches a hand behind his back to make sure he wasn’t impaled.

“Mercy,” he breathes, the mere utterance of the word nearly draining the life out of him.

He was once a skilled assassin, successful in every endeavor and ready to die for honor – now, reduced to a sniveling, pathetic excuse of a man, begging for mercy like a dog begs for food. For a moment, the man remembers who he used to be and tries to be strong. But once he looks into Azamat’s cold eyes, he slips back into a trembling mass of flesh.

Azamat pulls a handgun and sends a bullet straight through the man’s head. Without hesitation, he points it to the other man and ends his life with one shot as well. Azamat stands, wearing the same emotionless expression as he begins to exit the room. Batyrkhan gingerly places his notes back in his briefcase and follows, while Daniyar nearly trips over the chair trying to keep up with his older brother.

Back in the elevator, Azamat loosens his tie and casts a sideways glance at his lawyer, Batyrkhan. The man somehow manages to maintain an air of poise despite the events that just transpired.

“Any plans for this evening, Batyr?” Azamat asks, his tone more casual now.

With a firm nod, Batyrkhan answers, “No sir.”

“Good,” Azamat replies. “I’m calling another meeting tonight at my place. I want you there.”

Batyrkhan offers another nod. Even if he had plans, he would have to cancel them. The business comes first and he must be available for his boss at a moment’s notice. It’s the price he must pay in exchange for Azamat’s trust.

“Are you gonna kill some more people?” Daniyar asks, sounding like a child.

Azamat continues to look up at the elevator display, watching the numbers gradually count down to one. Azamat doesn’t turn to look at his younger brother, but he knows his answer will draw a crazed smile from Daniyar’s lips.

“Yes. All of them.”

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