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hhoneyglasss · 1 year

Text

kill bill

notes: i think our favorite vampiric princess is in order for valentine’s season. hope u enjoy.

pov: alexis solaire — first person limited

pairings: past relationship(?) with alexis/sam, present relationship with darlin’/sam

word count: 2.2k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46534081

!! TWs {these begin under the cut} !! unhealthy obsession, physical threats, aggressive language, and graphic imagery. please proceed with caution or do not interact with this work if these topics r triggering for u.

reblogs r v much appreciated!

Time is cruel to those who go against its laws, but it's even crueler to those who follow them.

Time has always been something to rival against—a force that dares test the permanency of the Solaire name. Like all things who attempt the same feat, it is crushed into dust, and Solaire blood reigns victorious once again.

It’s a vicious cycle, but it’s one that’s kept us at the top—crimson crowns spilling red onto those beneath it. It can be ugly, even tragic, but it’s worth it. It’s power—indescribable power.

But it’s a lonely game between us, immortality and I. Eternity is kind to no man, to no creature of the night, and I, a Solaire, am no exception. A night of forever endlessly stretches out in front of me, a path I must travel alone.

Or so I thought.

Sam Collins was something more than the immortal night I was damned to. He was the moon, the stars, that lit up the dark blanket of sky who smothered me in its hold. He was always more than immortality or power—he was alive.

Maybe it was the drumming of his heartbeat in his chest or the way his cheeks flushed rose in the summer sun, but Sam Collins exuded life. He was vitality itself, a man who radiated it whenever he walked into a room. He was the true definition of human.

That’s what drew me to him. His humanity reminded me of the life I had lived so many years ago, those memories now forever captured in this perfect man. A gentleman with a heart of gold, but one who let close to none see it.

I was one of the lucky few.

I was falling—drowning in the river that was him. From his warmth to his touch, he invaded every aspect of my being, and I found myself hooked. Suddenly I saw a brighter future ahead, a future where someone would lead me through the night. I found my own northern star—he was Polaris, and I was the once-lost traveler.

But then his light started to dim. Precession began and suddenly the earth wobbled beneath my feet and Polaris was no more. He laid limp in my arms, fallen from the sky into my lap with a car door lodged in his abdomen. My vision stained red, the moon now blurry, and the future I saw now nothing but a faded fantasy.

I thought of the solution—I found a way to restore the life that had once pulsed through his veins. It’d be different, he’d be different, but he’d still be the same Sam. He’d still be my Sam.

My nails in his skin, his eyes locked on mine, and then my teeth in his throat. I hadn’t ever bitten him before—he said he hadn’t wanted that, so I listened. It was different now, though. He needed this, even when he pushed my hands away and begged me to stop.

My blood then dripped into his mouth, and it was complete. The golden glow of Polaris now shone silver, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. Sam Collins was alive, even if his heartbeat had slowed to an eternal flatline.

He didn’t understand.

One who had once fallen asleep in my arms now refused to even be in the same room. One who used to kiss me good night and walk me home now couldn’t bear to look at me. One whose heart I thought was mine now claimed I was dead to him.

I thought it was a phase. Bloodlust’s bitterness, or whatever you’d wish to call it. I pictured him coming back to me when it was over—that same crooked smile looking down at me, just with canines a little pointier.

But then the days stretched into weeks, then months, and then sooner than I realized, his bloodlust was over and the silent treatment showed no sign of stopping. He continued to avoid me like some foreign plague, but I still watched him, still thinking about the day he’d come running back to me.

The day hasn’t come.

Not yet, anyway.

That first year turned into two, then five, and ten and then fifteen years had gone by without a single look in my direction. Even if our progeny-maker thread had been cut, I could feel his change in breathing whenever I entered the room. The nervousness in it, the tension.

The pure, unbridled fear.

I was now the creature lurking in the shadows, the monster hiding underneath his childhood bed. The leviathan with fangs dripping crimson.

All hope was not lost, though. The moonlight still shone through the end of the tunnel, and I was patient. He would find his forgiveness eventually—Sam Collins is a good man, and good men know how to forgive.

That hope stood strong until I started to see the beginnings of the oncoming dawn.

This dawn made their grand debut at a monthly clan meeting in the shape of a wolf. A damned creation with scars slashed across their skin, beginning right underneath their jaw and wrapping around their arms, torso, and legs.

One of Sam’s flannels wrapped snug around their frame.

I watched them, my knees pressed to my chest as I sat on the stairs. I watched Sam’s hand rest on the small of their back, and I watched the way they leaned into him. I watched the kiss they placed on his cheek in greeting, and I watched the tilted shy smile he gave in return.

I watched all of it. I saw everything.

Ten minutes after my vigil began, Sam left them with a kiss on their forehead to speak with Vincent and William. They now stood alone on the right side of the room, their hands fiddling with the cuff of Sam’s shirt.

They must’ve detected me watching them when their gaze quickly shifted in my direction. I didn’t stop watching—I simply stared back. Their eyes were wide and curious before they crinkled into a small smile.

They waved.

They had no idea who I was.

All they knew was that someone in this wide room of vampires had done something ‘dreadful’ to their mate, something ‘unforgivable’. As far as they knew right now, everyone was innocent—everyone was a smiling face welcoming them into this clan with open arms.

How wrong they were.

I didn’t smile, nor did I wave back. Their smile faded slowly, and they dropped their arm and turned away.

Good. Pathetic chew toys are to be crushed ‘neath a Solaire’s marble heel, not given allowance to make eye contact, let alone smile.

I stood up from my perch on the stairs and walked away. I went past where Vincent, William, and Sam were speaking to one another, and like the past fifteen wretched years, I noticed the muscles in Sam’s arms tense and I saw his fists clench. His back straightened, and he became terrifically still when I walked by.

I paused, then turned to the mutt. Did they notice how Sam had reacted to my presence? Did they see how his posture changed? Did they notice the half-inch that his brows furrowed inward? Did they see it? Did they see him?

When I examined the expression on their face, I knew that they did.

The small smile that had tugged at their soft features had now completely dissipated—their mouth was pressed into a hard, straight line. Their eyes, once liquid sun in the light of the full moon, had frozen solid.

Resentment was in their eyes.

And protectiveness. As expected from a dog.

All wolves are the same—they bark, they bite, and then they die. One by one, they shrivel up and fall. It’s just nature.

I used to feel a sort of sympathy for them, us both being moonbound. I felt a kindred spirit in a way.

Not anymore.

The thing with the mutt was that they would not last. They had a few measly, troubled decades in this world while I had until the end of time.

I had eternity—they had a ticking clock.

There is no room in this world for immature vagabonds with a pension for death. There is no room for wolves who are fatally tied to their own mortality.

They will die eventually, and the Solaire blood will reign victorious. I will wear my crown again.

I went to stand beside the wall, watching once again when Sam made their way back to them. They jumped up to kiss his cheek again. I gagged.

Over the course of the night, I watched them. I saw when they both sat down for the clan meeting to begin. They never stopped touching for the entire night.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

If his hand wasn’t against their thigh, then his arm wrapped around their shoulder. If they weren’t leaning against him, then their hand closed over his.

Nauseating, disgusting, vile, obscene—there were a million words in the world to describe the scene playing out before me, but none of them quite held the venom I wanted.

The hour-long meeting seemed to drag on into oblivion until William finally dismissed the clan, a good natured smile warming his eyes as he bid us good night. I got up from my seat and began to stalk towards the door, my coat tucked under my arm.

I didn’t get very far when I heard a voice behind me. “Something tells me that staring at Sam’s partner like a tiger about to pounce isn’t gonna make him hate you less.”

Vincent. I stopped and turned around, but I stayed silent. His arms were crossed over his chest, his glare disapproving as it bore into me.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vincent.”

“Tch,” he huffed, “I’m not stupid. Do you think I am?”

I didn’t answer that.

Vincent continued, “It wasn’t just me who noticed, Alexis. I heard them whispering to Sam about it during the meeting. You’re making them uncomfortable.”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fine, then. It’s making Sam uncomfortable.”

“You’re saying that to get me to care about their feelings.”

“And what if I am?” He asked, “He’s the only thing that gets through to you anymore.”

I paused. “…Does it really make him uncomfortable?”

He nodded. Silence fell over us.

He broke it. “So you’ll stop?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll try.”

Silence again.

Vincent leaned on the railing of the stairs. “You need to get over him.”

“I don’t need anything,” I growled.

“Yes, you do,” he countered, “It was different when he was single. You could chase after him all you want—he could handle the staring when it was only directed at him—but it’s not like that anymore.”

I braced myself. I knew what was coming.

“He’s with someone now,” he continued, “They’re mates, Alexis, and you know what?”

“What?” I whispered.

“He’s happy,” he said, “He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Maybe you would’ve noticed the change in him if you weren’t so stuck in your own head all of the time, but he’s content now. He smiles. A lot. And he laughs. A lot. He didn’t do that much before.”

Another pause. I started to curl into myself.

“He loves them, Alexis.”

There it was.

The arrow through the Achilles’ heel, a wooden stake piercing my stone heart. Sunlight burned through my flesh until nothing was left but a pile of unlovable ash, blown away in the winter wind.

I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping my coat until my fingers stabbed through the fabric.

I looked up at Vincent. “Say that again, and your tongue will be shoved so far down your throat you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”

I didn’t wait for his reaction. I turned on my heel and swept through the meeting room’s double doors, ignoring his angry shouts. They were static now.

I made my way around the building, hoping to find my car before I shattered my keys when I saw the two of them in the parking lot.

The mutt had a bundle of flowers in their arms, the bouquet tied together neatly with a red ribbon. They held a card decorated with hearts in their left hand.

Valentine’s Day. How could I forget?

They gazed with awe at the card and flowers, and the brightest smile lit their adoring features.

I could almost see the stupid fucking halo.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, a gesture he always did when he was bashful.

It was sickening.

I stared at the bouquet.

There were roses in it.

I looked back up at Sam.

I wondered what I could do with those thorns.

My imagination began to run wild. I imagined snatching the roses from their bouquet and sinking the sharp thorns into Sam’s throat, dragging them through his skin while they tore him open. He’d fall to the ground, his hands around his neck, and his wide, too human-like eyes would beg for help. The dog would scream and scream and scream and I’d scream too, relishing in the noise, and my vision would bleed red just like it did fifteen years ago.

They’d call for help, but no one would come. The hours would tick by and the sun would soon rise. I’d watch from the shadows as Sam’s corpse burned to ash instead. He was the forgotten one now.

The asphalt would bleed red too.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted alexis #redacted asmr alexis #redacted audio alexis #redacted sam #redacted asmr sam #redacted audio sam #redacted darlin #redacted asmr darlin #redacted audio darlin #redacted solaire clan #redacted fanfic #honeyglass’s handwritings

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chrysalispen · 2 years

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Prompt #23 - Pitch

AO3 LINK HERE

Fill under cut.

----------------------

The sound of the wind whistling about cracked stones and mortar and brittle cedar eaves reminded Aurelia of home.

Coerthas, like Garlemald, was a cold land-- cold within and without. Beyond the relatively cozy quiet of the Pillars compassion seemed in short supply. The great men of Ishgard were generous and respectful enough towards their own peers, but those below them both in station and in domicile were an afterthought at best. She couldn't very well blame the smallfolk for their thinly veiled hostility, nor their distrust of her. On paper at least, as far as the Holy See was concerned, she was a Fortemps, and that fact preceded her entry into the city slums.

She could feel the wariness all but radiating off the young woman as she drew a stool to the child's bedside. No great surprise, that. It seemed a reasonable enough inference to believe that no other healer - none with a legitimate shingle to hang, anyroad - would deign to make their services available to Ishgard's poorest.

The church had turned a blind eye to her activities in the Brume thus far; she suspected word of the tribunal had made the rounds for that to happen- but it was wise to be as circumspect as possible. Too many practitioners of the healing arts in this part of the star still believed in such notions as ‘balancing humors,’ and Aurelia refused to give the church or the High Houses further ammunition to make accusations of heresy.

Charges like those had a way of sticking. Especially if the three of them ran afoul of the Heavens' Ward a second time.

"How long has she been coughing like this, Edythe?" Aurelia asked in a hushed and gentle voice as she folded the child's small hand into her palm. The tiny body was hot to the touch, as was the surrounding space and the (alarmingly threadbare and filthy) linens. It made her think of the ceruleum heater in her old bedchamber.

"Three days, my lady. I thought she'd taken a chill and naught else, but she wouldn't leave her bed yesterday morning."

"She certainly has a fever," Aurelia reached into her black bag for her scope. "Has she eaten anything?"

"Aye, my sister says she took a little bread while I was working." The poor woman's face was pale and pinched with worry. "I-I work up in one of the big houses, you see, just a bit o' piecework here and there."

"For the lady of the house?"

"Oh, no, my lady. If I were that important, they'd give me lodgings. I sew for them what serve the lords." Edythe swallowed, the click of her throat audible even with the whistle of the storm outside. "...I can't spare a day's work today, if I'm honest, but she was so much worse this morning I feared she might..."

Aurelia loosened the ties that bound the little girl's tunic closed. "May I ask your little one's name?"

"Aye. It's Fenella."

She set her scope to the exposed chest to listen. The heartbeat was strong if a bit on the rapid side, but the lungs-- the girl's breaths were more akin to a wheeze than aught else.

"It's very fortunate you called when you did," she said after a moment. "Another day or two and this would have moved into her lungs, and it would have likely become very serious.”

“Oh...”

“As it is, she'll need to be watched for a day or two until the fever breaks."

"I understand that, my lady, but it's just her, me, and my sister. I'm the only one with steady work." Her dark eyes held a silent and desperate plea. "My husband... he died not six moons past, fighting heretics out west. I've no one other than Olwen who can watch her. Do you have aught you can give her for it? A potion? Or even a bleed?"

"I don't bleed my patients,” she replied. “Even if I took part in such practices she's far too young to risk such treatments."

Aurelia refrained from offering a further opinion; it would do little good and Edythe was like to resort to a chirurgeon willing to do so if she didn't come up with a treatment of her own. She tapped her toe against the stone with a thoughtful frown. She'd taken ill with these agues a time or two when she was very young and her mother was still well enough to tend her. Accustomed to the deep chill of northern Ilsabard, Vittora had---

"Have you any pitch?"

"Pitch?" Edythe gave her a decidedly dubious look. "...You mean the tar for the roof? What would that do to help?"

"No, not that sort. Pitch as in resina." Aurelia floundered for a simpler explanation and tried to remind herself this was Coerthas, a land which was cold but hadn't always been so. A fellow Garlean would have understood immediately what she was asking about and why. "You've probably seen it sold at market in- in cakes. Or... actually I think in Ishgard it might be called balsam?"

"Oh, balsam. Why didn't you say so? I keep it on hand in the kitchen. It’s in a wee cabinet near the stovetop. I can go get it if you-"

"I can get it," Aurelia assured her. She glanced at the small wooden bucket next to the door, and a few fulms away, the wood crackling in the fireplace -- and knew how she wanted to do this. "Would you be able to slip outside and find me a few stones?"

"There's stones lying about everywhere. Rubble from the horde’s attack. How big should they be?"

She held up a closed fist. "No larger than this."

"Aye, I can find that much, but-- what do you mean to do?"

"I'll show you when you get back."

Once Edythe had wrapped herself in as many layers as she could and slipped out the door, Aurelia set to work.

She took the ladle hanging from the wall alongside two other rather weathered-looking kitchen spoons before digging about the small cabinet in the tiny kitchen, until she unearthed found three of the resinous pitch cakes she'd asked about. Aurelia folded one into her apron pocket, then with a glance at the teapot in the other room shook her head and took the empty three-legged pot next to the single-burner stove instead. It looked like it was used to heat water for laundry, but was not overly large.

It would work for her intended purpose. She hoped.

There was a back door here that led into a yard barely large enough for one person to stand in and a ramshackle building that by the smell... she coughed and covered her nose with the back of one hand. Aye, that was the midden.

I'm not risking fouled snowmelt. Other door it is.

Aurelia closed the door, moved through the small room and past Fenella's sickbed, opened the front door, and began scooping handfuls of snow into the pot. Her fingers were red and aching in short order, and she wasted little time in hauling the pot back indoors to hang it from the chimney bar, risking another piece of kindling to keep the fire burning. The water had just started to bubble when the door opened at her back. Edythe had returned.

"The stones, my lady."

"Wonderful." She removed the pot from the fire with a soft grunt and reached for the resin cake she'd set aside in her pocket. "Can you put them in the fireplace? We're going to pull them out of the embers as soon as they're hot. Mind your fingers; you'll want to use the tongs."

As Edythe placed the stones Aurelia carefully crumbled the resin into the water-- cooling now, but hot enough to dissolve the pitch. The stringent scent of it prickled her nostrils as she stirred the pot's contents with the ladle. So far, so good.

It took relatively little time for the stones to reach the proper heating point. She took the tongs from Edythe, removed the stones from the fire, and placed them in the empty wooden bucket alongside.

"I don't-"

"Watch me."

Slowly Aurelia dipped the ladle into the resin-filled water - now quite cooled - until she had filled it halfway, then poured a small amount onto the hot stones. There was a sizzling hiss as clouds of steam billowed out of the bucket, and at her back she heard Fenella's wet cough. She did it a second time, and a third, until the sharp medicinal scent from the resin filled the small room.

For a good quarter-bell there was no sound save those steady hissing noises and a little girl’s coughing-- and then there was the soft rustle of moving cloth. Edythe startled with a gasp, and Aurelia watched as she moved quickly to her daughter's bedside.

Fenella was trying to push herself upright.

"Mummy?" she rasped. She was still wheezing, but her breathing was already beginning to clear somewhat. Certainly she sounded less worrisome now than she had when Aurelia had first arrived.

"Nellie," Edythe nearly sobbed, wrapping her arms around her child. "Nellie, I was so worried-"

"I'm all right, Mum. I’m cold. And my head hurts. But my chest feels better." Fenella gave Aurelia a slow, owlish blink. "Are you the chur- chi-"

"Chirurgeon," she said gently. "Aye, I am."

"Why does it smell like pine needles?"

"That's the steam, love. There's medicine in it that will help your cough."

Edythe was staring at Aurelia like she'd performed a magic trick.

"I thought we'd have to have her bled. Or call on the church to send a healer," she said. "How did you know what to do? I've never seen a chirurgeon do that before."

It's an old Garlean folk remedy, she didn't say. "I used to catch these same lung agues when I was Fenella's age, and my own mother always put me in the bath with a steam of camphorwood resin to help me breathe. I'd advise it be repeated every four bells or so for the next couple of days. I'll go out in a moment to fetch more resin cakes and kindling for your fire. Willowbark tincture, too, for the fever-"

"Oh," Edythe said, visibly distressed, face falling, "I don't have enough gil."

"You don't need to worry about that." Aurelia would probably be able to find her some good quality camphorwood resin, too, if she went to the Crozier. Not that she planned to tell Edythe that; there was no point in making her feel guilty about it. "Just show your sister how to prepare the water and the stones, and remind her she must pour slowly and carefully. If you pour too much water too quickly, the treatment won't be as effective. The room should be full of the steam for a good quarter bell."

Edythe nodded, arms still about her daughter's thin shoulders, rocking slowly. She looked as though she were about to cry.

"I don't know why you're helping us, my lady," she said, her voice unsteady. "Fine healers from the Pillars don't much care about what happens to the likes of us- they want patients who can pay them, you see. I thought we'd-"

Her voice broke. Smiling, Aurelia reached for her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"I'm helping you because I want to help; it's really no trouble at all. If Miss Fenella here doesn't start feeling more like herself in a day or two - if she still has a fever, if her cough worsens - go to the Forbidden Knight and ask for Gibrillont. Tell him I gave you his name and have him send for me, and I'll come as soon as I'm able."

"Aye. Aye, I will. Gladly." For the first time since she'd set foot in the door, Edythe gave her a small and tremulous smile. "I think the heavens must have sent you to us, my lady. May the Fury and all Her saints bless you."

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Aurelia made her excuses and slipped out the door, exhaling a small white cloud into the chilly air. She wanted to finish this errand quickly and get back to the manor before aught else was said. Fenella would be fine, of course, a nasty chest cold could be kept from getting worse with bed rest and a simple steam treatment to clear the airway.

But that sort of talk... well. If the church found out the smallfolk were saying that sort of thing about her, even over something so basic as a home remedy, she doubted the archbishop would be so willing to let it lie. It was most like he didn't believe that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were strong enough to pose a threat to his power, but-

No point in worrying about it now. Best go get the resin for her before the markets close.

Cinching her heavy coat snug about her willowy frame, Aurelia began her walk back towards the plaza.

#ffxivwrite2022 #prompt 23: pitch #aurelia laskaris #chrysalispen writes

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weallwantabetterlife · 7 months

Text

You probably didn’t hear about it. But yesterday, God visited earth.

Contrary to what you’ve heard, God is a big fan of people. He’s a huge fan. In fact, that’s why he came.

His visit was an under-the-radar thing. It was non-publicized. God wasn’t in it for press.

First, he came to Birmingham, Alabama. Of all places.

He stepped into a sleepy hospital corridor last night, and wandered the aisles barefoot. He stopped in the room of a little girl with terminal brain cancer.

The little girl was sleeping. He touched her bald little head. She never even knew he was there. All she knew was that she was dreaming of “angels and stuff.”

When the little girl awoke, something wonderful had happened. Something almost too impossible to believe.

Her mother was seated beside her bed. Asleep in her chair. The little girl sat upright. She stretched her arms. She yawned. She remarked how good she felt. Doctors checked her out. They couldn’t believe she felt “good.”

Because for the last six months, the child has felt like heck. For the last six months, the little girl has been dying. But today, something had shifted. All the treatments. All the therapy. Something was working.

Turns out, the scans the doctor sent away had come back all clear. The child okay. Not just a-little-bit okay. She is totally fine. No traces of cancer. Not a single bit. This child will live.

“My baby will live,” said her mother.

After that, God went to Oklahoma City. It’s not clear how he got there. Maybe he took a Greyhound. Maybe he flew. Maybe God doesn’t take public transportation. Maybe he just did the Star Trek thing, and beamed himself up.

Either way, he landed in a little town outside Oklahoma City. A dusty town which shall remain nameless, because it is small, and everyone knows everyone’s business.

There was an old man who was was suicidal. He is Cherokee. He was locked in his bathroom. He had the gun. He was going to do it. Really going to do it.

But then something warm washed all over him and told him, in an audible voice, “Don’t do it. Rachel drew you a picture.”

He stepped out of his bathtub when he heard the phone ring. It was his granddaughter. She was Facetiming him.

“Hey Grandpa,” said the 6-year-old child. “I called because I just drew you a picture.”

Her name is Rachel.

Then God then traveled to Oregon. The 33rd state. A state with rainforests, mountains and harsh deserts. God must have taken a pretty fast plane because he got there in just the nick of time.

There was a young man named Rob who was having a heart attack in his home. Rob is 26. He was standing in his hallway, and he was so scared. It’s not every day a 26-year-old collapses in his hallway, clutching his chest in terror.

“Don’t let me die, God,” Rob uttered.

When he woke up, he was in the ICU. The doctors said he had been dead for several minutes before they revived him.

His mother, who was sitting beside his hospital bed asked what he’d seen when he was clinically dead.

Rob said, “I just met my father.”

The young man’s father has been dead since he was a toddler. He’s only seen pictures.

“What did he say to you?” his mother asked.

“He said something about Baltimore, Maryland.”

His mother started crying.

“Why are you crying, Mom?” the kid asked.

“I never told you this, but your father asked me to marry him in Baltimore.”

Listen, I don’t know where this letter finds you tonight. I don’t know what you’re doing right now, or where you are spending Thanksgiving.

I don’t know whether you’re happy or sad. I don’t care whether you’re religious or not. Thanksgiving is one day away. And I don’t give the tiniest crap what you’ve heard, I want you to know that no matter who you are, no matter what you’ve done, God is your biggest fan.

I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving this year.

#beautiful #mother #dad #friend #dream #bham #love #happy #smile #funny #family #grateful #god #jesus #believe #coffee #freedom #veteran #bama #crimsontide #bible #prayer #happyl #USA #rolltide #blessed #birminghamalabama #alabama #bhamalabama #peace

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monstersoc · 1 year

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☆Monster+Worm Headcannons!!

Summary: Little things we both do

▪︎ It's Canon Worm can cook so normally he bakes stuff and let's me taste test them

▪︎ I definitely end up eating it all

▪︎ However he never let's me cook because one time I accidently poisoned a man (he did not die)

▪︎ He doesn't believe it was an accident

▪︎ I cooked him pancakes one time and he spent an hour investigating them

▪︎They were cold by the time he confirmed they were not poisoned

▪︎ Probably started waking up earlier to make sure I'm not cooking

▪︎ Moving on from cooking-

▪︎ I try to touch his tail on a daily basis

▪︎ He always glares at me when I do

▪︎ Threatens to bite me and I always tense up when he does😭

▪︎ Probably growled at me once and my soul left the planet🥰

▪︎ Probably made fun of the look on my face bc I do the whole wide eye thing like a deer since... well since I am a deer-

▪︎ I love stars so I normally draw them EVERYWHERE

▪︎ drew them on his face once

▪︎ He got revenge on me by putting Christmas lights around my antlers and I didn't even notice till someone pointed it out

▪︎ Gave him the silent treatment after that

▪︎ but like that one fischl sticker type treatment

▪︎ WHERE SHE LOOKS AWAY LIKE SHES MAD BUT CLEARLY ISNT??

▪︎ yk what I'm talking about

▪︎ Thinkin how Worm plays guitar and I love his music

▪︎ Except I don't know it's HIS music

▪︎ and one day he's just like "what you listening to?"

▪︎ and I proceed to compliment him without even realizing I'm complimenting him

▪︎ once he told me that was him I was flabbergasted

▪︎ "i- you?- thats-"

▪︎ Disappeared for a week in embarrassment

▪︎ Where was I that week?

▪︎ At the dance theater in Fontaine

▪︎ Yes I am a dancer

▪︎ I'm mainly like Yunjin with a little bit of our other dancers shoved into one

▪︎ yes I have danced to one of worms songs

▪︎ also I have so many cute thoughts for accompanying him to sneznaya but I think that deserves to be it's own hcs♡

#oc x oc #Genshin #genshin au #headcannons #dancing #guitarist #yunjin

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thishintoflove · 3 years

Text

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #kingsman golden circle #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x male reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 years

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It's the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I'm so excited to finally share it with you.

----

Chapter 1: Starry Eyes

Soundtrack: "Starry Eyes," Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

It was quiet here in the mountains.

Claire Beauchamp drew in a long, shaky breath of clear, crisp air, and tucked her legs up onto the seat of the Adirondack chair. Watching the sun set over the valley.

Gripping the arm of the chair with shaky hands.

Behind her on the deck, a dozen or so strangers – men and women – shuffled into their own chairs, or to square tables with board games under one arm. Chatter wafted through the door that led into The Ridge’s main building.

The brochure that Joe Abernathy had pressed into her hands, sitting in the back seat of his Jaguar sedan while his wife Gail drove them to the airport, described The Ridge as a residential treatment facility. Her mind was still reeling from the intervention, and that Gail had already packed her a duffel bag stuffed with essentials – it had all been so seamless.

There were many things Claire had wanted to block out in the two years since she’d left Frank and everything had fallen apart. Many things she had shut out from the world around her, paralyzed by pain. But she hadn’t lost all of her faculties quite yet.

Because no matter what The Ridge called itself, no matter how beautiful the landscaping of its grounds, or the plush cushions on the chairs, or the gourmet meals prepared by the in-house chef (herself five years in recovery, or so the brochure proudly proclaimed), there was no hiding what it really was.

Rehab.

Claire was there because she was an addict.

And she would stay there until she had unfucked her life.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to see a tall man, red hair down to his shoulders, colorful tattoos covering every inch of his arms and disappearing beneath the sleeves of a well-fitted black t-shirt.

“May I sit next to you?”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He flopped down into the chair, crossed his long legs, and lay both palms on the armrests, thumbs tapping a quick beat.

“First day?”

It had been forty six hours since her last fix, and pain sliced her skull. She hadn’t gone this long without in more than a year. “Yes,” she murmured.

Now his fingers joined in the tapping. “Thought so. The new ones always come in the middle of the day – that’s why Group is always in the afternoons. So we can have our individual sessions in the morning, and meet all together in the afternoon. It helps to stick to a schedule.”

She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn’t looking at her – just gazing straight ahead – but he kept talking. “Anyway, it’ll just be a few minutes until dinner. I hope you like Mexican – they take Taco Tuesdays pretty seriously around here.”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I know we introduced ourselves at Group, but it’s all just a blur.”

He turned to face her, and she could hear his smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re Claire – pills addict. That’s what you told us, anyway.”

“It’s true.”

“Well then.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie – I’m an alcoholic. Bourbon, mostly. And a little bit of cocaine, now and again.”

She gripped his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m a sex addict, too,” he added. “John – my therapist here – he said that the more honest I am, the better it will be for me later on.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, not quite sure what else to say.

“I’ve hurt a lot of people by not being honest, and by drinking, and not being honest about my drinking.” He folded his hands in his lap. Lallybroch read one tattoo inching up his left arm, and Ellen read another. “I’m on the tenth step. I’ve learned a lot so far.”

Claire stared down at her own hands – bare, except for her mother’s silver wedding band, which Uncle Lamb had given her when she was twelve. “Well, if we’re going for honesty – I’m a trauma surgeon, at one of the top hospitals in Boston. My asshole ex-husband used to hit me, and I prescribed myself some ludes to deaden everything. I wrote out the scripts to him, then took them to the pharmacy myself.” She pursed her lips, feeling his eyes on her. “I thought I had it under control – I thought that nobody noticed. Until I showed up high one day, and made a stupid mistake, and almost killed a patient.”

He was strangely quiet – and after silently counting to twenty, Claire looked up at him. He was still tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair, though in a more structured, organized rhythm. Nodding his head. Thinking.

“It was my best friend who got me here,” he said softly. “I’ve known him since we were kids – he even married my sister. He saw what I was doing to myself, how much I was hurting her, and hurting the thing that he and I had worked so hard to build.” A spray of black and white stars flexed above his elbow. “Who got you here?”

“My best friend. We went to medical school together – he was my man of honor at my wedding. He and his wife staged a full-on intervention.”

Jamie’s brows lifted. “Wow.”

She nodded, encouraged. “I’d already been indefinitely suspended without pay from the hospital. I figured, what do I have to lose?”

“Yeah. We have to reach that point.”

A metallic clang pierced the air – and Claire jumped.

Jamie smiled. “That’s the literal dinner bell. Like I said, I hope you like tacos.”

Claire slid forward in the chair and stood, stretching. “I could eat anything right about now. I’m not too picky.”

Now Jamie stood – and smiled down at her. “I’m helping get everyone seated tonight – we all pick up chores around here. See you in there?”

She smiled back. “Yeah. And thanks for talking to me.”

“No sweat.” Quickly he stepped away from her and across the deck toward the door back inside.

“Hey.”

Claire turned to see a woman – young, dark-haired, size zero – remove her enormous sunglasses.

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe you were talking to him!” she exclaimed.

Claire shoved her hands into her pockets. “What do you mean?”

The woman shook her head. “Do you even know who he is?”

“He introduced himself. Seemed nice enough. Why?”

The woman huffed and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “That’s Jamie Fraser. You know – the singer and lead guitarist in Print?”

“Print?” Claire searched her scattered memory. “Isn’t that some hard rock band?”

“Not just some band – the biggest band in the world for at least five years now. Like, dozens of hits, videos on MTV 24/7, big stadium tours, and armloads of awards. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I got here! And he just walked right up to you!”

It had been a long day. Claire was hungry, and tired, and wanted nothing more than an aspirin and a pillow – maybe a taco first. Definitely not any more time with this girl.

“Well, thanks for the info – ”

“Geneva,” the woman explained. “I’m an alcoholic. You?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Claire made a beeline for the door.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #here we go

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

Note

So if you want

Polylostboys x reader x star (micheal too if you want)

Blood

Smut

Loose morals

And you be you

That's it that's my ask

OOOOOH we love a poly!lost boys + Star & Michael/reader ask!! This is gonna be a fem!reader as we discussed, and since I was basically given free-reign here, here's an idea that's been in my head since Oh, Loverboy!!

First Time For Everything (Poly!Lost Boys + Star & Michael/Fem!Reader)***

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand-jobs, fingering, blow-jobs, vaginal sex, reader is afab, sexual experimentation for Michael, initiation for Michael, switch Michael, Paul/Reader/Dwayne, Marko/Star, David/Michael, blood mention/description, consensual blood drinking, slight ooc for Star, implied same universe as my fic oh loverboy,

Word Count: 1756

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for you to hang out in the cave. It was where most of your partners lived, and where you practically lived, so you ended up being there more often than not. You even had a bed, which you were currently sprawled out on.

It wasn't unusual for one of the boys to be between your legs, kissing down your neck while another held your face and stole your lips. When you felt Pauls hands reach for the waistband of your bottoms, you lifted your hips to help shimmy them off. And when you felt his fingers rub you through your panties, his hips tilting forward as if searching for the wetness he felt, you let out a shuddering moan against Dwaynes lips and fisted the sleeves of his jacket.

You could feel his lips turn upwards into a smile, the hand on your jaw giving it a gentle squeeze in response. Paul wasn't nearly as patient as Dwayne was, and it didn't take long for his fingers to run through your folds, pushing two in to the first knuckle before your mind had time to catch up.

It wasn't unusual for Star to be sitting on one of the boys' laps, a thigh between her legs and hands holding her hips down as he grinded his thigh up. She was holding onto the long strands of Markos golden blonde hair, moaning into his mouth as he ground her down onto the leather of his chaps.

His grip was hard and firm, moving her hips as the heat between her thighs grew and grew. Her hands moved, from his neck to his chest to the roughness of his jacket. Almost as if she was searching for the friction she needed.

When they finally landed on his belt, Marko nipped at her bottom lip. Nearly hard enough to draw blood. His eyes were heavy and hooded, and he bit his own lip before lifting his hips for her to continue. Her fingers were long and nimble, and they worked the belt of his chaps open with ease before she set for the button of his jeans.

The only out of the ordinary occurrence was Michael, who had the hair at the back of his neck fisted and made a noise just a tad too close to a whine when David yanked it. Though, you supposed, there was a first time for everything.

David was holding him tight, in danger of crushing Michaels half-vampire bones under his hands in a fight for dominance that Michael was quickly proving to be losing. But Michael still tried, and it only egged David on more. He wanted him to listen to him like the rest, let him lead. Maybe Michaels defiance wasn't even intentional.

Michael just knew that he liked to go slow, liked to be thorough, and that his attempts to touch and pet at the platinum haired blonde only earned him a tug that sent blood south. He tried to smooth a hand down his neck, run a hand down his chest. It only earned him a tug at the back of his head, and for David's other gloved hand to cup the side of his throat. For David to press closer, harder, so much so that he was nearly on top of him. And Michael couldn't find it in him to mind. Even if his grip was starting to hurt.

Dwayne had done Paul the favor of unzipping his white football pants and reaching inside them. He stroked him slowly, even if Paul jerked his hips up into the circle of his hand. It was a mess of hands, and Paul had to push himself up, lean on his other arm, to give Dwayne space to reach between the pair of you.

Paul mouthed at your lips sloppily, his focus elsewhere as Dwayne coaxed him to follow his rhythm. It was slow and steady, the twist and curl of his fingers inside of you. It left you breathless, and you could hear Paul's breath hitch when Dwayne commented,

"You're doing so good, Paul." And you were surprised the blonde hadn't melted right then and there.

Star stroked him, having licked and spit into her hand to slick her motions. Marko had let his head roll back for a second, the back of his head touching the couch as he focused on the feeling. But he was quick to regain himself, and pulled his head up to draw her back into a hurried kiss.

He yanked up her skirt, reaching to pull her undergarments down and give her the same treatment. She moaned into his mouth, letting the boy push her back to stand so he could tear her undergarments down her legs before pulling her back into his lap to straddle his hips.

When Star sunk onto the blonde, he held her. She'd moved so her thighs hugged his hips, one arm around his shoulder while the other positioned him inside her. He had an arm around her waist and a hand reaching up to the back of her shoulder, holding her close and steady as she adjusted to the size of him. When he finally began to move, she'd let out a soft sound, a gasp that was stolen by the air, before Marko sealed his lips over hers.

David had pushed Michaels shirt up his chest as he leaned him back on the bed. He'd, for a quick moment, had ghosted over the muscle of his abdomen, before holding his side and smoothing his hand down to his hip. David gave his hip a squeeze, grinding his thigh down and feeling Michael stifle a moan against his lips. It made a smile creep up his face as he kissed the brunette, and David wondered just how long he should tease him.

He rolled the thought over in his mind, even as his hand moved from his hip to palm him through his jeans. They'd already fallen behind the others. David could hear Stars breathy gasps, the moans that Paul didn't bother to try to keep quiet, and your own quieter ones. He heard a tear, and he wondered which one of you had just gotten some of your clothes torn off.

But David was brought back to the present when Michael reached for him. When he drew him close to roll his hips up into his hand. David squeezed him through his jeans, and relished in the sound that Michael made. His grin only grew, and David pulled away to see the growing flush on Michaels face. The dazed look in his eye.

David watched as Michaels eyes moved from him, flicked over at the sound of a cry. David looked as well, greeted by the sight of Paul slipping inside you. One of your legs was pulled up around his waist, the other held back by Dwaynes helping hand. The brunette was adjusting, moving. The pair watched as he pulled himself up, sat back on his knees, and went to undo the zipper of his jeans. But David's attention was caught by something else.

The smell of blood.

It had followed a quiet "yes", and David would've almost missed it completely if the smell hadn't hit him. David's eyes flicked to find the source, and he was rewarded by the sight of Star digging into Marko neck. Her shirt had been ripped off and discarded, as he could tell by the exposed expanse of her back, and she was trembling in Markos arms as she drank through his thrusts. She was holding the back of his head, her fingers carding through his hair and cupping the back of his neck. David watched as Marko ran a hand over her own thick, curly hair, and how it only took a single tug for her to dislodge. He kissed her, blood smearing from her mouth to his.

David saw that the sight, and the smell, had caught Michaels attention as well. His eyes were watching the sight, a hint of yellow peaking behind them as David was sure his own thirst was begging to be satiated. David peeled open his jeans, digging a hand inside to wrap around Michaels hardness. He was hot and heavy in his hand, and the brunette dragged his attention back to the platinum blonde. Even if David could see the beginning of his vampire face starting to slip. Michael rolled his hips up into David's hand, asking for more and David leaned down to press a kiss to Michaels mouth.

It seemed to catch everyone's attention. Like the first domino in a line, it set off the others. The clap of Paul's hips against yours got faster and faster, the wet sound of Dwaynes dick down your throat almost being muffled by it. David could hear another gasp, albeit muffled, and he recognized the sound of your voice. When the smell of blood filled the air again, David thought that they were almost being cruel to the brunette.

He pulled away to glance over, to put a picture to the sound, and he wasn't surprised to see Paul biting just above your breast. When another wave hit the air, David saw Markos vampiric features peek over Stars shoulder. He nearly wanted to sigh, to shake his head and laugh. Like the bridge and the campfire, this was another initiation for Michael to pass. To see if he would fit inside the world they'd created. And it seemed that the others didn't plan on leaving any part of that life out.

Michael was closing his eyes, and it was difficult to tell what urge he was fighting. The urge to cum or the urge to drink. David pulled himself up, moving to sit on his knees instead of laying besides the other. He pulled his glove off with his teeth, and he tossed it away.

"Michael," He started, trying to draw the brunettes eyes to open. He continued when they did. He held his wrist out to him, hoping that the brunette would be smart enough to piece together what he was offering by himself. It seemed he was, and it barely took a second before Michael was pulling him closer by it and digging his fangs into the flesh of his wrist. He let out a small hiss at the pain, but it barely lasted a second. "There you go, Michael." David praised, and, silently, David knew that, no matter how else the night went, Michael had passed.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys david #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #michael the lost boys #the lost boys michael #star the lost boys #the lost boys star #the lost boys x reader

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joestarwhore · 3 years

Note

Can you do headcanon for jojos forcing there darling to intimacy with them

oooo HOT, yes!

TW: forced intimacy, delusions, non con, DDDNE

PART ONE - Jonathan, Joseph, and Jotaro

Dark NSFW!

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

Jonathan

Jonathan’s demeanor revolves around being the perfect gentleman; taking you fancy places, having beautiful dresses made just for you, even having a small gold necklace made with his name engraved on it for you.

He did everything for you, so why would you ever say no? He didn’t think he’d find out until one night you said no to having sex with him.

Unacceptable.

Jonathan would scold you & tell you that there’s no reason to deny him of what he wants, & the more you would deny him the more he’d push. Eventually, breaking.

Jonathan would grab your wrists in one hand and would hike up your silk nightgown in the process. Words of possession would pierce your ears as his long hands would find your thighs, squeezing & rubbing them ask much as he wanted, muttering how perfect you feel. Your pleas for him to stop & to think, his response was simply pressing his pelvis against yours. “Quiet my love, you’ll wake the whole house.”

You knew after that you really didn’t have a choice. Jonathan’s hands worked his giant cock out of his sleep pants, pushing the head of his cock inside of you. You unintentionally arched up into him, his lips finding the side of your neck to kiss. “Perfect darling..” he muttered, followed by a bottoming out youd never forget.

Jonathan rammed your pussy as hard as he could, moaning in your ear to arouse a reaction from you. Your busting orgasm made him cum inside your hot womb as he growled with his release. Jonathan’s property, forever more.

Joseph

His cocky attitude makes his view on you very easy. You are to give him whatever he wants, and he’ll protect & love you with every fiber of his being.

But what if you said no one night?

You’d see something snap in Joseph, and a sickly sweet grin would show up on his face. He’d say that’s alright, & would let you turn over so he could spoon you.

You fell into slumber soon enough, & the Joseph who helped you fall asleep would disappear. He’d slowly work off your pants & underwear, nearly drooling at the sight.

He’d slowly pick up a leg as he’d wrangle his dick from his pants. He’d place his lips next to your sleeping head, whispering sick & twisted comments about your body. All of a sudden, you yawned and stretched out, and that was the breaking point. Joseph slammed his dick inside of your pussy as he slapped a hand over your mouth. You awoke with a gasp and wide eyes, trying your hardest to get away from him. Joseph wasn’t having it.

Joseph assaulted your clit as he railed you, making you have to work to hold back any moans. “Gooood job taking me baby, you didn’t mean to say no did you!!” he assured you, rolling his hips into your heated frame. “My pretty little wife looks so good on my cock, whenever her loving husband wants, isn’t that right?!”

You couldn’t respond due to the mind blowing orgasm ripping through your body, your hands tightly gripping his arms to steady yourself against the waves of pleasure being ripped through you. His cum was hot and seeped inside of you, his dick sliding out with a satisfied pop.

“Good girl.. my sweet angel..” he murmured against the back of your head as he laid you both down on your pillow. Your nerves were shot and your core shaken, unable to move. “I’ll always take care of you, just be sure to listen to me the first time, okay love?”

He already knew the answer.

Jotaro

Jotaro’s relentless.

He didn’t count “no” as a thoughtful response when he wanted to have sex with you. Often times it was after stressful events that he’d do this, the first time being after Holly fell sick.

After his final battle with Dio, you were sent to the hospital with Joseph for intensive treatment. Jotaro didn’t leave your room, only to check on the old man.

Nearing the end of your stay, your treatment mainly revolves around a schedule of sleep & scheduled fluids. Jotaro became quieter & quieter towards you, & you thought it was just because of him trying to process everything that had occurred.

In all reality, he needed release. Whether you’re in the hospital or not.

Jotaro’s hands trailing your body would wake you, feeling an all too familiar feeling shoot to your core.

You’d squirm against his hands. “Not now Jojo, it’s too much right now.”

No hesitation or words were given to you.

Star Platinum held your hands down as Jotaros knees positioned themselves between yours. He had already unzipped his black slacks & his rock hard cock was eagerly awaiting to be inside of you.

Jotaro’s mouth landed next to your ear, muttering sweet nothings of “god, i love you” or “I love your tight cunt”, “you’re all mine bitch”

Shoving his dick into your weak body wasnt hot enough for him, so he turned on the machine that fed you your nightly sleep meds. “You’re to be controlled by me, i’m the only thing to protect you in this world, do you understand slut?”

Your brain felt groggy as the sleep drip made your body slowly relax. His dick fucked you harder and faster until your body inadvertently squirted all over his dick.

His dick drew out of you, and he dragged the blanket back over your shaken body. “Sleep, darling.”

You don’t remember anything after that.

#yandere jjba #jojos bizzare adventure yandere #n/s/f/w jjba #jjba imagines #yandere jotaro

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Ram Sweeney x Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Dating HC's

Notes:

*Sigh*... I write regularly write for creeps like Freddy Krueger and Offenderman... and am one of the few tumblrs that write for Sheriff Hoyt romantically... and yet Kurt and Ram are my real guilty pleasure characters.

Anyway I hope someone other then me wanted this XDD I'm gonna do a Kurt one too.

Warnings: Some NSFW but not explicit.

Your song: The Way I Loved You (Taylor Swift)

He respects my space and never makes me wait

And he calls exactly when he says he will

He's close to my mother, talks business with my father

He's charming and endearing and I'm comfortable

...

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

And it's 2:00 a.m. and I'm cursing your name

So in love that you act insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breakin' down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kinda rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

You two as a TV/Movie/Book couple: Bianca Piper and Wesley Rush (The DUFF)

Having the kind of relationship that no one else understands at all. Like, you have nothing in commen except commen history and your feelings for each other (Which are, on the other hand, totally clear to everyone) but when you're together you're always laughing and being affectionate.

Being in an on and off relationship throughout middle school and highschool- but never and I repeat; Never, is anyone permitted to mess with you at all. Because Ram always considers you his, even when you arent together.

So yeah, you always have 2 (Ram, and Kurt) large football star bodyguards at your disposal.

Being very playful together.

SOOOOoooooo much PDA. Including: Making out in the hallways and at school events like football games (You dont care who sees), sitting in his lap or at least squished close to his side at lunch, him throwing you over his shoulder to carry you places, him giving you piggy back rides, him picking you up and twirling you around, him just standing behind you with his arms around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder when he's bored (With everything but you), his arm being over your shoulders as you walk together, you wiping peanut butter on his nose to get a rise out of him and then running away so he'll chase you, you peppering his face with kisses to make him laugh, etc.

Having a turbulent relationship. Because while, when all is well you two are like peanut butter and jelly and seem like the perfect highschool sweethearts, when you arent it's because Ram has gotten really jealous over something and called you a terrible name (Skank, whore, slut, bitch- any of those) or you understandably got irritated by his bullying and/or being a perverted, sexist asshole and you have huge, blow out fights in the middle of school and by the end of the period the whole student body knows about it.

You give him the silent treatment and the cold shoulder after those (If you didnt break up, that is) and he sends Kurt to give you messages.

When you make up its because he sincerely apologises although he doesn't 100% understand what he did wrong which becomes part of the next fight.

As you've been together so very long, he is basically part of your fucking family. He's so familiar and casual with your parent/s and/or sibling/s. They love him so much that, whether you're with him at the time or not, they allow him into the house and your bedroom with a cup of tea and snacks. (Its the 'American dream' popular-boy / football-star thing.)

So yeah, sometimes when you're mad at him or he wants to get back together (Which generally you want to do, to. You honestly have the same biological timer. Its like, 3 weeks pass by of being broken up and then ding ding ding! You both get the feelings its time to get back together and start sharing grins in the hallway and talking to your friends about eachother) you'll just find him waiting for you in your room when you come home.

Hanging out a looooooot with Kurt. Movie nights at your place, hanging out at the mall together on weekends sneaking out to see them at the football field at night time, etc. When you're sad, they'll both turn up wherever you are to cheer you up, too! Goofballs.

This does not mean there arent times where Ram shoo's Kurt off, though, when you two want some alone time together (*Eyebrow wiggles*) because of course. I'm just saying, you're a close-knit group.

When you are alone together, not much changes from when you're around others honestly XD You're still just as playful and affectionate. You just, you know, also have sex.

When he's down, you rusk your graceful image and climb through his bedroom window to be there with him. You dont fuck, you dont even really kiss. You just climb into bed with him and he'll tuck you under his chin and close his eyes. Legit old married couple. And you two sleep- by morning, he usually feels better and refuses to let you get out of bed with him.

"Five more minutessssss, babe!" He whines, holding you against him and pressing kisses to your head. You know he'll just say that again in 5 minutes time- and over, and over, and over again.

"Oh- no. I've been caught in this trap before Ram. We have school, so we have to get up. Come on!" You push firmly at his stomach (or abs) with your fists; not that that does much as he just just groans or gathers your little wrists in one big fist to stop you (Either way he certainly doesn't even flinch). His eyes are still closed. You sigh.

Now you have two choices, you can either give in and snuggle back into him for the rest of the morning, or threaten to send an attack towards his groin and he'll literally fling himself outta bed. Like "OH LOOK AT THE TIME- Kurt's gonna be waiting for us outside. Lets go!"

There are also mornings that you wake up with him (No sad Ram the night before necessary) and are all too happy to stay there with him. You just adorably nod into his chest, eyes still closed and making the cutest half-asleep morning sound when he asks if you wanna stay here a bit longer and he happily pulls the blanket over both your heads; shielding you both from the real world for a while.

OKAY MOVING ON FROM THAT FLUFFINESS.

You are also the only person who has any sort of control over him and Kurt. Like you can take them down a few pegs with just a look.

You two do date other people when you're broken up but its clear to anyone watching that these are just nice place holders for eachother. Neither of you are ever as happy with others as you are with eachother. You're ridiculously in love, actually.

Ypu were the first one to say I Love You, and he immediately called Kurt for guidance XD

Places you've had sex (Because it is always the full monty with Ram): Both your bedrooms so so so many times, the school bathrooms, his car, Kurts car (Kurt was NOT pleased.), the back of the football field, under the bleachers during a game or pep rally (he was benched for being too violent) + under the bleachers during practise + under the bleachers when the football field is deserted, the back of the school, the faculty parking lot at school, Kurts and Heather Chandler's houses (Parties. Basically a Westerburg High party is not complete without Y/N L/N and Ram Sweeney breaking in someones bed), his parent's car, the woods, cow pasture (a picnic blanket was used), and finally some mall changing rooms.

You leave him messages on his answering machine. He listens to every one of them (Which means something because he doesnt listen to anyone elses, unless he's gotta get through them to get to yours).

Him being SUCH a jealous asshole (With everyone except Kurt).

HIM STANDING UP TO THE HEATHERS FOR YOU.

#PromKingAndQueen

Having Kurt "Smartest guy on the football team," Kelly be your (Occasionally, live in- yes, he has slept over with the two of you on the floor so he could break up fights) couples councellor. Often his advice is 'fuck it out' but he also comes up with oddly wise shit sometimes. Mostly he's just very exasperated though. Like, its obvious you two are gonna end up together- stop bothering me with this shit. Let me get some pussy for myself guys please-

You two getting a bit frisky on movie nights with Kurt and he throws stuff at you. He just starts bringing a pool noodle (That he drew an angry face onto) along with him and hitting y'all with it whenever he feels its necessary. Cuz I mean, on one hand, of course he's happy for his bro Ram that he's getting his dick wet, but on the other- ITS FUCKIN MOVIE NIGHT, PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER FOR T W O S E C O N D S (Oh the irony- it does indeed escape him). He'll park his ass right in the middle of you two if you keep it up.

If he had survived, you and Ram would have broken up after graduation and spent college apart, before bumping into each other again back home as new (Improved. Especially him) people that fit together better now and ended up getting back together for good.

#Ram Sweeney x Reader Headcanons #Ram Sweeney #Ram Sweeney x Reader #Heathers #Kurt and Ram #Kurt Kelly #Headcanons #Heathers Headcanons #Heathers x Reader

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gay-otlc · 3 years

Text

Little Miss Perfect

Summary: Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful. Straight A's are most successful. Straight forward is fastest. Straight girls are the most perfect. And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight. Ae doesn't get a choice.

Little miss perfect, that's me

Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, homophobia in general, cursing, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, lmk if I should add more.

Word count: 3143

(Read on AO3)

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners

Biana Amberly Vacker is beautiful, and smart, but that's hardly a surprise. Even before ae was born, everyone knew ae would be beautiful, and smart. Ae's a Vacker, after all. Ae wakes up early to straighten aer hair and stays up late to study, so ae's tired all the time, but ae's gorgeous and ae's at the top of aer class, so does it really matter?

Ae takes life one day at a time, one step after another, because if ae slows down or turns around, everything ae's running away from might catch up with aer.

So ae doesn't do that. Biana keeps following the straight path and hopes the road ahead of aer doesn't wind too much. Make sure every step leads aer to perfection.

I make a point to be on time Head of the student council

Not only that, but Biana's on time for everything. Aer parents make sure of that, but ae probably would be even without their help- Biana likes to plan ahead. Or really, ae doesn't know for sure whether ae likes it, or if it makes ae feel trapped. But at least it saves aer the confusion and terror of an uncertain life. Whatever the reason, ae makes little notes in aer planner for all aer appointments.

And bigger notes in aer journal for the rest of aer life.

Make it through Foxfire.

Manifest an ability.

Get a respectable job.

Marry a respectable boy.

Have children.

Step four... doesn't seem so great, by which ae means downright nauseating, but that doesn't matter. What ae wants doesn't matter. And anyway, this will probably be what ae wants in the long run. Ae's just not old enough for boys yet. Plenty of time for that in the future.

Ae'll be on time for every step of aer perfect fucking life.

I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney

Biana doesn't break rules- mostly because ae's afraid of how aer father would punish aer. Either way, ae's never snuck out at night, never spent time with the classmates he said were beneath aer, never wore something he said showed too much skin, never ate more than ae was allowed to. Every single one of his rules, ae followed.

If that meant not going to Marella Redek's party because her mother was too "strange," even though everyone else was talking about how fun it would be, ae wouldn't go. Ae would just miss out. Fun.

Ae heard that at the parties, they played human music. What would that even sound like? Fitz knew- he got to go to the human world all the time, but Biana didn't. Still, after incessant begging, aer dad let aer listen to one song, by a human named Paul McCartney. It wasn't bad. Quite good, in comparison to elvin music. Still... ae wished ae could listen to more.

Of course, ae wouldn't. That would be disobeying aer dad. And ae didn't do that. She always had to be the perfect daughtaer.

If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say... Well, hmm

Lying wasn't good, of course. Ae shouldn't lie to people who asked how ae was doing.

But ae couldn't admit to being anything less than perfect.

So ae'd just mumble.

Perfect until proven otherwise.

I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten

Okay, so Biana isn't actually adopted- but for years, ae thought ae had been. Always out of place in the perfect Vacker family, because everything comes so effortlessly to them, they're exactly what elvin society wants without any struggle at all. And ae... wasn't like that. Too loud, too argumentative, not quite ladylike enough. Not smart enough, ae needed to work harder. Not pretty enough.

Not interested in the right people.

But when ae learned to stay quiet, keep aer head down, and follow all the damn rules, aer parents seemed to like aer better. Well, Alden did. Della always appreciated aer, however quietly, slipping aer little pieces of mallowmelt behind Alden's back even when he told aer that ae had to be thinner. Whispering compliments into aer ears after Alden scolded aer so much his voice was hoarse from screaming and aers was hoarse from crying.

And when Alden was proud of aer, she would get everything ae wanted. All the pretty dresses. All the sparkles and sketchbooks and sewing kits. Trips to Atlantis or Eternalia. Anything ae wanted, to reward her for being Little Miss Perfect.

Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten

Some of the time- who the hell is ae kidding, it's most, if not all, of the time- Biana feels like... ae doesn't deserve aer last name, or aer popularity, or any of aer privileges in life. Mentors at Foxfire practically revere aer and aer peers bend over backwards to be liked by aer.

Ae is so fucking sick of it.

Why aer? Ae wants to scream the question at every single person who treats aer differently. Why is ae the one to get that treatment? Ae had never done anything important in aer whole fucking life, ae didn't do anything, and all this praise should go to someone far more perfect than aer.

A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter

Biana is, unfortunately, very well known at Foxfire, and ae thought ae knew everyone else too. But ae's never seen this girl before, because ae would know if they had. It would be impossible for past Biana to have seen this girl and not remember her.

She has dark skin, even darker than Biana's, and long dreadlocks pulled into a knot and streaked with blue. Biana thought ae was used to the beauty of elvin girls- they were all quite pretty- but this girl, holy shit, ae was not prepared to see this girl. Her flat nose and full pink lips and turquoise eyes are all so beautiful. Biana's heart pounds and flutters around her chest like it wants to fly out and meet this girl, and aer breath catches.

Maruca Chebota, as ae later learns, is perfection.

But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect

The pretty girl continues walking, seemingly unaware that she's thrown Biana's world wobbling out of orbit. Biana wants to call out to her, to yell, to make sure she doesn't walk away and make it so that amazing high, those butterflies and awe and something ae can't even describe, seems almost like it never happened.

But there are a lot of people in the hallways, and they're already staring at aer far more intensely than what ae would describe as comfortable, ready to judge each and every thing she does. Running to catch up with a girl because she's pretty? Not normal. Not normal for any elf, but especially not aer.

Biana silently watches her turn around a corner into a different hallway and out of aer line of sight, wishing ae could have been a little less perfect. Just for one second.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne

Dear Maruca,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately. I'm sorry I can't talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise.

It's just... you're dangerous. To my heart, my... my reputation. My throne.

That's not quite true. You're not dangerous to most people. You're just dangerous to me. Maybe you're fine, and I'm just too fragile. Too imperfect.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What if we did love each other? Bravely. Boldly. Unapologetically.

What if I pretended it wouldn't topple me off my throne; or pretended I didn't care?

No. That's stupid. I shouldn't sacrifice all that for love.

This isn't even love, anyway. I don't know what love is, but you aren't it.

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful.

Straight A's are most successful.

Straight forward is fastest.

Straight girls are the most perfect.

Little miss perfect That's me

And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight.

Ae doesn't get a choice.

One night my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and ordered

And straight girls would like Maruca, sure, but not in the way Biana does. Not in that all consuming, heart wrenching, feels like ae's floating and falling and spiraling all at once way. Just in a... a friend way. A normal way. Because the two of them would make perfect friends, and anything other than that would end in fiery disaster.

So Biana makes friends with Maruca. Friends. They talk about their Universe class, and play splotching together in PE (Maruca wins; Biana gets distracted by her braids), and horribly bake mallowmelt together. It burns.

Maruca is... fun. It's fun to be friends with Maruca. Ae invites her over to Everglen for a sleepover- Della is overjoyed that Biana is finally making friends- and they have a fun time. Playing games and talking about useless shit and going to go bother Fitz and his friend Keefe.

It doesn't need to be anything different, Biana tells aerself, again and again. It's perfect like this. It doesn't need to change.

Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic

Biana can't stop staring at Maruca.

She feels like gravity, a star, and ae feels like a planet. They work perfectly together, orbiting around and around and around. If Maruca smiles, Biana's mind races to solve the mystery of how exactly that smile would taste on aer lips. It tastes good, ae thinks, though that's a stupid thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Maruca asks. "You have this goofy smile on your face, and you didn't hear the story I just told."

Biana turns bright red. Of course, ae can't say I was thinking about your lips on mine, because that would sound... weird. Ae has to keep it platonic, because they'll never be anything other than platonic, and it's not like ae wants that either. Ae swallows, and finally says "You. I'm really glad we're friends."

Platonic friends. Perfect, platonic friends.

That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing

"Yeah, I'm an awesome friend," Maruca says, flicking one of her intricate braids. Biana's eyes linger on it a little too long.

Ae clears aer throat and quickly deflects the conversation, still blushing. "You are. Do you want to go downstairs? It smells like something's baking."

"I would be honored to go eat some of your mom's amazing desserts, m'laedy," says Maruca, extending a hand with mock formality. Her gorgeous lips are pulled into a smirk. Biana's breath catches; ae wants to freeze this mental image for eternity. Cautiously, ae takes Maruca's hand in aers.

Skin touching. Holding hands.

It's stupid, it's a cliche, but it does feel like sparks shoot across aer skin as Maruca wraps her fingers in Biana's and starts walking downstairs. Aer stomach flips around excitedly.

Then ae crashes and burns. They are friends. Both girls. Friends don't get this excited about holding other friends' hands. Biana rips aer hand away and stuffs it in aer pocket. Maruca looks a bit offended, but Biana clenches aer jaw and looks down.

It hurts, but ae has to be perfect. No exceptions.

Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic

Once they get over the awkwardness of that moment, they slip right back into the fun they were having before. Della's ripplefluffs disappear quickly, and the two of them go back into Biana's room to keep talking. Biana shows Maruca aer sketches- ae hasn't really shown them to anyone before, Alden thinks a Vacker should have a more noble profession than designing fashion- and Maruca tells Biana that ae should dye aer hair.

Alden is going to kill aer, but for once, ae isn't thinking of that. Della would probably say yes, but the two of them decide it would be more fun to sneak out, so they light leap to Slurps And Burps as quietly as they can, in silent giggles the whole time. Maruca decides to re-dye the blue streaks in her hair, and Biana opts for violet. They go back to Biana's room and laugh more. Biana wildly thinks this is the most fun ae's ever had.

It's perfect, even if ae isn't.

She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke

Aer stomach is sore from laughing, and ae still can't stop looking at Maruca. She's so pretty, something ae could stare at forever if ae had the chance. The longer ae looks, the more ae notices little details, like the way her braids fall against her shoulders, and how she has barely visible freckles splattered across her nose, and how her hand brushes against Biana's every so often. It's warm, and smooth, and perfect.

Maruca is a masterpiece of a person.

Currently, Biana's fascination lies in how her lips curl around the straw of her lushberry juice. It’s disgusting and wrong and so thrilling as Biana imagines kissing those lips.

No. Stop thinking about that, Biana commands aerself, biting aer own lip to draw aer attention away.

"Biana? Bi? You listening?"

Ae turns red. "Yeah, sorry!"

"Alright, so I was reading about cowboys, except I read it as cowgoys because it was really late, which implies the existence of Jewish cows. So then the thought 'Bar Moo-tzvah' came into my head and I can't stop thinking about it."

Biana snorts; the joke is funny enough on its own, but the cute little smile on Maruca's face and the way her eyes light up nearly make aer choke.

“Shut the fuck up, brain, let me be the perfect Vacker,” ae muters, too quietly for Maruca to hear.

She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time

Maruca says Biana's newly violet hair looks beautiful- ae needs to fake a coughing fit to keep from squealing- and asks to braid it. Biana nods, and lets aerself get lost in the feeling of fingers weaving through aer hair and brushing against aer head.

Aer eyes close- ae doesn't know when, but the room around aer disappears and all ae can feel is fingers and this all encompassing, overwhelming love ae seems to be drowning in, blacking out everything else.

Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her but oh no

Without making any conscious decision, Biana spins around, cups Maruca's face, and gently presses aer lips against hers. Their flat noses touch, eyelashes flutter against each other's cheeks, lips kissing. Kissing. It's fast, and sweet, and wonderful. Biana feels aer world aligning perfectly, like this is the way everything was meant to be, and there are fireworks shooting across aer skies.

Biana smiles against Maruca's lips.

I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go

Everything happens at once.

Maruca yelps and pushes aer back. The door swings open, revealing a shocked Fitz. Fireworks vanish, as quickly as they came.

Biana's world shatters.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

That kiss was amazing.

But it's too risky to do again.

I'm sorry.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What do I know about kissing? It's not like I have anything to compare it too, besides that one time I kissed Keefe on the cheek because I thought I was supposed to. No, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him and I didn't want to kiss you.

I don't know what kissing is supposed to feel like. Or what love is supposed to feel like.

It'll be better with a boy. It has to be better with a boy.

I'll know love eventually, and it won't be with you.

You shouldn't love me either.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-

No.

I hate myself.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know

Dear Maruca,

Or maybe I love you.

I don't know.

I probably don't.

Because I can't love another girl, right? I have to be misunderstanding what love means if I think I can love a girl.

I don't know love. But it can't be you.

Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier

Fitz tells her what to do- pretend like it never happened. That's what Alden told him when he kissed Keefe. Biana snorts humorlessly at that; two fucked up Vacker children. But ae follows his advice. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never address it with Maruca; or speak to her again, really. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Ae's been pretending aer whole life.

Life continues on, and ae pretends to be okay. Maruca makes friends with Stina, and Biana makes friends with the new girl. Sophie Foster. Sophie is nice enough, but she's not Maruca. She can't replace Maruca. No one can fucking replace Maruca, and no one should have to- ae just fucked up aer only chance with someone that wonderful. But ae pretends Sophie is enough, pretends ae's not heartbroken.

Pretends, pretends, pretends.

Pretends to be perfect.

You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there

Biana talks to Maruca once.

They both apologize in the same breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-"

"That was weird, I'm sorry-"

"I don't like you, I was just confused."

"So was I, kissing girls was just something I thought I'd try, a bit of a phase."

"No, totally, it's not like I really like girls or anything."

"Nah, that'd be weird."

They never speak again. There's nothing between them. Biana tries to believe what Maruca told aer. Ae doesn't.

“You're just confused,” ae repeats to aerself. “You're still perfect.”

It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

Dear Maruca,

Maybe someone else can love you. Someone who doesn't have to be little miss perfect.

#shai's writing #shai types things #kotlc #biana vacker #bianuca #fuck alden #little miss perfect

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writingsnmusings · 3 years

Text

Suds in a Bucket

pairing: modern!ivar the boneless x reader

summary: you bring up the idea of getting out of town and ivar doesn’t hesitate to make it happen. based off of sara evans’ suds in a bucket.

a/n: this idea came to me because of an ask that @thranduilsperkybutt answered and i just couldn't resist. also, i'm very much a country girl at heart with being from texas and all so this song is one of my favorites!

gif credit: @therealcalicali

say it was a little passed nine

when her prince pulled up

a white pick-up truck

Nobody liked doing chores, that was a given. Your father had nagged you all through dinner to round up all the trash in the house and take it to the curb. You begrudgingly did so, a frown on your face the entire time.

You were walking back up the driveway when you heard the unmistakable sound of a certain pick-up truck coming down the street. You squealed in glee as Ivar pulled up beside you.

“They still got cinderella doing chores at this hour?” His voice was teasing, like usual.

You rolled your eyes as you slid into the cab, immediately planting a kiss on his smirking lips. Ivar gripped the back of your neck and deepened the kiss; making you let out a moan at his roughness.

“I missed you, you know? You didn’t come around for two days and you barely answered my texts,” You were coming off whiny, but you didn’t care. You missed your boyfriend and you hated being cooped up in that house.

Ivar sighed, “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulled you into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Things at work got busy and you know how my brothers are, I get one day off work and they’re all over me about something or another.”

You hated the way his brothers treated him, just because he was a little different than they were didn’t mean they needed to make his life anymore difficult than it was.

“I wish we could just go away; just me and you. Far away from them and everybody else.”

Before Ivar could say anything back, the porch light flicked on and the figure you could make out of your father stormed out. “Y/N! Get out of that truck and get in here!”

You threw your head back with a groan before giving your boyfriend another kiss and sliding out of the truck. You waved at him before making your way back to your father who was already fuming. You could practically see the steam coming out his ears.

“I love you! I’ll be back for you!” Ivar shouted before gunning it down the street, making your father say some rather rude things about him.

You walked straight to your room, ignoring your fathers angry words and the way your mother refused to even look at you.

she stuck a note to the screen door

‘sorry but i got to go’

that was all she wrote

A week later, Ivar kept his promise.

You were thankfully home alone, your mother being at a church function and your father out at work or somewhere. You were lounging around when you heard your boyfriends truck pulling up the driveway.

You met him at the door with a smile on your face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” You let him in and greeted him with a kiss which he immediately reciprocated.

“I’m here to take you away.” He leaned on his crutch with one hand and grabbed yours with the other. He didn’t sound like he was joking which confused you.

“You’re what?”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Right now, we can leave and just get away from everybody.” The way he smiled had you seeing stars; he looked so excited you couldn’t say no.

“W-What about money? Where will we go?” The thought to ask questions hadn't occurred to you until after you had already made your mind.

Ivar patted his left pocket which looked significantly bigger than the right. “I’ve been saving, been thinking about getting away with you for a while now.”

“Alright,” You decided. “Let me pack a bag real quick.” You ran up the stairs, throwing a couple items in a duffle bag and grabbing the envelope stuck at the bottom of your drawer filled with cash. You and Ivar had seemingly been thinking about the same thing.

Ivar grabbed the bag from you once you were in front of him and headed back out to his truck. You were almost out the door when you spotted the post it stickers and pen on the entryway table. Just a little note, you thought. As much as you hated it here, you didn’t want your parents to worry and think you’d been kidnapped or anything.

“Sorry but I got to! I love you both!”

You climbed into the truck and gave Ivar a nod, letting him know you were ready to go. With a wink, he started up the pick-up and drove straight out of town.

well he must’ve been a looker,

smooth talking son of a gun

for such a grounded girl

to just up and run

Nobody could figure out how you and Ivar ‘Boneless’ Ragnarrson got together. It was a mystery to everybody, both your families included.

You were the typical straight A student who never got into trouble and he was the typical bad boy who cut class. It was simply fate that brought you two together. That or you happened to be in the hallway when Ivar and his brothers were skipping and you caught his eye.

You’d been shuffling through your locker when he leaned against the one next to you and started up a conversation. His three brothers were a few feet away, all listening in anticipation to watch the youngest Ragnarsson get shot down.

Of course you’d heard of them, the three eldest Ragnarssons basically ran the school. Had everybody afraid, nobody dared even mess with any of them. Then there was the youngest, Ivar walked with a heavy limp, always relying on a crutch and keeping as far away from his brothers as possible.

You realized right away he wasn’t anything like them. He was quiet, kinda brooding most of the time but he didn’t heckle his peers like they did. That’s what drew you to him. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, either.

From that one conversation at your locker where he made a joke about the homeroom teacher you two shared, your relationship only grew from there. You usually sat alone at lunch, opting for your quiet time instead of gossip and apparently so did Ivar. It didn’t take long for him to ask you out on a date which you accepted.

Your parents nearly blew a gasket once they found who you were dating. The Ragnarsson name was basically a curse word in your home. His parents didn’t have a great reputation either, you’d come to learn.

But your parents disapproval nor the gossip from the old biddied in town didn’t make you any less attracted to Ivar. You treated like him was normal, no special treatment or put downs because of his disability and he treated you like the brilliant and capable woman you were.

You and him were meant to be.

she’s got her pretty little bare feet hangin’ out the window,

and they’re heading up to vegas tonight

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt the sun and cool wind flowing through the truck.

Ivar’s eyes strayed from the empty road to your blissed out face. He loved seeing you so relaxed and carefree. No worries we’re on either of your shoulders, the only decision you’d have to make was where to stop for lunch next.

“How’re you feeling?” Ivar lowered the radio as he asked.

“Amazing,” You smiled at him before continuing. “The best i’ve felt in a long while.”

Ivar returned the smile, “Good, I love to hear that.” He turned the radio back up as he reached over and grabbed your hand before bringing it up to his lips and kissing it.

A sign saying ‘Welcome to Vegas!’ flew by, making you smile even wider. Your new life was set to begin and you couldn’t wait.

and no you can’t fence time

and you can’t stop love

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #modern!ivar #modern!ivar imagine #modern!ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #my writings

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bisexualcrowley · 3 years

Text

Give You What You Like

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary: read below, that’s pretty much the summary // listen to the song while you read? it makes me feel indescribable emotions i wish to share with y’all (give you what you like, avril lavigne)

Content/warnings: NSFW, unprotected sex, friends with benefits with feelings? this is way more angsty than I had planned, songfic, goddamn this was gonna be smut but now it’s just emotions with sex

Word count: good question, i am very tired and will do this tomorrow

// Bed-sharing square on @girl-next-door-writes ‘s make me feel bingo

Please wrap your drunken arms around me

And I’ll let you call me yours tonight

When Remus’s lips brushed against yours for the first time that night, it was different from what you had grown used to. What are normally fiery kisses, passionate and rough and spilling with feeling at the world were replaced tonight by light touches, shattered emotions spilling from his every move.

Cause slightly broken’s just what I need And if you give me what I want Then I’ll give you what you like

His hands tangled in your hair as your lips melted together, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. You never spoke during these nights, when you could feel that life had worn him down to a shell of a man. The nights when you both knew that if he tried to talk, he would break down in tears. These were the nights that you could only touch, never truly hold.

Please tell me I’m your one and only Or lie and say at least tonight I’ve got a brand new cure for lonely

Remus’s jacket dropped to the floor as he tugged at the hem of your shirt, easing it over your head before resuming the kiss, your mind beginning to wander as you both shed your clothes. Most nights, he would have torn your clothes off and had you pinned against a wall by now, taking his stress out on your more than willing body, but tonight, the intensity was different; instead the room was thick with an emotion neither of you could put into words.

And if you give me what I want Then I’ll give you what you like

Your nights together had become a common occurrence since Remus had left Hogwarts, him using you as a crutch of sorts as what was once nothing more than casual sex became something much deeper, your moments of bliss shared together in silence being the only thing helping Lupin keep his sanity with every full moon, and very possibly being the thing that will drive you out of yours.

When you turn off the lights I get stars in my eyes Is this love? Maybe someday

His fingers prodded at your entrance, arousal coating the long digits as he slowly thrust upwards, curling to nudge at your g-spot and leaving you panting heavily against his mouth. Remus drew his hand to his mouth, sucking your juices off each finger and the two of you shared a rare moment of eye contact, his pupils dilated and lust covering a layer of pain hidden behind.

So don’t turn on the lights I’ll give you what you like

Tonight was different, you silently repeated to yourself for what felt like the hundredth time since Remus had shown up. Eye contact was a rare occurrence when these nights came around, almost as rare as speaking anything more than a quiet sigh of pleasure as he pounded into you. Tonight was different, as time seemed to freeze, Remus staring desperately into your eyes as you unconsciously drew a hand up to cradle his jaw softly, and you watched another of his barriers shatter from within.

Emotions aren’t that hard to borrow When was the word you never learned And in a room of empty bottles If you don’t give me what I want Then you’ll get what you deserve

You leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss once again as he aligned himself with your entrance, teasing your dripping folds with the head of his cock before bracing your body against his own and thrusting into you.

When you turn off the lights I get stars in my eyes Is this love? Maybe someday

Each thrust of the werewolf’s hips had you whimpering, his fingers pressing bruises into your hips as your back finally met the usual wall, the slap of skin against skin mingling with the quiet noises of pleasure you both made as he buried his cock deep inside you over and over again

I’ve got this scene in my head I’m not sure how it ends Is it love? Maybe one day

Remus broke the kiss to nip at the shell of your ear, moving down to suck a hickey into your exposed collarbone, and for the first time while being with him you let out a needy moan. The noise seemed to spur him on, and he moved a hand down to rub fast circles around your clit, a breathy laugh escaping his throat at the way you keened from his touch.

So don’t turn on the lights I’ll give you what you like I’ll give you what you like

The added treatment of your clit built up faster than you had expected, pressure pooling in the pit of your stomach until one particularly aggressive snap of Remus’s hips had you crying out in ecstasy, the pleasure hitting you like a truck, stronger than any feeling you can remember experiencing and leaving you arching your back against him

I’ll give you one last chance to hold me If you give me one last cigarette

You felt his thrusts grow shallow and uncoordinated as you rode out your orgasm, your walls clamping down on his cock sending Remus tumbling over the edge seconds later. His cock twitched inside you as his hips stilled, feeling his hot seed fill you to the brim and slowly begin dripping down your leg, at which point Remus quickly pulled out and grabbed a washcloth, returning to clean you up with a gentleness he hadn’t shown before, then scooped you up in his arms.

By now it’s only in the morning Now that I gave you what you want All I want is to forget

Remus carried you the few steps from the wall to your bed, proceeding to collapse against the plush material and close his eyes, only moving from his spot to press his body against your side, head coming to rest comfortably on your chest, and you could feel something growing in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t experienced before now. Affection? Adoration? Maybe even something more, you wondered in silence, listening to Remus’s breathing grow slower

When you turn off the lights I get stars in my eyes Is this love? Maybe someday

You let out a sigh as Remus drifted off to sleep beside you, his soft snores providing a strange sense of calm. His nightmares seemed to vanish on the nights you spent together, but still you stayed awake, fingers combing through greying locks of brown hair as the usual peaceful feeling settled throughout the room, and you found yourself smiling. The world seemed to get worse every time the morning came around, but these moments were what the two of you lived for, when the impending war, death eaters, all the earthly hell was shut out and the only things to exist were yourself and Remus.

I’ve got this scene in my head I’m not sure how it ends Is it love? Maybe one day So don’t turn on the lights I’ll give you what you like

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin angst #Girl Next Door’s Make Me Feel Bingo #harry potter

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metanoiamorii · 3 years

Text

Wip Re-Introduction: A Rope In Hand

❛Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can’t be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious.❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: First Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few

♧ Genre: Dark Fantasy, Supernatural, LGBTQ+, Action, Drama

♧ Warnings: This story revolves around the occult. There will be talk of witch hunts and trials and cults. There will be torture methods used to gain confessions, and these methods will be justified under religious belief. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be major character deaths, but I can spoil after the book ends the main characters do get a happy ending. Each chapter and scene posted will have personalized warnings, but these are the main things to expect.

♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friend to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes.

♧ Setting: The setting is influenced by Victorian London, and Medieval Ireland. There will be mention of other places, primarily western Europe, the Ottoman Empire, Ancient Rome, Eastern Asia, and Napoleonic France.

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure.

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft.

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands-on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well… everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Tease:

My darling dear, a knave so clear

You appear, so bravely near;

Do you hear my darling dear, sneers of austere jeers?

Behave, my dear, when I am near;

For peers will lear, in their fear,

Allow me o' dear our persevere

So my fave you appear

And volunteer a slave so dear

in an atmosphere we fear.

my darling dear, wave so clear

Depravely as we leave, and give a souvenir;

My lips to yours, as you crave in these fallin' years.

Be brave darling dear, and give into hearts o' queer.

For mine you be, your darling dear,

To the stars you have swore in love, so crystal clear.

My peers shall sneer, but whore I be, and you I crave

Oh so bare. slurs and glares, just listen to my prayers.

Kiss me love, and leave o'they to a'crave

In this atmosphere that we fear

Their own, o' pure, knave so dear.

♧ Excerpt:

".... This is wrong." Prudence finds the words slipping from his lips, voice a quiet whisper; a breathless tone of voice. He allows his fingertips to falter against scarred skin, watching as Mastema turned his cheek, he pressed himself into the palm of Prudence's hand. Eyes closed, a smile curled on his face. Prudence couldn't help but smile at the scene, but slowly, slowly, slowly, he rescinded his hand; breaking the hold.

"Revered..." Matching his voice, Mastema replied. Maintaining such a soft voice, as he shifted himself forward on the bed. One foot to the ground, the other drawn beneath himself. Over Prudence he leaned, resting one palm to the sheets, the other lifting to seize Prudence's hand before he could recoil back. "You have made me feel something in which I've never felt before..."

From where he laid, Prudence could only form a soft frown. He knew he could draw his hand back, the grip was far from tight. But he didn't. He laid there, allowing Mastema to hold his hand. "... This is wrong, Mastema."

Mastema frowned; he matched the reaction Prudence wore. Through it, he forced a half-smile, tightening his grip on the other's hand, and forward he brought Prudence's hands to kiss the knuckles. "... If this is wrong, I do not wish to be right."

At the response, Prudence shook his head. "It is not for us to be right or wrong, the gods—"

At the angle he sat, Mastema shifted once more. He dropped Prudence's hand, to lean forward; to lean in close. Both of his palms found the other's cheek, as he touched their foreheads to one another. "... Do not force your will onto another." In that soft whisper, he spoke. Eyes closed, breath drawn in. "Is that not a Commandment of our Creator?"

"I..." Prudence faltered. In, he drew his breath, to try to steady himself. "... I did not take you for the religious sorts."

"I'm not." Mastema all too quickly retorted. But as he was, he laid; this proximity. "But you are."

♧ Characters:

The Order of Witchesbane

Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend

Half Fae/Half Human • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound

Human • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process.

Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch’s Advocate

Half Fae/Half Human • Amab • Nonbinary • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He’s always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he’s taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their ‘crimes’, and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is a servant in name alone and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch.

Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant

Witch; Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

Austin Duvine; The Lord Without A Ring

Half-Human/Half Fae • Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

One of the younger members of the order, Austin relies on his father's wealth and name. He doesn't care for responsibilities, he doesn't care for hard work. He's a playboy at heart. He's fit to hold social events, and use his natural talent to gib and fib his way through life. He'll keep his mixed feelings to himself, struggling with doing the right thing or upholding tradition.

Alistair Lavine; The Witchfinder General

Human • Amab • Agender • He/They • Bicurious • Aromantic

The best friend to Zachariah and his right hand. Where Zachariah is business and lacks charms, Alistair can charm a crowd and hold their attention. He knows how to feign being an ideal human, without letting on his own bloodlust; he's a monster in human skin. At the end of the day, unlike Zachariah, Alistair does have morals and standards he will abide by, even if they come back to ruin him.

━━━━━━━━━━

The Vakari Coven

Ausrine Baoghal; The Lady

Witch • Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda.

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a calm, but manipulative personality. As a front, he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Ausrine in her plans.

Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate

Witch • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Ausrine claims to have and who they all adhere to.

Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone

Witch • Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie elsewhere. She stays within the town, serving the coven while acting as the eyes and ears of someone, the person who is truly pulling the strings. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and her master. She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

Anisha Kaur; The Servant

Witch • Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son

Half-Witch/Half-Fae • Amab • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

Being the baker's daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is a woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker’s Daughter

Witch • Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Ausrine's bastard son she had with a spirit she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a family one. Since he cares less about what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

Mastema Baoghal; The Knave

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

Rochan Misra; The Charlatan

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble but has a heart of gold when it matters.

ARIH: : @hekat-ie, @writings-of-a-narwhal, @silent-creed

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Taglist:

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Till You Make It | F.W | CH5

Fake It | The Masterlist

Warnings // SMUT 18+, Hufflepuff!Reader, implied sex, teasing, lingerie, relationship, consent, sexting??

a/n // So im posting this one a day early as there is a chapter 5.5 coming out tomorrow which is pretty much just pure smut <3 once again i have to thank @starlightweasley my partner in crime for being my muse while writing this!!

When Fred left that evening after dinner, the under-the-table events still plagued your mind as you threw your head back against your pillow out of desperation. Fred made it very hard for you to concentrate on anything other than him or the feel of his fingers. Substituting his hands for your own didn’t help either, you fell asleep with your lips parted in half pleasure and half agony from missing the man who had been plaguing your thoughts. Chest heaving, shivers running down your spine and fingertips moving only left you breathless for him. You thought that maybe that desperate feeling would leave you when you woke the next morning, to be left in the night but as you walked to a day of appointments, your mind was truly somewhere else, somewhere with him. Each fleeting thought as you hem a skirt or completed your seams only brought you to feel his hot breath fanning against your skin or his stupidly delicate touch, having to take a deep breath just to pull you back to the reality that he wasn’t right there, he was across the street no doubt laughing and joking away like the memory of last night wasn’t plaguing his every thought.

You were far from the truth. He wanted to storm into your shop like the first time he kissed you, hearing only your choked back moans like a sweet symphony in his brain. George tried to get his attention, only holding it for a few moments before he was distracted again. Fred was meant to be stacking shelves, but the sight of a current Gryffindor quidditch player donning their sweater made all of his thoughts of you race back.

<< Morning, doll x

>> Fred Weasley I hate you.

<< No kisses? What have i done :(( x

>> You left me frustrated you absolute git

<< There’s no reason to call me that, petal x

<< I could’ve left you much worse off x

He watched as the typing bubble flashed up on the screen before disappearing a few times. Smirking to himself as he locked his phone, pushing it into his pocket knowing full well what he’d done. You were sighing to yourself as you sipped on the now lukewarm coffee, tapping out the perfect message to retort back at him, but nothing seemed to fit, no matter what you say he would have the perfect witty response to chime back. It hit you, if he wanted to play games you would play along.

>> Wanna see the set I’m working on Freddie? x

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, as he pushed a box of spare products onto the shelf in the stockroom. He checked the message only to feel his heartbeat about to burst out of his chest as it raced that bit quicker. He was alone but the thought of anyone just walking in or catching a glimpse of the picture on his phone drove his feet to his office as he tapped out his message to you.

<< I’d love that xx

You smiled to yourself as you laid out the garment on the table for him, making sure that it was smoothed out to perfection before snapping the perfectly innocent picture to send to him. You knew that he was expecting more skin, a lot more skin in fact. In his head he was about to receive a tempting photo of his girl, for his eyes only.

>> (1) Attachment.

He tapped open the picture with shaky fingers, unaware of what to expect when the image flashed up on his screen, eyes gazing over the lacy fabric not on your body but on the worktop. Tease. He quickly realised what you were doing, huffing to himself as he let his head fall back against the headrest of his arm chair. If you kept up this teasing to and fro you’d drive each other mad by the end of the night.

<< Why don’t you put it on for me, petal? xx

Two hours had ticked by since his last text to you. He found himself checking every notification, praying it was you, even considering sending another message but he stopped himself. He tried as best he could to focus on his work; taking stock, doing orders and serving customers. Another hour had passed and still no response. He couldn’t ignore the friction in his boxers at the mere thought of you, mind running wild once again, his thoughts alone pulled him through to lunchtime when he could finally see you.

The way he stormed into the shop, seeking you out in the back room, eyes dark with hunger as he stared you down made your heart flutter. His brow was furrowed and he looked like a man who was starved. You liked the effect that your little charade seemed to have on him, biting the inside of your lip to stop you from smiling.

“I don't find your little game funny, love." You simply cocked an eyebrow up at him before continuing with your sewing, the whirring of your machine filling the thick sexual tension in the air. There was an undeniable chemistry between you both, that was visible from the way you latched onto each other so quickly. You loved to see this side of him, less dominant but yet so desperate and needy.

“Uh huh,” you hummed nonchalantly as you pulled the material in the right direction, sending the machine whirring once more. Giving him the silent treatment was enough to send him wild. The sound of your machine muffled his steps as he drew closer to you, gentle touches over your exposed shoulder sending shivers along your skin. Your body wanted to give into him, let him have you right across your desk right here and now but the game was all too fun.

“The silent treatment, really doll?” You looked up at him with a smile as he uttered those words, your hand moving to hold his, pulling yourself up from the chair to fall into his hold, staring up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. You pushed yourself up onto your toes to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, breathing in the calming scent of his cologne and you did so.

“Didn’t you like the lingerie, Freddie?” you asked him innocently as you bat your eyelashes, he leaned in to try and kiss you properly but you quickly pressed a finger to his lips, pushing him away cheekily as you giggled.

“Buy me dinner first at least.”

And he did, he bought you several dinners in fact. You made sure to dress up nice for him, let him get hot and needy before making him wait. It had now been a month of torture for the poor boy, letting him get by on no more than kisses and a few lingering touches. You wanted him to feel that same way you felt after the night at Lee’s. You swore he would’ve stopped you by now, out of pure frustration but he continued enduring his own torture just as much as you continued dishing it out.

Being invited to watch the Star Seeker’s last game of the season and coincidentally the last game before her wedding, filled you with pure joy. You invited Fred, not that he needed inviting telling him that it would be a nice date, to which the smitten boy agreed. You held hands in the stands as you both cheered alongside George, who was beaming with pride, listening to Lee commentating the game over the arena speakers.

“You know Freddie, this reminds me a lot of our Hogwarts days... I miss being up in the commentators box, it had a much better view, though for what I was looking at, I think I’m in the best seats now.” You leaned up to press a kiss to his ear as you spoke, causing him to chuckle as you moved to press your lips to his, only to be met by his finger against your lips as he mimicked how you had treated him in your shop all those weeks ago.

“Just one kiss?” You pouted at him as he pulled you into a kiss, your heart leaping. Here Fred was, kissing you in front of everyone; his friends, family, press and every soul in the stadium but he didn’t care. The whole world could watch but he could only ever focus on you.

It had been a week now since that event, Fred was still on edge with all of the teasing, he had grown to expect It now, waking up to a cheeky message or a voicemail, That was if he wasn’t waking up to your arms wrapped around him. He was smitten by this point, absolutely enamoured by your very presence, he would do anything to make you smile.

“Joining Lee and I tonight, Freddie?” George asked with a small knock to his brother’s office door. He pondered on it before it struck him. If Lee was out, you were all alone, the thought made his heart skip a beat. The days you’d both stopped yourselves, making out like teenagers on the bed before realising your best friend was only in the other room always seemed to kill the mood.

“You know what, I don’t think I should be mixing with alcohol… A month sober and all.” Fred pled a fair case to his brother, a feasible enough excuse over the want to have a night with his girl. Even that sounded nice in his head, you being his girl. George nodded, suggesting a dinner instead, to which Fred shook his head again with a small laugh.

“For the love of god, go out, get smashed and please get Lee laid… he’s driving me mental.” George nodded, laugh falling from his lips as his hand reached out to pull the door closed behind him as he went to leave, mumbling a small ‘noted’ and gesturing a salute from behind the glass.

As the evening fell, the rain came with it - a light dreary drizzle and not heavy downpours but still rain nevertheless. You managed to beat the raindrops before they fell, returning to what you called home to strip off the day’s work clothes. Between appointments you’d finally managed to finish and perfect the gorgeous red set that you had started working on all those months ago, discarded on your dressing table as you pulled on a fresh pair of joggers and Fred’s sweater which he had let you keep in all this time, grateful for the company of his scent as you realised this may be the first time you had been alone in the night since you’d left Joe.

A knock at the front door made your heart pound out of your chest. Half of you wanted to ignore it but the curious half wanted to see who it was. Peeping through the looking glass to be met with the messy ginger locks you loved so much prompted you to pretty much swing the door open and jump into the unsuspecting boy’s arms, your legs wrapping around his torso.

"Hi handsome, thought you were going out with George and Lee?" You peppered kisses all over his face as you held his face in your hands, fingers splayed against his cold skin yet his actions were more than inviting. You soon found your back pressed against the wall, soft quick kisses soon replaced with deep, passionate ones, lips locked together as if your lives depended on it. His foot kicked the door closed his hands keeping your thighs in place as he asserted his dominance over you.

"I wanted you. Fuck, I've wanted you for weeks now, doll." You moaned and hummed against his lips with every kiss. It was electric the way his fingers touched you, everything from the cool sensation of the wall against your back to the heat of his shallow breaths fanning against your neck. You were nervous, wanting nothing but absolute perfection with the angel you cared so deeply about.

Fred really was an angel to you, he helped you feel like a person again.

“Please say something,” Fred whispered, forehead now pressed against your own. You hadn’t realised just how deep in thought you were until he spoke again, you could have swore you heard his voice crack ever so slightly as he uttered those words of vulnerability. You nudge your nose against his with a smile that leaves a reassured sigh escaping his lips just before you move once more, pulling him into another kiss, immediately feeling him relax as he closes the space between the both of you, effectively trapping you against the wall.

“Isn’t it obvious that I want you too, Fred?” He chuckled, holding your weight in his arms as he carried you through the halls to your bedroom. He pretended to drop you twice, both times you hit him on his chest, laughing together in the most gorgeous way, creating a harmony of giggles. Each time he feigned your fall from his arms, droplets of rain fell from his soaking hair onto your face.

“Oh yeah? Obvious is it?” His large hands gave your ass a playful squeeze before placing you on the bed. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, pushing his wet hair back and out of his face. You caught how his eyes stared so lovingly at you, feeling butterflies in your stomach as he gave you his signature toothy grin. You stand from the bed, grabbing a towel that was hooked over the door to dry his gorgeous ginger locks.

"Sit down, let's get you dried." He blushed as he sat down on your mattress, tilting his head up towards you ever so slightly as you find your place between his legs while his hands rested gently on the backs of your thighs and you swore to yourself that you had never felt such fireworks linger upon your skin as they did with Fred Weasley. Those hands you had admired for so long, those hands that gripped onto his bat tightly during your school years and hit away bludgers and all had you swooning as you gripped the towel. You draped the towel over his head, giving his hair a rough towel dry and letting your fingertips press against his scalp gently through the soft fabric. When you left him to go and hang the slightly damp towel up once more, his gaze caught a glimpse of something bright in the corner of his eye. Upon further inspection from afar, that something bright was a beautiful red lace that had been thrown on your dressing table in a moment of relief after you had finished it. He stood, making his way to them out of curiosity, his fingers taking hold of the soft lace, immediately recognising the feel and the pattern. His breath hitched, gazing upon the sensual piece that had nonchalantly been draped upon your dresser, his gaze hadn’t left the fabric and he hadn’t even noticed you were staring at him with a lingering look in your eye, your heart beat beginning to pick up once more and this time it wasn’t because he was pretending to drop you.

"It's the material you first kissed me on." You pointed out, holding your hands together in front of your stomach that was now experiencing somersaults and that familiar feeling between your thighs welcomed itself once more as you swallowed thickly.

"I know… Is this for m–"

"Yes."

"Put it on then, petal. Do it for me." You could have sworn your cheeks were as red as the lace he was handing you, gripping onto the soft fabric with shaky hands. This was far from how you could have ever imagined your first time with Fred to have come about, a rain-soaked boy showing up at your door and taking your breath away with his kiss. The months of teasing were finally catching up and you had to take a moment to process it all as you retreated to your bathroom. Part of you wanted to change in front of him but more of you wanted it to be a surprise and if you were honest to yourself, part of you needed a moment before you faced him. To look at the reflection of a woman you hadn’t recognised in a long time and say ‘it’s okay’ because it was okay. This was Fred… it was Fred and you, no one else.

There was something different about the way you pulled the straps onto your bare shoulders, the way your hair frames your face as you dressed. A smile spread across your lips and you blushed to yourself, how long had it been since you had felt like this? Something like this was truly paradise felt on earth amidst the darkness you had long been suffering within. Joe wasn’t here, you reminded yourself as you exhaled and glanced towards the door and you felt reassured by your inner thoughts.

He had begun to pace about your room as he waited for you to return, feeling an unfamiliar wave in his stomach. Never in his life had he been nervous about intimacy with a woman, but when it came to you he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling that consumed him with every step. Fred had to remind himself that it was you, not anyone else, not Cherry, his exes or one of his lame one night stands. Lastly, it wasn’t the woman he had been pining for ever since he could remember… the one who chose his brother instead of him. It was a woman who he truly felt something for, a something that he didn’t want to ruin. He hadn’t even noticed your return, staring out of the window as he was consumed by his own thoughts. Your arms snaking around his waist as you pressed yourself into his back, snapped him away from his feelings of nerves and self doubt because he had you there.

“We still don’t have to do this, you know.” You whispered softly as your cheek pressed against his damp t-shirt, his hands coming to cover yours, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he let out a deep exhale. He didn’t have to worry around you, he didn’t have to fear that it was Cherry’s touch masked as yours. He knew that it was you in the way he could have sworn your hearts beat together. There were no words that could have ever described the way you made him feel.

“I want this.” he mumbled, as he shook his head, mostly at the way a leech like Cherry still was able to plague his thoughts in his most vulnerable moments. Turning in your arms, your eyes meet his face which is plastered with a deep smile, biting the inside of your cheek when you realise that you are stood half-naked but pressed against the fully clothed man. Against the man who had plagued your daydreams years ago and now your thoughts at night. He took your hand in his, stepping away for a moment before lifting your arm over your head to make you twirl in front of him. The sight of you took his breath away, solidifying the thought in his brain that you truly were a goddess. Fathoming that you were his to kiss and hold made his heart race out of his chest.

“You’re beautiful.” He managed to only just choke out the compliment as his other hand found your jaw to pull you into a kiss. Nothing had ever felt so right to him than the crave of intimacy with you right now, you let him guide your bodies, your skin now flush against the cool sheets while he leant over you. Standing up briefly he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his toned torso that made you feel weak, counting yourself lucky that you were laying down otherwise you would have surely buckled at the knees.

Fred knew that the minute he had the opportunity to, he would take his time in worshiping every dip and curve of your body, no matter how long or tedious the process was. His hot open mouthed kisses started at your jaw, it was intoxicating to feel him mumble praise between each kiss, telling you about just how breath-taking you were to him and how much influence you had on him. His kisses along your neck left marks not to claim you but to show you just how much he cared without having to say the words. His lips travelled down to pepper kisses down the valley of your breasts, his slow pace made you grab his face with both hands.

“Don’t be a tease, Freddie.” He chuckled, his hands wrapping around your wrists, pulling them away from his face so that he could press a sweet kiss to the insides of your palms, the hint of a smirk hanging off his lips as he did so. His fingertips grazed over your skin as they ran down your arms, sending goosebumps firing over your skin. His laugh sent every good feeling of pleasure through your veins. His hands went to his belt, immediately he thought of all the ways that this could go wrong, the image of your pained expression and the way you cried into his chest sinking his heart once more. He pondered for a moment before he asked, hardly above a whisper, ‘do you want to?’ before gesturing to the belt buckle.

You felt your heart stop, remembering how you had stopped yourself going this far before, feeling a sense of calm fall over you as you reached to undo the belt buckle. You knew that this gesture alone was enough for you to realise that Fred really did care about your comfort, he wanted you to feel as if you were in control of the situation, not forced or pressured but completely at your own free will to pull away or stop but you didn’t. You slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops before setting it down on the bed, smiling up at him.

“No more teasing, yeah?” You nodded, pressing your lips to his again as your hands found the back of his head, giving the now damp hair a gentle tug.

No more teasing.

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scotianostra · 3 years

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Eric Sutherland Lomax was born on May 30th 1919 at Joppa, Edinburgh.

The only son of a General Post Office manager Eric was educated at the city’s Royal High School. Aged 16, he successfully entered a civil service competition for a Post Office job and moved up the grades rapidly, but with the outbreak of war joined the Supplementary Reserve of the Royal Corps of Signals which recruited men from the Post Office Telephones. After intensive training he became a Second Lieutenant with the Royal Signals and was posted to the Far East. Captured in February 1942, following one of the worst defeats in the history of the British Army, the fall of Singapore, Lomax was one of 100,000 allied POWs sent to Changi, one of the most the notorious camps. Their treatment was harsh, fitting in with the belief held by the Japanese Imperial Army that those who had surrendered to it were guilty of dishonouring their country and family and deserved to be treated in no other way. From there, Lomax was sent to the Thai town of Kanchanaburi, where he was set to work on the infamous railway, including the bridge, linking Bangkok to Rangoon in Burma. In all, about 61,000 Allied POWs (of which almost half were British) and 180,000 Asian labourers worked on the 258-mile stretch of line, but the harsh conditions and inhuman treatment took the lives of over 100,000 men. In the face of malnutrition, illness and regular beatings, Lomax and other POWs built a radio with the hope of keeping up morale and finding out how the war was progressing. He also drew a detailed map of the camp’s surroundings which was to be used in an escape attempt. This, however, proved to be his downfall. The discovery of the radio, on 29 August 1943, set off a sequence of terrible repercussions. Almost immediately two members of the radio group were arrested, nearly beaten to death, then transferred into the hands of the Kempeitai, the Japanese military police. Less than a month later, four further members of the group, including Lomax, were arrested and again beaten to within an inch of their lives. “We survived but only just,” Lomax recalled. “I had both my arms broken.” He was later told by another POW that the rest of the camp had lain awake all night listening to the cries for mercy but could only pray for their survival. On 25th September a further four officers were seized and of those, Captain Hawley and Lieutenant Armitage were beaten to death and their bodies thrown into a latrine. Because of his map, Lomax was subjected to a week of intolerable torture, including waterboarding. He was then transferred to the notorious Outram Road prison, where he was kept in solitary confinement and was convinced he would go insane, starve to death or die of disease. He survived by deliberately throwing himself down a flight of iron stairs in order to sustain injuries and be transferred to hospital. He feigned paralysis and got his wish. When liberation and VJ-Day came in August 1945, Lomax felt unready to return to civilian life and signed on for another two years, becoming a Captain. He then entered the Colonial Service and was posted to Ghana in preparation for its independence in March 1957. Lomax left the army in 1955 and studied personnel management, working initially with the Scottish Gas Board before securing an academic position at Strathclyde University. He retired in 1982. Not surprisingly, Lomax was haunted for the rest of his life by his wartime ordeal, which resulted in the breakdown of his first marriage. Encouraged by his second wife, Patti, Lomax sought treatment, eventually becoming the first Second World War ex-serviceman to be accepted as a patient of the Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture. Following years of counselling, Lomax’s intense hatred, particularly for the interpreter who had interrogated him while he was being tortured, became a remarkable journey of reconciliation outlined in The Railway Man, published in 1995. Unknown to Lomax, the interrogator, Takashi Nagase, had suffered agonies of guilt after the war and had dedicated his life to trying to make amends. He had also written a book about his experiences, Crosses and Tigers, and had financed a Buddhist temple at the bridge over the River Kwai by way of atonement. In his book Lomax documents how he met Nagase on the bridge in 1993; the meeting was filmed for an award-winning documentary ? Lomax’s book won the 1996 NCR Book Award and the JR Ackerley prize for autobiography and was adapted for TV in 1995 as Prisoners in Time, starring John Hurt as Lomax. In 2007 Nagase’s came to Britain and met Lomax. “Continuing to hate gets you nowhere,” Lomax said. “It just damages you as an individual. At some point, the hating has to stop.”

#Scotland #scottish #soldier #humanitarian #pow #prisoner of war #japanese #torture #forgiveness #humility #WW2

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