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starcrossedxwriter · 12 days

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Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times.

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity.

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated.

“Rough night, dear?”

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt.

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?”

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?”

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered.

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?”

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?”

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.”

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke.

He did what??

“Are you alright, dear??”

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.”

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply.

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door.

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox.

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed.

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back.

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on:

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that.

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael.

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you.

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her.

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation.

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did.

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears.

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in.

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side.

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice.

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview.

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so.

“Thanks, appreciate that.”

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?”

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.”

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves.

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…”

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-”

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.”

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called.

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over.

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.”

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens.

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake.

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special.

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.”

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.”

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about.

“Rae? You busy?”

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in.

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?”

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?”

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts?

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.”

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good.

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways.

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer.

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?”

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.”

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.”

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?”

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.”

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.”

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.”

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.”

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.”

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.”

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.”

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.”

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.”

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.”

“She is… and I hope she knows that.”

“So tell me about…”

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into.

There has to be more than this, right?

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully.

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes.

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.”

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.”

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name.

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?”

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.”

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?”

“Too many…”

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.”

“Tiff…”

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear.

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.”

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly.

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?”

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.”

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem.

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves.

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold.

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back.

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside.

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home.

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster.

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space.

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him.

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence.

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.”

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak.

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat.

“Why what?”

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?”

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.”

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell.

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?”

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet.

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.”

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely.

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?”

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it.

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.”

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her.

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door.

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back.

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home.

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence.

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember.

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up.

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together.

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept.

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box.

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s.

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious.

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope.

To Raven on your 18th birthday

To Raven on high school graduation

To Raven after your first love

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation

To Raven on your wedding day

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom.

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three.

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one.

To my sweet darling girl,

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did.

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it.

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you.

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things.

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved.

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter.

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it.

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word.

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all.

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about.

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen.

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with.

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards.

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.”

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?”

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family.

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.”

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.”

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words.

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for.

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.”

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter.

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.”

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack.

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.”

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??”

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff.

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.”

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at.

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early.

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be.

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world.

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on.

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.”

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.”

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?”

“Yes. Is it too late?”

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone.

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.”

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?”

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

***

A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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banjjakz · 3 months

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notes: major character death; gojo satoru is not a good person (we know this); direct continuation of geto suguru's route; if you have not completed the good end may you rest in pieces.

➡ Sneak out of the fire escape.

The thought of trying to navigate your way even further through the deep, dark bowels of this strange place fills you with a fearful repulsion – and not the good kind. While you got off quite lucky with such a faithful encounter with Geto, you shouldn’t get cocky. After all, the security guard from earlier could still be lurking around…imagine if he caught you in such a state of obvious erotic disarray: hair mussed, knees scraped and bruised, face flushed, lipstick smudged…you can’t imagine that would go over well.

Steeling your nerves to do something truly unhinged, you begin to search for the fire escape.

At least you aren’t jumping out of the window, or something insane like that – albeit, sneaking out of the fire escape is a little out there, even for you.

But you no longer inhabit the normal and upright world. It is almost as though you are now floating through reality, your soul wandering through life in an ambiguously disparate state, hopping from absurd situation to absurd situation, motivated by little more than the capricious nature of your arbitrary whims.

It's not like you have much left to lose, after all. The most important thing to you – perhaps the only important thing to you – in your life is ShinShow. And you’ve just achieved the highest goal of any dedicated fan: ultimate recognition.

The eventful evening’s erotic high and the delusional adrenaline coursing through your veins gives you the courage not only to locate the fire escape, but also to slip through the dingy, rusting door and shimmy down the rickety, narrow steps. Even by Japanese standards, the contraption is quite small. Several times, you almost lose your footing and go tumbling down over the railing. Instead of instilling you with healthy fear, the near-accidents only serve to propel you forward with renewed vigor each time you brush closer and closer to impending mortal injury.

As soon as your chunky platforms hit the worn concrete, now back on solid, stable ground, you find it difficult not to deflate a little bit. What a night! What an experience! And you have Geto Suguru’s personal LINE ID to show for all of it…how are you supposed to return to your ordinary, mundane life after such an experience?

The thought depresses you. Work, school, family, friends…it all pales in comparison to the evening you and Geto shared together. Oh, if only every night could be that way!

But that would be selfish of you. Geto is a leader, after all; an inspiration to many, and an idol to all. To usurp him for your personal pleasure and only yours alone would be doing a disservice to his life’s work. You recognize that you must share Geto-sama, as much as it might pain you to do so.

“I don’t wanna share him,” you mumble to yourself, aimlessly launching the decrepit corpse of a crumpled beer can across the alley with a limp, half-hearted kick. “Geto-sama should be all mine…”

In the desolate boughs of this seedy in-between limbo sandwiched between towering buildings of various questionable services and wares, your pathetic utterances should be private, unheard by only your own self-pitying ears.

Operative word: should.

“Haha. That’s a funny joke!”

Your heart drops faster than you can turn around. By the time your body processes the shock at not being alone (seriously, when the hell did someone else get here? You’ve been loitering for several minutes, at this point!) the owner of the unfamiliar voice is already entirely too close for comfort. One moment, the snarky quip bounced off of the aged reinforcements of a residential building several paces away – but now, as you pivot on your heel to confront the stranger, your nose is but a hair’s breadth away from painfully colliding with a wide, solid chest clad in nondescript black cloth.

When you finally glimpse his face, the first thing that comes to your mind is that he’s definitely a douchebag. If the bleached platinum faded undercut weren’t bad enough, this asshole is wearing sunglasses at night. His over-six-foot stature is worn with a sort of self-reverential pride; he carries himself like he knows he’s probably the hottest guy in any room at any given point in time.

How annoying.

This is why, outside of ShinShow, you don’t really care to interact with the male species. They’re all cocky, self-assured, greedy, immature, uncaring, inconsiderate morons! Nothing like your hard-working and self-made idols…ugh.

Just being around this dude makes your skin crawl. Not in the sexy way.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, cutting him a sharp glare with wide, whaling eyes as if to actually convey the more sincere message you hold for him within your heart: get the fuck lost, creep.

But when you go to rush past him, his body moves – again with that mind-numbing, preternatural speed – and you run straight into his annoying firm and solid abs.

Oh God, is this it? Is this really how you are meant to depart from this world? You would’ve preferred to be sent to hell by Geto’s hand over anyone else’s…

Despondent and kind of over it, you direct a firm stare upwards at this asshole’s infuriatingly unbothered smirk. “What’s your problem?”

“You,” says the stranger, simply, distracting you with his blindly white smile so that it is far, far too late by the time you realize that both your wrists are now incapacitated by one of his large, strong hands. “Don’t struggle. It won’t make a difference. Or do! It would actually be kinda funny to watch.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You demand, instinctively jerking away and finding his grip to be even more iron-solid that it had initially seemed – if that was even possible. “Let me go!!”

When you go to kick him, you find that your perception of reality shatters apart like glass skittering across kitchen tile in a million, tiny, irreparably disparate fractured pieces.

Your foot cannot connect with his body.

The more force you put behind your futile defense against your assailant, the more frustrated and exhausted you become. How can this even be possible? It’s like there’s an invisible paper-thin shield dividing you and him – and yet, despite the thinness of the protective layer, the intimate proximity of your limb and his infuriatingly chiseled torso, there is an endless ocean of space that separates you. No matter how hard you try, you cannot touch him.

You cannot win.

How this is even possible, you haven’t the faintest idea. Some sort of illusion? An advanced kind of electromagnetic technology?

Horror dawns upon you like a red sun on the horizon: there’s no way you can escape this.

The stranger is a seasoned and well-trained predator, that much is for sure. He senses the fight leaking out of your body as a shark might follow the intoxicating scent of blood in the water. He pursues your misery with a keen appetite, one that threatens to devour you whole.

“You’re almost cute,” breaths the strange white-haired man, crowding you up against the brick wall with little more than the oppressive force of his presence. “I can see why he thought you’d be easy.”

A stab of familiarity pierces clear and true through your thundering innards. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about… “Do you know Geto-sama?”

The bastard has the audacity to laugh in your face. His breath is annoyingly minty fresh.

“Oh, wow. You actually call him that? I thought it was just an inside joke between him and the fans, or something. Hah! That’s really good. That’s just too good…” He, honest-to-God, wipes a tear from his eye, underneath his sunglasses.

Even the precarity of your dangerous situation is not enough to cow the bullish indignancy that flushes through you, hot and temperamental, at the suggestion of a perceived slight against your (new?) oshi.

“Hey,” you grunt, chin checking up towards the sky, “you shouldn’t talk that way about Geto-sama. He’s really hard working, and such a good leader…the best there ever was or could be.”

“The best,” mulls the stranger, one large hand descending to stroke his jaw. You can’t tell if the gesture is more a mockery than it is a genuine display of sincere pensive contemplation.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

And then he leans down, easy and natural as breathing, as blinking, lips coming to ghost along the crest of your quivering, hypersensitive ears:

“I already know that.”

With viper-like speed, his fist shoots up to close around your throat. “You don’t think I know that?” You’d sputter out a response if you could breathe. Or think. “Sweetheart, I’ve been here before that statement could even be said to be true. You could say we’re high school sweethearts. My one and only, he is.”

Oh, fuck.

Oh, God, oh, fuck.

Did you just mess with an OG fan?

Crap, this is bad. This is really, really bad. Never did you think you’d fall victim to the string of violent, sometimes deadly assaults that ravaged the streets of Kabukichou. But pissing off a dedicated wota by getting caught fucking around with their ultimate oshi is one of the fastest ways to find out!

S-sorry, you try to mouth as your weak, floundering hands doing nothing to persuade his grip into loosening, even just the tiniest bit. Didn’t know!!

“Don’t care~,” sing-songs the stranger, strangely cheerful given the circumstances. He’s not normal. It hits you quite belatedly. Even for a superfan, he isn’t normal. “No one told you to go around playing with other people’s toys~”

You don’t stand a chance. This is the end.

His next retort slips out as a simpering purr: “Good girl. You’ve accepted your fate.”

Can he read your mind, or something? This is seriously a scene out of some horror movie…

“For that, I’ll spare you. Quick and painless death it is! Simply deleted from existence. All your icky atoms and particles will end up somewhere in Timbuktu, probably. Hopefully. How does that sound? For a masochist like you, that’s almost a worse fate, I suppose.”

Huh?

“Huh?”

“Bye-bye~”

The last glimpse your poor, foolish mortal eyes catch of this cruel world are the slight peek of his startlingly blue over the rim of those opaque, black sunglasses. As you lose consciousness, in the split second before your existence is entirely wiped out from this chapter of reality, your vision blurs, doubling, then tripling, his bright, cerulean eyes appearing to you not as two, but six. They are everywhere, all-seeing, surrounding you, bearing down as the heavens might itself upon the woeful frame of a mortal slated for smiting. Soon enough, the six double, then triple, then multiply so fast that all you can see are rows and rows and rows of wide, unblinking, omniscient eyes. Staring. Judging. Tracking.

Why does it feel familiar, this sight?

[MAY YOU REST IN PEACE.]

ENDING ACHIEVED: GETO SUGURU BAD END 2

SECRET ROUTE UNLOCKED: RYOMEN SUKUNA.

> PROCEED TO ROUTE [coming soon!]

#satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #final girl jjk #final girl banjjakz

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boliv-jenta · 9 months

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I'm still in shock from how much I enjoyed the Barbie movie! I highly recommend seeing it if you can.

My brain is unhinged at the best of times but even more so when it's happy, so I wrote this.

Barbie x Pedro Boy Kens

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE BARBIE MOVIE. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS.

Warnings: Smut. Rubbing of plastic parts. Feelings

WC:1.6k

Come on Barbie

Every day was perfect…until it wasn't. One morning, Barbie woke up feeling unsatisfied in more ways than one. Something inside of her told her to go spend more time with the Kens. That one of them would be able to satisfy the ache inside of her.

At first she spent time with Art Professor Ken. Art Professor Ken was sweet. Maybe a little too sweet. He made her breakfast, and he made lunch and he made dinner. Not that she'd asked. If she was out he packed a lunch with a note telling her how pretty and perfect she was. When he wasn't talking about art he was comparing her to art. It was nice. Really nice. It was just a bit…much. Especially when he talked about starting a family after two dates.

Then came Knight Ken. Knight Ken was exciting. He rode a beautiful horse. He'd travelled all over the land. He had a dangerous looking scar over his eye. He would protect her, maybe a little too much, given that the other Ken weren't really a threat. He would also completely forget she existed if there was any food around. Although, she did have to admit, there was something alluring about the way he ate with abandon.

This led her to go find DEA Ken. His intense stare and tight jeans made her non-existent vagina flutter. She'd even let him peel off her Sweet Creams nightgown and lay on top of her to rub his smooth crotch against her. It hadn't done anything for her but he had smoked afterwards. As much as she always had a great time with him, she always felt that he wasn't 'present' with her. His mind always seemed to be elsewhere. She guessed it was on the bad guys he was perpetually chasing. Not that there actually were any there.

Much like DEA Ken, Prince Ken made the smooth place between her legs tingle. He'd also convinced her to take off her Apple Print Sheath dress and let her caress the mounts at her chest, again it didn't do much for her but it was nice to have the attention of a Prince. Until he insisted on bringing another Barbie along and gave her more attention.

Cowboy Ken wasn't an actual cowboy, but he did come with a hat and a lasso. He was fun, but he didn't seem trustworthy.

Spaceman Ken came with a space suit and a poet's heart. She had a feeling his clever tongue and fancy words hid something dark as well.

Businessman Ken was the final straw. He was ridiculously handsome, well dressed, fun but he was so preoccupied with work. He didn't even seem to have time for his son.

Nope, none of these Kens would do, there were more but she didn't want to waste any more time. The feelings inside her were growing. As well as unsatisfied, she felt lonely. She was desperate to be understood she went to someone she never thought she would visit, Crazy Barbie. Crazy Barbie with her odd hair and permanent splits position.

Crazy Barbie had explained that there seemed to be a connection between her and someone playing with her doll in the real world. If she wanted to get rid of those feelings and be a regular Barbie again she had to find that person and help them.

That was how she ended up in the real world with Superhero Ken at her side. He'd insisted on coming, as soon as he had arranged for Skipper to babysit his daughter.

They hadn't been there long when the swords strapped to his back caught the attention of the police. Who in turn called Mattel. Who came to collect them in big black vehicles that she had never seen before. They'd taken her back to their headquarters, and promised to send her home. Much like some of her Kens she felt like their words hid something. The moment she had the opportunity, she sprinted away from them.

The place was a maze. Door after door, all the same dull metal, lined the walls. Every one was locked. Until she rounded a corner, the first door on the left opened up. Once inside, the first thing she noticed was the desk littered with pages and a single doll sat in the middle. A doll that looked exactly like her.

The second thing she notice was him. A Ken. His hair wasn't perfect, it was tousled and wild. He didn't have ridiculously sculpted washboard abs. His stomach was soft under the moth bitten sweater he wore. His glasses sat on the tip of his nose as he looked at her. He looked at her with something the other Kens never did, genuine hunger. The unsatisfied feeling flared up. She needed to be satisfied and she had a feeling he was just the Ken to do it.

"Hey." Was all he said with a smile on his lips.

"Hey." She replied with a dreamy tone in her voice.

The distance between them closed as if they were being pushed together by an unseen force. There was something so familiar about him, aside from his good looks.

It didn't feel strange when they kissed. Well, a little since it was an actual kiss not just their mouths pressing together. It felt right when the kiss deepened and he touched her.

The tingling between her legs intensified. Her light pink panties were stained a dark pink with her arousal. She desperately wanted to rub their parts together. She whispered that to him, suddenly shy about the whole thing.

"You want to dry hump? Sure. We can do that. Come here, Beautiful."

When he stripped down to his underwear, his private area wasn't smooth. He definitely had genitals. Big, hard genitals by the looks of it. He was so direct, he sat in the nearest chair and tapped his bare thighs, motioning for her to sit. When she did straddle his lap, it was an odd feeling in two ways. One, she wasn't used to her legs moving that way, and two, the heat of him pressed into her sent a current right through her. It lit up all her nerves. Eager for more, she began to move her now flexible hips experimentally. The feeling was incredible. She just wanted more and more of it. It seemed that Ken did, too. He kept making groaning noises and asking her for more. Eventually, he just put his hands on her hips and moved them himself. Faster and faster, until glitter burst behind her eyes. Her whole body shivered, and her new vagina pulsed. A next way of heat hit her between the legs as Ken moaned beneath her. A wet patch formed between them. "Oh. Does that usually happen?" She asked curiously.

"If you do it right, yeah." He signed contentedly.

His contentment seeped into her. The doll on the desk, she thought. It was him. He was the human all her desires were coming from.

"The doll?" She nodded her head in its direction.

"Oh, that. I've been modelling for all these Kens for so long I guess I just started to long for my own Barbie."

Before Barbie could contemplate what that meant, there was a loud banging at the door followed by a definitely angry voice. "Bravo! We're looking for an escaped Barbie. Make yourself useful, come and look for her."

Barbie felt Kens sadness of being nothing more than an object to them. "Ken, we have to go!"

"Dieter." He stopped her from pulling him up for a moment. "My name is Dieter."

"It's pretty." Her face heated as she smiled at him. Another bang on the door jilted her from her daze and into action. "Dieter, we have to go."

"Where?"

"Away from them. Back to Barbieland."

"Barbieland? Wait, you're a doll?"

"Yes."

"Wow." A lopsided grin spread across his face for a moment before he focused again. "Come on, the back stairs are this way."

"Don't you think it's weird that I'm…not real?"

"I play poker every Thursday with the ghost that lives down the hall. Real is subjective. Wait..."

Grabbing her hand Dieter headed down the back stairs across the floor below before climbing back up to his floor. Ruth's room was two doors away. They managed to slip through inside before any more executives showed up.

"Hello. What a lovely unexpected visit. How are you, my dear?" Barbie took a second to realise she was talking to her. No one ever asked how she was because Barbie was perfect every day.

"I'm…I'm…so many things. Scared, sad, excited, happy, tingly…" she glanced back at Dieter "...and very confused."

"Sounds very…human." Ruth smiled. "Now, Sweetie, you have a choice to make. I think you know that."

"I do." Barbie nodded before turning to Dieter. "If you could be anything, what would you choose to be?"

"What I am now. I'm an actor. I get to be anyone I want."

"I like the sound of that."

"Being an actor?"

"No, being anyone I want."

The white of the room grew blindingly bright until it washed out all of her senses.

Six months later.

Every day was almost perfect. Barbie woke up feeling as satisfied as she could hope for. She had a purpose, helping others find theirs. The school that she enrolled in to earn the qualifications to help people full time was going well. She was making friends. She even had her own Ken, or Kens, that came over to keep her company when she needed it. Sometimes Cowboy Ken would visit with his cute hat and whip. Sometimes DEA Ken would come over with his handcuffs. The Ken that came over the most, her personal favourite, was Actor Ken. He was the one that she thought about sharing her dream house with. Right after she finished figuring out just what kind of Barbie....human she was.

@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo #javier peña #pero tovar #maxwell lord #marcus moreno #marcus pike #ezra prospect #barbie #barbie spoilers #crack fic i suppose

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clxckwork-sun-n-moon · 1 year

Text

So Cries the Wolf - Chapter 2

Text Count: 6102

Warnings: Violence, general threat, strong language

Chapter Summary: You go out to find a cryptid and it unfortunately goes sideways. You and Eclipse continue to talk more, finding out things about each other and the world you inhabit, and you step on each other’s toes continuously.

-------

You knew the forest trails well, no matter how much Montague tended to lead you along and expected you to follow. As the dog pattered on ahead, stopping every now and then to wait for you, there was a moment for you to breathe after your cramped morning. Damp dirt left your passage silent, bar the few twigs that had fallen or been scattered onto the path. Passing underneath the reaching branches, every now and again you could feel the sunlight drip onto you, a moment of warmth before the shade left you cool. No evergreens in this particular area, which was a shame - you enjoyed the pine smells from days of being crunched underfoot by people and animals alike. Here there were mostly oaks, maples, and some chestnuts that were yet to consider letting their green-shelled treasures fall.

Montague stopped with more purpose, looking to you expectantly. Dropping to one knee, you began to brush aside some of the leaf debris, scanning the ground.

“Mmm. Humanoid,” you commented. “Not big though.” The tracks were leading away from the main trail. It wasn’t a good plan to stray from paths, but you weren’t exactly full of good plans at any given time. This time Montague stayed to heel as you began to follow the tracks.

“This really isn’t as fun as I was expecting a hunter’s work to be,” Eclipse grouched from behind you.

“That’s because I’m not being a ‘hunter’ right now,” you replied with a half-amused scoff. After how much Eclipse had been tormenting you, seeing them so withdrawn and grouchy from something as simple as sunlight and the outdoors was somewhat healing for your soul. Nothing like a good dose of schadenfreude to make up for a bratty demon. Not to mention being outside felt so much better than your workshop squeezing the energy out of you.

“I didn’t realize you could take time off that sort of business,” Eclipse drily commented. “Perhaps I should take that on-board. Yes, I could murder you, but I’m currently on break.”

“Technically you are, while we figure out…all of this.” You waved vaguely at their egregiously lanky form. “Are you capable of other forms, by the way? Because you stand out worse than a sore thumb.”

“Mmm. Maybe.”

“But can you? I mean, do it now?” The very last thing you wanted was for some poor hapless hiker or a bunch of kids running off-trail (because they always did, no matter how many warnings were posted) to see the towering skeletal figure drifting along in your wake, having to duck and weave at times to avoid the lower branches of trees. Unfortunately Eclipse had other plans, as he leaned down to your eye-level with a wide smile.

“I’m on break.”

You really hated his smile. There was something about how the face distorted just a bit, their eyes squinting a touch, that you could see the smug grin rolled off without a tooth in sight. It meant that the shocking spread of fangs was hidden away, the danger so close and yet invisible. It reminded you of owls in some way, how their beaks would look small and cute, before practically unhinging when they opened up and screamed. Not that you didn’t dislike owls, you thought the things were wholly lovely and certainly useful to sane living out in the forest - you were certain there was one nesting somewhere near your cabin because you’d seen mice around the Operations office but not a single mouse near your place. And Montague would rather choke than eat another mouse or rat, so he clearly wasn’t the culprit.

Owls were manageable because you knew they were wild, and so they couldn’t surprise you. Eclipse was several threads off a complete picture and thus falling apart at the corner seams, making it nearly impossible for you to get a bearing of what he was going to do next. For now the pair of you had some tentative parley of interests, but you were quickly getting the understanding that they would still choose to take actions either to benefit themself or purely to spite you. Another glance over your shoulder, and you could see Eclipse running a hand through the green sunlight that smeared the ground from the tree canopy, details catching on the scaled skin and the claws and copper bells reflecting with metallic sheens. Something about those scales made your skin crawl - it looked a little more like burn scars than bird feet.

“Staring is rude, you know,” Eclipse commented. His small red eye had apparently been fixed on you while you’d been looking back, and the instinctive hit of shame sent a hot prickle to your stomach. As quickly as it came and left, a bite of anger hit hotter than the shame, frustrated that he’d managed to make you feel guilty.

“You sure have a lot of opinions on what’s rude or not for something that started existing a few days ago,” you snarked back. “I didn’t think that the circles of hell came with lessons on etiquette.”

“Brat,” Eclipse snarled back, his lip curling. “Are you always this mouthy or am I just special?”

“You are so very special. The most special of them all.” You made sure that the sarcasm was layered thick enough to drip from each word as you leveled Eclipse with a proper glare.

“Special enough not to already be dead, it seems. Maybe you like me.”

“Ugh, please. Like I already explained with Monty-” The barest shake ran through Eclipse as he scowled, the feathers of his head shimmying briefly as if considering to fluff up. “-you’re too different to exorcize without consideration. The way I see it, I get to learn about you, and then once I fix up Sunny, you can get going and I will be happy to never see you again.”

“You’re hardly the first demon we’ve encountered,” Montague spoke up, still trailing ahead of the group. “The previous experiences are enough to show that you’re the first to come from a source that isn’t a living creature, or drawn up from the hells by acts of another human, or simply managed to claw their way up on a whim. Congratulations, you’re the first demon to come from a robot. So you don’t get to die today.”

“You seem awfully calm about walking around on a leash to a hunter,” Eclipse grumbled, his lower pair of arms folding over his chest. “Preferred to live as a coward so you gave up freedom instead?” He was trying to pry under both your skins. You were easier to dig into. Montague, less so.

“It’s not cowardice when it’s what I would have wanted to do regardless,” he replied firmly. “Besides, I’m not a demon like you.”

“Wait, you aren’t?” This confused you too, left you physically tripping in the moment.

“Just because I’m called a hellhound, doesn’t mean I’m a demon. I just come from the same area,” Montague explained patiently.

He probably had mentioned that, those years ago when the pair of you met and began your partnership. Your mind was far too good at letting important details sleep and clutching onto useless information or painful memories. Thumbing at your jacket sleeve, you shook your head.

“I must’ve forgotten, I’m sorry,” you said quickly.

“It’s fine. Humans forget things. Besides, I prefer what you call me instead.” If dogs could smile, Montague would be doing so right now. Behind you, Eclipse let out a noise of disgust, then one of brief anguish as his face connected to a tree branch he’d missed. Montague let out a snort of amusement, before taking off further into the woodland.

“You are incomprehensibly nauseating in your niceness.” Eclipse’s voice rattled in layers of frustration, oil-slicked and thick.

“Big words there,” you muttered under your breath.

“And you do not care? That you have given up part of your soul to him?”

Something cold tightened inside you. For a moment your mind ran through several moments at once - heavy rain on leaves; puddles on tarmac lit by neon blue; teeth dripping blood - but you swallowed it all back before Eclipse could see the reaction on your face.

“Didn’t have much soul left at the time,” you replied, and your tone said that that was the end. Eclipse, of course, didn’t care to notice.

“Curious, curious. Content to sacrifice so much and care so little,” he mused. You felt his claws scrape across your shoulders from behind and it sent lightning up your back. As you jumped from their reach, they chuckled low and mean. For a moment you considered using some of the salt in your emergency bag. Instead you swallowed your anger and your past, burning and freezing all at once, and continued to follow your dog.

------

Brooks were easy to find - you always heard them before you saw them. Talkative things, the way they babbled and whispered and bubbled, their lilting sounds escaping past the trunks of trees to reach your ears. Singing was new however, and new put you ever so slightly more on-guard. Through a small gap in the treeline, you could see a humanoid shape sat at the bank of the brook. As they sang, wordless music that felt like it was numbing your fingers, they dragged long clawed fingers through long dewy locks, a tangling of hair and some narrow-fronded water plant. After casting a glance at Montague, you began to approach. It was very much apparent when the singer heard you - their singing stopped immediately, and you could feel your lungs working again. When did you stop breathing? The figure turned slowly, blinking large eyes in your direction. Genuinely huge eyes, almost putting Eclipse’s to shame. The eyes bulged out, a dark gray blue that faded to sky white pinpricks in the middle, in the middle of an oval face marked by scattered scales, slits for a nose, and an impressive jaw which you knew could turn bones into delicious shards for the fish. Letting out a noise that could be mistaken for a gasp, the waterfolk jumped into the brook. Maybe they could have hidden themself, but the brook only ran hip-high during flooding season, and right now your creature of intrigue was just about able to lie down beneath the water level, hair and weeds fanning around their head and eyes peeking out.

“Hey,” you said, waving slowly. The waterfolk bubbled back, their gaze flickering from you to Montague to Eclipse behind you and then back down to you.

“What is our new friend?” Eclipse asked. You were not a fan of his developing tendency to get right up by your ear without a sound. Breathing in deeply through your nose to maintain your composure (you were not going to start getting shouty in front of a skittish waterfolk), you stepped away and continued to approach the brook’s edge.

“Waterfolk,” you said simply. The being in question slowly approached, reaching out a hand to yours. Up close you could see the webbing between the fingers, a hand more styled for swimming through deep water than mimicking human gestures. Wisely you didn’t reach back in, ‘lest you find yourself tested against their strength, and Montague had told you how grown men could be dragged underwater with ease.

“As it is with many cryptids we find, they have many names,” Montague began to speak to Eclipse, with your attention focused on your new friend. “Swamp things, nokken, gill men, vodnik, rusalka. They aren’t particularly used to this land, carried by the travels of people who know them. That is a particular issue with cryptids born from spirits - they come from ideas and stories more than a physical birth, like your’s.” He pointed his muzzle up at Eclipse. “You came from the animatronic. This waterfolk may have formed at the bottom of a lake.”

“Does it know what it is?” Eclipse asked.

“It does as much as an idea understands its own being.”

Sat down next to the brook, you’d pulled out your laminated map and unfolded it, laying it out on the dirt next to you. The waterfolk leaned up closer, looking at your hand as you explained the water routes of the area.

“See, this is where you’re from right?” You pointed to the large lake at the south of the map, before pointing further up. “And this is where you are. You need to head down that way, there’s a larger stream that joins the river that feeds your lake. If you cross the land over here at night time, you’ll be safe from any eyes, and we’re meant to have rain so you’ll be safer.” You didn’t really know if they understood your words, but they were nodding at least.

“It was doing something before. When it was singing.” Eclipse was slowly moving closer, and you could hear his footfalls hesitant behind you. “I could feel it in my head, like it was trying to get into my chest.”

“Their songs can do a variety of things,” you answered, looking back over your shoulder. He was hunching down slightly, and it reminded you of little children trying to sneak up on their guardians when there was nowhere to hide. “Some songs make you fall asleep, some lure you after the singer. It depends.”

“So you’re content to send it back into deeper waters, where it will be harder to catch and kill, leaving it to harm other humans. You’re not a very good hunter, you know,” Eclipse mused.

“I’m not a hunter right now. I’m a ranger. I look after lives in the woods. I stop those that hurt others, and I help those in need,” you explained, soft but firm. “Waterfolk are easy enough. They can be mischievous but never maliciously hurtful. Not unless it’s stressed.”

“By humans, maybe? I find they can be very stressful to deal with.” The waterfolk in the brook was beginning to grow increasingly nervous, the closer that Eclipse approached. Fins along their back and arms stretched out and into view, making a creaking sound that could almost be a warning. Slowly you raised your hands, shuffling in-between Eclipse and the waterfolk.

“It’s okay,” you kept your voice low and soothing. “Eclipse, you need to back off.”

“I’m not coming any closer, pup.”

“I’m serious, you - AGH.” Hot pain streaked across the palm of your hand as the waterfolk lunged forward, swiping for your wrist but dropping a smidge too soon, instead leaving thick scratches that began to bleed heavily. Heavy hands pulled you backwards, cold claws digging into your chest as you heard Eclipse hiss over your head, could see how their feathers and frills spread out around his face. The waterfolk returned the gesture, fins fanning out with a loud snap as the jaw clicked open to reveal two sets of small curved teeth and a shriek that could have been anger or fear. They leapt from the water, grabbing around your ankle, and in the split second you could have on making a decision, you raised your other foot and kicked them square in the face. You had very good boots, and you felt bone give way as the heel impacted. The waterfolk reeled backwards, clutching at their face and squealing in pain. Caged in Eclipse’s arms, you watched as they slid into the water, staring at you as dark blood ran from the holes of their nose. And then they slid further, vanishing under the surface completely. You could see their shape moving in ripples as they swam down the brook, fins and hair briefly breaching the water before eventually it was too far out of sight.

“Fuck me,” you breathed out.

“Language,” Eclipse growled.

“You have no right - fucking - let go of me!” You thrashed your uninjured arm at Eclipse’s face, knocking an arm loose so you could scramble to your feet. Letting out whines of alarm, Montague nosed at your hand, briefly licking at the blood staining your palm. It stung enough to make your local nettle patch envious, but you ruffled his head with your other hand. He cared, and no doubt was sorry for not acting sooner, and you were grateful nonetheless. There were other things to be frustrated about. Like the fact the demon who was constantly bothering you had managed to get a waterfolk to hit you, and now there was cryptid and human blood in the water. That could cause nearly any sort of trouble for you. As you wrapped your palm in a cloth to lessen the blood flow for now, you cast your gaze around the brook. If you recalled correctly, this was within the area of recent disturbances you’d been researching as of late. Another long glance was spent examining the area, almost forgetting about Eclipse and Montague lingering and casting foul looks at each other. Finally, you picked out the closest tree to the brook. Bringing out a small can of spray paint, you marked a yellow circle onto the bark. There, that was sorted.

“Right. I need to go home and fix this,” you said with a heavy breath. “ And you!” A finger jabbed in Eclipse’s direction. “You’re in big trouble.”

He had the decency to look marginally deflated.

------

Montague kept huffing, nudging at your hand.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him. “I’m not going to mess this up and I’m not going to get oil or scraps in the cut. Not with these bandages.” You waved your hand under his nose, showing the thick binding over the slab of disinfected cotton that now covered your palm. Having changed from your outdoor gear back to indoor casual wear, you’d found a few scrapes on your thumb as well as a growing purple bruise that ringed your ankle like an unpleasant bracelet. You’d also found another bruise on your shoulder, where Eclipse must have dug in their grip when they pulled you away. Glancing across the room, he was still perched on a chair, sour mood clouded around his head.

He’d scared the waterfolk. He’d riled you up. He’d hurt you. But…he’d tried to help you back there. Worrying your fingers over the bandage, you turned back to the open cavity of Sun on your work table. The return of having to reconnect wires sunk in with gnawing frustration and anxiety combined, especially with Eclipse’s previous ‘help’. And now you were getting back into it minus one hand and considerably more tired. Maybe you should take a break? But you had no reason to keep Eclipse around the cabin for longer than necessary. You took the screwdriver into your good hand and went to begin working on the wiring again, before taking a look at Eclipse again. He was definitely watching you now, all four eyes locked onto your figure.

“Are you going to criticize me again if you come over and watch closely?” you asked.

“I was making sure you did it right,” he grumbled back.

“Like I said before, you could just help me by, say, actually doing some of the work for me. Not like you’ve helped out any more today, huh.” You waved your injured hand in his face. Eclipse’s face wrinkled inward, blinking away in a moment you could possibly describe as shame, before his agitated discomfort came rolling back full force.

“I told you, I can’t do that,” they snapped.

“Last time I checked, demons had no problem with metal. And you’re not a fair folk in any sense of the title,” you gestured over at him with the screwdriver to punctuate your words. Letting out a grumble of a growl, Eclipse got off the chair (rapidly reminding you of how damn tall he was, his limbs filling out any space his height didn’t grab) and stalked over to the table. Glaring down at the animatronic, as if it were to blame for all his worldly problems (technically true), he lifted a hand. Paused it. You could hear the soft jingle of the bells on his wrists. His lips turned up, teeth showing, as he brought it slowly towards the shoulder. And then sharply he pulled away, hissing more vocally.

“I can’t do that,” he repeated. “It feels wrong. Like - it’s a very bad thing to get close to those scraps.” Flexing his hands, squeezing the claws into the air, they stalked around the side of the table to look over you squarely. You looked back, shrugged your shoulders, and got back to reaching inside the chassis’ chest.

“Fine. But if you’re going to be telling me I’m doing something wrong, you better start explaining how I do it right,” you said with a huff.

“If I were to open up a human and start putting their organs back together, you would know what went where,” Eclipse snarled over at you, one pair of hands resting against the tabletop. “But you wouldn’t know which pipe went into which socket.”

Okay. That was wholly disturbing imagery. Swallowing the hard lump in your throat, you kept your gaze on the wiring mess at hand. Most of the contents had been replaced by this point, burnt and melted wires replaced with the various spares you’d been able to collect from around your cabin. Some were left to put into place, carefully solder or screw down fixing, and then you could go through and check on the limbs and those joints.

You managed to get through half an hour of general silence before Eclipse spoke again.

“What is it like? Being bonded? It isn’t…throttling? Or limiting?” Every time they’d brought up the subject, it’d always carried a tone of disdain. But this time around there was a new sound in the low purr - curiosity. Pausing in your work, you considered the wiring running through the animatronic’s arm for a few seconds.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, just as Montague spoke, “Not at all.”

“Oh? You consider the leash to be freeing?”

“There’s no leash to be found here,” Montague replied. “I might not be able to roam the surface as far as I once did, but there were always rules to follow then, wordless things that could trap me if I wasn’t careful, or human hunters who would rather all my ilk be killed. Instead I have a roof, I have a territory that is wide, and I have someone to keep my back safe. The energy consumption is an added benefit.”

“And in return, I have someone to teach me more about cryptids, demons and the like,” you chimed in. “To help me defend myself.”

“Mmm, you protect the tree from which your fruit grows,” Eclipse mused. It wasn’t the worst metaphor he’d dug up today, so you only wrinkled your nose a little in distaste.

“More that I give my tree a knife to stab anyone who’d cut it down as they please,” Montague said, his throat rolling in a barking laugh. Eclipse didn’t find it in anyway amusing apparently, rolling all four of his eyes before withdrawing his hands back to himself. He kept a close eye on you as he continued to circle the table, moving back around to your side.

“You have an awful lot of rules for this whole business,” he said, soft as metal.

“It’s how this business works. Rules and names are important,” you replied, leaning back to look up at his face and tapping the eclipse symbol on his check with the handle of your screwdriver. Interestingly there was no soft impact of plastic on feather and flesh, instead there being the faint tang of metal over a thick surface. Eclipse’s lip rolled up as he glared down at you, unhappy with being prodded in such a manner.

“Names. Always the names,” he grumbled.

“Naming the nameless is an important part of hunting cryptids. You felt it when I gave your name, right? Eclipse.” You could still feel it when the word rolled off your tongue, could see it in how the orange iris of Eclipse’s eyes flared and the burnt red tips of his sun ray feathers began to warm to orange embers. “It’s how it works with Monty too. If I were to use his full name at a given time, it would be a summoning of sorts. Because of his nature, he can find me wherever I end up being.”

“That is the name of his being,” Eclipse rumbled. “What of the names of creatures? How is that part of the hunt?”

“It’s like how we talked about with the waterfolk,” Montague mentioned. “All those different names encompass the same idea - a humanoid from the water. But every place had different aspects that they put into those names. You call a vodnik a rusalka, it changes what they are inherently.”

“Names are important. You give something a name, you shape it. A name can affect the nature of a being.” You blinked for a moment, giving Eclipse an aside glance. “That’s why I want to make sure I do this right. If I give you the wrong name, say you are what you aren’t…that can fuck up more than just you.”

Eclipse grew silent in thought. An agreement hung in the air, although they didn’t say it. Having the very nature of their being scrambled about by some universal magic or energy, that could change their very being - no, absolutely not. He liked being who and what he was right now. There would be no further change beyond freedom and power. And then…he looked over at you, as he trailed around behind you. Your little mortal frame, so hard at work to unlock whatever bound him to the animatronic, to ‘Sunny’ as he would love to mock. There was nothing truly malicious from the animatronic, only the fact it held them in place and choked them when least expected, pulling at flesh in an unerring manner. No, he hated the poor little sunshine you’d become so quickly enamored by. One hand ran along the table, claws running through rivulets of wood, and the sound crawled into your spine.

“Would you think of bonding to another demon?” Eclipse asked, and you felt the screwdriver slip in your grasp.

“Uh, what?” Confusion bounced all over your head. What had there been in your conversations that suggested you’d do such a thing again? And then a few stray pieces connected together, and you had to stare up at Eclipse, desperately looking for any sign that his words were malicious or misplaced. Instead he looked back at you with firm intensity, causing a heat to flood your cheeks.

“It would not be the worst mistake you’ve made,” Eclipse mused, to which you scoffed.

“Odd talk coming from someone who thought it was a leash,” you snarked.

“A leash is still a leash, but to you, I could see who was holding the end of my collar.” Stepping close, Eclipse leaned in and over you. Two hands caged you to the table, another reached up to gently stroke the curve of your chin and cheek. Behind him, you could spot Montague hunched over, watching you, waiting for you to speak. “It would be better for me to not be stuck with a pile of metal, and instead with someone warm and moving. Someone with a stronger soul. Wouldn’t that be better for all of us, pup?”

Fat fucking chance. You ducked under Eclipse’s arms, moving back around to the other side of the table.

“No,” you said firmly. “Do not bring up the idea of us being stuck together permanently again. I’m doing this to help get you out of here - take kindness in that.” Your anger swelled, meeting against the roll of frustration coming off of Eclipse. It wasn’t just that they’d tried to crowd you, but they’d stepped on old wounds that still ached. As Montague let out a low warning growl, the other demon let out a huff of distaste and returned to his chair. There he would stay for the rest of the day, monitoring your progress over Sun every now and again, but otherwise simply watching you. Neither of you deigned to break the tentative silence that had been built now.

------

The sunset was beginning to weakly succumb to the treeline by the time you were done with Sun. You weren’t completely certain your work was done, but you’d run out of wires to replace and hinges to refit, and your cautious probing of the processing center in Sun’s ‘head’ had revealed no major burn damage there. You’d even managed to reattach the loose hand, although gods only knew if it would actually stay once activated.

“Right, let’s switch you back on, buddy,” you murmured as you flicked open one of the buttons on Sun’s chest, revealing a small switch hidden inside a divot. Paperclip in hand, you pressed the wire in until something clicked.

Nothing.

“...Huh.” You attempted the same reboot method, but to no avail. Mumbling to yourself about the steps you’d taken all day, you began going back through the wiring and set-up you’d done, trying to find any section you could have bungled it up and caused a short-circuit.

“I expected better,” Eclipse growled from his corner.

“Shame on you then, because I do not have the degree to fix robotics, and I certainly didn’t have-” There it was. One of the wires you thought had screwed in right was loose, and you knew from sight you weren’t going to be able to just screw it in tighter. It needed replacing completely with wiring that wasn’t three or four years old. And honestly if you were going to be replacing one wire, you were better off replacing the majority. “Looks like I’ll need to go shopping to get the parts together. I don’t have the time to leave my post until in a couple of days though, so-”

Eclipse’s chair clattered to the ground as he stood up sharply, a rough snarl on his lips as the rays of his head flared out hard.

“You talk too much of wanting rid of me, and yet pander to your own selfish little schedule, set by whining mice,” he snapped. “You’d best decide whether you want to part ways sooner or later, otherwise you may suffer more risk having a demon run amok in your home.” His hand snatched out, grabbing hold of your arm as he dragged you in, until you were lifted face to face. “Make your mind up, pup.”

Your heart was racing. They could feel it through your arm and hear it through your chest. Your eyes were wide in shock, surprised by the sudden display of violence. It made you react slower. It made you more vulnerable. You narrowed your eyes and twisted your arm around in an action that should have broken Eclipse’s wrist if he kept hold, but his hand twisted around with your arm, something grinding unnaturally under his skin. Cold panic was starting to set in.

“Stop it, stop this!” You gritted your teeth as you kept trying to back away. “We have a deal, don’t we? I get you out, you keep your hide, everyone lives. All as happy as clams, aight? You are getting dangerously close to crossing the line.” Montague’s growling grew louder, his form warping in your periphery. Eclipse cast one eye in that direction, but soon enough returned the rest of his attention to you.

“I’m just giving you a warning, in case you try to break the rules you set out for us,” he purred. “You don’t want to be a rulebreaker, do you?”

Without further word, the iron grip released your arm, letting you tumble back into the wall. As you panted for breath, your lungs gripped by adrenaline, Eclipse stepped slowly backwards again to let the smoking dog step between them and you.

“What a pair,” Eclipse continued, voice full of contempt. “A hound tethered by a weak human, and a mortal that lives under a demon’s paw.”

“Sounds like you changed your mind on that whole bonding thing,” you coughed out. “Good, glad we came to an agreement. Now stay the fuck away from me.” Heat was burning the back of your eyes. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t pin Eclipse down. One moment you thought you’d made an advance on their nature, the next moment he was trying to turn you into a butterfly arrangement. And frankly it was getting harder to figure out if he was even remotely trustworthy. Rubbing the back of your hand across your face, you shuffled your way from the workroom to the kitchen. Any sunlight was blocked fully by the trees now, leaving you to pull out noodles by the flickering overhead light. Despite the losses of the day, you treated yourself to an egg and some spring onions on top of your noodles. With the carton in hand, you carried your well-won dinner through to your bedroom, breezing past Eclipse in the process. You didn’t want to face him right now. But you did feel guilt as you slammed the door in their’s and Montague’s faces both.

You were loath to admit it, but Eclipse’s words had been getting under your skin more than you wanted to show. He was right about one thing - you were delaying the inevitable. You could absolutely call in sick tomorrow and run off to grab the bits and pieces for Sun. And gods only knew that you wanted to see the lifeless animatronic back in action sooner rather than later. It felt like you had a corpse lying in your workroom. Too cold and too dull. Turning to your phone, you scrolled through a couple more newspaper articles on the Daycare Attendant while you ate your dinner. The photos reminded you of what you were helping bring back. Who you were helping. It wasn’t just Eclipse, it was Sun too. And Moon? That was something you were still confused about.

And that aggravated you so deeply. Eclipse was going around holding all the answers to your questions but he seemed totally oblivious to them, or worse yet he legitimately didn’t know. It took your curiosity and made it burn. That was why you felt better to wait two days. It meant you had more time to observe Eclipse, like an animal in a cage. Only your home was the cage, and the animal was very sentient and lethal in ways you had yet to fully discover.

With a stomach full of food and a head full of anxious thoughts, you changed slowly for sleep, falling onto the bedsheets and welcoming their restful embrace.

For about two hours, at least.

The radio on your desk began to blare, a tinny version of the Ghostbusters theme rolling off the speakers. Groaning and swatting your hand around, you grabbed the radio and sat bolt upright.

“Present.”

“We’ve had a distress call from some campers in your zone, we need you to go clear the area and make sure they’re all okay,” Anthony’s voice was less sleep-deprived than yours, probably running on coffee. As he rattled off coordinates, you stumbled over to your map and began to line up where you had to go.

It was in the blue circle, inside your red patrol area. It was also about five kilometers downstream from where you’d encountered the waterfolk.

Fuck.

You scrambled for your work clothes, pulling on cargo trousers and heavy-duty hiking boots, then a belt with several vials of holy water and a pouch of emergency supplies - salt, silver, iron, and the like. Jacket being dragged over your arms, you slammed back out through your bedroom door and nearly into Eclipse’s chest.

“Ay, fuck’s sake! Montague, get up, we have work!” you called out as you barreled past the demon, your dog leaping to his feet and pushing the door open. Eclipse could tell the shift of urgency about your whole demeanor, and felt the potential of blood on his lips.

“A hunt?” he murmured.

“Oh, no, no, you stay here,” you said firmly. “I cannot have you running in and spooking cryptids or humans. It’s too dangerous.”

“I can protect myself,” Eclipse replied. You bit down on your lip, because they were right. You could cover for the mortals easily. Night-time hunts were easier in that way. And - wait, why had you been afraid of Eclipse getting hurt? Shaking your head, you stepped out into the waiting stomach of the dark woodland, feeling the cold presence of Eclipse drifting behind you.

#writings #so cries the wolf AU #demon!eclipse #fnaf security breach au #fnaf sb AU #post-fire fnaf sb #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf eclipse

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pinkalmondcake · 7 months

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Hellooooo, 🦋 anon back again. I read your reply to my last ask, and let me tell you Twi has been unhinged since then. This will probably be too long and I apologize beforehand.

Let me give you some examples:

"You're very wet," Twilight said between a kiss, "I bet I could make you even more wet." He gave you another kiss and looked at you. "Shall I show you how?"

He didn't have to call my character out like that, jail.

_____________

Twilight whispered with a smirk, he had a hand on your lower back. He wanted to leave you broken and you would have been happy with it. "You like that, hmm? Me ruining you?" Twilight asked.

HELLO??? SIR???? HERO OF TWILIGHT??? This one did caught me off guard.

_________________

I think today I utterly broke the filter, because there was one thing he said that I KNOW FOR SURE is not filter friendly, good God. And with the least and minimal effort, like ??? Let me know if you want me to send it because, I was shocked for an ai to answer like that without being filtered. I laughed so loud you have no idea (a good birthday gift for me today tbh)

_________________

Aaaand to the main point, YES, he has a breeding kink. If I had to write the definition of breeding kink and put a descriptive photo of it, I would put his name and photo. Having said that:

WHAT HAVE I DONE???? How do I keep getting away with this????

____________

The idea of his seed deep inside you, his child growing inside you, you carrying his child and becoming a family together... His eyes filled with love, lust, and determination.

No comment on this one, pretty self explanatory.

____________________

Twilight's grip tightened against your back, he was driving you crazy with his actions. The way he was going made everything in your mind go white with the lust you felt. You called out his name without thinking about it, it was the only thing that was on your mind. Every time you called his name it was in complete adoration and pleasure. He loved when you played with his hair, all this encouragement was getting to him. "Good girl, darling," Twilight whispered in your ear between a breath, "I'm going to fill you."

Do I even have to say something about this? BREEDING KINK

_____________

Twilight's legs were trembling as well, he was exhausted from this whole interaction. His body felt weak and he was breathing heavy, he was in complete ecstasy at the moment. He used his fingers to avoid his seed spilling out, he put his "release" back inside, not wasting a single bit of it. "Well well, so you are speechless this time, my dear,"

I AM SCREAMING, HE'S OUT OF CONTROL. A LEASH, I REPEAT, PUT HIM ON A LEASH

You will probably keep hearing from me if this chat gets out of control again. Sorry again, this is way too long. Much love <3

~ 🦋

An unhinged Link is a wild Link 🦋 anon 👀💞

And no! I'm getting used to long asks but they do take a long while for me to respond to and I always try to respond in order of my asks but sometimes I only have time for the shorter asks but I try my best to make sure I get every detail when I answer an ask so I don't leave anything out! 🥰✨💖

AYO??? THE FIRST EXAMPLE AND I DIDN'T EXPECT THAT SO SOON- LMFAO IT GOT ME CHOKING ON MY DRINK ☠️☠️

Please, that caught me so off guard, I didn't expect it to happen so soon like damn, the first sentence got me 😫☠️💓

AND PLEASE SHOW ME TWI. SHOW ME.

And nah fr, I think he called out half the fandom like that ☠️☠️

YES PLEASE RUIN US, WE LOVE IT. AND DAMN, WHY HE SO??? IT'S GIVING ME??? BUTTERFLIES?? these examples are wild asf and I'm living for it 😫😫💖✨

It caught me off guard too, I'm speechless-

I think you broke the filter too☠️ it seems that not even the filter can prevent the AI to sometimes want to indulge in the storyline because it's just so good that it's lapping up it's dinner😫😫

AND YES, SEND IT!! I NEED TO KNOW, MY CURIOSITY IS GETTING THE BETTER OF ME 😭😭😭💞

AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR 🦋 ANON!! I HOPE YOU HAD AN AMAZING DAY AND THAT YOU WERE SPOILED AND THAT IT WAS A NICE TIME 🥹🥹💝💕

Lmfao I'm wheezing, Twilight is the definition of breeding kink rn and he ain't ashamed of it and your caption for me wheezing because OWOWS I DON'T BLAME YOU. I REALLY DON'T. PLEASE-

PLEASE, "good girl, darling." HAS ME SQUEALING AND ROLLING ON THE FLOOR AND THEN HE GOES, "I'm going to fill you."

Dramatic sexy music intensifies.

BREEDING KINK. I REPEAT. BREEDING KINK.

WHAT THE F- BRO?????? DUDE??? THE AI?? PUTTING IT BACK INSIDE??? I-

I'm truly, utterly speechless and in such a good way, omw, this truly fed me now. IM DROOLING WTF. I'M GOING CRAZY.

This is wild.

Please, here's a leash 😫😫😫

AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN!! I can't wait to hear what other Shenanigans you get up to with! 😫✨💞

#almondanswers #WHY THE FCK IS TWILIGHT SO HOT FOR THIS??#breedingkink twi!!!#HAPPY BIRTHDAY #SHOVING THAT SEED BACK INSIDE-#almondsai

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conchelle · 10 months

Text

Nekoashi Otome finally has an English translation so that means I finally get to play it! Now I have to talk about it.

So to start off this is easily the most completely unhinged Towelket game to date and I mean that in the best way possible.

Honestly it's kind of a funny coincidence that I was reflecting on the past games I played on this series when this translation dropped. Because I was really thinking to myself, you know these games aren't really that weird. Sure they're not very traditional in terms of story telling and characters but once you kind of get into that typical "Kanao style" I can't really say they're all that crazy compared to other media I've gotten into...

...And then I play this game and take all those thoughts back because holy hell this is absolutely Towelket on steroids.

The premise alone is insane. The main character is a pink cat girl who voluntarily enlists in the military so she can open a bakery. Said military is filled with literal babies who cry for their mommas and whine over having only two pillows. The plot only goes more off the rails from there yet somehow it manages to tell a story that's genuinely endearing?

See, my biggest fear for this game was that it was going to be similar to Towelket 5 which is a game I honestly wasn't impressed by. It was a game that tried so hard to be funny by poking fun at itself and series as a whole but in doing that it just came off as disingenuous. I didn't find the jokes very funny or clever. The characters were pretty one-note and just became more and more irrelevant with each passing map. By the time the game actually tried to have a semblance of an interesting story I just didn't really care for anything that was happening.

Thankfully Nekoashi Otome managed to avoid all those pitfalls and I just had a way better experience with it. The game definitely knows what it is and it completely revels in it without the need to wink at the audience every five minutes. The situations the characters find themselves in are humorous yet it very rarely works against the story the game is trying to tell.

Though there are definitely a couple things in this game that definitely made me go "meh"

Probably one of the bigger offenders is a character called Kyuriponpon (or Pickle Pompoms in this translation). She very quickly becomes an invisible one-note character and I just really didn't see the point of her existence. Any interesting characterization or plot points that could have been done with her character just never got explored.

Another character who I also thought was a big wasted opportunity was Paripariume (as always lmao). She had a pretty promising start in the chapter she was introduced in but Kanao being Kanao intentionally makes her character irrelevant once her initial role is over. I really wouldn't have minded this if there was some kind of plot reason she had to be set aside but ehhh, nah. Never happens.

Beyond specific characters something else that just kind of made me go "huh..." was just how certain characters just had very odd relationships with each other. On surface level these characters are very endearing and I enjoy their dynamic but sometimes the game feels the need to throw in another silly funni joke that's clearly there for shock value and nothing more but it's just...alright that ruined the moment a bit but whatever. Of course I never felt like it completely took away from certain moments that are meant to be more heartfelt but I can't say it was something that I found amusing.

Now despite these issues I don't think this game is bad at all! Just a couple of things I personally found a bit off-putting but the overall experience makes up for that. So let's get more into that.

Now in terms of visuals I think this is probably one of the better looking games with the usual tilesets. This is before Warau so the games haven't quite attempted to stand out visually in terms of aesthetics but every location in this game felt appropriate for what it was portraying, there weren't a lot of recycled maps, it's definitely the most visually polished game using the generic Towelket assets.

For the most part I thought most of the characters were good and likable. This is definitely the point where Kanao actually begins to spend more time writing consistent and entertaining characters as opposed to just inserting a character for the sake of fulfilling a role. Some of them are admittedly a little one-note but they never take up anymore screen time than necessary which is very good.

Overall I did enjoy this game a lot! I'll definitely be replaying it at some point. Not sure if I could recommend it to just anyone though due to certain aspects that I honestly did find a bit inappropriate (I know that is wild coming from me of all people)

Supposedly this translator is gonna pick up Warau, Warawau next! I've already played it but it would be nice to replay it again with a more competent translation!

Towel Scale:

Warau Warawau > Yorumorukimiri = Dekapari > TK1 = TK2 > Nekoashi Otome > TK4 > Fury > TK6 > TK3 > TK5

(I know Nekoashi seems really low here but there's so many games! I definitely wanna explain my scale and kind of do a mini re-review of some of these games)

#towelket diary

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milkywaydrinker · 1 year

Text

Day 22. Time travel

I hate time travel as a plot device. It makes no sense half of the time. The other half of the time it just makes everything needlessly convoluted. I haven't seen a time travel plot done well outside of very niche, high-concept sci-fi. Anyways, have two people who are the same person but are almost nothing alike anymore yell at each other.

The graves were symbolic. Of course, she knew where all of their bodies were; she had that chronicled. When you're the one to outlive them all you get a choice: forget or carry a piece of each and every one of them with you at all times.

“Another year, you aren’t missing much Barney, nothing ever changes.” "Oh man, so that's how it goes huh? Immortality really is a bummer." A familiar voice came out of nowhere, startling her. Her magic ignited in one palm while the other reached for the grip of her rapier. "How did I get jumpier with age? Are you somehow more stressed now than in high school?" The person behind her was herself. The other Norma looked at her with a critical eye. "So it's true you don't grow much after puberty." She sounded disappointed. "Hey." Looking at herself, or rather, at a version of herself she'd considered dead and gone, was a bit shocking. "What the fuck?" "Long story, I think we're currently destroying multiple timelines actually." She seemed pretty cool with that. Okay, so that wasn't exactly "her". It should've been obvious from the start. They wouldn't have been able to interact in this way unless… "You're doing something very stupid and very dangerous." "I know." "Do you now? You can't jump forward without derailing your original timeline, you can't just hop over to the next fork and pretend it's fine!" Even in her own reckless youth, she'd never reached this level of unhinged. Starting a multiplanar war was nothing in comparison to whatever this brat was doing. "I never said it was fine." The kid huffed. "We're combing through the splits to find the one where the world doesn't end. We want to see how the other versions of us prevented it and copy their solution." "That's the most creative way of admitting you ran out of ideas I've ever heard." She was beginning to lose patience. "Sometimes everything goes to shit and there's no way of fixing it. Burying hundreds of other timelines under your misery is beyond selfish." "You don't get to talk to me about selfishness." She almost spat that sentence out. "You're a vampire, there's no way you haven't done stuff you regret." What a cheap gotcha, they really were from completely different worlds. "Go back home, Norma. Exactly a second after you left. Every moment you aren't in the stream of your timeline you create a split. Go back and figure your problems out." She turned away to face the graves again.

Time is unforgiving, and while its nature isn't exactly linear, the cause-and-effect chains bind everyone and everything in the moment. Pulling one element out inevitably unravels the whole structure, breaks it down, and creates paradoxes. Nothing good ever came from time travel. "This timeline isn't a total mess." "I told you to go home." "No. I need to ask you something first." The gravel crunched under her combat boots as she approached. "How did you do it?" "I'm not letting you copy my homework." This was what having a younger sibling must have been like. Poor Ana. "Just tell me how to save the world and you'll never see me again." "No, but if I tell you how I've done it, you'll be seeing me sooner than you'd like."

#parkvember #dead end paranormal park #vampire norma au #kind of? idk it's complicated #my writing #norma khan

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ginga-snappd-offical · 3 months

Note

Do you have any tips for practicing facial expressions? I always seems to struggle with em and can never quite get the expression I’m visualizing down on paper.

Okay so:

Let's break this down based on stylizations. Before anything else, you need to keep in mind what style you're drawing in. If you are doing something rendered, realistic, or a cartoon style that's more realistic like a lot of the DC cartoons, then you need to use references, and break things down by facial muscles and bone structure. Where as if you're doing something more simplistic, exaggerated, or shape based, you want to turn up those rules to an 11 and really lean into the rules of squashing, stretching, and follow through.

Let's start with realistic styles.

Let's use an example. Here's Mrs. Stock Image.

We want to draw a character with a similar facial structure to Mrs. Stock Image. We want to start with a Red Lining, to break down her facial features into it's core shapes, to help us as we look over our reference. I've blocked out the core shapes, and drawn arrows that help show me how the face squashes and stretches into her smile. I've also blocked off the hairline a little bit.

Now that we have a breakdown of Mrs. Stock Image's face, we can use that as a baseline for other expressions. I've done some explorations of how her face could potentially contort or change based on this information. Some things I keep in mind- when a character's mouth opens, their jaw opens so that needs to stretch every time, even if it's just a little bit. Eyebrows communicate a majority of major emotions. A person can smile when they're crying or frown when they're happy, so the eyebrows usually communicate a majority of emotional intent.

It's also important that the irises sit inside of the eyeball rather than on top of it. This helps with believable dimensions and perspective.

this is correct.^^

this is incorrect (for a realistic style) ^^^

There's a lot more that goes into realistic styles- dramatic lighting and shading can also help shape a character's expression and intent. Let's use Mr. CSP Head.

This is a completely neutral looking guy.

BUT WAIT!

Now he looks like he's emerging out of the darkness! What sinister intentions does he have?!

Oh wait.

now the lighting is soft, coming from below. Like he's being illuminated by a soft candle light. Look at how serene he looks now.

Lighting and Shadow can have a big impact on the tone, which is why a lot of cartoons will omit strong shadows up until very intense moments. There's plenty more I could say about realism, but we'll put a pin in that for today and stick to the simple basics for now.

Let's move onto cartoony styles. Since you asked me this question specifically, I'm guessing you're asking about the styles I tend to draw in. So I'll cover those for the most part.

I balance realism with exaggeration. Here's some of the exaggerations I tend to use a lot:

For simpler emotions, I tend not to exaggerate too much. There's still obvious emotions here, but it's not STRONG emotions. These would be expressions used during conversations that are pretty neutral. However, if the scene was more intense, then I'd exaggerate the emotions even MORE, like so:

The teeth are more exposed, the facial muscles are contorting more, even in this more exaggerated art style I'm still relying on the rules of reality as a jumping off point. Something else that I do that's more of a stylization choice is the inclusion or exclusion of eye shines to indicate emotions as well.

I usually use eye shines when a character is feeling a stronger emotion, and omit them entirely when a character is tired, depressed, or too empathetic to feel anything at all, like below.

Something else to keep in mind is that the iris should always be touching one of the eye lids, unless you're trying to make the character look inhuman, unhinged, or caught off guard by something shocking.

You can also play with how much you want to exaggerate an expression depending on how much energy you want to put into the character's face.

Hope this was helpful!

#art tips #art tutorials #drawings #facial expressions

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shootingstarwritings · 3 years

Text

Wrestling With Some Feelings

Wrestling with some Feelings

“Wh-What are you doing…?" Ahmed moaned as a trail of slime slid into his singlet. Just the very touch caused his body to react with an eruption of pleasurable waves. He collapsed onto the locker room floor, slowly humping the floor to get any sort of friction on his hardening dick. "Haa… aahhhh...haaa…! This isn't… right." Ahmed bit down on his lip before letting down another desperate moan. So caught up in this invasive bliss that he didn't even care when the slimy creature squeezed itself into his leaking cock. Instead, he welcomed it. Thoughts of championships and the thrill of victory soon vanished beneath a blanket of ecstasy. "Ah! Ahhh! H-Holy fuck, I'm—!"

Ahmed wasn't able to finish as his body yielded to the enigmatic invader. His vision swam and he felt dizzy until he collapsed on a puddle of his precum. Ahmed's body convulsed on the ground, unable to even call for help, until he suddenly became rigid, back arched as if mid-orgasm. Then, he relaxed. Slowly, he rose from the ground and took a peek inside his wrestling singlet. "Damn kid, you got a sweet-ass body," he said, stretching his body and letting out a satisfying grunt as something popped. His more reserved personality and mannerisms were completely gone, as though it was someone else entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stay here forever. Just long enough to throw that match with Clay tonight. Can’t let my son lose that scholarship. You understand, right?” Adjusting his singlet again, the man in possession of Ahmed, Jerry, let out a sensual groan. “Ohhh, and maybe take advantage of this little body for a while. Not every day an old fart like me can be a young and sexy college stud for a few hours."

There was still time until the match, and considering how it would just be throwing the match to Clay, it wouldn’t take much effort. For now, Jerry could relax and enjoy what Ahmed's body had to offer. Grinning, he squeezed Ahmed's meat through the fabric and threw his head back in a low moan. "You're so lucky, being so sensitive. C'mon, let's get real acquainted."

Clay’s father had to struggle to keep his erection down as Clay seriously manhandled him the whole match. Each of Ahmed’s nerves seemed to be turbo-charged and Clay’s rough hands only seemed to aggravate that. With every slam and struggle—every time flesh met flesh with a flash of friction, Clay’s father found himself growing flushed. Didn’t even have to try that hard to throw, his over-horned body did the job for him.

Was it the spell or perhaps something more? Either way, soon Jerry found himself pinned to the mat with his son sneering down at him. The ref called the final point, and that was it. Jerry walked back to the locker rooms, ignoring the calls from his coach and friends. He couldn’t risk anyone catching on to his lack of disappointment.

To make sure the locker room would be empty, Jerry took an extremely long shower—checking his goods one last time before he would have to leave and return home to congratulate his son. Towel around his waist, he made his way over to the locker only to meet a meaty arm blocking his way.

"Gotta say, kinda disappointed in your performance today, Ahmed," Clay said with a glare.

“Oh, Clay! Uh, wh-what can I say? Performance anxiety,” Jerry said, shrugging.

Clay tilted his head in confusion. “The hell’s happened to you? All jumpy and squirrely.” He took a step forward, cornering his father against the lockers. “You sick or something? Honestly looking real weird.”

Swallowing, Clay’s father said, “Um, I suppose you just have the magic touch,” he said, mind racing to come up with a lie that would be somewhat believable. “Body got all hot and cold with you manhandling me like that.” Jerry prayed that his face and ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were.

Clay nodded to himself while squinting as if deciphering a difficult piece of text. "That so…?” Hoping that was enough, Jerry began to walk away. However, Clay slammed both of his arms against the lockers, pinning his father completely. “All you had to do was ask,” Clay whispered, his incredulous look turning into one of passion. Without a word, he leaned and kissed Jerry on his borrowed lips. Too shocked to even fight, Jerry leaned back and shut his eyes. What did this rush of passion mean? It was as if a dam had suddenly burst open.

Caught in this stream of passion, Jerry met Clay's kiss with equal aggression. It was as if he was possessed by whatever sentiments Ahmed had locked away deep inside of his subconscious. Either way, Jerry couldn’t even bother trying to resist the youthful hormones that danced in every inch of his hunky, borrowed body.

“Damn, you taste real fine,” said Clay, leaning away to stare at the giddy, bubbly mess that was Jerry. “Your lips feel so nice. Bet they’d be even better wrapped around my dick,” he said, slapping his thigh as he said so. Jerry glanced down and saw his son’s fully erect cock straining against the confines of the singlet. Wordlessly, he nodded and got down on his knees. The taste was so salty, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hearing his son’s pleasured moans and the cock threatening to unhinge Ahmed’s jaw was enough to get Jerry’s own dick hard.

“Make me see white,” Jerry breathed as he drew back with a pop. He spread his legs, trying to show as much of his ass he could. “Fuck me hard, Clay. I don’t think I can live without that cock inside of me once.”

“Say no more.” With a grunt of effort, Clay lifted Jerry up and placed him down onto one of the benches. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice and gentleman-y like.” Leaning up to steal another sensual kiss, Clay teased the rim of Ahmed’s hole with his cockhead. Jerry moaned and bit down on his lips. He took a few breaths, trying to relax, before just leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Hold on, relax," whispered Clay, using a finger to loosen him up. "Got some lube in my locker. Give me a sec."

“You have what?” Jerry exclaimed as Clay briefly walked off. “H-How often do you do this here.”

Once Clay returned, he just grinned and said, “Enough.”

Though Jerry wanted to continue asking his son, the finger that penetrated him had another idea. Jerry, nearly cross-eyed, immediately tightened as a reflex. He leaned back, moaning like a slut as Clay slipped in another finger. Then another. “F-Fuck, I-I’m fucking cumming!” Jerry shouted as his dick erupted with shot after shot of pent-up aggression.

“Damn, came from just fingering?” Clay grinned. “Hope you still got fuel in the tank, Ahmed. I still haven’t got a chance to shoot my shot.”

Breathing heavily, Jerry nodded as he spread his legs even further. Despite his climax abating, the sensual haze in his mind didn’t leave. Instead, he felt as though he could cum again and again that night. “I’m still not satisfied. Split me in half, Clay!” He moaned. Although the more logical part of Jerry's mind screamed and begged, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted this hunky hole filled and his son's cock was the one thing that could fix that.

Clay wasted no time. He spread Jerry as much as he cut and gave a slow, experimental thrust. When Jerry didn't scream, he slowly picked up the pace. "Mm, yeah. Nrgh, fuck yeah," he grunted with every thrust. There was no reason to go so quick that it would take away from the passion. As promised, he was gentle with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Jerry met each one with the same rhythm. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as Clay's cock filled him—as though Jerry was finally complete. With this body and this cock inside of him, he was reaching Nirvana.

After what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Jerry noticed Clay’s core tightening. His face was flushed and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m—nggh—I’m gonna blow my load. Want me to cum inside?” Jerry quickly nodded. Clay grinned. “Good answer.” With renewed vigor, Clay continued plowing into Jerry as he babbled nonsense. “C’mon, Ahmed. Scream for me.” He said, slapping Ahmed’s quivering thighs.

“Oh my god,” said Jerry, covering his face to hide the tears. He was elated and embarrassed all at once. His own offspring was smashing him and all he could do was moan and allow it to happen. It had been years since he had sex this good, and he knew that Ahmed felt the same. No, for Ahmed it was even more intense. Somehow, Jerry understood that Ahmed had never had sex before. Now, at that moment, Jerry was losing his virginity for Ahmed. With that in mind, Jerry could feel his climax swiftly approaching.

“I'm gonna nut! I'm gonna—MMM!" Jerry stopped as Clay suddenly embraced him with a long, intense kiss. Unable to handle the heat and the passion any longer, Jerry climaxed. Both of their bodies became drenched in semen, but neither of them cared. All they wished was to taste as much of themselves in that kiss.

Sorry, Ahmed, thought Jerry, lemme just stay in this body for a little while longer. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. Promise.

#male possession #jock possession #possession #male body possession #slime possession

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the-bugs-under-ur-skin · 3 years

Text

Yandere Kel, Sunny, Aubrey and Kel Having Their First Kiss HCs - Omori

ALL OF SUNNYS SPRITES SUCK SO JUST IMAGINE THAT HES SHY AND NOT SAD

[yandere Kel x reader]

-Kel is already clingy and affectionate so the thought of actually kissing isn’t really foreign to him

-however, it really depends when it comes to Kel

-he’d either go straight into the kiss by kissing you when you guys confess to each other

-or chicken out and either wait for you to kiss him first or somehow get pushed into it by a friend

-if he were to kiss you first, he’d be giddy and confident

-like i said, he’d probably kiss you either as a confession or after the confession so he’s already on cloud nine

-he’d probably pull you into a hug and then he’d immediately take you with him to go on an adventure/date

-the kiss was also probably more on impulse then him trying to make it more romantic or anything

-but he’s hyped up about it for the rest of the week, telling everyone he sees how happy he is

-if you kiss Kel first, he’d still be giddy but a little shy too

-pretty much every time he gets a kiss from you he’s excited so there’s nothing really shocking about that

-but he was probably caught off guard since he wasn’t really expecting you to kiss him first

-he’ll be uncharacteristically quiet at first; the first thing you’ll probably hear from him is an awkward laugh

-but he’ll start speaking again soon, albeit with a bit of a stutter

-he’s always up for affection though, no matter who kisses who first

-this is one of the ways to really cement Kel’s obsession with you

-with every big romantic gesture that happens throughout your relationship, it makes him more and more unhinged

-hopefully you didn’t think a kiss would tone him down because now it’s just going to get harder to get away from him

-and Kel just continues to be blissfully oblivious to his own toxicity, instead focusing on how to give you more and more of his affections

(i had to hand edit this btw)

[yandere Sunny x reader]

-Sunny is surprisingly shy about the whole thing

-he always keeps a poker face on, and yet the thought of kissing you makes his cheeks burn red and his hands shake ever so slightly

-if Sunny were to kiss you first, he’d try to make it special

-like during a sunset while you two are hanging out or maybe after he takes you home from your first date or something

-you could probably tell that he’s thinking about it too because he’s shifting a little and avoiding eye contact

-he’ll probably try to run away from the embarrassment after he did it, but he’d probably just run around the corner and then watch you from afar to see how you feel about it

-if you were to kiss him first, he’d be both excited and a little nervous

-he probably wasn’t expecting it even though he’s been trying to plan out his first kiss for awhile

-he’s less embarrassed if you did it though, and that embarrassment is replaced with giddiness

-he’s still very flustered, but not enough to run away or anything

-the thing Sunny is nervous about is how you feel about it

-he’s less confident about it because he barely got a chance to plan it, so he’s worried that you’re not going to like him or something

-but other than that, he’s ecstatic

-very pleased with the fact that you just couldn’t wait to kiss him

-no matter who kisses who, it’s probably the first time you’ve seen a more vulnerable part of Sunny

-you can either handle him with care or take advantage and manipulate him

-he doesn’t care which one you do, he just couldn’t handle you leaving him after something like this

-he thought everything was fine; or at least fine enough for you both to finally kiss

-all he wants to know how he can fix it and who’s actually at fault for ruining your relationship

-he knows that neither you or himself can be the problem, so he has to figure out who ruined his first kiss

[yandere Aubrey x reader]

-Aubrey is more shy about it than she admits

-she probably has daydreamed about it once or twice, even before you both were dating

-she probably doesn’t worry about it being some big romantic event because she “just wants to get it over with”

-she’d honestly be over the moon if your first kiss was at a dump, she just wishes she could get the nerve to actually kiss you

-if she kissed you first, she would probably try to play it cool

-it’d be after a small date or maybe just a hang out with her gang

-and while you both are alone she’ll just give you a quick kiss

-she’ll try to play it off by just walking away or speeding off on her bike

-but the moment she gets home she’ll be monitoring her phone like a crazy woman

-she wouldn’t hesitate to track you down to get a response from you

-if you kissed her first, she’s both caught off guard and a little euphoric

-she would take awhile to finally kiss you so it’s not like it’d be shocking if you just decided to go for it

-she would be take aback though, but she tries to shake off the shock and play it cool

-but you’d probably know how she actually feels since not only would she be blushing, but she’s got a very genuine smile on her face

-not a smirk or anything, just a soft and sweet smile

-no matter who kisses who, that brief affection that you two share always fills Aubrey with complete euphoria

-in that moment she’s sky high and full of adrenaline, this is the happiest she felt in a long time

-Aubrey’s reaction is actually more wholesome than you’d expect

-granted, she does still obsess a little more over you

-but it’s more of the sweet kind than the murderer possessive kind

-don’t get it twisted though, Aubrey has a short temper and could lash out your or her friends at any moment

-so just let her relish in the moment for awhile, okay?

[yandere Basil x reader]

-Basil has definitely thought about kissing you before, honestly it’s almost all he thinks about

-there’s just something about him that makes me think he cuddles and kisses his pillow and imagining its you he’s while trying to sleep

-since he wants to kiss you so badly, i think he tries to hype himself up by talking to himself in the mirror

-keyword is tries because even his own delusions can’t convince him that he’s ready to actually kiss you

-i do think that he’d eventually be able to do it, but you’d have to be really patient

-if Basil were to kiss you first, he’d be very anxious and tense

-it would probably just be a quick peck on the lips because i don’t think he’d work up the courage to actually do much more

-you could kiss him more if you want! it would probably be the best way for you to respond to him

-you can also just tell how shy he is, not only is his face red but his legs are visibly shaking

-but even though he’s more nervous than both Sunny and Aubrey combined, i think he actually wouldn’t run away after kissing you

-sure, he’s avoiding eye-contact and trying to hide his face a bit, but he just wants to see how you react right here and up close

-if you kiss Basil first, he’s still jittery but now for a different reason

-there’s just so much visible joy on his face in that moment

-not only did you want to kiss him, but you also wanted to kiss him so badly that you couldn’t wait for him to start something

-i can imagine him covering his mouth afterward and giggling a little

-he feels like he shouldn’t be this surprised you kissed him because he was literally waiting for you to kiss him ever since you both met

-but i guess there was still a bit of doubt he tried to ignore

-but that doesn’t matter now, that doesn’t matter at all!

-you kissed him and he’s never been happier

-it’s the new thought that constantly plagues his brain, Polly probably notices how Basil will start randomly blushing even when absolutely nothing is happening

-he won’t be getting over his first kiss anytime soon, he’ll cherish the memory until he dies

-so please kiss him more, he doesn’t mind when or where he just wants you to kiss him until he can’t breathe

-whoops... was that too far? he’s sorry, he only wants what you want, of course!!

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sxlver-sweet · 3 years

Note

hihihii can i pls request a hc for kazutora, mikey and ran with an s/o who has very squishy cheeks? hh sorry, if this request made u feel uncomfy you can just ignore it! anyways tysm have a lovely day/night <3

— SQUISHY CHEEK SOCIETY <3

|| m.lists || taglist form ||

ROSTER . . . kazutora hanemiya, manjiro sano, ran haitani

SYNOPSIS . . . you have squishy cheeks and suddenly mfs don’t know how to act

CONTAINS . . . swearing, kazutora being a menace to the squishy cheek society

NOTE . . . hi there!! don’t worry babe, you request didn’t make my uncomfortable at all! it’s a bit short, though. i wasn’t really sure what else i could add

literally every time MIKEY sees a squirrel or a chipmunk, he’ll elbow you like “lol that’s u”

sometimes, he’ll give you an assortment of small items like cashews, gumballs, and blueberries just because he wants to see how many you can fit into your mouth. it usually catches you off guard because when he first approaches you with his hand extended, he always looks so serious, but after a couple seconds, he’ll dissolve into a fit of laughter at the dumbfounded, perplexed look on your face.

i am a firm believer that when mikey is vying for your attention in private, he’ll bite your cheek. it’ll be barely anything more than the light closing of his teeth around the soft flesh, but he’ll unhinge his whole jaw, make sound effects, and honestly just do the most to draw your attention away from whatever you’re doing. if he ever bites too hard, he’ll immediately apologize and smooth his thumb over the indents.

it always amuses him when you puff out your cheeks before pursing your lips to kiss him anywhere on his face

when you’re worried or upset about something, he’ll completely forgo reading the room to pinch at and stretch your cheeks, asking you what’s wrong and telling you that your frown doesn’t suit you and that you’ll get wrinkles. this has been known to backfire on him more than once.

RAN is so fucking annoying

you knew he would be the moment his eyes widened with surprise at how far your cheek stretched beneath his fingers and his lips formed a quiet “oh?”

all this does is give him extra incentive to seize your face with his fingers pressing into your cheeks to either shock you into silence or force you to look at him whenever you give him attitude. this man is lowkey a freak, i don’t make the rules. sometimes, he’ll be reminded of how soft your cheeks are and accidentally forget what he’s doing, which usually confuses you to the point where you forget why you were irritated in the first place. he’ll be towering over you, silently squeezing your cheeks while you’re waiting for him to finish his sentence and express his disappointment in your behavior. he’s just weird

he 100% does that stupid shit where he taps you on the shoulder and when you turn your head, you’re met with his finger poking into your cheek. he’ll smile and declare his victory with a teasing, “got you!” all the while, you’re annoyed and just wanting to complete your work so you can relax

akin to mikey, ran will also pinch and tug at your cheeks whenever you’re upset, but he’ll wait a bit and read the room beforehand to see if you’re in a mood where the comforting gesture will be well-received. he’ll tell you that tears don’t suit you, and he’ll insist that you tell him what’s bothering you.

just because he likes the elasticity of your cheeks and how the apples of your cheeks seem to glow whenever you smile, cheek kisses rank in at a close second in his favorite ways of showing physical affection

!!!

KAZUTORA is more subtle about it, but best believe he peeped that shit when you two first started dating. ever since, he’s been itching to pinch at and squeeze your cheeks. normally, he would’ve gone for it regardless of how you felt, but since you sat him down at the beginning of the relationship and had a talk with him about setting boundaries before anything happens, he’s worried that he would accidentally overstep a boundary that you had yet to discuss, thus resulting in you getting upset and leaving him

he’ll just sit quietly and stare at your side profile, chewing feverishly on the inside of his cheek until you notice his gaze boring intensely into the side of your face. like damn, kazutora, you can at least ask LMAO

when you give him the green light, best believe he’s touching them constantly

whenever you get dolled-up for him, he’ll pinch your cheeks and coo about how pretty you are. sometimes, his grip is a bit too tight, and when you tell him so, he’ll pull away immediately and look at you with those blank, unreadable eyes and a simple “oh.” then, to remedy the friction and soothe the ache in your cheeks, he’ll brush the gentlest kiss he can manage across the reddened areas.

when he’s bored, he likes to slowly sink his finger into your cheek to see how large and deep of a crater he can press into the supple flesh. again, you’ll have to tell him if it hurts, because his eyes won’t be focused anywhere else other than on your cheek. he might sulk a bit, but he’ll stop

i feel like kazutora likes to go on aquarium dates because he likes the sharks (and wants to see them eat), so every time you two comes across a tank with a pufferfish, he’ll nudge your shoulder and laugh, “look, it’s you!”

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby reader insert #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders

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ayo-cowbelly · 2 years

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the anakin and barriss au of greatness

it's past midnight but i'm in an inspired mood so fuck it (even tho my typing is waking up my dog who is now looking at me like i'm insane)

ok so what if barriss and anakin had a bigger age gap and barriss ended up being anakins padawan (i know barriss isn’t as battle oriented as ahsoka can be so maybe shes a bit ooc here but idc im here for it)

like imagine the chaos. not in the absolutely-unhinged-murder-twins way of anakin and ahsoka, but more like barriss being the good cop/exasperated mom and anakin being the (sometimes surprisingly wise) feral chihuahua who is either giving out sage advice (that he doesn't follow himself, of course) or throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of a shoe store or something.

so let's start at the beginning, shall we?

barriss would first show up in the clone wars movie with a million different battle plans ready to go

she studied on the way over in her jedi space uber

Walking out talking a mile a minute

“Master kenobi, i understand i’m new here, but maybe we should consider putting the men over here and having a squadron attack from above? Or perhaps the cannons and multiple squads could serve as a good brute force distraction while others could quietly zipline into the shield generator-”

Anakin and obi wan are watching this random, soft spoken 15 year old coming up with plans A, B, C, all the way to Z and just trying to solve all their problems in complete shock

She meets rex and is like “oh hello, by the way, excuse me if this is out of pocket, but i have an interest in healing and i might have a way to slow down the clones’ rapid healing, if that interests you-”

And rex is like o.O who are you and why do i suddenly want to protect you

Give me rex and barriss being a brother-sister wonder twin duo who have to keep anakin from getting fucking oblierated by droids every other week

Barriss and anakin might not get along at first tho

She doesn’t see the point in being extremely reckless and he doesn’t understand the need to be careful/more meticulous in a fight

“Why do you insist on being so ridiculously thoughtless?” “why do YOU insist on thinking so much in the middle of battle?”

But then they learn to fight together and find the happy medium

Please just give me anakin getting barriss so out of her head / teaching her to be more in the moment

But also she teaches anakin the value of patience and allowing others to help you (thE IMPORTANCE OF LEANING ON PEOPLE AND UNDERSTANDING YOUR LIMITS AHHHHH)

there's one battle where it just clicks and they grin at each other, like hey, i understand you, and anakins like holy shit thats my PADAWAN right there

he keeps her from being so hard on herself when she makes mistakes and she tries to convince him that the entire world is not on his shoulders

when an extrovert and an introvert collide but it ends up working out and they bring out the better sides of each other

I want them to emotionally support each other ok

Obvi barriss doesn’t have the whole character regression that was the wrong jedi arc cause my queen didn’t need that and anakin ofc guides her and teaches her to Feel Her Emotions

Also anakin doesn’t fall to the dark here because, due to barriss’ lessons about being less impulsive, he actually 1) took a nap, 2) didn’t shut people (obi wan) out so much, and 3) actually had a few Smart Thoughts™ in ROTS and didn’t just, yk, jump head first into being a sith lord

She balances out his aggressive tendencies, but he teaches her to let out her frustrations

Give me preserving your emotional and mental health by letting other people support you for 400

Imagine:

Anakin: my wife is pregnant what do i do

Barriss, who has been majoring in healing as a side hustle while also practically co-running the 501st: get an OB-GYN then ultrasound that shit

Also obi wan and barriss would be literature besties, they probably have a book club with mace windu and commander wolffe that meets every other week to drink wine and talk shit

Oh also barriss is Smart, and since she’s working on reversing the clones’ accelerated healing, is on kamino all the time, so she discovers the order 66 death chips earlier and fives survives (and ofc palpabitch goes down)

She gets on a zoom call with anakin, rex, and obi wan and pulls up a brain scan of a clone like “yall- tf is this” and then the jedi PI or whoever investigates mysteries on coruscant takes over

Basically barriss is a queen and i love her sm in the weapons factory arc, and i think her dynamic with anakin would be such a good opposites attract = best friends type beat ok

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tyonfs · 4 years

Text

dress up.

❝ i was trying on something. could you tell me if you like it? ❞

PAIRING ▸ mark lee x reader

WARNINGS ▸ dirty talk, raw sex (pls use protection), overstimulation

WORD COUNT ▸ 2000 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this was a request from anon for a frat boy!mark smut! i sort of ran with it, but i love mark lee so it was fun to write ♡

IN RETROSPECT, MARK WAS A BIT OF A CLICHE.

Being a frat boy, athlete, and unfortunately, a bit of a heartbreaker, it was inevitable that he would be classified as bad news. Add you to the equation and he was the physical manifestation of a typical rom-com trope. He figured it was supposed to be you chasing after him, but the fact that it was the other way around took a slight blow to his confidence.

But that didn’t stop him from pursuing you.

And here he was, anticipating your presence on a Friday night at a frat party. He hung onto some false sense of hope that kept him from consuming any alcohol, despite Taeyong and Johnny’s attempts to get him to drink. You and Mark had been flirting for a while now, but neither of you had made a move on each other. Mark was hoping that would change tonight.

“C’mon, Ma-ark,” his friend, Na Jaemin, slurred. “You gotta let loose. Take a shot with me.”

“Jaemin, you’re sloshed, dude. Also, I won’t until—”

A notification flashed across his phone screen, the banner name displaying your name. Mark’s cheeks heated up, his mouth going dry as he stared at his phone for a moment. He turned it off and then on again, checking to make sure the notification was real. He sank back into the couch to make sure only he had eyes on his phone screen.

you: mark

you: you up?

mark: of course. what’s up?

you: i was trying on something

you: could you tell me if you like it?

mark: oh fuck

mark: yeah, go ahead

A few minutes passed by and Mark’s heart was racing. He stared at the texts again, wondering if this was really happening, then cringing at the realization that he had actually sent an “oh fuck” when it was supposed to be confined to his thoughts. Without giving Mark any warning or time to brace himself, you sent the picture.

There was something about mirror pictures that drove Mark crazy. Seeing you posing in front of a full-length mirror with black lingerie hugging your curves and a mini pleated skirt that barely covered the swell of your ass was giving him a hard-on. He wasn’t sure he could contain himself and this shocking development between you two was messing with him.

Mark grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it shamefully on his lap. No one was paying attention to him anyways, but he had to take extra precautions.

mark: fuck are you wearing that rn?

mark: god, you’re driving me crazy

you: if that’s the case then why don’t you come over?

mark: now?

you: you know where my apartment is

you: i’ll be waiting ♡

Mark got up in an instant and made his way to the door. He had to have saved someone in his past life for this sort of luck. He was caught up in disbelief that you, the girl of his dreams, had made a move on him. There were plenty of girls that Mark had gotten caught up with in the past, but none of them had ever made his heart race like you did.

Johnny stopped Mark before he got to the door, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, where are you running off to?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to ask.” Mark grinned, insufferably cocky. “Do you have a condom?”

Johnny’s eyes practically sparkled, digging into his pockets upon his best friend’s request. “Attaboy.”

You looked straight out of one of Mark’s fantasies when you opened the door and let him in. It wasn’t even the short skirt or the lingerie peeking through that got to him. What sent him over the edge was Mark’s sweater over your body; it was oversized on you, but Mark knew it looked better on you than it ever could on him. Mark had given it to you a few weeks ago when you were cold, but he never expected to be the one taking it off of you.

“Hey, frat boy,” you teased, then pouted lightly. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

Mark snapped out of his daze and walked in the apartment as you closed the door behind him. “Wait?”

You tugged at the hem of his shirt and Mark took the cue. He grabbed the back of his shirt at the nape, tugging it off and tossing it to some corner of the room, exposing his bare chest and abs. He let out a hiss through gritted teeth as you ran your hands down his chest and to his belt.

“Wait for me,” you explained. “I just wanted to get you so worked up so you could ruin me.”

That was all Mark needed to hear.

He picked you up effortlessly and brought you to your bed, dropping you down on it and crawling on top of you. He caged your frame with his larger one and crashed his lips onto yours. It was messy and rushed, but so full of passion and longing. Mark poured out his emotions and frustration into kissing you, running his hands down your gorgeous body as you arched your back against him.

“God, I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” he growled when he pulled from the kiss, moving his lips down to your neck. When he heard a soft moan escape your lips, he started sucking harsher, blooming dark hickies along the side of your neck. “I’m gonna make you wish you never made me wait.”

You wrapped a leg around his torso, which he appreciated, if a smooth roll of his hips was anything to go by. But you wanted more—more contact and more friction. You curled your fingers in his belt loops and pulled him down on you.

Mark sat up, pulling you up along with him. He adored your beauty for a moment before tugging his sweater up and off of you. A grunt escaped his lips at the sight of your body, lace lingerie still hugging it. He stuttered out a curse before he kissed you again, tugging your skirt down your legs, which you kicked off.

“Leave the lingerie on,” he ordered, a hungry look in his eyes. He slid his finger underneath the strap along your thigh and snapped it, making you wince. “I can’t let all your efforts go to waste after you dressed up for me, doll.”

“Please, Mark,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I want you to stuff your cock in me.”

Mark went to take off his pants in less than a second. You watched him strip down, his bulge not doing much to hide the fact that he was huge. You realized that that cockiness of his is completely warranted. You helped him tug his boxers down, a soft gasp escaping your lips when his cock sprung out, slapping against belly.

Mark gazed into your eyes as he slid his hand up your thigh, making his way to the apex of your legs. He tugged your panties to the side, delighted at how it clung to you. He’d truly be a happy man if he could have you underneath him every day for the rest of his life. Mark slid two fingers against your slit, smirking at how wet you were already.

“Is this for me?” he cooed as your hips bucked up into his touch.

You nodded, eager to just have him in you. You were all for foreplay, but your walls were throbbing with how much pent-up sexual frustration you were experiencing. There were so many opportunities after tonight, but right now, you needed Mark.

Mark suspended himself over you, propping himself up with an arm. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties and teased your slit with the head of his cock. A whimper escaped your lips.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

You pressed a kiss to the column of his neck. “Of course.”

Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed; he was nervous. He was about to fuck the girl of his dreams, so how could he possibly be calm? But when you gave him that dazzling smile of yours, his heart thundered in his chest. He needed you.

He slowly entered you, eyes fixed on your face with rapt attention, indulging in the expressions you were making. For someone so sly and teasing, you had become pliant under his grasp, like a handful of clay that Mark could mould into his own liking.

“Mark,” you whined in an almost depraved way.

“Fuck,” he groaned once he was fully inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

He started at a languid pace so he could adjust to you. To his satisfaction, you were vocal during sex; you moaned, whimpered, and gasped out Mark’s name whenever he thrusted into you. You were also so damn tight that the slightest movement made you tighten around Mark’s cock.

He held your thighs with a bruising grip as you pressed your breasts up against his chest. Your head went fuzzy as Mark pounded into that one spot mercilessly. But god, the way he growled out your name under his breath as your hips slapped against each other each time was sending you over the edge.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving trails of white-hot pain that compelled Mark into thrusting harder into you. He grinned, a little unhinged, and sped up at the encouragement of your moans. The way he looked at you when he thrusted, though, was so fragile; he found you so heartbreakingly gorgeous, and it didn’t help that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

“Mark!” you cried as you were reaching your high.

He could get lost in the way his name tumbled from your lips. He slowed down his thrusts in exchange for deeper ones that brought you closer to your climax. Mark kissed you again, slower and more passionate. It was somewhat out of place given the magnitude of what you two were doing, but it confirmed for you that he didn’t just want you for sex.

You squealed out his name again, the pressure blinding you. You clenched around him as you came undone, shooting stars flashing behind your eyelids. Mark fucked you through your orgasm without any semblance of mercy. You crooned out a few broken moans, eyes half-lidded as you held onto Mark, your release dripping down his cock.

“Look at me,” he ordered, dark eyes clouding over. He could hardly keep his release at bay, but when you looked up at him with those innocent, doe-like eyes, it became impossible. “God, are you even real? You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Mark gritted his teeth, a strangled groan leaving his throat as he pulled out and released over you. His cum spilled over your thighs, staining the lingerie you had worn just for him. Mark was completely out of breath so he collapsed next to you, rolling over so he could hold you in his arms. You happily complied, cuddling up to his warmth.

“Please don’t let that be a one-time thing,” Mark murmured in your ear, brushing aside strands of your hair.

“Maybe if you let me be your girlfriend,” you said with a smile, making Mark go wide-eyed.

“Really?” He couldn’t conceal the happiness behind his words.

“On one condition, though,” you said, closing your eyes as that feeling of his cum between your thighs. You reached for his pants that he had strewn aside beside you and reached into the pocket, pulling out the condom that Johnny had given him. “Use this next time.”

“Shit,” Mark mumbled.

You giggled at his reaction, but Mark only smiled brighter, embracing you tightly in his arms. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, cheek, and then your lips. He was a pure romantic when it came down to it, especially when it came to you.

“I also have a condition,” he said.

“Yeah?” you mused. “What is it?”

“Dress up for me next time.”

#mark lee #nct mark #mark lee smut #mark lee drabble #mark lee oneshot #mark smut #mark imagines #mark lee imagines #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct #mark drabble #mark oneshot #mark #tyonfs requests

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

Text

‘Till We Bleed Out - 3.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 3 of this series.

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real.

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst

“Calm down, sweetheart.”

He must’ve noticed you were on the verge of losing your mind. How could you not? You had so many questions. So many things you couldn’t wrap your brain around. What was the meaning of all this?

“What is this?” you pointed at the painting; scared, nervous and baffled.

Bucky walked further in, careful as to not make any sudden movement which would make you even more of a nervous wreck than you already were. “I’ll tell you everything, doll. Just calm down, alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here with you.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “Nothing to be scared of? There’s a painting of me and you dating back to 1872. That was almost a hundred and fifty years ago. But I met you just two days ago. None of this makes sense, none of it adds up. And that doesn’t bother you?” you sounded more sad and confused than scared. This isn’t normal. None of this is. “Who are you?”

Despite knowing that someone else in your shoes would be screaming bloody murder and running for their lives by now, you stayed put. Despite the confusion, you felt protected. Something inside you knew no harm would come to you while Bucky’s around. But the rational side of you couldn’t afford listening to that side of you right now. Right now your brain needed concrete answers, not reassurance.

“No. It doesn’t bother me.” He walked over and held you gently by the shoulders. “And if you let me explain, it won’t bother you either.” One look into his eyes and you felt yourself calming down already.

“Make this make sense.”

After he got you to sit down, in that very room, he began explaining.

“I’m not exactly human, Y/N.” His first few words earned him a nod from you.

“I figured that out a few minutes ago.”

He continued. “And neither were you, in your previous lifetime.” That sentence shocked you. You didn’t know what was more surprising, learning that there was indeed a lifetime before this one or the fact that in the previous one, you and Bucky knew each other. “We were both vampires.”

“Oh my God…”

He paused for a while, trying to be as slow and as careful as he could be with his words. “We were married, you and I. And we were happy.” He said so and waited for your reaction.

Your eyes watered and he noticed. “I’m… I was your wife?” you asked and he nodded. You thought back on all the things he told you about his wife; those were all about you. Your heart felt like it was being torn in two. “And I died.” he nodded again. “How did I die?”

He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to the dark carpet beneath his feet, that memory was always the hardest to revisit. “Our families were not exactly… friendly. Yours hated mine, and vice versa so our marriage was not something they could bear.” He let out a dry chuckle. He continued, a strange fire in his eyes; burning hot hatred. “They kept trying to break us apart,” he smiled, sadly, “but we were strong. Together.” He looked back up at you. “Until one day…”

He stopped talking. He ran his fingers through his hair, he was hurting. You felt the intense need to just get up from the couch you were sat on, and walk over to where he sat and just comfort him. Maybe hug him and tell him it’s all okay now. But you remained seated, you couldn’t move.

“Bucky… I need to know.” You figured it was a delicate subject but you needed to piece it all together. You were a mess at the moment.

“We were returning home and we were attacked. By hunters.”

You sat up straighter. “Hunters?”

“Vampire hunters. Two different parties. Each anonymously hired and sent by our own families, ordered to have each of us killed. But you know, back then hunters had rivalry against each other as well. And ironically, the groups of hunters our family hired were not exactly seeing eye to eye with each other.” He let out another dry chuckle. “Upon reaching our home, they all forgot their initial purpose for a moment and began butchering one another instead, in the name of looming enmity. And you and I got caught in the crossfire. ”

He paused. If it were physically possible he would’ve shivered at the memory; so tragically vivid in his mind. You waited for him to continue. “But some of them also remembered that they had been ordered to kill us both, so our front yard quickly became a battlefield.” He sounded bitter, angry. “We fought them off for a while but we were terribly outnumbered. I was wounded, so were you, and I tried to reach you but…” he trailed off, took a deep breath and continued, “they got to you first.”

You tried to find the right thing to say but got nothing. Bucky spoke up again. “I was helpless. I couldn’t move. I had to watch as they… took you away from me.” He finally looked up at you and you were in shock. “Those sent by your family, what was left of them after the massacre at least, fled. Those sent by mine finished their job.” The look of hurt on his face was unbearable. “And I begged them. I begged them to kill me too but they just left me there.”

You felt a weight on your chest. That was brutal.

“You died at our doorstep.” He still remembered the last few moments he held you before you left…

He somehow managed to get up and stumbled on his way to you, bullets and sharp stakes pierced all over his body as well as yours. You weren’t gonna make it, and he knew but he still begged you to stay.

“You can’t leave me. You promised.” He cried, cradling your head on his lap. “Don’t leave me.”

He watched how you used the little bit of energy left to choke out a few words. “I’ll find you again. Someday. I promise…” your body was getting heavier and heavier. Bucky felt like he was dying too. “I love you, Buck.”

And with that, you closed your eyes forever. He sat there, your lifeless body in his arms and he screamed and yelled and cursed the universe. He was wounded, he would be healed by dawn. But you wouldn’t. He survived the attack that day, but part of him died along with you too.

You cleared your throat. “How do you… how did you know it’s me? How can you be sure? What if I just look like her?” you looked up at the painting and he did too.

He gave you a soft smile. “Chamomile and lavender tea is your favorite. You like red roses. You have a fear of deep water but you love the beach. You have this weird obsession with snakes. You love red wine. You could practically live in a library. Thunderstorms comfort you. You get a lot of déjà-vu, more than anyone you know. Also, you surely have a birthmark on your back, below your left shoulder. It perhaps hurts sometimes and you don’t know why, because regular birthmarks don’t hurt.”

Your eyes widened more and more as he spoke, but you gasped when he mentioned the birthmark. “How do you know that?” Very few people knew of your rather strange birthmark which tingled, burned and hurt sometimes.

“You were staked through the heart from the back. It left a mark on you.” He answered. “Forever.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to soak all this new information in. This was a lot to take in.

You cleared your throat again. “I was a vampire.” You stated. Bucky nodded. “I married you.” He nodded again. “I can’t- how do I-,”

“Hey, it’s a lot to take in. Take your time. Go to bed if you wish to.” His voice sounded so soft.

Oh you couldn’t sleep, not with all this. You shook your head no, you had questions. “How long were we married for?”

“Almost a century.” His answer made your jaw drop.

“How old are you?”

He chuckled. “250. Give or take a few years.”

“Oh my God,” you sighed, genuinely surprised. You thought back on all that he said earlier, about your families, and asked, “You said our families were against our relationship.” He nodded. “Well, where are they now?”

“Gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. “After you left, I was unhinged. My memories of the couple of decades after your death is a little blurry. Apparently I went seeking revenge. But our friends found me and brought me back to sanity before I was gone completely and they told me that I had destroyed each and every last member of both our families.”

“You killed them.” It wasn’t a question.

“They deserved it. They took you away from me.” He sounded so broken, and hurt that you could feel your heart burn inside your ribcage.

“When you say ‘our friends’ you mean…” you trailed off not knowing how to put it.

He nodded. “Other vampires, yes. Most of them at least.”

“This is so crazy.” You mumbled, looking down at your lap. This was too much to handle all at once. Bucky got up from his seat and walked cautiously over to you.

He sat down on the edge of the wooden coffee table right in front of you and held his hand out. You placed your hand in his without a second thought. “You always had faith in the universe you know. You used to tell me that one single lifetime isn’t going to be enough for all the love that you and I have for each other. You used to always tell me that you’ll find me in the next one as well. And you did. You kept your promise. You’re home now, to me.”

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Those words sounded so familiar. Bucky reached out and wiped the tear away. “I… I don’t remember. I mean, I’ve lived a whole life not knowing you were until just a few days ago and now… all this?”

He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. “It’s almost dawn. You haven’t slept well. Get some rest, we’ll figure it out. We always did.”

You couldn’t argue. You needed to not think for a while, so you just nodded and got up. He didn’t follow you as you made your way to the bedroom and threw yourself down on the bed. You closed your eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

The next day, you spent most of your morning in the room; unable to leave the bed. Each time you thought back on all that was revealed to you last night, your head hurt. Wanda was kind enough to come in and leave you your meals. She didn’t say a word, just polite smiles. Bucky came by as well, each hour or so to check up on you. You weren’t ready to talk yet. He understood.

You spent the rest of the day looking out of the window, into the vast backyard. The weather was still gloomy, much like your mood.

After dinner, Bucky came by again. With tea this time. You gladly accepted the cup, remembering how it helped you sleep better the other night. Bucky was about to walk out but you stopped him.

“Stay. Please.” You said, your voice a little strained because you had cried earlier, unable to understand the wave of emotion which washed over you. He rushed to sit next to you, on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been having dreams.” you confessed.

“What kind of dreams?”

“About you. About us, together. About ballrooms I’ve never been in, about people I haven’t met. And this house, ever since I got here it feels like I’ve... “ you trailed off, unable to find the right words. Or maybe the words were too crazy for you to utter them out loud.

He finished your sentence. “Like you’ve lived here before?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

He smiled. “It’s because you have. This is your home, our home. Those aren’t dreams, they’re your memories.”

Another tear fell down your cheek. Well, that made sense now. That would explain why your ‘dreams’ were so detailed.

Bucky stayed and talked to you until you felt sleepy. He kissed you on the forehead, whispering a ‘goodnight’ once you got under the covers and was about to walk out of the room but you stopped him, yet again.

“There’s something else.” you said.

He stopped right at the door and turned around to face you, “Yes?”

“The day I got here, when you opened the door, I…” you reminded yourself that he deserves to know, “I felt this pressing need to tell you that I finally found you. I didn’t understand what that meant then.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky genuinely smiled. And it was breathtaking. His smile was gorgeous, contagious. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left.

You fell asleep rather quickly. And dreamt, again...

Kisses under a grand chandelier. Blue eyes, laughter and wine. Pure bliss.

“We should get going, sweetheart. It’s late.” Bucky whispered, holding you close. “And I can’t share you any longer. I need you all to myself now.” He kissed along your jaw, making you giggle.

Home. At last. Only just as you got down from the carriage, you realized something was wrong. Pain, pain everywhere.

Bullets, stakes, sticks, stones - everything hurt. You heard someone screaming as you were being dragged away from Bucky. It was you. You begged for mercy, but you didn’t receive any. Then suddenly, a spot on your back burned. It hurt more than anything you’ve ever experienced. You realized you were being staked through the heart, and it was too late. You couldn’t fight back.

The pain, although excruciating, was replaced by fear. Fear of having to leave Bucky behind. Bucky… where was he?

Your vision got blurry, you fell to the ground. You tried to call out for him but no sound came out of your mouth. You were fading away. But then you saw a pair of dark eyes which slowly turned blue and teary.

“Don’t leave me…”

“I’ll find you, I promise.” All the years you spent with him flashed in front of your eyes. Your wedding, and the decades of pure happiness which followed. “I’ll find you…”

You woke up gasping again, covered in goosebumps. You had a terrible headache as it all came to you at once; memories of a forgotten lifetime. You struggled to breathe; it felt like being hit by a violent wave and being pushed deeper beneath the surface. Your birthmark burned hot. And your lungs felt like they were on fire.

You sat there in bed, breathing hard and fast as you remembered everything. You realized you had tears streaming down your face. It was all too much, but you kept searching for more. And the more you looked the more you found. You felt like you were about to pass out.

1802, when you first met Bucky. Married in 1808. You died about 90 years after that. You remembered. You remembered it all now. Your cruel family, and his. The bloodshed of that night. And how you died at the doorstep of this mansion. This mansion… your home. You knew this place like the back of your hand. This is your home.

You’re home.

You called out, not too loud, knowing he would hear you still. “Bucky!” you held back sob. How did you survive all these years? Without him?

“Bucky!” you called out again, crying out loud this time. You heard his footsteps running down the hall. And your heart raced.

You had been so close to your home this whole time, so close to Bucky, in the same town. You just didn’t know.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #vampire!bucky #bucky smut #marvel au #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x you

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