#girl help this prompt is actually rotting my brain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shootingmorningstar · 1 month

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Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ

You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~

Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.

You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.

You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.

Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.

Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.

Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.

That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.

He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.

So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.

He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.

It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.

You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.

wc ; 1.2k

His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.

Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.

Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜

The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.

Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.

Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.

Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.

Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.

A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜

Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜

Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.

❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜

Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.

I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.

As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~

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k2ntoss · 2 months

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i feel like I've been MIA for too long lmao but hooo boyyy i have so many thoughts now because of that prompt list omg 🫠 i NEED -Fucking someone so good that they struggle to kiss you back.- and “Spread your legs baby, that’s it…Wider.” with Jason immediately please Mara, the brain rot demands it 😭

-🦊

JUST LOOK AT THIS, MY FAVORITE ANON !!! (as if it wasn't clear before) have i told you already how i love the way your mind brings the brain rot to work??? well, i do. let's get at it, babe

fucking someone so good they struggle to kiss you back + "spread your legs baby, that's it... wider"

movie nights are for two things, actually watching your movie selection while cuddling with your partner or to completely ignore whatever was playing on the screen while your partner fucked the life out of you. you go guess what was jason's plan for tonight's movie plan.

you're actually trying to focus on the movie, your eyes fixed on the screen as you lay on jason's chest and he holds you softly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he leans in to leave a soft peck on your skin. it's innocent and sweet at first but then one of his hands slides under your shirt, caressing your skin and drawing abstract lines on your stomach that made your attention drift away when he pressed a kiss on your jaw.

"jay... are you even watching the mo–" you were speaking, trying to scold him but your words caught on your throat when his hand moved further up and cupped one of your breasts at the same time he licked your neck.

"i'm not watching the movie, baby" he whispers against your skin, his lips gracing your neck right before he kisses that spot behind your ear "i want to get touchy with my pretty girl."

"oh, so you want to get touchy?" you ask, there's now a hint of amusement and mischief on your voice as you turn your face to look at him and jason can't help but chuckle and nod, like a kid that's been caught red handed doing something he wasn't supposed to "and who said i wanted to let you, jaybird?" you ask but deep down you knew you would let jason get his way with you anytime he wanted to.

"you... you're not doing a thing to stop me from touching you like this" he says, his voice is low and his hands are now both on your chest, he squeezes your tits firmly before lifting your bra "it is because you know you're all mine to enjoy or because you want me to actually feel you up completely?"

the way he speaks and touches you manage to drag a soft moan out of your lips and it makes him feel powerful because he knows how to make you melt. that's what he wants, jason wants to be the one to always make you feel good, he wants the reason you smile and moan, the only one to know every corner of your body so he could give back all the good things you gave him.

jason really enjoys the way it's so easy for him to shut your mind off with the smallest touch when mixed with the right words, he loves whispering into your ear and kissing your neck just to see how needy you can get from it but it was just the effect jason's touch had on you and he couldn't deny you could do the same to him. so now when he gets your shirt lifted and squeezes your breast while kissing your neck he has to hold back a moan when you move and push him to be able and sit on his lap.

"sometimes you should try to pay attention to a movie, you know?" you ask teasingly, leaning in to kiss him again and jason misses no time to let his hands snake under your shirt again just to feel those goosebumps on your skin. it's unthinkable to try and stop to resume your initial plans because your boyfriend is now sucking a subtle trail of small marks on your neck while he starts pulling your shirt off and when he is done your bra stands no chance against him.

"the movie can wait, we can watch it after i make you scream and beg for more..." jason whispers into your ear and he smirks when you tug at the neck of his hoodie, he knows he won and he takes it off and that's when the last strand of control you had vanishes at the sight of his toned body, the faint scars scattered over his skin around that one on his chest that ran all the way down to his stomach it only made him way more appealing.

he really loves the effect he has on you, it makes him feel like he really deserves the way you look at him and how you touch him as if he was your most valuable treasure and he was, his touch equals yours; needy but still lingering enough to make sure you know how he values the fact that you are with him, his grip firm but loving as he holds your hips to make you grind against him once he takes off those comfy sweatpants you wore to bed and that he loved because of how the hugged your figure.

clothes do not last on your bodies and it isn't so much until your body is completely pressed against his while he makes you put your hips up, jason lets his hand wander between your thighs until he has two fingers sneaking over your folds, flicking your clit as he smiles smugly at you.

"do you still want to watch the movie, ma?" he asks, voice now deeper while his finger traces a trail between your folds, teasing your aching pussy before he slips his digits into your entrance. jason looks at you, the hunger in his eyes only adds to your arousal as you grind your hips against his palm, the calloused skin brushing against your swollen clit.

you grunt something that sounds like a shut up and a please mixed up in a hushed moan, as your boyfriend keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you while he kisses and bites your neck, the smirk on his lips doesn't leaves when you struggle to beg him from how much he teases because his free arm is around your back and his hand is now groping your breast.

"already so desperate? i just started, sweetie" he coos you mockingly as he slowly lays you down under him, lips trailing down your neck until he is now kissing and biting on your nipple "just look at the pretty mess you are, all wet around my fingers and you could just cum like this... should i let you get off like this?"

"god, jason– don't do that, i need you" you moan breathlessly and for some reason his words only get you more needy, making jason feel a huge ego boost as he gives you that pretty shit eating grin before he switches to your other breast, sucking and teasing you more as his fingers leave your pussy, entrance now clenching around nothing.

there's a feeling of relief once you can see jason moving to be between your legs as he trails his kisses to your tummy, lovingly and devoted and his hands squeeze your legs softly to try and help your body to calm a little to no overstimulate you just yet.

"spread your legs baby," he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin and the sweetness on his touch and words makes you comply without thinking twice, your legs spreading almost on its own for him "that's it... wider" he says now smugly, seeing the way you open up just at his presence makes him feel so powerful.

he holds onto the back of your knees, pushing your legs until he makes them rest over his shoulder. his hand guides his hard dick until his tip is lined up with your pussy and he pushes in, slowly as a low growl escapes his throat, holding onto your hips to give a first stroke.

"so fucking thight and i had already stretched your pretty cunt before" he says, his body still until you nod for him to start moving and he doesn't hesitates to start with a quick pace "that's such a pretty toy i got myself, didn't i? i just have to touch you and you'll let me have my way with you..."

he makes it sound so good you can't help but moan, one of your hands reaching for his neck to pull him from his nape; fingers tangling on his hair as you bring his face close to yours and jason only makes his thrusts faster, hiting all the right spots as he holds you bent like this.

"jay– jay please" you whine as you try to really bring his lips to yours, it amuses him and you hear it on his rumbling chuckle, his hands gripping your hips in a way you knew your skin would be painted in finger-print-bruises by tomorrow but you just loved that, silky skin painted with his hickeys and bite marks, a sing of that ownership he had over you.

"use your words, princess," he whispers into your ear, the sound of the dominance on his voice making you moan loudly when his hands also squeeze your ass playfully "you're a big girl, you can use that pretty mouth of yours can't you?"

"please, kiss me jay" you beg, voice shaky as he pounds into you and the way jason is closer now on top of your body, his shoulders still holding your legs up just making the angle perfect for his tip to kiss your cervix.

jason does as you ask, leaning in a pressing a bruissing kiss on your lips and he seems pretty resolved to devour your mouth like that but instead he's met with you really struggling to kiss him back and he is lost in this discovering. it encourages him to move your body as if you were a pretty doll for him to use, placing your legs against your chest but this time only over one of his shoulders.

"feels like too much, pretty doll?" he asks, whispering into your ear almost in a growl and he changes his pace, slowing down to give you deep and slow strokes but still slamming his hips against yours.

"too good, jay... feels just so good" your voice slurred as you cry for him to move a bit faster but jason has just found out how to play with you a little more.

"yeah? you sound way too pretty for me to change the pace, crying like a desperate slut" the use of names sends a shiver down your spine, jason knows what buttons to push in order to get your pleasure to skyrocket and he is really proud of it as he keeps pumping into you, hissing in pleasure when he feels your walls clenching around him "god this feels so fucking good, i could cum into you so deep baby, you'll feel me right here"

one of his hands wanders from your hips to your belly and the thought of him reaching so deep inside of your body is enough to make your body tense, there's something new to all of this because you've felt way more sensitive than before and jason is feeling way too eager to find out how much he can do with that.

"jason please, fill me up like this" you say in between shaky moans, legs trembling already and the way you look at him through those teary cute doe eyes makes him throb into you.

"want me to breed you, baby? i want to see you dripping full of me" he says, his pace fastening again but it grows sloppier as his hand moves from your belly to one of your tits, squeezing it and toying with your nipple "you look so pretty like this, angel, so ready for me to use your body over and over again"

it's amazing the way jason manages to shut your brain off, making your words catch on your throat and turning you into a whimpering mess. rocking your hips to meet his movements until your orgasm hits you, pussy squeezing him like a vice, almost making it impossible for jason to keep thrusting inside of you.

the pleasure of your body washes over him, bringing his own climax to his as he releases into your throbbing pussy as he slows down, letting out a low stream of curses before he comes to a halt still holding your legs against his chest.

"i don't think we'll be watching that movie now, ma..."

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tobiasdrake · 5 months

Text

Man, Halara's great. Anyways, back to it. We were....

RIGHT. We're in danger. I wish Halara was here. I always feel safer with them around.

That's okay. If they aren't here, then they might be at the secret lab being tortured to death by homunculus experiments choking the shit out of Makoto for thinking he could contain that much raw awesomeness. Even Yomi ran shrieking for his life once Halara hit the field. They are, without exception, the baddest ass in Kanai Ward. Top-tier unpleasant glutes.

Corroborating what Kurumi was telling us. This place was a village once, but then a toxic gas leak from a nearby mine prompted an evacuation from the village. At least, that's the official story.

I know better than to trust the official explanation for "Everyone needs to get the fuck out because rich people have decided that they own the land now." Maybe it's an eco-disaster or maybe it's gentrification. Or both! Capitalists are opportunists, after all.

Yep. Nobody can enter here, not even Peacekeepers, on account of how deadly the gas is supposed to be. The obvious place to hide a secret lab.

The presence of the nearby "zombies" means something's obviously going on here, but that's not what toxic gas typically does to people. My kneejerk reaction is that the homunculus project is responsible for... Whatever's happening in their eyes, and subsequently the rest of them.

What you would consider to be a corpse, a homunculus researcher may look at as viable resources.

That's what I was thinking. Occam's Razor says the toxic gas did that to those people, but my money's on the lab. I don't think those are actually zombies, so much as they are failed homunculi.

But we should still keep in mind the possibility that it's as simple as "gas victims".

SHIT, I guess they are aggressive. These three broke down the door and--

Wait, are those three wearing Aetheria Academy uniforms under their raincoats? Oh. Oh. Oh god no. I know who they are.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

It is NOT toxic gas. I repeat, it is NOT toxic gas. These three are our victims. We murdered them and sent them here.

These three have been haunting me since the day we killed them but I didn't expect them to do so literally. We are in Silent Hill! This is the ghost of my past trauma manifesting corporeally! I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT, I SWEAR. T_T

Okay. Less hysterical. I take this as confirmation that these are failed homunculi. After they died, the Theater Girls' bodies were shipped to the secret lab, where they were used for homunculus experiments. Now they want to eat our brains. And they're entitled to it because we murdered them.

No, not going to think like that. We have to run.

AND NOW SOMEONE'S SHOOTING ARROWS. Have we killed any archers? I don't think we've killed any archers. Wait, there's a note. This was probably fired by a human. Do we know any archers?

Good on you, Kurumi, for grabbing that note.

Didn't expect that to be confirmed so quickly. We're moving along at a rapid pace.

Y'know, I tinkered with both "KANAI WARD SIGNATURE MEAT BUNS are cannibalism" and "Everyone in Kanai Ward is homunculus" as spitballs at various points while I was here. Maybe it's both.

Wild-ass speculation theory: The meat buns are made with human meat, which helps keep the homunculi sane and reasonable. This meat comes from the kidnapped people Number One was talking about; They're trafficked into the city and butchered to make meat buns.

When someone dies publicly, their body is brought here and basically dumped to keep up the appearance of an immortal being's "death". Separated from the sanity-granting meat buns, they degrade into the zombies we're encountering now.

That's the reason why Amaterasu always moves extremely quickly to remove a dead body from a crime scene - something that's come up a few times. The official explanation is that the Forever Rain causes the body to rot too quickly, but they do this when bodies are indoors too. In reality, they need to traffic the "dead" homunculus out of the city before everyone sees them wake up.

Maybe we weren't brought here to, like... be killed by homunculi or experimented on or whatever. Maybe we're here for the same reason all the other homunculi are. We're here because we're "dead". We know Kurumi's a native; If this theory is right, she's likely a homunculus too. We know nothing about Yuma. And none of the confirmed-outsider Master Detectives have been found to be here yet.

Everyone who's died in Kanai Ward is probably here somewhere.

...including Yakou.

Okay, so I wasn't wrong before when I said those others seemed to be lulling around dormant. Homunculi become steadily more feral, the longer they're deprived of human flesh. The Theater Girls are starving, while those others were simply hungry.

I wonder if we can "unkill" the homunculi by getting them something to eat? This would be a good reason to invest in human cloning. See how they do with lab-grown human arms and stuff.

...y'know, if my theory is true, then Icardi was screwed from the start. If his plan had worked, he would have escaped Kanai Ward and fled to the outside, then gone slowly insane from a lack of understanding for how to feed himself.

Makoto, what did you do to this city? What even makes people turn homunculus? Is it something in the rain? Is it... Is the rain altering our genetic code or something?

Is that why you wear the mask? To shield your face from whatever is happening in people's eyes that makes them change?

Is that how we survived the sinking of the sub? We were inside it when it went down. Did we die, but Makoto fished our corpse out of the river and then waited for us to wake up again?

Is that why Yomi was going to execute Martina by having her mashed in an industrial-strength presser? I thought he was just being barbarically cruel, but if the Peacekeepers are extricating corpses before they can wake back up then he'd have to know what's up, right? Crushing someone into paste might be one of the only ways to kill a homunculus.

Hey, man. Sorry about that whole surprise-murder thing. On a scale of 1 to Brains, how hungry are you right now? Do you have the emotional capacity for a chat?

I mean, you died before the Theater Girls so probably not but you had the emotional capacity to make your way to what is clearly a religious shrine, so you must have had some reasoning and comprehension skills when you first woke up.

BRAINS IT IS. THE ANSWER IS BRAINS.

There's Shachi and Icardi. Also Worshipper. If we're going to find allyship, we need a fresher-dead homunculus than Chapter 3. So. Yakou and Huesca are the only potential candidates, then.

Come on, Yakou, you gotta be around here somewhere.

How did you think "Restricted Area" was enforced? Honestly, I was expecting a huge concrete wall. We could climb that shit.

...those black and yellow warning panels look suspect. Maybe throw a stick at it or something. Might be electrified. Not that it matters if we're both unkillable immortals but being electrocuted to "death" would still hurt like hell.

After all, it would need to be strong enough to deter homunculi from doing exactly what I said: Trying to climb it.

Yep. Even better than a stick, we had a random homunculus to walk his dumb ass into it and demonstrate. Thanks, rando.

Oh, more randos. We should see if they walk into the fence too. If we pile up enough homunculi, maybe we could - No, human bodies are electricity conductors. That wouldn't work.

It's okay, it's just the Theater Girls again. I know exactly how to repel theater kids. Ahem. "Good luck on your performance of Macbeth tonight."

Can't run any further, Yuma! Do something! Anything!

ANYTHING ELSE BUT THAT, OH MY GOD.

Be fair, Shinigami. There's a reasonable chance that Yuma died again, not passed out.

Oh, that is much more of a "Secret Lab" than what Makoto showed us. I think we hit jackpot.

Can you? Hmm. Just picked up a Solution Key that says homunculi are attracted to sound. So that's interesting.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

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fluffydavey · 1 year

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For the couples promt: Not wanting to leave their embrace please!!

does this follow the prompt? who knows. please enjoy this brain rot thank you very much <3 || relationship prompts

They’re laying on the cold hard ground beneath them as they hide out in Medda’s theatre, nothing but a thin sheet Jack had managed to find with some props to keep them warm. Davey's limbs are sprawled across him, and he can feel Davey's breath against his neck.

It isn’t something grand or some huge gesture, but Jack doesn’t think Davey minds that much. He wishes he could give this beautiful boy laying with him the entire world - but that still wouldn’t be enough. Because Davey deserves so much more than life has thrown his way, but he goes with the punches and makes the best of every situation.

Davey’s always been the person who takes care of everyone but himself. He’s the boy who left school to take care and provide for his family, who teaches the younger newsies alongside Les how to read and how to do basic math; who does his absolute best to keep all of them out of trouble.

(“You’re fighting a losing battle here Dave,” he had told him once, but Davey had walked right up to Spot Conlon without an ounce of fear and managed to get Spot to talk through an issue between some of their newsies. Jack was ready to profess his love right then and there - he'd never seen someone hold their ground with her like Davey had.)

Davey, who within a day of meeting Jack, had not only helped plan and execute the strike of the century; but had stayed by his side throughout it all, to help Jack run the union as smoothly as possible. And he’s never heard the other boy complain throughout it all. Davey, the boy who's turned his life around for the better, probably doesn't see himself the way the rest of the world does.

If he could, Jack would sit with Davey in the theatre watching one of Medda's shows holding his hand, walk him home every night and kiss him goodnight on the streets. But they can't do that - people think there's something wrong with the way Jack feels for Davey. Sometimes, that thought terrifies him. It sticks with him when he reads headlines about arrests, and when he hears comments on the streets. If he allows it, the thought festers in his brain and Jack becomes terrified of a future where he isn't always standing by Davey's side.

But the moments like now, where Davey is obviously fighting sleep so he can stay awake with Jack, are enough to soothe his worries and his fears. Nothing is guaranteed, so why get so hung up about the future now? Especially when the most beautiful boy in all of New York - no, the world - is holding onto him as tight as he can.

"I can hear you thinking," Davey says, and Jack snorts. Of course, Davey is barely clinging to consciousness and still knows exactly how Jack's brain ticks.

"I'm just thinking about how lucky I am that I get to call you mine," he answers, his fingers curling around strands of Davey's hair. He practically feels Davey melt under his touch, and he kisses the top of the other boy's head.

"Oh?" Davey asks, and Jack can hear Davey's smile. "You are pretty lucky, actually."

"Yeah?" he asks, grinning widely.

"Sarah's told me she overheard a few of the girls at temple talking about me. Sounds like I'm pretty in demand right now," Davey says, and although the idea should make Jack insanely jealous, he just laughs.

"Well, I guess I better up my game if I want to keep you away from them, huh?" he asks, and Davey lifts his head. He's laughing as he leans in for a kiss. Jack savours the feeling of Davey's bottom lip between his own, a barely audible whine escaping the back of Davey's throat.

"I think that you have ruined me for anyone else," Davey says, as he pulls apart from Jack. Jack can hear just how earnest the other boy is, and he thinks that this is what true happiness feels like. It isn't a place like Santa Fe, it's being with the person he loves, in a sanctuary all of their own. He holds onto Davey tighter, unsure of what to say to that, and he lets himself take everything in.

Let the world go on around them, Jack wants to stay in this moment forever. Davey's limbs are tangled with his, and there is nowhere else in the world he'd rather be. It mightn't be the most grand of places, but he's pretty sure Davey wouldn't want anything more either, as long as they're together.

#javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #my writing #i've been trying to write for so long why won't my brain let me do the thing

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whumpering-heights · 4 years

Text

Immortal drowning

A/N: I found a prompt of tying a weight to an immortal whumpee’s feet and drowning them, but I couldn’t find it. So, while I can’t take full credit for this idea, I do like how it turned out. CWs for drowning and some gore/light body horror near the end (after the caretakers are introduced) ___________________

“Kill it!” Screamed the crowd. “Kill the witch!” Johnathan would’ve liked to see them try. “I’m not a witch!” He yelled. “I’ve never hurt any of you!” This only riled the crowd up more. A rock flew from the mob, hitting Johnathan square in the temple. A loud crack sounded and lights danced in front of his eyes. He staggered, only the guards holding him keeping him on his feet. But after a moment, the wound healed itself and he could see clearly again. The guards who weren’t occupied with dragging him, had to keep the crowd from tearing into him right then and there. Johnathan wondered what they were going to do. Most likely they’ll try multiple things, once they realised no execution would stick. He felt sick to his stomach. This was going to hurt. But he should be able to escape. Human attention spans were imperfect, and he had all the time in the world. They were bound to slip up sometime. With some bewilderment, he suddenly realised they weren’t headed for the town square. Not the prison, either. Instead, his captors were dragging him outside of town. For a second, Johnathan was puzzled. Then, he saw the shore. It was noon, but the dark clouds made it look like dusk. A small boat lay ready for take-off, next to it an anvil and many chains and rope. When Johnathan realized what was about to happen, his legs gave out. The guards grunted in surprise, but kept him upright. All sound around Johnathan faded, as the only thing left in his awareness became the anvil. Once he regained control of his legs, he struggled like a feral animal. “No, please!” He begged. “Y-you can’t, please, I beg you!” The crowd only jeered. As they dragged him ever closer to his imminent doom, his struggling feet finding no purchase in the sand, his pleading became less comprehensible. “No, no, please, good people, I-I swear onto God, I’ll do anything, just, please-” His pleas were cut off when one of the guards shoved a rag in his mouth and tied a gag around his face. Johnathan could only whimper as two of the guards held him down in the sand, while the rest started binding the anvil to his legs. Some ropes and chains were looped though his handcuffs in front of him, ensuring a proper bond. Johnathan was crying openly now. The crowd cheered as he was dumped in the boat and two men came with to dispose of him.

The clouds opened up and rain fell down. The men rowing the boat didn’t seem to notice. Johnathan lay in between them, shaking with terror. This terror intensified when the men stopped rowing. They had arrived. Johnathan tried to plead with his eyes. I have never hurt a soul, he tried to say. Please, have mercy. But his pleading went unheard. The men raised the anvil and dropped it down the side of the boat. As it hit the water, Johnathan was scraped over the wooden planks. He tried dig his nails into the wood, leaving long scratches along the bottom and side. With a last, desperate cry, he disappeared into the sea.

The cold water shocked him, the salt stinging his eyes. He felt the water rush around him as he sank. He knew it was futile, but he instinctively held his breath. Soon enough, the anvil hit the bottom. He continued sinking a bit more due to momentum but bounced back until the line was taut. His lungs felt like they were burning. A small part of his brain thought he might as well get it over with, but he was still too scared to open his mouth and face the pain. He squirmed and struggled, as his throat spasmed for the need of air. Involuntarily, he opened his mouth to gasp. Salt water rushed in his mouth and throat, and he tried to cough it up. This only made him take on more water. His chest spasmed, trying to expel the liquid. His muscles cramped and twitched as his body tried to swim despite the chains. Finally, a darkness creeped in from the corners of his eyes. His struggling slowed down. He stopped trying to breathe, a strange kind of comfort tugging at his conscience. He slipped under.

He awoke with a sharp pain in his chest. He screamed, pushing the water out that settled in his lungs and letting new water in. It made him go unconscious faster, but that was a mercy. It didn’t make his frantic struggeling any less terrified, though.

He didn’t know how long it had been. Despite the proof to the contrary, his brain was still convinced he was dying, and didn’t allow any other thoughts. Plants had started growing on the anvil, the chains, and on him, yet his instinctive struggles stayed just as desperate. Sometimes, if he had the presence of mind to hold his breath when he woke up, he could be shortly aware of the light dancing so high above him, shining though the surface. But those moments of conscience thought never lasted long, soon replaced by the desperate panic that had become his existence.

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

Lisa stared into the sea. She had never gone big game fishing before. Her safety vest made her feel a bit better, but being on the small boat in the middle of the sea still made her a bit nervous. Her uncle threw a bucket of dead fish overboard. “Bait.” He explained. Lisa went a bit pale around her nose. If the bait was the size of salmons, how big were the fish they were going to catch? Her uncle laughed. “Now, don’t you look so worried, Lisa. I’ve been doing this since I could walk, so I should know what I’m doin’. You’re in safe hands.” Lisa smiled. “Thanks, uncle Rick.” She walked away from the edge of the boat and sat down on the deck. Her uncle took his place near the fishing rod. It was attached to the boat and motorized. “Now, remember,” said her uncle. “It might take a while for something to bite, but that’s just what’s fun-” His eyebrows raised as the rod bent down. “Oh, I’ve caught somethin’ already! Lisa, a hand!” Lisa ran over and helped reel in the catch. It was a little exciting, she thought. She wondered what kind of fish they would see. Her uncle laughed. “My, that feels like a big one! 800 pounds, at least! I should bring you for trips more often, you bring luck!” Lisa chuckled and peered into the water. As the catch slowly came into view, her blood ran cold. “Uncle Rick?” Her voice trembled. He looked up in concern. “What is it, girl?” “I... I think that’s a body.” Shaking, she pointed to the silhouette in the water. Her uncle put the reel on brake and followed her finger. He turned white as a sheet. “Oh... Oh my god.” Below them, a vague outline of a person hang on the hook. It had caught on the many chains and ropes binding it. They couldn’t see the details of it, yet. Lisa’s eyes teared up. Her uncle threw an arm around her. He was shaking, too. “You can wait in the cabin, love.” He said softly. “You don’t need to see this.” Lisa looked up at him. “You’re reeling it in?” “Well, I can hardly leave it here.” “But what if it was... Y’know. What if it’s a crime scene?” Her uncle stared at the barely visible figure. “I reckon it might be. But if I leave it, I won’t be able to find it again.” Lisa nodded. “Okay. I’m staying. I want to help.” “Are you sure? Who knows how long it’s been in there. I really don’t think you should see it.” “Well, someone has to. I’m helping.” Lisa insisted. Her uncle sighed, and they solemnly reeled in the corpse.

Lisa felt bile rising up in her stomach as the body was lifted from the water. The body seemed to be of a young man with long, tangled hair. His clothes were barely recognisable as such, and barely covered his skeletal body. After soaking in the water for god knew how long, his deathly pale skin had become bloated and blotchy. It was even peeling off in places. It took Lisa and her uncle some effort to lift the anvil into the boat. Lisa caught sight of the ropes and chains around the body’s leg. They had been embedded into his swollen skin. The blood supply had been cut off, and his feet had turned black. She gagged. “Well,” her uncle said. “It’s actually not that bad.” “Not that bad?” She cried. “He looks awful!” “Yeah, but you’d think he’d be rotting and stuff. Must not be dead that long. Poor soul. I’ll contact the shore, let them know what we found.” He went into the cabin. Lisa studied the corpse’s face. He did look terrible, but he still had his eyes and nose and such. He almost looked like he was just unconsious. In fact... she rubbed her eyes. Did she just see his eyebrow twitch? Before she could mention it to her uncle, the corpse’s eyes flew open and it gasped. She screamed and fell back. The corpse turned on his side and started vomiting up water. The heaves and wet coughs sounded like no sound a human should make. “Uncle Rick! It’s alive!” Her uncle came outside. “That impossible, there’s-” He stopped as he took in the man, who was wracked with raspy coughing fits. A small fish leapt out of his mouth. Her uncle’s eyes showed white all around them. “That’s... that’s impossible.” He grabbed a mop lying around and brandished it like a weapon. “What’s wrong?” asked Lisa. “We saved him just in time! We should help-” “Dearie, that thing has been underwater so long, it has barnacles.” Snapped her uncle. “Whatever it is, it should be dead.” The former corpse had finished coughing up the contents of his lungs. It lay gasping and trembling on the deck, still wrapped in those ropes and chains. “What are you?!�� Yelled her uncle. He stepped in between Lisa and the man defensively. At the question, the man flinched in on himself. With effort, he raised his shaking hands. “Nh-please, good sir.” His voice sounded wet and raspy, and he became overtook with another coughing fit. “I-I mean no harm, I swear-” He gagged and curled in on himself, shuddering and dry heaving. “Uncle,” Lisa said carefully. “I don’t think he can hurt us.” Her uncle looked uncomfortable and lowered his mop a bit. “Uhm, you’re right, but... what the hell is it?” he called over to the man “Are you a ghost or somethin’?” The man looked up at them through his tangled hair. He shook his head. “N-no, sir. I swear.” “What the devil are you, then?” The man flinched. He tried to scramble back, but he was so weakened, he didn’t get far. He took a breath to answer, but it caught in his throat and triggered another coughing fit. Though the gasps for breath, he tried to answer. “I-I don’t- I’m not sure, but-” Some more water sprayed from his lips. He looked about to faint. “I-I-I'm no devil, good sir, miss, I-” Any further attempts at speech were too wet to understand. Lisa pushed past her uncle, despite his protests, and knelt down next to the man. She wanted to slap his back to help him with coughing, but when he looked at her, his eyes were filled with abject terror. She leaned back from the intensity. “Nh-please, miss, don’t put me back. I-I couldn’t, please, no more-” Another cough cut off his pleas. “Don’t worry.” Lisa said. “We’re not putting you back. I promise.”

#whump #whumpee #immortal whumpee #drowning #drowning cw #emeto #emeto cw #i mean theres no actual vomit but still #body horror #body horror cw #begging #the ending is very meh but i didn't know how to end it #my writing #my stuff

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luxaofhesperides · 3 years

Text

there in the tower.

A Sleeping Beauty inspired dark fantasy fic.

for ORV RARE PAIR WEEK 2021 @orv-week; day one, prompt: fairy tale

also on ao3.

. . .

They say that the dragon is guarding a princess. After all, dragons will always kidnap princesses and no one else. Who else is so valuable? So important in the kingdom? So weak? So when the dragon flew through the sky and curled around the base of a large tower, it seemed obvious that there was a princess inside, awaiting rescue.

Here’s the thing, though: Na Bori is not a princess.

She’s a seamstresses daughter, a common girl who doesn’t attract much attention from others. So why had the dragon taken her?

Of course, Lee Jihye had no way to know for sure that Na Bori was taken until she actually goes to the tower, but Na Bori had disappeared and a dragon appeared the next day. There were investigations, of course; nobility keeps track of their daughters and what bloodlines they marry into. Every princess and noble girl in the continent is accounted for. People have speculated that there may be a missing princess, perhaps born out of wedlock, or a sickly, weak girl who had never been introduced to society. And then they wondered if they should even bother rescuing the kidnapped girl if they weren’t respectably nobility.

Lee Jihye had to run out of town because of that one. Apparently starting a bar fight and smashing a chair over a marquis’ son is a bad move.

The barely suppressed panic thrums in her chest, filling the empty spaces between her ribs as she continues her journey to the tower.

No one has seen Na Bori since the dragon appeared. No one had looked, either. Who would care for a seamstresses daughter? But Lee Jihye has been besides Na Bori for years, has grown up with her, has never known anyone so bright and clever and kind.

The thought of Na Bori gone forever, trapped in a tower because no one cared to look makes her furiously blink tears out of her eyes. No one else is looking, but Lee Jihye. She would never stop until Na Bori was safe by her side again.

Here’s another thing: Lee Jihye is not a knight. She is training to be one, under the instruction of an old warrior who has settled down to live the last years of his life in peace. There are other knights and princes traveling to the tower, fighting beasts and bandits in order to rescue the poor maiden trapped besides a dragon, hoping to gain glory and honor for their deeds. Lee Jihye just wants her best friend back.

It’s easy enough to avoid them; Lee Jihye’s been dodging them for weeks, knowing she’s too tense to handle anyone’s company. These nobles are planning to gain fame or riches or a wife out of this. The last knight who had said something about pitiful women always clinging to their saviors got his teeth knocked out and a concussion from how hard Lee Jihye punched him. She left him lying on the side of the road, fists shaking as she desperately tried to erase thoughts of Na Bori married to a pig like him.

The less time spent with others, the better.

She cuts down another branch in her way and dives deeper into the forests that surround the castle.

“But what if you get sent far away?” she asks, stabbing her needle especially viciously through the fabric.

Lee Jihye is rather happy that Na Bori doesn’t want her to go. The rare occasion where Na Bori clings to Lee Jihye instead of the other way around are moments memorized and held onto fondly. She knows that there is no one in this world closer to her than Na Bori, knows that she’s the person who knows Na Bori best, but it’s nice to hear that she’s wanted.

Smiling, Lee Jihye reaches out and takes one of Na Bori’s hands, stopping her from tearing through the fabric. “I’ll still come back,” she promises, “Where else would I come home to?”

“And if you get hurt?”

“I’ll just get strong enough that nothing can hurt me.”

Na Bori is mollified, and it shows in how she relaxes and finally sets down her sewing. “You still have a long way to go then. Strong knights don’t cry over a little tumble down the hill.”

Lee Jihye flushes and scowls. “Hey! It was my first assignment and it was a steep hill. I hit a lot of things on the way down! It hurt! If anything, it would be weird if I wasn’t

crying when she wakes up. Lee Jihye faintly hears Na Bori’s voice whisper, “Crybaby,” but it’s only wistful thinking. Forcing her aching body up, Lee Jihye wipes away her tears and prepared herself for another agonizing day cutting through the thorny and impossibly large brambles that block entry to the tower.

“Okay,” she tells herself, “You’re almost there. Na Bori is waiting for you, so you can’t give up yet.”

Many of the others have turned back. She no longer sees other groups making their way to the tower. It’s been eerily silent for the past two days.

If she had been anyone else, if she had been sane, Lee Jihye would have turned around too. The entire area felt unwelcoming, downright hostile sometimes, and made every nerve in her body scream at her to turn around. A heavy pit of despair grows in her stomach and the hopelessness it causes makes her physically sick a few times.

Still, Lee Jihye presses onwards.

The longer it takes, the more she worries, her brain providing morbid images of Na Bori’s body rotting in the tower, or being eaten by the dragon, or any other terrible thing that could happen to kidnapped people. It has Lee Jihye on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and she’s been teetering on that cliff for a few days now.

There’s no doubt that the area around the tower is full of dark magic. It gets into her head, twists around her bones, squeezes the air out of her lungs and slowly suffocates her each day. It gives her nightmares, makes her relive memories that feel like they’re happening again, like Na Bori is there with her only for wakefulness to destroy the illusions. Lee Jihye has only been in this dark magic infected forest for two days. Na Bori has been missing for a week and a half.

The fear she feels for Na Bori and what she’s had to endure only makes things worse.

Lee Jihye hacks through another large thorny bramble and continues in deeper, ignoring the weariness that makes her want to collapse and never get up. Thorns have caught on her with each step she takes; most of the cuts clot up quickly, but the rest leave a trail of blood to guide her back out.

The tower doesn’t look any closer.

She lifts her heavy arms to cut through another branch.

Na Bori shrieks and jumps onto Lee Jihye, clinging with all her might. Startled, Lee Jihye stumbles back a few steps, trying to regain her balance without dropping Na Bori. She wraps her arms around Na Bori, holding her up, and looks around for the source of her distress.

Crawling across the road is a centipede.

Lee Jihye can’t help but laugh, easily carrying Na Bori away from it, continuing down the road to her house.

Na Bori, still holding onto Lee Jihye and making no moves to get down, smacks her shoulder. “Don’t laugh!”

“I can’t believe you call me a crybaby when you jump into my arms as soon as you see a bug.”

“It’s a perfectly reasonably fear! Nothing should have that many legs, or those weird eyes, or pincers, or--ugh!” She shudders, scaring herself by imagining the very things she hates about bugs.

It’s cute, how insistent she is that bugs are weird, gross, and wholly unnatural. Lee Jihye has listened to these complaints for many years, and she wouldn’t mind listening for many years more.

“Don’t worry,” she says, adjusting her grip around Na Bori’s waist. “I’ll always be here to rescue you from the evil, scary bugs.”

Na Bori tucks her face into the crook of Lee Jihye’s neck. Her warm breath sends shivers down her spine; it takes everything in her not to stumble or drop Na Bori.

“My valiant knight,” she says, and Lee Jihye can hear the smile in her voice.

Who needs kings and queens? The only person she ever wants to dedicate her sword to is already in her arms. And if asked, Lee Jihye would gladly dedicate the rest of her life.

It’s just. There are little moments between them, where Lee Jihye thinks Na Bori also wants more, wants to push the limits of their friendship into new territory, but what if it’s just wistful thinking? They’ve shared what feels like their whole lives together, and there’s no guarantee that Na Bori wouldn’t leave one day. But if she stayed… If she stayed, Lee Jihye would give

up and let the brambles consume her body. She doesn’t know how long it’s been, how far she’s gone. Dreams and reality feel the same and she can’t quite tell which is which anymore. The tower is still the same distance away it was when she first saw it rising above the brambles.

Everything hurts. Her ears are ringing. She’s been bleeding sluggishly for days now, always torn apart by new thorns. There’s no point in trying to patch herself up when the next set of brambles is ready to rip her flesh apart.

The tip of her sword drags through the dirt. She’s given up trying to cut a path through to the towers. Instead, Lee Jihye settles for twisting between the branches, uncaring for the thorns that reach out for her greedily.

Whatever dark magic saturates this place is slowly killing her. Lee Jihye doesn’t know much about magic as she’s never had a talent for it, but she knows enough to understand that this is incredibly powerful and dangerous magic.

What does it have to do with Na Bori?

The answer is: nothing good. Who cares about the specifics? All Lee Jihye has to know is that the magic is going to (if it hasn’t already) hurt Na Bori. The need to save her from this, to bring her back somewhere safe, is what keeps her going despite how painful it is.

As much as her body screams at her to give up and just lie down until she withers away, Lee Jihye pushes forwards, ignoring every ache and cut and bruise.

She will get to the tower.

Na Bori will come home.

Their hands bump together and they both reflexively jerk away. The air between them is awkward for a moment, then Na Bori laughs and picks up the last apple slice and brings it up to Lee Jihye’s lips.

"Here,” she says sweetly, and Lee Jihye takes a bite, watches the juice trail down her fingers and wants more than anything to lick it away, to press kisses against Na Bori’s nimble hands, wants

to cry, to scream, to just be done with it. The tower looms above her, no closer and no farther, mocking her and she twists herself through another bramble, wincing as a thorn drags along her arm, beads of blood beginning to

fall into the river. The colorful leaves line the banks of the river and Lee Jihye watches as Na Bori carefully shifts through piles of leaves, searching for the mushrooms that she needed for dinner.

“Jihye, come here!” she calls, waving her over.

And Lee Jihye goes, as she always does. “What is it? Did you find

a way in, but it’s all just stone. No doors, no windows, just stone. She finally got past those horrible brambles, and now that she’s at the tower she can’t find a way in. It’s too tall for her to climb with her how exhausted she is. There’s no way up.

Lee Jihye can’t help but cry, screaming in frustration as she presses the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to breathe through the sobs that force themselves out of her chest.

The magic has only gotten stronger. Dreams, memories, reality, it’s all mixing together. One moment she’s walking through town with Na Bori, the next she’s trying not to gut herself on a large thorn. One moment she’s cutting down a branch and the next she’s waking up then walking past the brambles then waking up and seeing Na Bori smile then waking up and waking up and waking up but she can’t remember falling asleep.

Is this a dream? Is she awake? Is the tower before her real or is this just another illusion?

She’s come all this way. She can’t go back, not without finding a way in that fucking

tower over her and Lee Jihye is sobbing as she watches they push Na Bori into the river. The one holding her back is laughing meanly, saying something about how no one would care about what happens to them, just two poor common girls who only have each other, bet their parents wouldn’t even notice them gone.

N a Bori is coughing up water in-between insults, and Lee Jihye whimpers as her arm is twisted more and more and any more will hurt her, will break her bones, their hands are too big and strong and no one is coming to save them and

"Get up Jihye!”

There is a dragon curled around the tower. It’s smaller than what she expected. Smaller than what she remembers. It stares at her, but it doesn’t attack.

It looks just as tired as she is.

“Hey,” Lee Jihye rasps out. “I just want her back. Please.”

The dragon huffs and drops its head to the ground. There is a collar around its neck, digging into its flesh. Dried blood colors the edges of the collar, and Lee Jihye feels sick to her stomach. Whatever magic is taking place here is vile enough to hurt a dragon, a creature of pure magic from the core of the planet.

Killing the dragon would be an act of mercy.

Lee Jihye approaches. It watches and doesn’t move. Its golden eyes are so tired; the dragon has already given up.

She raises her sword.

They are seven years old when they first meet. The new seamstress in town is delighted to see that her daughter will have a friend her age. She waves the two of them off to play and goes back into her store, ready to get started on mending clothes.

Na Bori grins, bright and lively; it’s the biggest smile Lee Jihye has ever seen, and she’s instantly enamoured.

"Hi! I’m Na Bori. Wanna play?”

"Sure! I’m Lee Jihye, I live down there,” she points behind them to the cluster of houses near the fields, “and you’re the first person I’ve met who’s my age!”

Na Bori doesn’t waste any more time talking. She grabs Lee Jihye’s wrist and drags her along. It’s the first touch she’s felt from someone outside her family that didn’t hurt. She’s gotten used to hiding from the local bullies and crying when they were done with her, but Na Bori’s hand around her wrist is what makes her feel like she’s splintering apart.

It’s a good feeling.

She follows along behind Na Bori, and remembers that kind touch whenever she thinks about why she loves Na Bori so much.

The collar falls to the ground. It was hard work cutting through it, but just because Lee Jihye doesn’t have a talent for magic doesn’t mean she can’t use it. It’s all about mana direction and intent. This forest is full of mana that feels rotten and wounded, but it is mana nonetheless, and Lee Jihye has spent days in it. It’s easy enough to focus on the memory of the first kindness another child showed her and use that to fuel the intent of help rather than harm .

The dragon blinks and some life returns to its eyes. It watches her carefully as she sheathes her sword and wipes the sweat off her brow.

“I helped you get out of the collar. Please help me too.”

And it does.

The dragon nudges its nose against her stomach and lets her climb on. She holds onto it’s large horns as it ascends and circles the tower. There is a single window in this entire tower, up at the top, and it is there that the dragon stops, using its claws to dig into the stone walls and cling to the tower so that Lee Jihye can climb in through the window.

It rumbles at her softly, and Lee Jihye pats its nose. “I’ll be back soon.”

The inside of the tower is dark save for the light that comes in through the window. It’s full of books and bones, strange symbols drawn on the wall and the floor. There is a man collapsed against a table, gaunt and covered in dried blood. His chest moves, the only sign that he’s not dead, and symbols are cut into his skin, turned black from channeling dark magic.

Lee Jihye doesn’t hesitate to run him through with her sword. He dies silently, not knowing the danger he was in the moment he stole Na Bori away.

That is, if Na Bori is even here. If she isn’t, Lee Jihye is going to have a breakdown, then go out and continue her search. But she’s sure that Na Bori is here.

She has to be.

In the back is another set of stairs that winds up, and Lee Jihye climbs them, leaving her sword out just in case.

It’s much darker up here, but still Lee Jihye can make out the bed and a person lying in it. There’s a table besides the bed, full of sharp objects she doesn’t know the use for, and small vials of blood. Dread fills Lee Jihye and she approaches the bed to get a closer look at who is on it.

Na Bori sleeps peacefully.

Her arms are bare and full of healing cuts. Lee Jihye collapses, half-laughing half-sobbing in relief. She reaches out and shakes Na Bori, trying to rouse her from her slumber, but Na Bori doesn’t stir.

She’s as still as a corpse.

Lee Jihye shakes her harder, then pats her cheek. “Bori-ya? Hey, Bori-ya, I’m here. I’m here to take you home. Wake up, will you? Please, wake up.”

Na Bori remains motionless. She’s never been a deep sleeper, or a still one. Seeing her so still and silent terrifies Lee Jihye.

“Please,” she whispers, grasping one of Na Bori’s hands and pressing her forehead against it. “Please, wake up.”

Lee Jihye sobs. She went through all this and now that she’s here, it doesn’t matter. Because Na Bori is stuck in a magical sleep that Lee Jihye can’t wake her from.

Desperate, Lee Jihye pulls on the rotting mana around them. Blood drips from her nose as she pushes herself through exhaustion and pain, letting the decay take root in her body as she tries to use magic to break Na Bori out of her enchanted sleep. It hurts so much, behind her eyes, in her throat, around her heart. It hurts but there’s nothing else she can do, so Lee Jihye keeps pulling the mana in, then pushing it into Na Bori through their joined hands, wishing wake up wake up wake up come back to me please I missed you so much please come back I want to go home please don’t make me leave you .

She’s not made for magic. Doesn’t really know how to use it and it takes a toll on her body. She barely notices that she’s stopped crying. She just doesn’t have the energy to make tears.

Lee Jihye resigns herself to death. Better than leaving without Na Bori. She slumps over, slowly losing her strength. Na Bori sleeps on.

They were supposed to have a future together. She wanted to find the courage to confess to Na Bori, to make a life with her, to become a knight for her. She wanted so much but she’ll never get it because their story ends here.

These are her final moments. She’s allowed to be greedy. Lee Jihye leans down and kisses Na Bori; their first and last kiss. She presses her lips against Na Bori’s mouth and just stays there, tired and weak.

Na Bori takes a breath.

And she kisses back.

"Why do you want to be a knight? Isn’t it scary?”

Was it? Lee Jihye had always thought the stories of adventures and fighting monsters was really cool. She says as much to Na Bori, who scrunches up her nose.

“But what if you get hurt or run into a really scary monster?” she asks, clutching the skirt of her dress in her fists, knuckles white.

“Then I’d fight back and come to you so you could help me! Being a knight might be a little scary, but I’d also be strong enough to defeat any scary thing that I find.”

“Would you save me if I was in danger?”

Lee Jihye grins and grabs Na Bori’s hand to link their pinkies together. “I promise that I will always save you.”

Na Bori has to support Lee Jihye as they both stumble down the stairs and make their way to the window, where the dragon is waiting. It coos at them, concerned, and Lee Jihye manages a weak smile that seems to reassure it.

They somehow manage to get onto the dragon, holding onto ridges of its back as it takes off and flies them away from the oppressive force of black magic.

“Jihye?” Na Bori murmurs from behind her, arms wrapped around Jihye’s waist as she leans against her back. “Thank you for coming to save me. I kept dreaming of you and our promise.”

“I told you didn’t I? I’ll always save you.” Lee Jihye wishes she could be cooler when she says it, but she’s exhausted and the relief of having Na Bori with her makes her voice small and weak.

Na Bori presses a kiss to the back of her neck. “Sleep. I’ll take care of you until we get home.”

Feeling like a child again, experiencing her first kind touch from another, Lee Jihye relaxes against Na Bori, and lets herself drift off as her heart splinters and fractures, then comes together whole.

#orv #orv week #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv fic #lee jihye #na bori #lee jihye/na bori #my writing

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ralphspina · 3 years

Text

Landing

A fun little something I wrote to fill one of the BoB LoveFest Prompts!

Prompt: It's D-Day; George and Gene land near each other in Normandy and need to go find their company.

Read on AO3

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

Helluva day.

It`s Luz`s first thought after he hits the ground and takes stock of his situation. It's dark and he's alone. He also seems to have lost his weapon and the damned leg bag. And his radio must have caught some shrapnel or something given the mini crater it now sports. His first day at war and he's already a mess. Fantastic. He gathers himself and the few belongings he has left and begins to make his way towards the tree line. After only a few feet, he hears a rustling sound just ahead of him.

“Flash!”

“Luz?”

The answering voice is immediately recognizable - only one person has that particular smooth accent.

“I don't think that's the right answer, Doc.”

There's a bit more rustling before Roe appears just in front of him with a half smile.

“Guess it's a good thing it was you then. You land okay? Anythin’ hurt?” Luz watches as Roe`s eyes wander over him, checking to make sure he looks uninjured.

“All good, Doc. You?”

“I'm alright. You seen anyone else?”

“Nope, looks like it's just you and me.” Luz smiles at Roe, comforted a bit by the fact he managed to land near the medic. “Guess we'll have to go find everyone else. Good thing I'm a hide and seek champ.”

They set off, Luz, upon his insistence, taking point, despite them both being equally weaponless. They move quietly for some time, glued to each others’ sides, only ever stopping to quickly consult their map and compass.

Even with the sky just beginning to lighten as dawn approaches, it's still quite dark out as they make their way through what appears to be a long abandoned farm. Luz leads them towards the crumbling farmhouse, eyes trained a bit too much on their destination and not enough on the ground in front of him. There`s a loud crack followed half a moment later by an almost equally loud thud and then a quiet exclamation of oh fuck.

Luz sits in shock for a moment, eyes darting around his new, less than ideal, position several feet underground. There`s a scrambling sound and what Luz can only assume must be the Cajun version of oh fuck. Looking up towards the noise, he finds Roe`s familiar face peering down at him through a rather large hole framed by broken, rotting pieces of wood.

“You alright?!”

“Doing peachy, Doc! What do you think of my foxhole? Might be a bit deep, huh?”

The grin on Luz`s face is quickly wiped away by the sudden, near crushing, presence of Roe as he damn near lands on top of him.

“The hell are you doing?!”

“You hurt? How's your legs?” Roe is already kneeling next to him, poking and prodding Luz`s body, looking for injuries, as he asks the questions.

“I`m fine. And look, I'm touched, flattered even, that you would jump into a hole for me, but you do understand that we are now both stuck in this hole?”

Roe stops his examination to glance first at Luz`s face, then up at the hole he had just jumped through, and then around at their new surroundings.

“Must be an old cellar or somethin’.”

“That's nice. Glad we get to spend our very first day at war stuck in a dusty old cellar. Hey, what`s Cajun for guess we’re fucked?”

“George-”

“Ha! It sort of sounds like my name!”

The exasperated look on Roe`s face only makes Luz smile wider.

“Anyone ever tell you you look like an annoyed puppy when you make that face?”

The only response he gets is an eye roll as Roe gets up to look around. Luz follows suit.

“Maybe we’re lucky and this is where they stored all their ladders.”

There's a small amused snort from Roe`s direction as they search in the darkness. The space they find themselves in is both bigger than expected and emptier than hoped for.

“You really ain't hurt?”

“Jesus, Gene, I`m fine. You don't have to fuss.”

Roe huffs at the accusation of fussing, “Ain`t fussin’. Just seein’ if you`re alright to give me a boost.”

“Now that I can do! Can`t shoot any krauts or avoid falling into cellars but I can be a damn good step stool.” The ridiculously large grin on Luz`s face is met, well, with a look somewhere between amusement and mild irritation.

The added height of Roe on Luz`s shoulders ends up being just enough for Roe to grab onto one of the steadier pieces of board and haul himself out. He disappears from sight as soon as he's out and stays out of sight for longer than Luz cares for.

“Doc? Hey, Doc!”

No answer.

“Doc! Don`t forget your favorite radioman!”

Still no answer.

Luz begins pacing, staring up into the dark, impatiently waiting for Roe to reappear. After what feels like a thousand minutes but is actually closer to five, Luz calls out again.

“Gene! Gene, buddy! I don't want to die in a hole! Gene, I-”

“I`m right here! ‘S alright! I just went to look for a rope in the farmhouse.”

“Well, did you find any?”

The large box that comes crashing down into the hole beside him is the answer.

“Jesus, you really gotta give a guy warning before you hurl stuff down a hole!”

“Found a box.”

“I see that.”

“Stand on it and it should be enough for me to grab you and pull you out.”

“Yeah, alright. Just don`t drop me, okay? I`m a valuable resource.”

Roe does drop him. Several times. But eventually, the plan works and Luz is successfully rescued from the old cellar with only a few bruises and scrapes. As they sit catching their breath, Luz rips out a handful of grass and tosses it at Roe.

“You didn't have to grunt like you were hauling up a baby elephant, you know. I'm light as a feather! Maybe you need to work on those muscles, Doc.” Luz winks over at Roe who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sure, if that feather`s made of lead. And glued to a baby elephant.”

Luz can't help the burst of laughter from the unexpected joke. Roe quickly clamps his hand over Luz`s mouth, shushing him as he does.

“I know I`m funnier than you, but you gotta keep it down.”

“Funnier than me?!” Luz`s words come out in a barely attempted whisper as they both clamber to their feet.

“Mhmm. I`ll teach ya how to make real jokes later, but first we gotta find the rest of Easy.”

Roe grabs Luz by the hand and yanks him along. They walk like that for several minutes, Roe leading the way, determined, and Luz trailing just behind him in quiet amusement, his hand clamped firmly in Roe`s.

“You planning on holding my hand the whole way, Doc?”

Roe glances down at their clasped hands at the comment, quickly letting go and mumbling a quiet sorry, didn't realize.

“No worries. When we get to a road, you can hold my hand as we cross it.”

Roe merely shakes his head and keeps moving.

“You know, it's okay to admit you enjoy my company, Gene. I`m an enjoyable guy.”

“My mama taught me not to lie, Georgie.” Roe mentally kicks himself as soon as the overly affectionate nickname leaves his mouth and he can't hide the shade of pink spreading across his cheeks.

“Georgie?” Luz`s voice rises, delighted by the surprising endearment.

Roe makes a small sound in the back of his throat as his brain scrambles for something to say.

“Yeah, Georgie, like the rhyme. Georgie Porgie, pudding pie, kissed the girls ‘n’ made them cry.”

“For the record, no one has ever complained, or cried, over my kissing ability.”

“That you know of.”

All the while, as they bantered back and forth and slowly made their way in the direction of their company, Luz`s fingers had slowly curled into a fist, savoring the leftover warmth from Roe`s hand.

Helluva day.

#band of brothers #band of brothers love fest 2021 #eugene roe #george luz #LuzRoe

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king-ofthe-ruckus · 3 years

Note

Song prompt (if you're still doing them). Pacify Her by Melanie Martinez. I feel like it has such wayleska energy.

oh they’re always going :> like recently i haven’t been working very fast [ i had a very scatterbrained few weeks, so my writing has been worse than usual, but since you’re pretty frequent in my notifications i wanted to give you something extra extra good so hopefully this exceeds your expectation :> ] This ended up being longer than the intended 1500 [ word count: 2865 ] so pt the thing under the keep reading thing-y :>

Tired, blue boy walks my way

Holding a girls hand

That basic bitch leaves finally

Now I can take her man

Bruce wasn’t listening. It was clear he was distracted, index finger absently tracing over the lines of the blueprints. Yellow and blue. His finger would follow the blue, until it crossed over the yellow and followed that one, following the way it snaked through the prints. Big brown eyes so full of sorrow that it made Jeremiah’s heart ache. He wanted to know what could put such a frown on his tired blue boy’s face. He wasn’t meant to worry, that crease between his brows didn’t belong. But, the part that irked Jeremiah the most was his inability to read what caused it. Bruce hadn’t said anything, but Jeremiah wanted to know, needed to know, what had upset him.

“Bruce?” Jeremiah prodded gently, setting aside his pencil that had been scratching out equations to make sure the building ability to properly balance the weight were correct. He didn’t respond. Just continuing to follow the line. Jeremiah waited a moment, perhaps Bruce was thinking about his work. Recognizing the expertise and complexity involved. He always loved it when Bruce saw his work. It was like Bruce saw him through it. But when he still didn’t respond Jeremiah stepped away from the smaller prototype of his plans for the rebuilt Gotham, his darling prince’s city, and gently moved the paper Bruce was touching causing his finger to slide off the line he was following and to glance up at Jeremiah. How deep into his own thoughts was he to not hear him? He didn’t need to be there anymore. Jeremiah was right here, speaking to him. He could feel his chest constrict as Bruce ignored him. His fingers tingling, wanting Bruce to pay attention to him. Only him. His words. His Eyes. HIM!

“Oh, yes?” This soft expression and with the way his eyes shone and face was flushed it was clear he was upset, enough to have been on the verge of crying. Jeremiah didn’t want him to be crying, he much preferred when Bruce’s thoughts were focused on him. He wouldn’t cause Bruce to cry like this. No, when Bruce cries because of Jeremiah they will be beautiful, a lovely pink flush and the tears to make his eyes sparkle. This crying was splotchy and messy, the tears flooding the lower lash line, so close to cascading over. Jeremiah wanted to fix this.

“You’re distracted.” Jeremiah wasn’t sure how to approach him. Even after spending so much time together he continuously found himself at a loss for the correct way to approach certain topics, and Bruce’s sadness was one of those topics. He understood that when the anniversary of his parent’s death came upon them. Why Bruce was hesitant to be around others, not wanting to leave the manor so Jeremiah came to him. He understood why he was hesitant to be around others in times of emotional vulnerability, but he and Bruce weren’t just people. They were connected in a way no one else understood. That’s why when he had gone over that day Bruce had hugged him so tight as if he was trying to crawl his nails into his back to grasp at his soul. To bound them so deep that their souls merged.

“My apologies, Miah.” Bruce put on a tense smile, “Selina hadn’t stayed for breakfast a week ago, and at the time I thought it was nothing, but she still hasn’t come back around.” Stayed for breakfast. Did she sleep there? Sleep with him?! He tried to repress the twist feeling of his stomach, ignoring how his bone ached to poke out of his skin like a porcupine defending itself. Based on Bruce’s sardonic smile, he could tell the way that Jeremiah wished to rip out both of their intestines and tie them together. Forever bound by him, nothing impure about their union. Only them. They were their own purity.

It was like once he opened his mouth to confide in Jeremiah about his worries he couldn’t stop. Like he had lost his usual control of his own voice. Every worry he had about Selina pouring out, about her health, and her inability to open up. Everything Jeremiah never wanted to hear he heard.

Someone told me stay away from things that aren't yours

But was he yours, if he wanted me so bad?

“He spoke of her too much. Selina this, Selina that! Can’t he see the work I put into this! Can’t he see?!” Jeremiah growled as he paced around the office. White hands twisting. The blue veins are too prominent with the strange new skin. He’s been so obvious with his affections previously, and now Bruce has the audacity to ignore him in exchange for some, some cat? He’s gone so far out of his way to include Bruce in his life. He spent countless nights planning the rebirth of his beloved city. He was the one putting in the work! He was the one who created a safe space for Bruce to be himself, not stop masquerading as some regular blue blood! Showing him that the outside world means nothing. He’s not the one leaving him behind, or turning his back on him at the first sign of trouble. Bruce needs to finally realize that he doesn’t love her, no matter what he may think. Their hearts are calling out to each other. They are the ones who are meant to be together, not her. That cat is merely a minor interference.

He needed Bruce to see who was actually there for him, maybe the best solution would be to cut that annoying little cat out of his life. Clearly, he needed some assistance. Bruce needn’t ever worry about her, never need to wonder what she is up to. She’ll be rotting.

“Boss.” It was Ecco’s voice that pulled him from the red haze that overran his thoughts. The anger that boiled in his blood. He could practically feel the skin burning from the inside out sizzling and melting off his bones, muscle splitting open. He couldn’t afford to be blinded, however. The cool water that Ecco had brought in was an unwanted reminder of how much he had drunk after wishing Bruce a safe drive home. How the burning of his skin mirrored the burning of his throat. The warmth wasn’t just the anger, it was fueled by alcohol. He hadn’t even realized he drank as much as he had, simply pouring more whenever his glass got empty. From the look of the bottle he may have well have just poured one glass and drank straight from the bottle.

“Go make me that frozen pizza in the freezer, please.” Jeremiah rubbed his eyes glancing around at his office that had been destroyed by his angry burst. Ecco had taken care of a drunken Jeremiah enough times to be aware of how the night would go. She wouldn’t be able to leave until maybe two am, if he slowed down on the drinking, or she would end up needing to stay later because he did continue drinking, and would then drunkenly tell her about Bruce and his plans, and she would need to entice him to leave the office so he wouldn’t mess up any of his plans, which has occurred before. To say hungover Jeremiah was more than anger would be an understatement.

He needed to do something about this Selina situation. She needed to realize that she was of no real importance to Bruce, needed to remind Bruce he needn’t worry himself over the lives of those beneath him.

She's getting on my nerves

You don't love her

Stop lying with those words

Jeremiah walked into the manor. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, but it has been the first time without explicit permission from Bruce. He hated how much he was working himself up; waiting in Bruce’s office for him to get back home, he and Selina had gone to lunch and longer Jeremiah waited the angrier he got. He sat legs crossed, eyes blankly staring at the bookshelves, but he couldn’t count anymore spines. Normally counting had kept his thoughts at bay, he could just numb his mind, but it didn’t work. Couldn’t work with the mental image of the two sharing hushed conversations, with her flirtatiously laying her hand on his arm-

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Selina. A sour taste spread across the back of his tongue at the thought of her name. Bruce’s name was a soothing balm usually, but not with the thoughts of him following Selina, it made his name feel like a too cold shower. His skin not knowing what to do and just panicking and sending his brain every pain signal to make it stop, but how could Jeremiah ever give up Bruce. He had an addiction. Something Jeremiah could never let go. The first one to see him as a separate force of his brother, but still see him as something that can be powerful. He wasn’t the weak twin in Bruce’s eyes. He was Jeremiah Valeska, the engineer, the man who could help Gotham. Jeremiah Valeska, his friend. The first time Bruce had mentioned that he thought of Jeremiah as a friend he was so taken aback his heart screamed in pain for a moment with how overjoyed he was - skipping a beat he realized later.

“Oh, Jeremiah?” Bruce brought him from his thoughts. Turning from the bright red damaged spine that he had absently stared at for who knows how long Jeremiah noticed a small cat standing behind him, a furious look in her face. Jeremiah wouldn’t mind removing it. Tearing the muscle from the bone, presenting his bloody skull and lamenting about the value of life, on if his life truly had any value before Bruce entered. He hadn’t realized how stuck in his own mind he was until Bruce came. Until Bruce reminded him that living wasn’t surviving, but it was seizing the moments, doing things you enjoy because you enjoy them. He brought life back into his projects. His workroom slowly became cluttered with small ideas and mazes simply because he enjoyed making them, not just because he needed to do something with his hands.

“Bruce, I’m sorry for having intruded; Alfred let me in.” He stood, buttoning his jacket. Bruce’s eyes latched onto the movement. The way Jeremiah’s head tilted higher than usual, how his eyes linger just to the left of his face. Something was wrong. Something had blocked the usual freedom in which they spoke, and the only change was Selina’s presence, but she had finally come inside and he thought they would finally be able to talk. While Jeremiah did lean towards a more formal approach when they were at the Manor, he had never avoided Bruce's eyes, he hadn’t put on the false bravado that Bruce had seen him use when on the call with contractors.

“It’s not a problem,” Bruce dismissed before looking back at Selina, “Can you please inform Alfred that we would like some coffee and to include some creamer.” It was a small thing from Bruce to remember and that was exactly why it made Jeremiah’s skin crawl. He never wanted the coffee to not linger on the back of his tongue, but the creamer helped protect his teeth, and the better care of his teeth he took the less likely he would need to go to the dentist. Jerome had wanted to play dentist a few too many times when they were kids; sometimes he could still feel his finger in his mouth, stretching his lips into a strange smile, his lips cracking as the thick irony taste coated his tongue.

“Has something happened?” He was so adorably concerned, but maybe that was concern for her. Maybe he thought Jeremiah would turn into Jerome, kill his precious little cat. Bruce was just concerned about her. HER! Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that she is unimportant? That he doesn’t need anyone besides him? He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped. Crawled its way out against his will, such a fragile sound revealing how broken his mind was becoming at the continuous thoughts of Selina trying to claw her way in.

“What do you think, Bruce?” He strode closer, entering his space, but not quite able to bring himself to touch him. He wished he could, maybe that would put his mind at ease. It had been an internal war lasting a majority of the night to let Ecco talk him into speaking with Bruce before doing anything too extreme. Framing Selina for a few burglaries wasn’t too extreme by any means. The little cat burglar had gotten herself into worse trouble without his assistance, “Perhaps I’m not especially fond of how you’re worrying yourself over someone as insignificant as Selina Kyle.”

“She’s my friend, Jeremiah” The warning tone in his voice hurt worse than the words. Why couldn’t Bruce understand that she wasn’t worth his energy?

“She treats you like nothing more than a credit card. A nice place to crash for a night.” A half step closer, eyes desperately searching for… something. For some proof the Bruce isn’t that oblivious to her ruthless manipulation. His hand hesitantly rose, fingertips gently running along his cheekbone. His eyes so focus on the slightest flush, unaware of how Bruce’s eyes squeezed close, before blinking open again.

“Jeremiah, I sincerely hope that you’ll open up a little. She’s not using me.” He grabbed his hand, thumb pressing warningly against his palm. A smile curling on Jeremiah's lips as the poorly cloaked threat. The dangerous edge only made Jeremiah want to hold him more. Make him want to force Bruce to see that they are meant for each other, not him and Selina. Jeremiah was here. He was here. Why couldn’t Bruce wrap that pretty little head around that.

It was a poorly thought out decision, Jeremiah will admit that. But he doesn’t regret it, not as Bruce pushed at his chest and tried to pull away, but only for a moment. It was just a moment of fighting, of push back, before he melted. Or maybe Jeremiah melted. Perhaps both had been weakened by the other, and the warmth provided of two hearts perfectly in sync finally having a way to connect. The way Bruce’s hand shifted to interlock their fingers. How his free hand that had been a fist at his side hesitantly rose to briefly curl into his hair, before being pulled out.

Nothing could match the true fury of when the hand that had been on Bruce neck, that had pulled him into a viciously soft kiss, of teeth clashing and bodies melting, had been pulled off by the hand that should’ve been in his hair. All because he felt it absolutely impertinent to address the surprised gasp and clattering of dishware. Even as Bruce turned his head to look at the doorway where Selina stood, no doubt, Jeremiah didn’t step away, staying perfectly within Bruce’s personal bubble. He was entirely comfortable with the invasion. Glad to be able to show her who Bruce really belonged to. Who he was supposed to be with. Just as he would relish the idea of Bruce possessively entering his space to show whoever he deemed necessary to show that he was Bruce’s. HE would always welcome his invasion into his space. Just as he HAD welcomed Bruce’s invasion into his space through the budding relationship.

“Selina!” Bruce’s hand tightened on Jeremiah’s. The thumb had been quick to move as the finger interlaced as they were always meant to be, started to rub anxious circles on his knuckle, “My apologies, we had, um” He sheepishly looked at the floor searching for a word, when Jeremiah helpfully supplied, “Got caught up in the heat of the moment, I’m sure you understand how it is.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Jeremiah could pick up on the sarcasm, easily dismissing it as her jealousy, rather than the pointed way she said it to Bruce, “But I guess you got this covered Bruce, I’ll leave you to it.” The irritation in Selina’s voice was clear as she walked off. See, Selina had never tried to take Bruce from Jeremiah, just as Bruce hadn’t harbored any romantic feelings for her. The whole reason he had been so worried about Selina is he wasn’t sure how to deal with the crush on the older architect, and she was meant to help him. Obviously, he hadn’t realized just how little assistance he had needed. As Selina stalked off towards the door, to silently make her way into the garage to take a car, a thing she had become quite accustomed to doing, and leaving them at the GCPD, Jeremiah had found a spot right below the corner of Bruce jaw the grew red quite quickly. He didn’t want anyone else making the foolish mistake of thinking they could take Bruce from him. Now that Bruce had given him an inch, he was going to take a mile.

#i’m really really sorry about the delay 😅 i hope it was worth the wait possibly??#but anyways here you go pacify her by melanie martinez for wayleska #kotr #murder they wrote #king’s music box #jeremiah valeska #bruce wayne #fun fact i though this vanished for a few minutes and you know the meme ‘i’m about to end this whole man’s career?’ yeah that was tumblr@me #you know john mulaney gid if that doesn’t want to make you walk into the goddamn ocean #i wanted to walk into the goddamn ocean #i had just finish a movie that had the most emotional commitment in the past three months of apathy from this pandemic and i am ON THE EDGE #*maniacal laughter in the distance*#i may proof read my writing but i never prood read my messages or tags until like four days later smh #i am chaos U L G H

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sukirichi · 3 years

Note

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires 🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

- 🍳

y/n becomes a real baddie when she’s pissed off 😫

hmm y/n wasn’t really working hard for her dad’s attention, it was more like she felt so left out and unwanted (she feels unwanted wherever she goes) that she just decided to pack up and support them from afar bcos to her, she’s so alienated in her dad’s family that she felt like she had to work hard to earn a spot in their table. she knows she’s the outsider but she wants to feel like she can be part of them, that she is also a child deserving of love and care, but becos her stepmom focused more on her actual kids and her own dad was too busy with his new family now, it made y/n feel that she had to do something to be worthy of that.

that’s why most of the money she made working in tokyo was still wired to her family; she put her brothers in school and supported them, all because she hoped it would make them accept her more. now, things are different because she finally found her biological family, but even if valeria and co. still don’t want her, y/n is now more focusing on building something that’s truly hers that no one can take away. yes yes, she did become greedy, but more for power than of acceptance. she got to a point she doesn’t care as much vying for her parents’ approval and now thinks her luxury gives her comfort; only because at least she has that much. like she said in the latest chapter, happiness was not what she needed, it was stability and money - all things she lacked before.

and yea she did go back to her roots! all of her issues started with her dad anyway but that part is slowly patching up 🩹💔 oooh actually your theory is right bestie 🧐 gojo found y/n interesting bcos she reminded him of mia, so the more she pushed him away, the more he’s like wait, i’ve been here before, let’s not repeat past mistakes but i can do better now. on the part where gojo talked to mia while she was asleep, notice how he said he’s given a second chance to do better now, all because he couldn’t do them with mia but he could with y/n.

ohhh actually y/n was the one who established that ‘fulfilling mutual need and settling for familiarity instead of being lonely’ type of relationship. gojo avoided her for weeks and he’s pretty settled in keeping his distance, but she was the one who sought him out. deep down, y/n is afraid if she doesn’t at least use him as an anchor to her more humble roots, then she might spiral out of control and end up like valeria, thus using him as a ‘distraction’ but in reality, she needs his comfort to be grounded.

SECOND LEAD AGENDA OMG LETS GOOO 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ geto the fine fine option.

NO BESTIE MOMENT U MENTIONED LAWYER NAOYA I JUST KNEW I WAS GONNA SCREAM. okay but lawyer! naoya is so fine, i love his character so much bcos he’s a pure bean. originally, i was gonna make him an antagonist but i found he had more potential as a good, supportive character. HIS PEN SPIN HELPPP WHY COULDN’T HE JUST BEEN OUR BABY DADDY 😫 he pulls them fast spins bcos he’s nervous btw HAHAHAHA y/n can be quite intimidating and lawyer! naoya is sometimes too precious.

celebrity chef! sukuna is MEAN! he was pictured after gordon ramsay so lmao. omgggg sukuna being famous not only for his food but also his handsomeness 😳 he gets so cocky over how no one can get in his level while popping a battle of champagne, listening to ‘careless whisper’ while dancing to his reflection in the mirror 😤

also yoo supermodel! choso is THE hot shit 🥵 he’s so famous his schedule is packed for an entire year and a half and those are just for very selected brands and designers! ugh imagine going to work on the subway when you see supermodel! choso with rbf posing sexily and you swoon because he’s so sexy. plot twist that choso doesn’t know how to drive bcos as a kamo family member, they grew up with drivers taking them to and fro, so when his driver got sick and everyone else was busy, supermodel choso takes the subway himself and hides behind a face mask and cap while still wearing extravagant clothes that makes him stand out more. he does not have ‘subtle’ on his book at all.

and yeah people say he’s intimidating but its more his height and build + rbf! in reality, he’s just as soft and sweet as naoya, but both of them go into protective mode when someone they care about is being crapped on. and boy when they DO get into “what did you just say?” mode, better run away 🏃🏻‍♀️ supermodel! choso is also an heir to the kamo empire though not after the business, but he still has enough power to take you down in a second.

meanwhile, lawyer! naoya didn’t become this successful without being so savage yet composed he makes you question your entire existence before he drags you to court. lawyer! naoya is so scarily convincing that he can make you plead guilty even tho you did nothing wrong 💀

aaaah omg supermodel! choso LOVES babies actually! as the eldest child who looked after his brothers bcos the kamo parents are always away for work, being a father figure is so natural to him. i can picture him being the one who cries harder than gojo if the baby is born bcos he’s so excited, then reads poems to the baby before sighing that childbirth is such a beautiful thing 🥺

omg i know sweet n sour, the actresses are one of my faves tho i haven’t watched it yet! oooh they’re a nurse? i didn’t know that 🧐 i actually finish my short training in a week so i’ll be heading on to heavy majoring in psychology! wait bestie are YOU also a psych major 😳💕 oh and i see i see, sky castle *jots that down for future references* reckless actually has lots of significance in terms of the parents’ roles so i’m excited to see that! and aww thank you so much, can’t believe i made it in someone’s top three 🥺💕

HELP AHSKWKW i’m gonna call the best chiropractor in the world and send them gege’s way, i’ll cry a river if that’s what it takes to bring my boo back to life 😭 and noo baby the support already means a lot to me, i’m just happy to indulge in my hobbies and share it wih you all so thank you very much for everything 🥺 please take care of yourself too n have a nice day!! kith MWAH 💕

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #series: reckless #jjk: manga spoilers #anon:🍳

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greekletters · 3 years

Text

this post, coming to you from the grave...

just kidding. I'm alive and well. just had a lot of personal things to struggle through. but I'm working on getting my life together so I can get a writing schedule set up. here is a question thingy to clog up your dashboard in the mean time.

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

~ maybe like 3.5. I find typos and errors a lot when I read through stuff for the millionth time

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

~ mostly to get things out of my mind so that they don’t live in there rent free and drive me crazy.

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

~ well, it used to be that I wrote in 2nd person POV and no one liked it. But I have since altered that mindset. So now I need some new stuff for everyone to give me that feedback so I can improve.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

~ mostly, fellow fanfic writers inspire me. But from strictly like a “wow their writing makes me want to be like that, but better” I would have to say its going to be the modern poetry that I read. A lot of r.m drake, Amanda Lovelace, occasionally rh sin.

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

~ if only. Because it was my first fic and it was my own story.

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

~ the idea of the story. I can play it all out in my head, no problem.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

~ the writing part. And occasionally, like right now, the motivation to write part.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

~ Blake is the easiest to write for me, but I enjoy writing Weiss and Yang as well. I’m fond of Winter and Pyrrha sometimes.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

~ Ruby. But I think that’s just because I don’t have any kind of emotional connection to her. Out of the four RWBY girls, she’s my number four.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

~ fiction.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

~ when it comes to fanfic, monochrome forever and always. Not fanfic, its going to be poetry that is inspired by my somewhat boring life.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

~ I have a multi chapter fic in the works, which is why I haven’t posted much. And I like to get everything complete before posting. But I’m struggling to find motivation to do the actual writing.

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

~ RWBY and it will prolly be the only one I would write for.

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

~ RWBY.

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

~ oh look, RWBY again.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

~ friends to lovers is obvious. But I always like the cold, grouchy, lonely ones that come together.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

~ something nonconsensual. Or incest. That’s just yuck.

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

~ I don’t know if it counts as fic, but it’s not public and I don’t think it ever will be. And its kinda smutty.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

~ AU all day and night.

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

~ the shippy stuff. Forever and always.

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

~ monochrome.

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

~ sometimes if I’m stuck, I listen to please be naked by the 1975. That song has deep seated emotional attachments for me.

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

~ for the short stuff like one shots, I need prompts or something. For the multi chapter stuff I usually develop my ideas independently.

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

~ one shots for the in between multi chapter works. I say this ironically because I’m not doing well at either right now.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

~ not really, because my actual life is the spin off of my fic. It includes a cross country desertion of my entire life. Riveting stuff.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

~ right now? Just words.

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

~ I’ve gotten too many lovely ones to pick a single one out.

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

~ its part of my regular job to take feedback and criticism, so that helps with writing. I have an objective brain.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

~ I think just writing the first one was outside of my comfort zone. Turned out alright, since I’ve written a few more.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

~ why not both?

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

~ my brain isn’t creative enough for OC and the time required to develop them.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

~ feeling love with nothing felt in return.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

~ I’m slacking on my writing a lot, and I had a lot of real life things blocking my writing brain. But I’m working on it.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

~ I just spent over an hour reading through things I’ve written and couldn’t pick a single one.

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

~ this year is gonna be the year I get my writing life together. I’ve worked through a lot of the personal things that prevented me from dedicating time to writing. So I promise monos content for 2021.

#fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwby monochrome #rwby checkmate #Blake Belladonna #weiss schnee

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

sprung spring | somebody watching me; drew mcintyre [m]

PROMPTS USED:

“You won’t be able to walk after I’m done with you.” + “that feels so good.” + From Behind + choking + fingering + standing up / in front of a window + “I’m not wearing any panties.” + teasing,dirty talk + “Someone’s watching us.” “Then stop holding back your moans and let’s give them a show.” + Voyeurism - hinted at -

NOTES:

Whew.. Was this ever a bitch to pull off. And I’m going to be totally honest with everyone, I really do not feel like I executed it to the best of my ability, but.. It finally started to flow and I did not dare stop or turn back. I feel like personally, this isn’t the best thing I’ve written, but... lately, I’ve been lagging in motivation or time and I’m just lowkey relieved that I finally got this out and got it to work. It took me like... two weeks I think? I’m gonna be honest. In hindsight, I do believe that my entire problem with execution here was Voyeurism. Because I just couldn’t get myself to come up with a scenario in which either party would willingly allow someone to watch? Oh and I’m realizing now that I totally ignored the prompt “I’m not wearing any panties.” but.. It’s out and I got it written and I pushed through another personal boundary I had no clue I had (voyeurism) and I just hope at least one person enjoys it?

WARNINGS:

sexual acts, duh. oral sex, edging, light choking, sex in front of a window - with someone watching outside, swearing, unprotected sex, body fluids, and biting/marking, oops rip that one snuck it’s way in.

PAIRING:

Drew McIntyre x OFC, Rhiannon

I didn’t try to tag anyone here. Tags are notorious fail for me, so... Maybe I’ll try to tag people again soon.

They flocked to him almost the instant she and Drew entered the party. And given that he had just accomplished a pretty huge career milestone, Rhiannon totally understood why. She also understood that they were best friends and that getting jealous or upset over it was something a girlfriend would do and something she had absolutely no right to do.

But damn it, it bothered her when she looked over and saw Mandy Rose practically hanging all over Drew. Granted, Drew looked totally annoyed and when they locked eyes across the crowded party, he rolled his eyes while glancing down at Mandy and Rhiannon’s response was to give a mild shrug and giggle about it while sipping her drink… It still bothered her. Way more than she cared to admit.

This is just one of many reasons you’re trying to stop flirting with him so hardcore and get yourself some distance, her brain chose that second to both remind her and scold her for not sticking to her original plan; telling Drew she had a date again tonight.

The pathetic thing is, she thought to herself, I don’t have a date. I… literally cannot fathom being with anyone else but him, I just know I can never tell him. She sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to silence the thought but it wouldn’t be silenced. It remained, nagging and nagging at her, eating away and driving her crazy.

Just like a whopping 99 percent of the time lately. It was getting harder and harder to be around him and keep her feelings hidden. It honestly felt like at any second, she was just gonna open her mouth and the words were gonna come tumbling right out.

A flash of red had her smiling and when Heath Slater came fully into view, she ran over, hugging the man. Heath nodded in Drew’s direction, chuckling in amusement. “Got separated, huh?”

“The second we stepped in the door, everybody bum rushed him. I mean… He did just win the Universal title. I’m just kinda… giving him space.”

“That look in your eyes, lil bit. Says that’s the last thing you wanna do.” Heath chuckled and dragged his fingers through shaggy ginger hair as he eyed Rhiannon intently. She sighed and shrugged, nodding towards Mandy, who seemed to finally be catching onto the fact that Drew wasn’t overly fond of her or the way she was invading his personal space. “I mean… let’s face it. There’s no way in hell I can stack up to… That.”

Heath fixed his gaze on Mandy who was storming off, annoyed and he shook his head, looking from one woman to the other. “Girl.. I oughta smack you in th’ back of the head for that. I’m tellin ya… You’d be surprised what happened if you finally just took a chance.”

“Heath, don’t.”

“I mean.. Everybody in back already thinks ya’ll are a thing thanks to earlier at the arena, that little scene with Ziggler. Ziggler told everybody after it happened.” Heath shrugged and reached out as a server made their way past, grabbing himself a beer and twisting off the top, shotgunning half.

Rhiannon stood there, heavily considering Heath’s words and cringing over the fact that Ziggler had told everyone that she and Drew were a thing, just keeping it quiet. She groaned quietly, rubbing her forehead. “How many of ‘em laughed and thought I was delusional?”

“Nobody, actually.” Heath flashed a grin and stepped closer to let some people get past the two of them. His gaze met Drew’s gaze and he flashed a smirk, shrugging at his best friend. If Rhiannon could see the look he was getting right now, that firm warning glare that Drew had the habit of giving pretty much anyone where Rhiannon was concerned… But she didn’t.

Just like Drew never seemed to notice that Rhiannon was flirtatious with him almost constantly. And that when they were together, they acted like an actual couple.

… somebody’s gotta do somethin… Heath mused to himself as he nursed the beer in his hands. If these two didn’t get this whole thing sorted out soon, they were going to combust. He stepped away from Rhiannon slightly, giving a teasing defensive wave of his hands as if to indicate no, he was not trying to make a move.

Drew seemed to relax and Heath chuckled to himself. Right up to the point where he saw Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman making their way into the party.

Rhiannon tensed and swallowed hard almost the instant she set sights on Brock and caught him already staring at her…. And worse, making his way over. She rolled her eyes and grabbed for a cup sitting on a table nearby, filling it with the rum laced punch in the bowl in the middle.

Just as he reached where she stood with Heath, Rhiannon took a huge sip of the punch, making Heath laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing here, huh? I heard this was invite only.”

“It is, but let’s be real, do you see anybody linin up to throw me out? Didn’t think so. Take a hike, ginger. I’ve got something to finish discussing with the little lady here.”

“Already told you, buffoon. Not.Fucking.Interested.” Rhiannon raised her hand, putting it right into Lesnar’s face as she stepped as far away from him as possible. Or tried to… she wasn’t quick enough because his hand went to her hip and he was pulling her close.

Heath cleared his throat loudly, clenching his fists. He shot a look back to where Drew stood, grumbling when he saw that apparently, Mandy was back and trying her luck again and as usual, Drew was entirely too fucking polite to tell her to fuck off already. “Just fuckin great. Awesome.”

“Didn’t I tell you to get fucked, Red? Do you wanna get F5’ed tonight?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, shrimp dick.” Heath grumbled, tensing all over, stepping up.

Rhiannon stepped between the two, glaring almost hatefully up at Brock. “Did those steroids we all know you pop like goddamn skittles rot your brain? I told you earlier. I have absolutely no use for you. I have a real man.”

“A real man, huh? Well looks like your real man is over there… Lettin Mandy Rose fawn all over him. C’mon.. you know you want me.” a beefy finger trailed beneath her chin and Rhiannon rolled her eyes, snapping her teeth at it as if she intended to bite it off. Brock’s eyes flashed a brighter shade of milky blue momentarily.

From behind her, Zelina cleared her throat.

“Did anybody invite you?”

“Did they have to? I do what I want.” Brock’s tongue trailed lazily over his lower lip and Zelina grumbled, rolling her eyes, casting a glance at Rhiannon. “Drew’s girlfriend, right?”

Rhiannon swallowed hard. Heath eyed Rhiannon, hints of a teasing smirk playing at his lips as he shrugged and turned his attention back to Brock, squaring up.

Rhiannon eyed Zelina and nodded. “Yeah. I’m just asking myself if this fuckin idiot got one too many Claymore kicks to the head earlier. Because I swear, I’ve already told him more than once the only way I’d ever be interested is never. I could have a gun to my head and I’d still choose the gun.”

“You heard her, shoo. Get movin. Scram!” Zelina sassed, stepping up to the giant of a man. “Besides, I don’t recall my friends inviting you. And they are the ones throwing this party, if I need to remind you. As a matter of fact, I believe that Maryse specifically said if you dared to show up, she wanted the cops called.”

“You really think you scare me?” Brock snorted in derision, staring down the two smaller females intently. Rhiannon nudged Zelina and leaned in, muttered loudly enough for Brock to hear, “I’m telling you… Steroids are a helluva drug.”

Brock clenched his fist and chuckled. “Sassy… I like that.”

“I’d like it if you fucked all the way off. But honestly, I don’t recall asking you what you like at any point.” Rhiannon gave a mild shrug.

“Your man’s gonna lose that title.. Then you’re gonna come running to me. We all know that belt’s the only thing you’re after. I know your type.”

“You know nothing. Nada.” Zelina spoke up, glaring up at the taller man. Rhiannon nodded in agreement, stepping closer. “He’s about to know how it feels to catch a stiletto to the balls though if he doesn’t fuck outta here.”

“Careful… His type considers that foreplay, girl.” Zelina spoke up, grimacing at the thought of anyone willingly getting in bed with Brock.

Rhiannon bit her lip, dragging her hand through thick and dark curls, tapping her foot impatiently. Heath cleared his throat menacingly. “Do you need help getting the fuck out? Huh? Because I can go find more than a few of the guys who are more than a little sick of you showin up and fuckin shit up… Or I can just do it my damn self. Either way’s fine, son.”

“I’m not your goddamn son, Slater.” Brock stepped up. Heath stepped up too and Rhiannon cleared her throat.

“Okay, whoa.”

Across the room, Jinder nudged Drew and leaned in, whispering into his ear, “Hey… You might want to get over there to Riri. You know how she gets when she’s scared and you know how Brock is.”

Drew growled as he looked over to find Heath and Brock in a tense staredown with Rhiannon stuck between the two and Zelina raising enough hell to get the attention she needed drawn to the area. Drew clenched his fists and calmly shoved past Mandy, leaving her to pout and grumble about not getting what his thing was for the dark haired girl.

“She’s not even that pretty.”

Jinder eyed Mandy and rolled his eyes. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Jinder shrugged as he grabbed for his own drink and took a sip. “You should leave him alone, by the way.”

“But he’s not even with that… woman.”

“Her name is Rhiannon and actually, they live together.”

“Well he sure as hell doesn’t talk about her all the time… I mean…” Mandy stammered, trying to justify the flirting she’d been doing. Jinder eyed her and laughed. “Ziggler is more your speed if you want the honest truth.” Jinder walked away, leaving Mandy to stand there, mouth agape.

Drew shoved through a crowd and stopped behind Brock.

“Aw, c’mon, princess. You know who the real man is. You know you want me.”

“I’d honestly rather fling myself into a dying star.” Rhiannon countered, bending to slip off her stiletto. She was beyond done with this, she just wanted Brock to leave already. He was causing a scene.

As most ‘nice guys’ do, of course.

“What’s so fucked in your brain that you can’t understand what I said earlier? The only man who’s getting any part of this,” Rhiannon gestured to herself with a smirk, “Is Drew McIntyre?”

Drew nearly choked when he heard her say it and he cleared his throat menacingly. Between what he’d just heard and what Jinder, Tamina and Nia were saying she’d openly admitted to earlier at the arena when they all talked… Tonight was that one shot. The one he’d been waiting on. If she really felt this way and he knew his own feelings were only growing more and more each day and getting harder to hide as a result.. Something had to give.

Heath was right. There was no perfect time. There was time, however. Picking his moment was only going to keep things tense. Stepping up… Taking what he wanted… that was clearly what he needed to at least try and do here.

Bearing that in mind, he didn’t hesitate when Brock turned to see who was standing behind him. Instead, he raised his fist and sent it smashing into Brock’s nose. Brock went to lunge and Drew stepped to the side, letting Brock wind up on the floor. “Did ah not tell ye earlier? She es mine.”

Brock was getting up, smirking and about to swing. Drew ducked and raised his leg, sending a kick to Brock’s midsection. Then he grabbed hold of his shirt and hurled him towards the door, standing over him and sneering down calmly. “Ah’m da only one whose goin ta take ‘er home. Get it through yer fookin thick ‘ead.”

The shoving match started again and Jinder and Heath as well as Paul and another or two of the guys present were quick to step in, get the two apart and Paul was dragging Brock out the door.

Drew fixed his gaze intently on Rhiannon and he flashed this amused smirk, shrugging at the way she pouted up at him. “Wot?”

“You and that temper, I swear.”

“Ef ah ‘adn’t come over, he never would’ve fucked off.” Drew was stepping closer; much closer. Rhiannon’s heart raced and she took a shaky breath, stepping closer to him before she could stop herself. She gave a nervous laugh, twisting dark curls around her fingertip as she looked up at him. “How much of that did you hear because I… I can explain?”

“Ah ‘eard enough. Was standing dere da whole time.” Drew licked his lip and couldn’t resist the gently teasing smirk that came when he saw her eyes lock on his lips intently, almost dazed.

Everything Heath and Jinder ever told him as ‘proof’ that she was flirting with him heavily and she was definitely as into him as he was her came rushing back and between that and the adrenaline from the night as a whole, Drew didn’t think, he acted instead, grabbing hold of her, pulling her up his body. Rhiannon’s legs squeezed his waist and her arms went around his neck as Drew started to make his way out of the room, wandering down a long hallway in search of somewhere, anywhere that might be just a little quieter.

“Drew?”

“Yeah, love?” Drew swore as he tried to pull on a door knob to a closed door and found it not budging, not even slightly. He stopped messing with the doorknob, gazing at her intently. “Wot’s up?”

“You’re not… saying anything… About what I said..” Rhiannon managed to get the words out, shaky voice and all.

“Dat’s because ah’m not a talker, remember? But as soon as ah can find a bloody unlocked room, ah fully intend t’ show y’ exactly how ah feel about it, love.” his lips brushed right against her mouth as he spoke and she whimpered, trailing her tongue over his bottom lip, earning her a growl from him as he pinned her between the door and his body, her back making a soft thud against the wooden door as it made contact. She dug her nails into his shoulders lightly and licked her lips, staring at his intently. Drew couldn’t help but chuckle and he muttered quietly, “If y’ want t’ do something, do it.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Rhiannon muttered, not bothering to censor herself. It was starting to click and the shock was starting to wear off, leaving this almost euphoric high in it’s place. He felt the same. He had to. Her heart felt like it was about to beat right out of her chest. The rush was almost dizzying.

“Oh, ah’m temptin y’.” Drew’s lips brushed against her mouth again and her nails dug in just a little more as she crashed her mouth against his lips. He nipped at her lower lip with his teeth, his hands digging into her ass as he shifted her in his arms slightly. His tongue trailed over the outline of her mouth, then slipping between scarlet colored lips, lazily trailing over her teeth and slipping between to tangle with her tongue. She wound up tugging his hair out of the ponytail he’d thrown it into before leaving the arena, her fingers tangling in it, tugging and using her grip to pull his mouth into the kiss even deeper. He groaned into the kiss, the noise quickly swallowed and overpowered by the soft smacks of their mouths meeting over and over.. Deeper and more desperate; almost frenzied.

“Challenge accepted.” Rhiannon breathed against his mouth; breaking the kiss to ghost her lips right down the side of his neck. She knew him well enough to know that his neck was a hot zone… Anything, even the slightest accidental touch was… Basically asking for it. She felt him tense and felt his fingers digging into her body as he shifted her in his arms. She pressed herself into him completely, rubbing herself against him just a little.

Drew shivered at the contact, sucking in a sharp breath, muttering a husky warning against her lips. “Yer askin for me t’ take y’ right here, against the door.”

“I’m not exactly going to complain.” Rhiannon was at it again, rubbing against him impatiently, whimpering when his mouth latched onto her throat, leaving a bold mark right out in plain sight as he bucked himself into her and his hands moved slowly over her body. “Tell me somethin, love?” Drew muttered as he gazed up at her, a wicked gleam in his eye. “How wet are y’ right now, hm?”

All Rhiannon could do was whimper, because they came to another stop, Drew sitting her on top of a console table between two rooms, his hands quickly disappearing beneath the hem of her dress. As his palm came to a halt over her throbbing sex, he hissed when he realized that she was well beyond soaked already, growling against her mouth as he gripped her jawline, tugging her face closer, crashing his mouth against her own. His palm settled over her core, squeezing and she slid forward on the tabletop, wrapping her legs around his waist tighter, desperate for friction, trying to settle for rocking herself against the slow and steady torture of his hand. “That… fuck that feels so good. Mmm.. Harder, Drew.” she moaned out as he began to squeeze and rub her cunt harder and faster, growling quietly into her mouth as she rocked herself against him more urgently.

“Harder?” he questioned, meeting her gaze, a chuckle forming as he flashed a mischievous gaze at her. “Gettin close are y’?”

“Just want you now.” Rhiannon begged shamelessly, not caring how it sounded. Drew scooped her off the table and stepped to the door closest to them, trying the knob. The second the door swung open, he gave a quiet and triumphant laugh, stepping inside, closing the door behind him before turning his attention back to Rhiannon.

“Ah asked y’ a question.” he was using that firm but teasing tone on her. And damned if it didn’t stir her up, just like it did every single time she’d hear him using it in his promos on tv.. Or on her whenever they were just playing around with each other at their apartment. Rhiannon gulped and nodded, pouting up at him and giving him the most pleading look she could dredge up. The one that always got him to cave and give up the remote.

Drew groaned quietly, stepping over to the bed, gently tossing her down and following suit, settling himself over her, burying his mouth in the side of her neck. He wanted her marked all over and too sore to even think about walking out of the room on her own. As long as he’d waited to finally be able to do this… He was going to make absolutely sure that everyone knew she was his.

He parted her legs with his body, centering himself over her. Rhiannon’s hands went for the hem of his tee shirt, tugging it up and throwing it to the floor nearby. Drew eyed her dress hungrily, his hands venturing down, pushing it up around her hips and then tugging it up, throwing it to the floor to settle softly next to his discarded shirt. He leaned down, a hand going beneath her to catch in the clasp of her bra and as soon as he had that free, he was tossing it to the floor too. His eyes roamed downward, settling on her panties before locking eyes with her again as he licked his lips and chuckled quietly, lowering himself.

Rhiannon’s hips rocked upward almost the second she felt his teeth sliding over her skin, catching here and there before giving the waistband of her panties a tug. As he continued to work them down her legs with his mouth, she shivered and whimpered softly, the feel of his facial hair and his tongue against her skin sending goosebumps all over her body. Her legs fell open wide and once her panties reached her ankles, she kicked them free quickly, raising to sit, her hands going for the waistband of his jeans. Drew lowered her hands, nodding to the mattress, that firm look in his eyes. “Oh no y’ don’t. Ah’m th’ one whose goin’ t’ take care ‘f you.” he licked his lips, holding her gaze. His hand lowered to the button on his jeans almost painfully slow and Rhiannon whimpered, swallowing hard, her eyes darting down, watching the movement of his hand almost intently. “It goes both ways.” she muttered quietly, raising her hand, fingers going for the zip.

Drew chuckled and allowed it, shivering as she took the chance to palm at the way he strained hard against his jeans before finally unzipping them. The second she’d gotten them unzipped, Drew was standing, earning him a pout from her. He discarded his shoes and then tugged down his pants. Drew sank down to his knees in front of her, pulling her closer to him on the bed, flashing her a hungry look before parting her legs, his hands gripping her hips as he started to work his mouth up the inside of her thighs. Rhiannon shivered and moaned quietly, propping on her elbows, biting her lip as she gazed down at him. Between the burn she felt from his beard against the inside of her thighs and the fact that he stopped to nip and suck at her skin, she felt her heels digging into his shoulders and her fingers already starting to grip at the bedcovers. “Fuck.”

Her whimpers and quiet groans had him smirking against her skin, daring to sink his teeth in a little more, leave more marks. She rocked her hips upward, trying to get closer. Her fingers were tangling in his hair, tugging, trying to guide his mouth upward. He dug his fingers into her hips to keep her still and she gave a pleading whimper.

Drew all but stopped, gazing up at her, taking in the sight of her with her face all flushed and her eyes fluttering open and shut. He could feel her tensing and he muttered lazily against her skin, “Relax.” - almost in a firm command. “Get as loud as y’ want.” he encouraged as his mouth started to roam higher. He moved his hand away from her hip, trailing it almost teasingly over her dripping core, meeting her gaze again. “Put yer legs over my shoulders.” he instructed as he pulled her closer, his tongue ghosting right up her center as he buried his fingers deep inside and dug his other hand into her hip to hold her as still as he could. “Dat’s a girl. And so fookin wet already. Good.” he muttered as his tongue circled her clit slowly, making her whimper a little louder, the sound echoing off the wall only to be muted by the music that seemed to filter through the walls from the party going on down the hall.

Rhiannon tried to rock her hips against his mouth and fingers but his grip was too tight. She whimpered a little louder, begging because he seemed to be enjoying this slow torture he was dishing out. “Drew, please… Now?” she breathed out, her fingers digging into the bedding a little more, gripping at his hair a little tighter.

Drew groaned as the taste of her hit his tongue and he stopped to gaze up at her again, biting his lip and giving her a smirk. Hearing her beg for it was… Hotter than anything he’d ever allowed himself to imagine. And it only seemed to bring out his teasing side, because he dipped his head again, trailing a straight line up her folds and then dragging his tongue outward in a curve to form the letter D.

Rhiannon’s whimpers turned to moans and she bit her lip, sucking in several sharp breaths. Drew’s fingertips dug into her hip tighter and he chuckled because he felt her starting to shake. Daring to tease just a little more, he dragged his tongue between her folds and worked his fingers even deeper inside, scissoring and massaging, his tongue plunging in, another growl at the thickening taste of her on his tongue.

“Fook.” he swore against her heat, his tongue slipping out as his fingers continued to work her open and stretch her. She tried again to buck her hips and get more friction, just a little more, but tears of frustration built when she realized that thanks to his grip on her hip, she really didn’t have much movement and that was exactly the way he wanted it. As his tongue trailed another straight line and then the two curves required to form the R in his name, Rhiannon’s heels dug into his back and she whimpered loud enough that the sound seemed to echo through the room. Drew smirked against her core and muttered calmly, “Louder, Riri. C’mon.. Ah want da whole party t’ know whose da one makin y’ feel so fookin good right now, princess.”

“Drew, fuck.. C’mon, please..” Rhiannon breathed out, gasping as she nearly choked up when his tongue plunged back deep into her cunt, swirling and competing with his finger’s scissoring and fucking into her deep and fast. “Please what?” he asked, gazing up at her as he came to a stop. He’d felt her tense up again and determined to keep her right on the edge until she was a whimpering and dripping mess beneath him had him stopping, just to let her back away from the edge. Her heels were digging lightly into his back and her hands had a white knuckle grip on his hair and the bedding beneath her body. The flush of her cheeks, that tongue dragging slowly over kiss swollen lips had him biting his lip and giving another quiet groan as he turned his attention back to what he’d been doing, muttering against her soft skin simply, “Patient, princess. Be patient. Y’ won’t be able t’ walk when ah’m done with y’, princess. Dat’s a promise.”

“But it feels so… Fuck..” Rhiannon trailed off as she felt him starting to drag his tongue over her folds all over again, tracing an E into them this time, sending a shiver through her entire body in the process. Her whimpers and moans were starting to get a little louder, and Drew gave a louder groan of his own as he felt her body tensing up, felt her really starting to drip and puddle, his tongue lowering to her thigh to chase up her juices as he glanced up at her. He could look at her and tell she was teetering right on the edge, literally all it would take was him saying it was okay, telling her she could get off.

But not yet.

His head dipped again, his nose bumping against her pelvic mound as his tongue worked it’s way back up, ghosting over her folds, circling her clit and maybe for just the briefest of seconds, allowing his teeth to gently graze against the circular bundle of nerves which only made her moan louder, try again to rock her hips urgently. And then, he started to trail the shape of a W into her cunt, burying his tongue inside deep, his tongue and his fingers massaging and scissoring as she got wetter and wetter. “Wot’s wrong, princess?” he asked the question lazily, his voice sending a jolt of pleasure through her body as her fingers tugged at his hair, trying to push his head down lower, guide his mouth back down where she needed it most as her back arched and her free hand dug into the bedding beneath her even harder, fingers going numb at the grip she had on the bedding.

“Drew, p-please. Now.” Rhiannon’s head tilted back slightly, her tongue moving slowly over her lips as she took a few deep breaths and fought back the sting of frustrated tears.

Like before, he repeated himself firmly, shaking his head as he paused to look up at her from his position between her thighs. “Not yet. But if y’ keep gettin louder for me…” his tongue trailed over his lips and she shivered, pouting, trying to squirm where he had her pinned against the mattress, to rub against him somehow, get any little bit of friction she could manage.

But Drew wasn’t having it.

Apparently, he was going to keep slowly pushing her close to the edge, only to stop and guide her away.

When she felt his tongue join his fingers buried deep inside her cunt, she arched her back and her hand went back to his hair, tugging, almost pushing his mouth down closer. She was grateful she had even that little bit of motion left between the way he held her hip in place and the fact that she was so fucking close that it literally had her shaking and blurred dots lining her vision already.

Her cries echoed off the walls of the dimly lit room; louder with each one that left her lips. Drew groaned out loud as his tongue swirled faster and his fingers dug into her hips harder, almost a bruising grip. He felt her tensing up all over again and he muttered against her dripping core, “Know what ah want t’ do after this, hmm?”

“W-what’s that?” Rhiannon gasped out, trying to catch her breath, trying to keep the orgasm threatening to rip through her at bay just a little bit longer. Almost failing at it too. She locked eyes with him, giving him her most pleading look; prepared to beg if she had to. It almost felt like she was definitely going to have to resort to that.

Drew nodded to the window and licked the taste of her off his lips, coming back up her body to pull her into a deep and slow kiss while continuing to fuck his fingers deep into her cunt, his thumb lightly circling and pressing or toying with her clit as he did so. “Ah want t’ take y’ right against dat window. Y’ want me t’ do et, princess?”

Rhiannon’s head fell back and she rocked herself upward against his fingers buried inside as she moaned out loud “Fuck, please Drew…” as the kiss broke and his fingers scissoring, thrusting movements sped up just a little. Just enough so that for a few seconds, she was getting enough friction to catch her breath and back away from that edge just a little.

And then he was lowering himself again, back between her legs, throwing one over each shoulder as he raised her hip, gripping them both with his hands. This time, his tongue buried deep in her cunt, swirling and licking greedily as he growled and the warmth of his breath and his heavy facial scruff tickled at her skin and pushed her even closer. Thrusting her hips against his mouth, Rhiannon took full advantage at the sudden freedom to move she had, rocking her hips for him and sending his tongue deeper inside.

“Fook.” he groaned out against her skin. “Faster, princess. C’mon, keep et up. Want y’ screamin m’ name.”

“Ugh, fuck.. Drew.. I’m.. I’m..” Rhiannon was dangerously close to giving in to the intense orgasm built, a breath away. Drew nipped her pelvic mound, gazing up at her, that smirk on his face. “Let go, princess.”

And she did, shaking and gripping the bedding beneath her. Drew licking her clean greedily and then raising up, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth as he lowered himself, crashing his mouth against her mouth. As the kiss broke, Rhiannon’s eyes settled on the window and then her gaze shifted down to Drew’s cock. He couldn’t stop the curious smirk he gave, not that he wanted to. “Wot do y’ wan’ t’ do? Use yer words.”

“I’d rather show you.” Rhiannon muttered in a lust-filled daze, biting her lip as she nodded towards the window again. Drew chuckled and started to walk away, standing there, beckoning her to him. Rhiannon slipped off the bed, tip toeing across the room, pulling his mouth down against her own again. Drew’s hands were all over her, gripping and squeezing and leaving his fair share of handprints behind. She was just about to sink to her knees in front of him but he bit his lip, stepping away, then stopping in front of her, staring down at her all over again as he pressed himself into her heavily. “Turn around.”

“Drew..”

“Turn around, love. Press against th’ window.” Drew muttered the words against her neck lazily. Under his firm gaze, she did as asked, turning away. Almost the second she felt his cock slip between her thighs, grazing right against tender and throbbing folds, she whimpered and a shiver ran through her body, making him chuckle against her neck just before sinking his teeth in and letting his lips latch on. “Feel good?”

“Mhm.. so good. It’s gonna feel so much better when you’re finally fucking me.. Please...C’mon.” Rhiannon begged, daring to wiggle her ass against him, making his cock graze against her all over again and Drew growled as his arm wrapped around her, his hand dipping down and disappearing between her thighs. She whimpered louder and he groaned as he felt her shake just a little. “Tender, hm?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Just wait til ah’m done wit’ y.. Yer not goin’ t’ be able t’ move.” Drew’s voice against her skin was husky, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin along with the coarse beard. Rhiannon gripped the edges of the window, bracing herself as Drew’s fingers continued to lazily circle her clit, applying light pressure, toying with the bundle of throbbing nerves until she was moaning his name, breathless and begging even louder.

His other hand roamed upward, squeezing her breasts, briefly lingering at the base of her throat as he grazed his cock against her all over again, teasing the tip between her folds. When she bit her lip and bucked her ass against him urgently, a series of frantic begging whimpers falling from her lips and echoing off the walls. He chuckled as it clicked and he realized that maybe she had a thing about the way his hand rested against her throat.

“Fuck. Please.. C’mon, Drew, I need you… inside me..” Rhiannon begged, a pleading moan coming next as she felt his fingers squeezing into her throat just a little bit. He growled against her ear, a dark chuckle following as he sank into her slowly, almost carefully and went still, gasping against the shell of her ear, “So fookin tight.” and nipped at it. When he felt her starting to relax, he started to slam into her hard and slow, as deep as he could get. Rhiannon met his thrusts into her with her own rocking motions, the pace between them syncing easily, even though she was dying for him to go faster, harder.. His hand squeezed at her throat a little harder and he gave another low chuckle. “Y’ like my ‘and around yer throat, do y’?”

“Mhm.. Oh.. -oh fuck… right there, baby.. C’mon, fuck me harder.” Rhiannon begged aloud before she ever realized she’d done it and Drew groaned, slamming into her harder and slower, making sure she felt every single inch of his thick length as it sank deep into her womb. The way she squeezed around him had him taking it slower, stilling to nip at her neck and leave little bite marks all over her neck, muttering against her skin how good it felt to fuck her, asking her at one point, “Do y’ like et? Knowin dat anybody who walks by th’ window can see me fucking y’? Answer me, princess.”

“Y-yes. Fuck. Right there, c’mon. Harder, baby.” Rhiannon begged, her back arching against him, his hand gripping her hip tight as he started to really slam into her from behind, pressing into her, pressing her right up against the window.

“Harder, hm?” Drew questioned, giving her throat another little squeeze. Rhiannon whimpered as the dizzying intensity of another orgasm began to sneak it’s way through her, a slow and lazy build because Drew was purposely keeping them at a slow and steady pace. Her body pressed against the cool glass of the window and she could see him behind her in the reflection of the window, her fingers gripping the edges tighter as she did her best to stay upright. The harder and deeper he slammed into her, the better it felt. The more intense it got. His hand moved down from her throat, resting against her other hip as he pulled her hips back against him, slamming into her just a little faster.

Drew could feel her walls clenching around his cock and he drove into her a little slower, muttering lazily against her neck, “Feels so fookin good. Y’ take me so well, princess.” as he stilled just to keep himself on the edge of his own rapidly building orgasm. When he bottomed out and she tensed, a long and drawn out moan leaving her lips as her head fell back, the back of it resting against his chest, he growled quietly. “Ah know y’ can get louder. Let me hear et, love.”

And as he started to speed up again, slamming into her harder and deeper, his hands gripping her hips tighter, tight enough to leave handprints behind, Rhiannon caught sight of someone lurking around nearby. “Someone’s watching.”

Drew stilled, leaning forward to glance out the window from behind her and he caught sight of her pout. “Wot’s th’ pout for?”

“You stopped. Fuck, c’mon. Need…” Rhiannon whimpered out, rocking her hips back against him, driving him deep into her womb, a satisfied and almost wanton moan leaving her mouth as she licked her lips and continued to sink herself onto his cock, over and over. Drew had to grip her hip and his other hand wandered up, resting over her hand where it gripped the edge of the window and he pressed himself into her heavily. “Y’ need what, love?”

“You.. don’t stop.. Oh fuck I’m… I’m so close.” Rhiannon managed to breathe out, earning her a chuckle as Drew muttered, “Ef we’re goin’ t’ ‘ave an audience, maybe we should give ‘em a show?” mostly in teasing, but when Rhiannon started to really buck her hips back against him and cause him to bottom out, he growled quietly, his teeth nipping at her neck as he muttered against her ear all over again, “Y’ like that, do y?”

“I like anything that involves you not stopping. Fuck… Drew, baby..” Rhiannon begged as he started to pound away at her harder and just a little faster. She gave herself over to the pleasure, the way it felt to have his body pressed firmly against her own, his hands and mouth all over her, the way it felt to be filled and stretched by his cock. “Faster, c’mon.. Please?”

“So fuckin wet. Yer drippin.” Drew growled out against her neck, nipping at it as he sped up, his hips smacking against her body joining the sounds of their labored breathing and the loud moans and begging Rhiannon was doing. “And y’ take me so well.”

Whoever had been watching was forgotten, the two of them caught up in each other, and yet, the person remained.

Rhiannon whimpered aloud, moaning his name over and over as Drew bottomed out over and over again, his cock going deeper, buried balls deep inside her. When he felt her tighten around her, he tried to slow down, but Rhiannon kept slamming her hips back against him, begging for it. “I’m so close, c’mon.. Please Drew?”

“So ah’m ah.” Drew growled against her ear as he slammed into her harder and deeper, his hips erratic smack against her backside echoing around them and competing with their combined cries and heavy breathing. “Don’t wanna stop.” he grunted as she clenched him deep inside, her release coating him, flooding and dripping and spurring him right over the edge also. He leaned against her heavily, hands gripping her hips to hold her upright, taking deep breaths as he throbbed and emptied inside her, his lips moving over her neck in a slow frenzy as he let them both come down from the high of their orgasm.

Rhiannon turned around to face him, pressing against him and Drew picked her up, carrying her back to the bed where they collapsed, spent, a tangle of arms and legs. “If y’ think dat’s somethin, love… wait til round two when ah get y’ back to our place. There are rooms dat need t’ be broken in…” Drew’s finger trailed over her lips, then down, tracing the line between her breasts. Rhiannon leaned in, teeth tugging at his lower lip as she muttered lazily against his mouth, “Challenge accepted.”

“Let’s get outta ‘ere.” Drew asked, gathering their clothes, holding hers out to her, chuckling as he helped her start to re-dress...

#drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre oneshot #drew mcintyre fic #drew mcintyre imagine #// no one under 18+#// fourseasonsofsm*tselfchallenge #// s*xual content #// choking tw #// voyeurism #// body fluids #// unprotected s*x

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magioftheseas · 4 years

Text

Conversations with Companions

Day 4: Speech/Breathing

Summary: He talks too much but that’s better than him not talking at all because his brain’s too rotted to even process thoughts.

Rating: PG

Warnings: References to illness and needles.

Notes: Because of Komaeda’s iconic wheezing, he was the obvious pick for today’s prompt. For the fic, anyway. I do think about it a lot because it’s such a worrying sound. He sounds like he’s choking and in pain so I imagine that Matsuda worries a lot, too.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

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It was pretty commonplace for Komaeda to go on verbal tirades about hope, symbols, potential, hope, talent, and hope. Matsuda had gotten pretty good at tuning him out because it was exhausting the first time, downright intolerable the seventy-seventh. He only started paying attention when Komaeda’s wheezing got to the point where he seemed to be literally choking on his words. It’s only then when Matsuda stops him and nearly smacks him with a water bottle, demanding he stop to take a drink.

“There, there,” he droned, flipping through his manga as Komaeda gasps afterwards. “In and out. Nice deep breaths. Fucking hell, you really are a mess sometimes.”

Komaeda giggles weakly, screwing the cap back onto the bottle.

“I just get overexcited, Matsuda-kun. I mean everything I say, I just...”

“Get overexcited. Yeah. I heard you the first time.” Matsuda does glare at him over his book. “You’re sickly. You need to take shit easy. Should I resort to sedation to keep you calm?”

“You don’t have to go that far!” Komaeda hurriedly exclaimed. “So severe, Matsuda-kun!”

“It’s just that I worry you’ll hack up a fucking lung at the rate you’re going.” With how irritated he is, he ends up fidgeting with one of the pages. He’s digs his thumbnail into the fleshy pad of his finger as a distraction. “You don’t have an upper respiratory condition yet. It’s best to not fucking test it.”

“I... Okay.” Komaeda nods along dolefully. “I understand, Matsuda-kun.”

Do you, though?

With how pitiful a picture Komaeda Nagito made, Matsuda decided against questioning him further. Just something about those down-turned eyes and hanging head riled a sense of protectiveness. Stupid. So stupid. He really is painfully easy, but it’s expectable at this point.

I need to be needed just as I need to breathe. It’s only a shame that Komaeda’s ideology is so fucking unfortunate.

“I wasn’t actually listening to a word you were saying,” he said. “That’s because I kind of think like everything you say about this school, about yourself, and about other people is...pretty contentious.”

“You’re so cynical,” Komaeda replies, tired but smiling all the same. Like a dog just waiting to be kicked.

He makes it so easy by being as passive as he is utterly fucking patronizing. Seriously, do you have any self-preservation at all?

He already knows the answer.

“Hey, Komaeda.”

He really is so easy.

“How are things going for you and your class anyway?”

“Oh!” Komaeda lights up on the spot. “They’re going wonderfully! Just last week, Koizumi-san gathered up all the other girls for a get-together! They’ve all gotten so close! Although Hanamura-kun and Souda-kun had rather unfortunate ideas that had to be dealt with. But, I think our class has only gotten stronger! They’re symbols of hope after all, and conflict strengthens bonds.”

“How are they treating you?” Matsuda asks, thoroughly uninterested in anything else.

“They’re so much kinder than I deserve! Mioda-san invited me to her concert! Koizumi-san helped me clean the other day! I was even allowed to make suggestions for the class trip, although I don’t think I’ll be able to go, ehe. I don’t want to ruin their fun with my rotten luck, after all, and they had a lot of fun last time when I got too sick to attend.”

Pitiful. Utterly pitiful.

But, with a quick inhale, Komaeda was excitedly going on. “They really are incredible. Even though they don’t like me at all, they still include me on the occasion. I’m sincerely grateful. They could just completely ignore me and they don’t! Isn’t that so kind? So wonderful? And I’ve only gotten poisoned once! Although I guess it’s not Saionji-san’s fault, she didn’t realize I was allergic, aha. And Tsumiki-san acted quite dutifully. And, and, and...”

“Stop.” Matsuda held up a hand. “Take deep breaths. And take another sip of water while you’re at it.”

Swallowing, Komaeda nodded quickly. He opened the bottle once more and took a swing.

“Oi,” Matsuda snapped. “Don’t fucking choke. It’s water, not alcohol.”

Komaeda does nod again, and he spills some of it. Bristling, Matsuda tore off some paper towels for him to use. Giggling, Komaeda at least had the decency to look pretty apologetic.

“I guess I do overdo it sometimes,” he admitted meekly. “It’s difficult. I’ve never been so happy.”

“Yeah?” Matsuda asked, unimpressed with an eyebrow raised. “So, who would you say you’re at least friends with?”

“Oh, no! No, no, no!” Komaeda shook his head furiously. “Someone like me friends with people like them—that’s ludicrous! I’m nowhere near that—!”

“Do you think any of them would consider you a friend if I asked?” Matsuda cut him off before he could finish. “Like the punk rocker? Or the cam girl?”

“Don’t call Koizumi-san that,” Komaeda snapped in return before getting all flustered. “And don’t be ridiculous, Matsuda-kun. Your jokes are too much. Both of them are just kind, they don’t like me. And they shouldn’t! I’m beneath them, lesser than them, I’m—!”

“Stop.” Komaeda did. Matsuda’s glare was unwavering. “Inhale. Exhale. You’re getting too worked up again.”

Komaeda breathed in sharply, his face twisting up in a way that was pretty distressed.

“I’m sorry, Matsuda-kun. But. Um. Obviously I’m not...”

“Considered a friend?” Matsuda guessed. Komaeda feebly nods along, and there’s not much to do but sigh. “That’s pretty pathetic, you know? Like, even the reserves have friends.”

Komaeda’s expression soured considerably. His lips pressed tightly together, showcasing a restraint that Matsuda hadn’t even thought possible.

“It’s better this way,” Komaeda finally said, and his tone was firm. Firm yet resigned. “It’s dangerous for people to be around me in the first place. And I’m already so disgustingly indulgent. I—mustn’t push my boundaries.”

“Do you not want friends?”

“What I want isn’t important.” The answer was immediate. “What is important is...”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask about that.” Matsuda waved his hand. “Do you want friends or not, Komaeda. Because I might know a guy.”

Komaeda blinks at him. His lip curls, and then he laughs.

“Your jokes are too much, Matsuda-kun!” he exclaims, not sounding remotely mirthful. “Really, I’m fine! I’m completely fine!”

His hands were squeezing into fists. Matsuda can already imagine his nails biting into the pale meat of his palms. Komaeda’s so tense it looks painful. He’s even shaking, but...at least he’s breathing, albeit erratically.

Matsuda ends up shrugging.

“If you say so.” What can I even say to a face like that? I feel like if I pushed it, his expression would twist so much that it’d cause literal cracks. “You could still use more hydration though. You talk too much.”

“Ahaha.” Komaeda’s smile is still straining, but he seems grateful regardless. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He spoke without thinking. “I imagine it’s nice to just be allowed to talk sometimes.”

Komaeda flushes, and he makes a complicated sound of agreement.

He’s not a bad person. He’s naïve, stubborn, and stupid—but not bad. He talks too much but that’s better than him not talking at all because his brain’s too rotted to even process thoughts. I’ll make sure he never gets to that point, even if I can’t fix all his other issues.

It was the least he could do for this person, Matsuda Yasuke supposed.

#yasuke matsuda #nagito komaeda #MatsuKoma #Magi fics #yasukematsudaweek2020

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 3 years

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Other Writing Prompts

This is just a compiled list of prompts I’ve collected from Pinterest and other random places, but don’t particularly fit anywhere or just would only fit into the Marvel or Star Wars fandoms. I have other prompt lists that get more specific or more vague as well. If you want to use one in a request to me, just use the following ‘Character Name and Prompt No. 35 from the Other Prompt list’ for example + some details if you’d like.

I didn’t organize this list by mood since it’s about 200 prompts.

Key:

‘*’ Denotes something that could be used as dialogue.

[*] Denotes a swear word that I removed.

One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying, "you're going to help me settle a bet."

"But what is power?" "Loyalty"

The girl wrote in the journal as fluidly as fish swam in the sea, or birds rode the wind. It was beautiful, how gracefully she crafted her spells.

"You do know that when you wipe my memories, it doesn't actually work, right? One of the perks of being me." The villain froze at the hero's words. They'd just attempted their grand entrance four times in a row, trying to anticipate the hero's response. Blanking their brain when they didn't quite get it perfect. First impressions were important. PR won battles as much as soldiers did. "Don't worry," the hero grinned, looking the villain up and down slowly. "You're doing great. Very impressive." Now they definitely had to die.

The villain prowled closer, gaze intent. "Mm. The last time someone looked at me like that, we didn't get out of bed all weekend. Good times." "Cute bravado, it won't save you." "You're blushing."

"You could be so brilliant if you only turned your mind to creating things instead of destroying them." The hero murmured. They paused to tighten the villain's restraints, before glancing up to catch their eyes. "I've never seen anything like you. You're stunning." It was so earnest that, for once, the villain didn't quite know what to say. The hero wet their lips, practically on their knees. "Just let me help you, please. You'd be a terrible waste to the world rotting."

"Oh, I could just take you apart. See how long that cold, untouchable reputation of yours lasts then. You're trying so hard to pretend you're not even human, but look at that..." The hero pressed a hand above the villain's heart. They both felt it pounding far too clearly. This was not supposed to happen. There was a reason nobody was supposed to get close.

"If you want me," the hero panted, "come and get me." The villain paused, languidly sweeping a hand up and under their chin. "Want you in which way, Darling? Don't get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it's an important distinction to make before we proceed."

You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain; one too strong for them to beat.

Stab options: Slowly raise their hand to the wound and/or pull out the weapon impaling them while everyone stares in horror before collapsing to the ground from shock and/or blood loss and being caught just in time by a friend/lover.

Hide the wound beneath a dark item of clothing in preparation for the dramatic reveal later where another character touches them and their hand comes away bloody or they overexert themselves and they stumble and wince but still try to insist that they're fine,

even though they are clearly in pain and struggling to stay on their feet. And as the other character peels back their jacket it becomes clear that they're badly hurt and have been for awhile.

Character A tilting Character B's chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. Character A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by Character B's mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, Character B's heart skips a nervous beat as Character A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained. "Who did this to you?"

"I will deny you death until you beg me for it."

"Hold on you died." "Yeah, well it didn't stick."

As teenagers, a boy and a girl agree to marry if neither have by their 35th birthday. Follow the boy as he attempts to sabotage every relationship the girl has till then.

The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night. They're shivering, bleeding and scared. There's also a slightly dazed look in their eyes--they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they are close to passing out they mumble, "...didn't know where else to go..." Then collapse into the villain's arms.

"I loved the woman you were before. Not this monster."

"I dare you to touch her again."

"By the Gods! You love her, don't you?"

"Come here." "Why?" "Just come here." "No, you're gonna hit me."

"Shh, shh." The villain wiped the tears from the hero's face and pressed a kiss to their forehead. "Don't struggle, you'll only make it worse for yourself."

"Hey, hey, hey. Baby, what's wrong?" The hero shuddered from the dram--startlingly vivid. Of fighting and faces, and the the icy clench of betrayal in their chest already fading into unconsciousness. And yet, they couldn't stop crying. Shoulders shaking, uncontrollable sobbing. The villain gathered them close, tucking the hero's head against their chest and making safe, soothing sounds. "Bad dream, huh? It's alright, nothing will touch you while I have you."

"Nobody touches you other than me, do you understand?" The hero looked at the other villain, dead on the floor. Dead before they even touched them. And they hated themselves for the flicker of gratitude, of feeling protected, when everything was all wrong and there was nothing safe in this game at all. Their villain was not kind. Only possessive. "Can we go home?" The villain liked it when they called it home.

They hadn't wanted this. Of course, they'd wanted the hero to stop fighting them. Wanted them broken, despondent, but... The person staring blankly at the walls, terrified of their own power, wasn't what they wanted. "Darling, you're beautiful. You don't need to be scared with me, I promise you that. Look--try and attack me and I promise I can stop you. You're safe with me. You couldn't hurt me if you tried. I'm just like you."

"You killed someone. Do you really think they're ever going to want you back?" The hero looked up at the villain, desperate, shattered. "I'll always want you, even if they don't." The villain said. "I understand what it's like. It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"You're not as evil as people think you are." "No, I'm much worse."

"I was a King!" He bellowed, spitting at the girl's feet. She smiled at him, her eyes sad and yet full of mischief. "And I was a god."

He pulled against the ropes with all his might, but they wouldn't give. "Don't bother," a voice said." He looked up to discover a thin girl bound with the same rope. Although it was dark, he could see her bruised eyes and wrists. "I already tried."

"Don't ever try to get inside my head," he snarled, slamming me against the wall. For several beats we stayed there, his grip crushing my wrists. Finally, his eyes softened. "It's too dark for you."

"You think you have a choice, and that's sweet and all, but it's time you take up the knife and do what you were made to do."

"You-you are--" "Beautiful, a genius, immensely talented--" "Dangerous."

"Sorry, I have a clingy and feverish assassin on my lap. I'll call you back when I've convinced him that a cold doesn't mean he's dying."

The villain pressed their lips to the hero's, silencing their sobbing pleas. "Shh." The villain murmured, angling their knife at the hero's throat. "It's better this way."

He was leaning against the wall, trying to support his own body weight, and his gasps of pain were like music to her ears.

"You just killed five men, what do you have to say for yourself?" "Oops?"

For a second, I thought she could actually see me.

Every person on the planet is born with a tattoo on each arm. One matches your soulmate, and one matches your worst enemy. However, most people have no clue which is which. You do, because they are both the same.

In a superhero-supervillain story, you're the hero's love interest, and as such, in classic use-their-loved-ones-against-them fashion, the villain keeps kidnapping you as leverage against the hero. However, an unfortunate complication has arisen; having spent so much time with the villain, you begin to realize you're falling in love with them.

You never kill the spiders in your home. You just whisper; "Today you, tomorrow me." When you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back.

"I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing!" "Is that so?" His tone was amused, which irritated me more. "Yep. Nothing." He took one towards me with a smirk on his face. I swallowed, refusing to back up. He laughed at me discomfort. "Relax, Princess. I am not going to jump on you." That relieved me somewhat, until he added, "not until you ask me to anyways."

The hero shows up at the villain's house, hurt, broken and defeated. But it wasn't the villain and they are extremely angry that someone hurt their hero.

The phone rings. The voice on the other end says "we need you again." Then hangs up.

"What's the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?" "Those are children. That's a school."

Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent, but more effective fashion.

"You have to go, you have to run away!" "Run from who?" "From me."

"Small fire! I said to set a small fire! This is not small!"

Two people running away from a blind, arranged marriage, in which one is supposed to marry the other, meet on the road by coincidence and fall in love with each other.

*Not every prince is charming

When people are born, they are assigned a soulmate. They have an original song in their head that only them and their soulmate know. A person just broke into your house and you're pretty sure they are here to kill you. They're humming your song under their breath.

"What? Do you think I enjoy this? This infatuation of mine? This horrible need to know you are okay?" To realize you can hurt me in a way no one for the past thousand years has been able to?" "Well, stop it then! If caring about me is such a nuisance to you, stop it! It doesn't do much for either one of us." "I CAN'T. That's what kills me. The fact that you can even ask that of me shows how ignorant you are about the power you have over me."

"I want to take a shower, so you should probably join me. It'll save water."

"It's midnight! Where the hell were you?"

"What the hell is your problem?"

"I might have slept with your [clothing article] when you were gone."

"No one has to know about us, I know this could ruin you."

"Just pretend to be my date."

"You should sleep." "I'm not human, therefore, I do not require sleep."

"You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? NO. The answer is NO."

"You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead."

"Wait, something doesn't feel right."

"Did you hear that?"

"Stay here and don't move. I'll be right back."

"You told me you were okay! You promised!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"How long have you been covering this?"

"You've been trying to deal with this yourself?"

"We could have prevented this!"

"If you didn't want to be a burden, you should have gotten it treated right!"

"You didn't think it was that bad? Are you looking at it?"

"You are not fine!"

"You look really cute in that sweater."

"No, like... It's just, I can't believe you're actually wearing my clothes."

"You know I hear you talking, but I still don't have my coffee."

"Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It's not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying tha someone was made for you. It's... It's the love. It's too strong, and you can't fight it. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried... But I'm always going to love you. And I need you to know that."

"You would risk the lives of millions for one person? Why?" "Because it's not just one life... It's yours."

"This might sound selfish, but I don't care about the world. I only care about you."

"I still believe there is a good person in you."

"It was necessary."

"Did you think I really cared about you?"

"This was my plan all along."

"There was no other way."

"How cute. Struggle all you want, you won't be leaving this place."

"This is what you get from trusting me."

"It's too late to go back."

"I'm sorry this had to go down like this."

"That's right, I lied."

"It's all for a good cause."

"You were so stupid. You should have known."

"Just so you know... I don't regret anything."

"Shame. I kind of liked you."

"This is my responsibility."

"You will no longer love me if you see who I truly am."

"I'm a monster." "No, you're not."

"You'd better put that knife down."

"But I did all of this for you?" "I didn't want you to kill anyone."

Person A wins a big stuffed animal for Person B at an amusement park and offers to carry it for them. Person B says they'll carry it themselves and carries it around smugly.

While on a date, Person A very shyly touches Person B's hand and Person B reassuringly (and tightly) holds Person A's hand.

You press your ear against the wall, just in time to hear the scream.

AU where everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle, nobody else in the world has that tattoo. Every time you fall in love, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body. (i.e a new tattoo appearing on a celebrity's body in new photos and a very lucky fan (who'd just met them), realizing that it's their tattoo.)

He/She kissed his/her brow as the world around them burned. "See you in the next life, my love." He/She whispered.

"Is everything supposed to go dark?"

"You'd better not die on me."

"They just got a lucky shot."

"Next time, don't call me over only to find you in a pool of your own blood!"

"You need to keep pressure on it."

When a character doesn't realize they've been shot or whatever and their hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they're just staring at it like WTF is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them.

A character that knows they've been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.

Or the character who doesn't realize they've been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it's wet and oh no.

"Pull the trigger. PULL IT!" He screamed as he took the gun being held in his enemy's hand and pressed it against his own stomach. "I can't!" His enemy screamed. "I can't kill you!"

"You were more fun when we were kids," the villain sighed. "You worshiped me then. It was so cute." "When we were kids, you weren't such a colossal prick." The villain laughed and traced the weapon along their cheek. "Now, you know that's not true. You changed. Not me." The laugh dropped, to something more contemplative, softer, and yet no kinder. "Why did you have to?"

"Isn't that what people do?" The villain asked softly. "Learn to love each other? Could you not learn to love me? You-you who seem to have such a heart to love the world and everything in it?" The hero turned their gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger tugging at them in equal measure. "I would not be unkind to you," the villain persisted. Cupping the hero's face, thumbs stroking their jaw. "I would never." "Kidnapping people is unkind." The villain's grip tightened. "Making people fall in love with you and refusing to love them back is unkind." Oh, hell no. The hero knocked their hands away, expression ablaze with rage that they even dared say that. Their heart slammed, anger overtaking pity, teeth bared in a snarl. "I will never love you. Never."

"This isn't the way to make people love you!" "Love?" The villain laughed at that, fondly even, as they looked down at the hero kneeling before them, heat in their eyes. "My sweet thing, this isn't about love."

"All that time locked away, and not a note from you. No visits, no letters, nothing." The villain trailed their fingers along the hero's sides, relishing the sight of them all chained up for them. "You're lucky I'm nicer and won't just leave you here to rot, inmate." The hero snarled at them, making an indignant noise. "Aggressive behavior, now that would be a shot."

"I enjoyed your visits." The villain said, "but it's just not the same with a thick glass wall between us. I know you felt the same way." They didn't look at the hero, making cooing sounds at the hero's child in their lap. The hero's mind raced, desperately trying to think of some way to fix this. To calculate how long it would be before back up came. The very sight of the villain holding onto their baby left them sick with dread, even more so as the child gurgled and laughed. "You never told me about this little one, no they didn't, no they didn't." They smothered a kiss to the child's forehead. "They look like me."

"Shh, shh." the antagonist settled themselves comfortably on the protagonist's lap, looping their arms around them. One hand cupped the back of their head and stroked soothing fingers through the protagonist's hair, guiding their head to rest on the antagonist's shoulder. "It's alright, calm down..." The protagonist's wrists strained against the chains binding their limbs to the chair, heart feeling like it might jack-knife out of their chest, nerve-endings jangling. "Just match your breathing with mine." The antagonist continued, concerned. "We both know I'm going to hurt you regardless so there's really no point in having a panic attack about it. Come on, deep breaths. No

need to cry now, that's good. You can do it." They continued to make soothing sounds, crowning the protagonist's head with kisses.

"I really thought you could save me." The hero cradled the villain close, for now, too many things reeling through their head. "Yeah, so did I."

"You said if I did this, that we'd be done." The antagonist smiled, brushing the protagonist's hair back from their forehead. "You must have known that would never happen. Look at what a great team we make--we're unstoppable!" Their smile softened and the protagonist hated that it still made their stomach flip. "You're incredible!" "Incredibly done." "If I let you go, you'll die. The world can't maintain you the way I can."

"You were everything to me." And now, this. Betrayal and longing, relief at life and despair at monstrosity, sunk like a fish hook in their chest. Painful, inescapable. "How could you?" The antagonist's brow furrowed. They reached out a hand, gently catching the protagonist's tears on their fingertips. "You say that as if we've met before." The protagonist's heart dropped out. "What? You don't remember me?" The antagonist continued to stare at the tears for a moment before their hand clenched to a fist. They nodded to their guards. The protagonist struggled as the security seized hold of them again, dragging them up and backwards. Their desperation pitched. They grew sure. "You don't remember, do you? What's the last thing you remember?" "Oh, and gag them," the antagonist said, looking away. "They're boring me." "[NAME]--" the guards cut them off. The antagonist didn't look at them once as they were hauled out of the room.

They tried again, and again, and again. Each time, they were deftly deflected, tossed aside, pinned, knocked back as if their attacks and all their training was nothing. The villain was good. They tried for over an hour, ears ringing, nose bleeding, ribs cracked, fingers broken, until they were too exhausted to put any strength into a punch and the last lunge ended up more with them sobbing and shaking in frustration against the villain's chest. The villain caught their wrists firmly and twisted them into a more secure hold. They manhandled the protagonist, stumbling in front of the mirror so they could get a good look at just how pitifully outmatched they looked. "This is what you wanted? I'm sure your parents would be delighted to see this."

"Teach me." "What?" The villain started. "Teach me how to fight like you." It was the most incredible thing they'd ever seen. "...You want me to teach you how to kill me?" The villain let go and let them crumple to the floor. "[*]. I need a drink to deal with you."

"I said that's enough now." The villain caught hold of the hero's wrists as they tried to keep fighting, tossing their weapon aside before drawing them close. Arms wrapping around them in an embrace that might have been comforting if it didn't have the unyielding restraint of shackles. "There we go, easy now." You've been hurt enough for one day." Thrashing against the hold did nothing but exhaust the hero and eventually they sagged. They sank together to the ground in a tangle of limbs, rocking slightly. 'You hurt me,' they wanted to scream. 'This is your fault.' "Shh," the villain murmured--warned, they didn't even know anymore. "It's enough. You've done more than enough, you'e fought so bravely, but just listen to me. There's no shame in surrendering and living another day, right?"

The villain was curled up in their bed. Fast asleep, in their bed. No broken windows, no broken locks--just there. A bolt of rage shot through the hero before they got a better look at them and... Oh wow. They let them sleep, Tucked over another blanket and went into the kitchen and made food, something warm to drink and fished out some painkillers. Their eyes flickered over when the villain made a clammy appearance. "Sit down," they ordered. "You're not going anywhere until I've taken a look at your wounds." The villain sat, huddled up in one of the hero's old hoodies. "You're not interrogating me. Or angry." "Oh, I'm furious. But shockingly enough for once not at you. If I ask you what happened, you're going to run aren't you?" The villain didn't deny it. This was different, somehow.

"I loved you at your darkest."

The fighter frowned when I stepped into the ring, his stance slackening a little as he took in the sight of me. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they grew rowdy, waiting for the fight to start. But he said, in a low growl of a voice, "I don't fight girls." My lip curled as I replied, "too bad, because I fight boys." And knocked his legs out from under him.

"You took a bullet for me." The villain stared at them, numbly almost, as the protagonist gasped for breath that didn't want to come down. "That was stupid of you." They wished they had some excuse, some clever plan, but it had simply been instinct. They wished they had some witty comment, but it hurt too much to think. The villain stepped closer, standing over them. Watching them pant, propped weakly on one elbow, the other hand clamped to their side. "I wish you hadn't done that," the villain said. "So do I, [*]." They squeezed their eyes shut. They snapped open at the touch of hands, and the antagonist's face was right there. Close. "Are you scared? Do you want me to make it quick for you?" [*]. Really?

"You can't just keep me!" "You'd prefer I fight you and your friends?" The villain returned. "I wouldn't. And you are an excellent piece of peace-keeping leverage. A noble cause. I would have imagined you'd be all aboard.

"Don't do this," the antagonist entreated, anguished, wary. "You don't have to do this." The protagonist stared back, heart drumming in their ears, a dozen longings swelling beneath their tongue. "I don't want to. You're all I ever wanted." It hurt to, finally, admit it aloud and the antagonist's breath hitched. "But this is--this is wrong. Can you really not see that?" "Loving you can never be wrong." Their chest ached. "The things you do for love can."

"Not what you expected?" The villain smiled, frosty. "I had plans other than you too. I suppose we'll both have to make do." The hero drew back, wide-eyed, because no. This was not what they'd expected at all. A little awkwardness, a little chill, not a dead body on the bedroom floor. "What are you?"

"Don't worry." The villain caressed their partner's cheek, down the oh-so-vulnerable line of the hero's throat. "I won't hurt you. Suspicion always turns to the spouse first in these things." "I'll tell." "And then where would that leave you? Like it or not love. I'm all that you have in the world now. We need to look after each other."

When someone's heart breaks, so does a piece of our world; this creatures fissures,

valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell the story behind the Grand Canyon.

"You're such a complete disaster." Groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk. "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight? Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

"Fix it." "I can't." The protagonist dropped to their knees, a sick feeling curdling in the pit of their belly. "Please--see, I'm begging and everything. Fix it." They swallowed hard. "Please." Their voice cracked. "I can't." The antagonist said. They tugged one hand through their hair, jerking the other in a gesture for the protagonist to get up. "I'm not saying it to spite you, I literally can't. This is beyond my power. I'm sorry." The protagonist stared at them in numb disbelief.

"Hand over the girl." "Not going to happen."

"Does it hurt?" The hero asked carefully, looking at the huge scar that trailed from the other person's shoulder, down their chest to their stomach. The scar was pale in colour and bumpy; raised above the skin ever-so-slightly. The other person looked away, blinking fast. "It did. Years ago, when I first received it." "I can't believe someone could do this to you," the hero whispered. That got the other's attention, their head snapping towards the hero. "You did this. YOU did this to me and you don't even remember." They hissed.

"You need to eat something." The hero scowled, wrapping both arms around their grumbling stomach. "You need to mind your own business." The villain stepped forward slowly, arms held out in front of them, palms up. "You fainted on me last week, and I can hear how hungry you are. If you won't take my money, at least let me buy you some food. You help everyone, let someone help you for once. Don't let your pride stop you from taking the help you need to continue saving lives." The villain smiled crookedly. "To continue stopping me."

"Your city is in ruins. You are--" The villain stopped, gloves half off, and raised an eyebrow. "You're wrapped in my cape." Swaddled in the thick fabric, only the hero's face was visible, their expression trapped between a scowl and a pout. "It's cold down here, and you left it in reach. If you weren't too tight to heat your lair while keeping me prisoner down here, I wouldn't have had to resort to thievery." "You look adorable," the villain said, forcing a sneer into their voice. Because they did. They looked adorable and warm and perfect.

Character B bleeding heavily while Character A tries to staunch the blood, but Character B is more concerned about the fact that stoic Character A is sobbing and panicking.

When help is a few hours away and Character B has to stay awake, Character A rambles loudly about random stuff, trying not to break down and cry and to keep them awake.

"Show me your scars," he said. "But... Why?" She asked quizzically. "I want to see how many times you needed me and I wasn't there," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You go ahead, I'll hold them off for as long as I can."

"Don't talk to me. It's 6 AM and I haven't had coffee yet, so anything I do or say cannot

be held against me."

"Dude, that jacket is mine, give it back."

"YOU USED MY TOWEL?!"

"Where is he?" "My lady...." "Answer me."

"Wait, when did I take off my clothes?"

"I"m fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

"I'm not here, actually, this is a projection from.... [planet].... I moved there recently."

"You have no idea how to make toast?!"

"I haven't showered in four days."

"You're more zombie than human."

"Fix her." "No." "Because you can't or you don't want to?" "Because she'll break again. And you'll be back here, on my doorstep, begging me once more to fix something that wasn't meant to be fixed." "So you don't want to?" The healer's eyes were cold. "No."

"You made me love you." The hero said. They stared out of the window, quietly, watching the rain spit down across the streets. The villain froze in the doorway, studying them, the cup of love-potion spiked tea still cradled in their hand. "I've known for weeks," the hero continued, idly almost. They didn't glance over. "It's obvious. Too sweet in the tea." "You're still drinking it." "I wanted to see what you would do. Waited." The villain swallowed at that. They hadn't done anything--aside from give the tea. Perhaps that was the most damning thing of all.

"She's crying, what do I do?" "Go comfort her." "How do I do that?" "Start with hugs." "With what?"

"I always knew I'd take a bullet for you," I say as pain ebbs through my chest. He/She crouches beside me, clutching at my shirt. Sobs echo from him/her as my lids grow heavy from the weight. "And I always knew you wouldn't take one for me." I whisper and shut my eyes.

First she realized she was pregnant, then she realized her baby would only be half human.

An all female crew is picked for the first [planet] mission. They all come back pregnant.

Imagine a villain getting injured and losing their memory and the hero finds them and takes them back with them, taking care of them and the villain gets their memory back after like a week but doesn't say anything because the hero is being so nice to them and nobody has been that nice to them in so long and they don't want it to end and they're maybe getting fond of the hero, but don't tell anyone. But eventually something happens and the hero is in trouble and they're trying to get the villain to run away because they still think they're an amnesiac with no idea how to defend themselves and they've grown to like them and don't want them to get hurt, but the villain just pushes past them towards whatever is trying to hurt the hero and just goes guns blazing and destroys them.

"I wish I had a camera."

The shackles grazed her wrists as she changed positions in an attempt to get comfortable.

You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise.

You are fighting in a war when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off of you.

The rain came down in heavy sheets. He pulled his soaked [type of hat] down to protect his eyes and moved forward. Where was she? Would he find her in time? A dark shape against the bridge railway caught his eye when the lightning flashed. He rushed forward and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. He couldn't tell for the rain if she was crying or not, droplets streamed down her face. Her mouth opened to let out a cry, but when she saw it was him, she pleaded with her eyes. He only nodded and put his arm around her. He'd protect her.

My head pounded as the toxin flooded my veins, but when I looked at her I could tell what it was doing to her was much worse.

A woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She's unaware that she's actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who's fallen for her and is certain that this time he'll get it right.

"What have you been doing? Actually, don't answer that, I don't want to know."

"You're hurt!" He pulled the arrow out of his chest. "Oh, that's nothing." She stared at him. She'd thought she'd seen the arrow pierce his heart. How was he even alive? He laughed. "Don't worry, dear. It takes more than one little arrow to kill me." She was pretty sure she'd seen his eyes glimmer for a second.

"It's 2 AM. I think that's enough of that."

"Watch, this is the best part!"

"Why are you doing this?!" The villain grinned, their malice as tangible as the ground beneath the hero's feet. "Because you fell in love. And you needed to learn that love won't save you when there's a gun to your head."

It's not like she meant to trip and spill coffee all over him. It was just the way of her people.

The villain gently lifted the hero's chin with a fingertip. "Don't you see? We're the same, you and I." The hero narrowed their eyes and smacked the villain's hand away. "You and I will never be the same. I'll make sure of it." The villain grabbed the hero's wrists in an iron grip before they even knew it was moving. "Darling," the villain chuckled, "you don't have a choice."

The villain snarled, "you will find the moment you hurt them is the moment I tear out your heart and shatter your bones. If you dare destroy them as you have threatened, then they'll find nothing left of you."

"You're not allowed to die, dammit!" The villain's voice quivered, threatening to break as they shook the hero's limp shoulders. "I promised myself you wouldn't die here. I promised you I'd get us both out of this. Dammit, I promised!"

The villain's breaths were shallow and panicked as they laid the hero on the ground, blood staining both their hands. "Damn it," the villain muttered as they ripped a piece off their shirt and pressed it flush with the hero's ribcage. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Didn't want you to think I was weak," the hero mumbled, their face an already alarming shade of white. The villain grimaced, tears blurring their vision. "Well, I'm afraid you're about to witness first hand just how weak I am."

"The world is ruthless, unforgiving. I came to realize that long ago when my wife was

stolen from me." She lifted her hood to reveal her face. "She wasn't stolen. She left."

The villain shook their head. "What a pity..." "Let me go!" Begged the protagonist again. "Please," she sobbed. "Please. "You could have been Queen. It's a pity you chose this path instead." The villain lifted their dagger.

"I"m the daughter of a King who forgot my name."

"Go to him. He waits for you."

*He became King because he wanted to marry you.

One night, a dark King appeared and offered me his hand, his heart, and his Kingdom.

Arranged marriage AU where I am the Prince/Princess who sneaked out to a tavern and while I was there I got into a fist fight with another patron. Fast forward to the next day where I am meeting the person who has been engaged to me since birth and oh wow your eye looks horrible, what did I do.

Your father is forcing you to marry someone you've never met. The night before your wedding you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window. Halfway down, you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over.

"If a god falls in love with you, you can never really die."

Person A and Person B are in the kitchen. Person A is short, while Person B is slightly taller. Person A: *Struggles to retrieve items from top shelf* Person B: "Do you need me to get it for you?" Person A: *Gasps* "How dare you insult the vertically challenged!" Person B: *Laughs* "Okay then..." Person A: (Moments later) *Defeated sigh* "Help meee....."

Person A: *Completely serious* "I have to get something off my chest." Person B: *Fingers crossed* "I hope it's your shirt, please."

Person A noticeably disheveled as they enter the room. "Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff." Person B, also disheveled and grinning smugly enters the room after. "I'm stuff."

The villain smiled, watching the anguish on the hero's face as their so-called friends handed them over. "I guess," the villain sighed. "You're nobody's first priority." They reached out, pulling the hero closer by their restraints. "Except mine, of course. Don't worry. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you." The hero shivered, turning their head away.

"I'm all yours," the hero held up their hands. "Just leave them out of it. This is just you and me, right?"

The villain panted for breath, hands bloody--a little dazed and starting to shake. "They were going to hurt you. I-I panicked. I know it's bad that I--" "Shh." The hero held out an arm and the villain crumpled against them. "It's alright. You were only trying to protect me, weren't you?" The villain nodded. "Then I forgive you, it's okay. But you know there are going to be people who don't see it my way, who wouldn't understand like I do." "But you can make that go away. You can do anything." The villain said. It took everything the villain had not to shiver with delight.

"There," the villain carded their fingers through the hero's hair. "Isn't it better to feel clean?" No more blood or grime or gore on battered skin. Instead, fluffy towels, steaming water, soothing scents and oils which soothed all aches and pains. "It would

feel even better if you weren't in the room. Bit creepy, that." "You know you can't be trusted not to abuse my hospitality."

"Stop it." The command, the quiet authority cut straight through to the villain's brain. "You're overthinking," their sidekick said. "You know what you get like when you start overthinking. Come here." The villain moved over thoughtlessly. Their sidekick guided them gently down onto their knees, taking the villain's head in their hands. Their fingers massaged soothing circles and the villain's eyes fluttered closed. "That's right," their sidekick murmured. Good. Just focus on me. Take some deep breaths."

"You are so terrified that people will never love you, that they'll leave you," the protagonist murmured. "That you would never give them the chance to do either." The antagonist stilled in the doorway, just for a beat. The protagonist looked at them, heart seized in their mouth. "That's not love, you know. Love necessitates choice." "Just as well then," the antagonist replied. "That I'm not looking to give someone the chance to love me. Sleep tight." The door slammed shut behind them.

"I miss you." "You miss an illusion." But the villain paused all the same, hand rising as if about to touch. Faltering. Their hand dropped. They steeled themselves. "Take them away." Cold.

*And mighty we became.

"That has got to be the lamest pick up line in existence." "Don't worry that's just Plan A." "So what's Plan B?" "To take you hostage."

"I'm fine," the antagonist said. "Okay." "I'm fine." They'd just said that, and the protagonist was starting to look concerned. "Just fine. Everything's going to be fine." Oh wow, they couldn't stop saying it, couldn't stop gabbling it, couldn't breathe over it, choking on that word. Fine, fine, fine, always perfectly fine.

The villains lungs strained for air as the hero slammed them up against the wall, face inches away. Fear licked up their spine. "You're sorry?" The hero spat. "Sorry doesn't even begin to cover what you're going to be for what you've done. You don't get to cry over your guilt. You're not the one who got hurt."

In the heat of the moment, whether this is a fight, chase, or the characters are under gunfire; they escape and get to cover. However all is not well when Character A turns to see Character B leaning heavily against a wall, clutching at their side. Character B slowly looks up and shows a blood covered hand before saying, "so. Slight problem," before collapsing onto the floor.

"I love you from the bottom of my heart, but I don't trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen."

Person B dancing around their home, headphones in, eyes closed, singing as loudly as they please to their favourite song while Person A stands in the doorway watching their oblivious partner with a loving smile on their face.

Person A: "How can someone say Person B is evil? They're the most precious soft little soul." Person B: *Wiping blood off their face* "YEAH, I'M ADORABLE!"

Person A walked into the house, threw their bag on a chair, and laid down on the carpet with an air of defeat. Person B walked in a few hours later, saw Person A on the ground and set to work. They picked up a few blankets and pillows. Then Person B walked

over to Person A, laid everything out, then proceeded to lay down with Person A. Person A slowly curled up to Person B and fell into a restful sleep. Five hours later, they're still there. Just soaking in each other's presence.

Person A was sitting up in bed, headphones on and staring intensely at their Ipad screen, which flickered brightly in the dim room. Person B rolled over and slowly sat up, glancing at the clock and seeing it was well past 2 AM. Person B leaned up against Person A, with their eyes still closed and asked why Person A was still up. Person A popped out an earbud and quickly *states reason* and then turned their attention back to the screen. Person B yawned loudly, grabbed the device and tossed it off the bed. Right before Person A could protest, Person B curled an arm around them and forced Person A to lay down. Person A fell asleep within minutes, tucked securely in Person B's arms.

Imagine your OTP getting ready for bed and Person A is sitting on the bed. Person B tries to sneak up on them with a hug or a kiss, but Person A has quick reflexes and thinks they're being attacked. So they accidentally hit Person B in the face and they fall back onto the bed. Person A quickly realizes who it was then, and keeps saying sorry really fast and hugs them and kisses where it hurts.

Imagine Person A walking into the kitchen, only to find Person B in tears. Person A immediately rushes over to Person B's side, fretting over them, consoling and asking what happened. Surprised, Person B explains they were simply cutting onions.

Person A is baking cookies and has to split their attention between the timer and fighting off Person B, who keeps trying to steal cookie dough from the bowl.

Imagine your OTP making out on a couch, but then one of them accidentally rolls off and the other one is either frantically asking if they're okay, or laughing their head off.

Imagine your OTP ice skating and one of them falls so the other tries to help them up, but they lose their balance and fall on top of the other.

What if he held you tightly in his arms as you lay on his chest, drifting into sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat. Feeling the slight vibration of his lungs as he hummed softly. His hands brushing lightly in your hair as his lips pressed against the top of your head, but stayed there for awhile. Then he let out a faint sigh, taking his lips away, seeming to be deep in thought.

You shift around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. No success. You hear your boyfriend stretching. "Can't sleep, my love?" He asks, letting out a sleepy sigh. "Come here," he whispers. You move over to him and he snakes an arm around your waist and wraps his leg around yours as you rest your head on his bare chest.

As you lay in bed alone, struggling with reaching sleep, you toss and turn before huffing out in annoyance at still being awake. A small fraction of light creeps into your room until the door closes and the edge of your bed dips down underneath his weight. He carefully climbs under the covers, reaching an arm out for you, pulling you closer to his body, your back to his front. "You can sleep now, love. I'm home. I love you." He gently whispers in your ear, lightly kissing your cheek and then laying his head on the pillow next to you, leading you to fall into a dream-filled sleep of your boy being back home.

#writing #writing prompts #writing prompt list #prompts #other writing prompts #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #star wars

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seeds-of-the-garden · 4 years

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Hello! I'm actually really happy that this is my first ask ever with my own Tumblr account (finally!) The prompt I'm thinking of is a kind of Florist AU (?? Sorry not that good with Tumblr and ship terms yet) where Colleen Holt is a florist and Pidge helps her out in the shop, which is how she meets Lance. He's there to buy flowers for another girl... and another... and another... until suddenly, the flowers are for her. Thank you and mabuhay!

So, I originally wrote something for this with just ‘florist au’ in mind, totally forgetting the rest of what you requested so... I ended up writing about 1k in the span of about 30 minutes. Minor angst but mostly tooth rotting fluff at the end. I hope you like it! We’re so glad you sent the ask!

~~~~~

The silver bell rings a pleasant melody as Pidge enters the flower shop. Instantly the stress and stale feeling of her day at school melts away as the sweet aroma fills her senses. She smiles, breathing out a sigh of relief. She still had homework to finish, but only after she spent some time helping her mother.

Then Matt won’t complain about dinner being too late again and they’ll have that much more time to spend with Dad before he goes back into space.

Pidge sets her backback behind the counter and strides into the back room where her mother is putting the finishing touches on a set of bouquets for a bridal party. Rather than traditional red roses, the bride picked lilies as the most prominent flower. It tickles at Pidge’s heart and decides that if she were to ever be married, she would do the same.

“Hey Mom,” she greets. “Need any help?”

Colleen beams, no doubt pleased that Pidge is volunteering today. Though… there’s a glint of amusement in her eye that Pidge nearly doesn’t catch. “I’m glad you asked, Katie. I had a big order come in late yesterday for a large arrangement. The details are on the counter if you can start. I need to make bouquets for a whole other wedding party.”

A bit of pride wells in her heart at the amount of trust her mother has to start and handle an arrangement on her own. Building a computer from scratch and coding her own operating system is child’s play for her now, and she’d always enjoyed doodling on the sides of her grade school papers and notebooks, but creating arrangements in a professional way was something she was still learning. The knowledge of all the different plants and how they complimented each other, the colors, even the types of grasses, while scientific at its core, required a creative eye more than anything.

It was like a puzzle. And PIdge loved puzzles.

“Yeah, I can do that,” she responds, taking up a seat on a stool across the room from her mother’s workstation. She grabs the order, scribbled neatly in her mother’s handwriting on a blank receipt. It is for an extra large arrangement, and would probably take the whole night. The strangest thing is that there are no specific flowers requested, only that it use her favorites and the customer trusted her…

Pidge gasps when she sees the name of the person who commissioned the order. Lance. The same Lance that has been in and out of the shop every week or so for the last semester, begging her mother to help him pick out the perfect flower for his date of the week. It seemed he’d asked out every girl in school.

Except her.

She hated it. She shouldn’t hate it but she did. At first she hadn’t cared, of course. He’d been a cocky, insufferable flirt since middle school. But after he started to frequent the shop, she found herself helping her mother more often. While her mother went to the back to check on things, the two of them talked video games and astronomy and promised each other they’d both get into the Galaxy Garrison after graduating high school.

Pidge should hate him, but she can’t squash the feeling of passive rejection. She has more in common with him than any of the girls at school he asks out. Whoever he’s asking out this time… must be really special.

For half a minute, she considers doing purposefully awful, quickly dismissing the thought because this is her mother’s shop after all. She needs to be professional. And… she doesn’t want to see Lance sad anymore than she already does when he walks through the halls after a rejection or bad date. His stupid, cocky grin, when he’s legitimately happy, is one of her favorite things in the world to see.

For hours she pours all her favorites into the arrangement. It’s well past supper, hardly noticing when her mother goes out to the front to help customers, focused on her task just as if she were developing a new code. In the end, it's nearly as tall as her, ginger lilies dotting all across the main base, colored with prairie grass and blue bells, cat tails giving it its height. It’s beautifully simple and Pidge can’t help but smile in pride.

“It’s beautiful, Katie,” Colleen praises, placing a hand on her shoulder from behind. “I think you deserve a nice hot meal after that.”

“That’s great, ‘cause I’m starving,” Pidge agrees. “Where are you thinking for takeout?”

There’s that sparkle in her eyes again. “Oh, I was just going to drop by the store for a rotisserie chicken for me and the boys. I think you’ll get to pick to go wherever you want.”

Pidge furrows her eyebrows, confused. Until her mother opens the door to the front of the door, and in the entryway, is Lance in the flesh, twiddling his thumbs, dressed in a nice pair of jeans and dressy sweater.

“Hey, Pidge,” he begins nervously. “So, I know this is kind of last minute, and you can totally say no if you want” he spazzes before calming and continuing his explanation “… but the planetarium is hosting that party for Galileo’s birthday and I thought we could go and um, grab a bite to eat beforehand.”

Pidge’s stomach rumbles, and she isn’t sure its just from being hungry. “Just… us?” she inquires.

He gulps. “If that’s okay. I was hoping I could bribe you with flowers?” he finishes with a hopeful smile.

He holds no flowers. It hits her like a lightning bolt as she looks down towards the arrangement she’d spent the early evening working on.

He’d commissioned it for her. And her mother knew it.

She finds herself nodding before her brain can catch up. “I do. I would love to go out with you.”

Nothing pleases her more than seeing his wide, uninhibited smile at her words.

#plance #pidgance #pidge #lance #vld fanfic #voltron legendary defender #mod rue #pre relationship #first date #flower shop au

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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then together let us make a world | jake x amy |

Tooth-rotting fluff based on episode 7x01 coming through!

Read on ao3 here!

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It’s only after getting over the disappointment of Scully and Hitchcock's interview-hijack that it really hits Jake what had previously gone down: They’re going to start trying… for a baby. Gushing thoughts have completely corrupted his brain but they contain so much excitement, confidence he’s never quite felt before, and for this reason he doesn’t mind.

They’re going to start trying for a baby, a little tiny human being, that will be his and hers.

That evening Amy had brought up the pregnancy scare very delicately well aware of her husband’s much improved although still tentative feelings concerning the logistics of the baby-matter. Granted they’d crossed paths with the subject, multiple times, before Jake had indeed, and rather firmly, settled on the fact that, yes, he wanted to be a dad: specifically Amy Santiago’s child’s dad. What had up until now held him back was the question of when.

When would he be ready? When would the time be perfectly right? When would he be able to be the exact opposite of his own dad?

Even though Amy by all means knew her husband could never turn out to be a shitty dad, or shitty anything, for that matter, and of this she’d reassure time after time, she also knew there was understandable reasoning behind his apprehension. Or that was until tonight. Tonight he hadn’t needed her delicateness, though he appreciated it, and he hadn’t cared about his former apprehension. Tonight had been and felt different.

It was as if the second the word pregnant had escaped her lips, he’d instantly felt his heart skip a beat which he at first thought was alike previous nervous occasions, right up until giving it another nanosecond to realise that this time it wasn’t the case. Different from previous times this flutter felt good, thrilling, new and akin to what could only be described as his hopes and dreams about of this long awaited epiphany. And now… it was finally here.

Sitting in bed with her, the very equivalent of the most normal end of the day for them, nothing that felt more special and right as he’d said out loud what he so shamelessly had felt as a result of her little update. The words had flown out his mouth but, for once, his spontaneous declaration were at no one’s expense because, yes, he was ready.

And now, after watching the rest of the news and settling down for the night, it really hits Jake, as they’re lying there, how truly right it all feels. He’s currently tucked into bed with his head slightly propped up watch whatever nonsense is now on TV, alongside him Amy has fallen asleep with her head on his chest, left arm and leg wrapped lovingly around him. It does constrain most of his ability to move but at the very least allows him to have his left arm under, around and holding her close in return. Even considering how normal the evening feels, it also feels that more special, truly like the start of something brand new.

Just as yet another mind numbing commercial interrupts whatever he was mindlessly pretending to watch his eyes drop to look down upon Amy’s sleeping figure. There, his eyes are met by shiny black hair standing out against her pink shirt, indeed messy after a long day but not enough to come in-between his angle of view and her beautiful face. And there it is again, he realises: the stupid smile on his face that’ll appear out of nowhere without a warning the second his mind revisits the thought of the woman before him carrying their child. There is no helping it, he thinks, before letting his fingers run through the locks carefully as to not wake her up.

“Careful, Peralta,” she rumbles, startling him even though he won’t admit to it, half of her face currently smushed comfortably into his chest, nevertheless burying it in a lazy attempt at physical affection.

“You’re absolutely in deep now. There’s no going back,” she jokes through shut eyes although he can tell that there’s a smug grin hiding in his chest.

“Oh, honey I’ve been in deep for a long time now.”

He smiles down at her continuously playing with her hair. Her eyes are still closed but her hand, which seconds ago was helping her hold onto his torso, moves to stroke his bicep. However her smile, on the other hand, quickly changes, doesn’t remain smug for long, and quickly transitions from teasing to a softer version that reflects how she’s really feeling.

“I know it’s still really early and we literally just decided to start trying, but…” she trails off after suddenly opening her eyes, as if the moment has suddenly gained a certain tint of sincerity that wasn’t there seconds ago. “… have you thought about any, you know,” she takes the tiniest of breaths, inhaling courage, before twisting her neck as much as physically possible in her given position to lock eyes with him, “baby names?”

“I actually have,” he counters, once again taking her by storm, without a flinch or any kind of sign of insecurity. Amy’s so proud of him.

With a reassuring smile he reaches over to grab his phone from the nightstand, where it’d immediately been put aside when Amy had come to him with what he’d picked up on as important matter. He doesn’t even have to see at the look upon his wife’s face: he can sense that she’s beaming as he settles back against the pillow with his phone in hand.

“You made a list?” She’s truly surprised and impressed by just how much her A-typeness has worn off on him even if it’s just little things like lists.

“Yeah,” he states proudly before briefly clearing his throat thus prompting Amy to flip over, scooting back to lean her upper backside and head against his chest instead. It’s no secret that she’s extremely curious to get a look at a) her husband’s attempt at what she considers a hobby and b) what her husband considers legitimate names for their future child. This new position will allow her to look through the mystery-list with him. With both arms wrapped around her Jake holds and rests the devise on his belly for both of them to see

“…I actually started making it that evening after our talk at the hospital.”

Amy observes a slight reddening of his cheeks, perhaps not out of embarrassment per say but rather out of understanding of how very real the matter at hand has gotten. His list is no longer just a pile of names in his Notes-app where he’d, for fun and hypothetical reasons, add another one whenever he came across one he liked: now it’s a list that could quite possibly contain the name of their future child.

She grins from ear to ear way before he has the chance to start reading out loud. Just how in love with him she is keeps hitting her again and again, a thousand miles per hour, like lighting tearing apart the sky during a thunderstorm.

“The first name on the list you already know about since we’ve talked about it: Atlas.”

“Still kinda really like it,” Amy shrugs light-heartedly from where she’s comfortably leaning into him all while tracing small drawings of nothing in particular but affection his thigh.

“Our child would be the one to be named after a god, huh?” Jake teases earning him a chuckle from Amy.

“So unbiased,” she confirms jokingly.

“Exactly,” he briefly pecks the top of her head in agreement before continuing. “Alexander is up next.”

“Nu-uh!” Her body twists hurriedly in a tiny squirm of objection. “Perp-alert! I can’t have my child have the same name as one of my ex-perps.”

“Ames, combined we’ve probably arrested hundreds if not thousands of perps!”

While he can see her point: after all it is understandable that she doesn’t want their child to be associated with anything negative, this also erases a lot of possibilities on both their ends.

And although he is completely serious upon making his statement, he has to laugh at the thought of having to name their child something completely absurd because of the extremes of their job.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of names that haven’t been ruined by crime yet. There are literally billions of names out there!” On her part it is in fact a statement but ends up coming out as whine instead - a playful complaint of sorts.

“Sure,” he pauses to think for a second before pulling up a browser tab wherein starts typing obviously searching for something.

Amy’s eyes tries to keep up with his typing but Jake’s fingers have obtained their fair share of training from all the time he spends gaming on his phone, and it’s more of a struggle to follow than she likes to admit.

All she happens to catch is that as soon as he types the first few letters of whatever he’s searching to find, the website’s name pops up as a suggestion telling her that he’s visited it before. He swiftly enters it and clicks around a few more times losing her in the process. A long list appears on what appears to be babynames.com. The thought of him visiting it on his own time, by himself as… fun? It makes her heart flutter.

“It won’t be a problem if you want our child to be called… Agamemnon.”

She immediately twists her neck to look up at him where she’s met by a deadpan she knows is trying to hide the fact that he’s cracking up on the inside.

“I mean,” she untwists her neck to grab the phone from his hand in order to have a closer look at the screen and what is written about the name. “We do seem to have something for Greek mythology so I don’t see the problem, Jake.”

Jake knows Amy like the back of his hand and it’s clear as day that she’s messing with him – but of course two can play that game.

“Okay, great,” he states matter-of-factly, “It’s settled then: we’re naming our child Agamemnon Santiago-Peralta - boy or girl.”

He gently takes back his phone to lock it as a visual settlement of the discussion.

“Okay. Cool cool cool…” Amy complies.

Silence dominates the bedroom for a few seconds before Amy twists her neck, both looking at each other trying to figure out when to kill the joke. Their shared look doesn’t last long before they break into laughter.

“I’m sorry, Ames, but you will never hear me call our child Agamemnon out loud.”

“Completely fair.”

Both of their laughs quiet down. Amy settles back down against his chest while Jake reopens his phone and Notes-app.

“What else do you have in there? I’m sure there are some genuinely good contestants.” She almost coos in order to get the conversation back and track, although more importantly to let him know she genuinely wants to hear his propositions.

This time it’s Amy turn to gentle grab the phone from him and scroll. He loves moments like these where they’re just soaking in each other’s presence without much else to do but talk or touch for the sake of it. To occupy himself in the meantime Jake allows his newly freed hands to caress her the area around her waist and stomach now suddenly also better known as where their child will be growing, becoming a tiny little individual, in what he sincerely hopes is a matter of months. A year ago he couldn’t fathom the feeling this feeling of impatience to be dad, yet alone truly, surely wanting a child. In a drastic lift-changing contrast, here they finally were, going through baby names like it was the most common thing in their world.

“Olivia is nice… Felix also good… Noah is adorable…”

Jake can tell, from the tone of her voice, that she genuinely means every single comment she makes, which wholeheartedly provokes a feeling of pride and the feeling of he can do this. The sound of her voice threats to lull him into a trancelike state, and for a moment allows his eyes to shut while he lets his ears do the job of keeping of with Amy discovering his lists. Just like his eyes, his hand’s movement on her are about to falter when suddenly his wife lets out a tiny gasp. It’s safe to say that his eyes are, just as fast as they were closed, back wide open.

“This one is really sweet,” he can tell she’s smiling from the way her voice is laced with softness. “Juliet,” she continues, out loud, to allow it to roll on her tongue and for herself to get a better taste of it.

Jake gives her some time to dwell on it before speaking up.

“Yeah, I added it after that night we watched ‘Letters to Juliet’… I don’t know if it’s too sappy for my own good, but I like the thought of the baby being like…”

Amy can tell he hesitates to finish the sentence.

“What?” she looks up at him with an eager look: only those beautiful brown eyes that at any time can calm him down, can also lure him out of his emotionally wounded shell.

“… This baby is going to be like our little love letter.”

A few beats, a matter of seconds, go by and Amy can tell he’s just about to break into cringing and a string of sarcastic comments to redeem what he’s just said. Only this time he doesn’t make it, because Amy Peralta-Santiago lives for Jake’s occasional super-soft moments and she’s not about to let this one slip away.

It’s, or so it feels, out of the blue, just as the cringe starts to break on his face, that he halts when his wife suddenly does a 180 and relocates to hover above him. He briefly, just barely manages to, catches the glimpse of a smile on her face that tells him that he’s doing just fine. That is before it disappears into a soft, warm kiss pressed to his lips.

As so many times before, an amount that he forever hopes will be infinite, their lips come together in sweet, passionate harmony.

“Don’t say anything,” she pecks the corner of his lip so softly the need for more pressure creates a burning sensation. “I love it,” she whispers into his ear, adding a kiss to the shell before moving her way back to the main target, sparking off goose bumps.

Her hands have already, even before their lips crashed, made their way to cup his face secretly enjoying the light, barely there, scruff beneath her touch.

“I love you,” he exhales, just barely making it out between clashing of their lips.

“I love you too,” is promptly returned as so many times before although it, even after being repeated many times throughout the years, never loses its true value.

He loves her so much, he can’t help but think over and over again as he the billions of baby names quickly disappear from his mind under the new, increasingly passionate circumstances. Nothing else in the world matters anymore because they’re just going to start trying.

Yeah, seriously.

#jake and amy #jake x amy #peraltiago fanfic #peraltiago #s7 #Brooklyn Nine-Nine #b99 #fanfiction #oneshot #baby peraltiago

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youreverycolor · 4 years

Text

An Unlikely Love: Admissions (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #187 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”).

Written for @thatesqcrush -- if you would like to be tagged on future Barba oneshots/fic, please reply and let me know! :)

Other tags: @madpanda75 @misssirenlove @evee87 @garturbo @danahart1 @dianilaws @ele-esposito @nikkijmorgan

Song: “Tiny Voice” by Lexi Walker

~*~*~*~

“It was good, but it could be better.”

Anna glanced up at him. “Okay, but how?”

Rafael had just finished reading her admissions essay for Fordham Law School, and while he knew that it was good enough to get her in, he would be remiss if he didn’t give his honest opinion. Her wording was precise, the message decent, but something felt off. It was as though the essay was a puzzle and there was one piece, right in the middle, that was missing.

The young woman had come to him four months before, asking for his advice on how to begin a legal career after her sexual assault the previous year. She had been working in the financial industry when she was assaulted by her boss and, after the conclusion of the trial, decided to rebuild her life from the ground up. Rather than default back to her biology degree—one she had not used since graduating college—she wanted to go in an entirely new direction. Rafael was humbled by this; usually, he didn’t get to see the victims after they’d begun to heal. His impact, he thought, ended after he convicted their rapists. But Anna had come to him to tell him that he inspired her to begin a legal career, and so he wanted to do everything he could to encourage her.

Or, at least, that’s how it started.

“Well,” he replied, “obviously your reasons for wanting to attend law school are different than most people’s. But because of that, I feel like there should be more…emotion here. It feels like you’re holding back.”

She tilted her head and chewed her bottom lip. “Okay, I can see what you’re saying.”

“Is it hard for you to talk about?” he asked. “Because if that’s the case—”

“No, it’s not that. I think it’s just that I’ve spent a long time trying to put what happened to me in a box, you know? Like, this is where it goes now, in this corner of my brain. So digging the box out and opening it up is a little difficult.”

He nodded. “I can understand how that would be hard, but remember, there are actual people who read these essays. They want to know who you are. I know that people think admission is by the numbers, and your LSAT score is great. But you need to set yourself apart from all the other applicants with great LSAT scores.”

She leaned over the coffee table. “Right. I get it. Okay. I’ll revise.”

He was continually surprised at how well she took criticism. Most law school applicants tended to be a bit arrogant and didn’t really want to hear that their work wasn’t impeccable. Then again, it was generally type-A perfectionists who wanted to attend law school in the first place; Anna was…not that person. It wasn’t that she was lazy or that she didn’t care enough to try; on the contrary, in their weekly meetings, Rafael had been impressed with how hard she worked to achieve this goal without compromising her easygoing nature or the balance of the rest of her life. She may only have been twenty-four, but she was wiser than half the people he’d gone to school with.

He wanted to end their meeting on a positive note. “That said, I think you stand a very good chance of getting a scholarship. Which I’m sure will help, especially given that you’re just temping right now.”

She stood up, smoothed her linen skirt over her knees, and pulled up her brown suede boots. “Yeah, I’d like to come out of this with as little debt as possible. Especially since…”

“Since what?” he asked, rising to his feet as well.

She looked down, a little sheepishly. “Since I want to do public defense.”

He almost dropped his coffee cup. “Excuse me, what?”

She sighed. “I knew you’d react like this.” She gathered her application materials from the table and packed them into her messenger bag.

“I mean, how did you expect me to react?” he asked. “After everything you’ve been through, after telling me that I inspired you to even go to law school—how could you want to do what John Buchanan and Rita Calhoun do?”

“Do you really think I would turn out like either of them?” she asked, a bit defensively. “I have no desire to be Buchanan!”

He set his cup down on his desk and put squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know that we’re all supposed to say that the justice system only works when criminals are afforded a defense, and that the Constitution says they’re entitled to one, but I just—”

“Rafael, I understand that you don’t like this. I get it. You’ve made it perfectly clear. But it’s my life.”

“And it’s my time!” he snapped. “I’ve been laboring under the impression that you wanted to do what I do. At least, that’s the impression you gave me, since all we’ve discussed about the practice of law is from the perspective of a prosecutor.”

She folded her arms and stepped closer to him. “Well,” she said, “if having your help is conditional upon doing what you want me to do, then I’d just as soon thank you for your time and try not to waste any more of mine.”

He was trying very hard to be annoyed, but he couldn’t help himself. “You do realize you just quoted a Sara Bareilles song?”

It took her a second to process what he had just said. “Wait…did you really just admit that you, Rafael Barba, big, bad prosecutor, listen to Sara Bareilles?”

“I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

She sighed, grateful for the tension breaking but also not done with the conversation. “Look, I know you don’t get it.” She put a hand on his arm. “I understand that you don’t get how anyone would want to be a defense attorney—”

“It’s not that I don’t understand why people do it. It’s that I don’t understand why you want to do it.”

“I want to do it because there are people like Buchanan out there. You’re such a good prosecutor, Rafael. And the reason you’re good is because you’re a good person. You want to do the right thing. And so do I. The defense world needs people like you, but if they can’t have you, then maybe I can”—she paused, taking a breath—“maybe I can be a substitute. Like I said, I know you don’t understand it. And I’d love your approval. But I don’t need your absolution, because I’m not doing anything wrong.”

He found himself at a loss for words. Never had he considered the idea that good people might want to negate the impact of defense attorneys like Buchanan. Maybe he had just come into contact with too many terrible defense attorneys. Or maybe he had just been a prosecutor for so long that he assumed all defense attorneys were terrible. But he couldn’t imagine ever thinking that about Anna.

In fact, all he was thinking about Anna at that moment was that her hand was still on his arm.

She looked down and noticed the same thing. She didn’t even remember putting it there. But she also didn’t see him pulling away. She moved a little closer, so that there was only an inch or two of space between them. The world blurred a little at the edges.

“Anna…” he whispered.

She knew that he was doing her a favor by helping her. He certainly had better things to do with his time than spend it with a victim who he’d already done so much for. But she also wasn’t willing to sacrifice her goals just to earn his approval—or, she thought, his affection. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I hope someday you can understand,” she said, and in a flash of linen and suede, she was gone.

***

Anna canceled their next meeting. Rafael wasn’t surprised, but he found himself disappointed. Not because she did something wrong, but because he hadn’t realized how much he looked forward to spending time with her until suddenly, he wasn’t anymore. Every time he saw a flash of blonde hair outside his office door or in his apartment hallway, his heart seemed to stop. Once or twice, he’d started to text her, but couldn’t really figure out what to say. It wasn’t that they had ended their last encounter on a bad note; it was more that he didn’t know whether she expected an apology and didn’t know what to say to find out.

So, he just didn’t say anything.

A week later, he got home from work more exhausted than usual. He had just finished a particularly gray case involving a teenage boy who had likely pressured a teenage girl into rounding third base, but the girl’s parents seemed more interested in prosecuting than she did. He hated these cases, because it wasn’t as easy for him to dislike the perp. It wasn’t that he sympathized; he couldn’t imagine pushing a woman into anything and would never understand how a man could get pleasure from sex with someone who wasn’t entirely into it. But he also felt like he was contributing to the girl’s pain—she seemed more embarrassed by the legal proceedings than traumatized by the incident itself.

On days like this, what he loved doing most was coming home, ordering takeout, and—although he would never let anyone else know it—watching those ridiculous house-flipping shows on HGTV. Even though lots of people would recommend just burning these old, busted houses to the ground, there were always people willing to try to turn them into something worthwhile. He liked watching things rebuilt from the ground up. It was while he was watching one of those shows that the realization dawned on him: that’s exactly what Anna was trying to do with defense work. She couldn’t do it all, of course; there would always be houses that should be left to rot. But she wanted to try to flip what she could.

And he’d been telling her to burn it all down. And for what? His ego? To earn his respect? Just today, he had been doubting himself for even prosecuting the case against that boy, wondering if it was really a rape or whether the girl’s parents just wanted to believe it was. Was his side of the law really above reproach?

He opened his laptop to send her an email. He wanted to tell her something, but it was too much to text. And that was when he saw it: the subject read, “Revised Essay. For Your Eyes Only.”

So he started to read.

Most of the essay was the same as it was when he first read it. But the last few paragraphs were new and were everything he had hoped she would revise about it.

It’s probably common for applicants to say that they’ve wanted to go to law school since they were kids. And most people probably say it’s because they want to save the world, do good, protect people, pursue justice. They probably say that they’ve been inspired by another lawyer or that they see the good the law does for people. Those are all valid reasons, and I respect people for them.

For me, it’s really quite simple. I want to be a lawyer because I see the damage the law can do. I’ve been torn down on a witness stand by an attorney who had no compunction about calling me a slut. I realize that this attorney would say he was zealously defending his client, and I’m sure he believes that. But I think there are ways you can defend a client while also respecting the dignity of other humans—even the humans accusing your client of heinous crimes. I think there are better ways to practice law, and I want to find out what they are and pursue them.

I want people to realize that defense attorneys are not the monsters portrayed on television. I want to be a defense attorney that prosecutors can respect. I want to practice law in a way that makes people able to understand why I decided to practice criminal defense. If I can achieve that, if I can make a believer out of the most cynical, stubborn people who think there is no such thing as a defense attorney who is both good at their job and also good at being a human, then I will consider myself a success. I hope that Fordham will allow me to achieve that goal.

The reply he sent was short and to the point, as he always was.

Anna,

Whether or not you attend law school, you’ve made a believer out of this cynical, stubborn old man. I’m sorry to have tried to take away that dream.

-Rafael

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on his door. He expected it to be the Thai food he’d ordered. But when he opened the door, something much better awaited him on the other side.

Anna looked flustered for the first time since they’d started seeing each other regularly. “I know I kissed you before,” she said, “but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

He pulled her in by her hand and pressed her to his chest. “It was good, but it could be better,” he replied, just before his lips met hers.

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