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honeysmokedham · 11 months

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TIMING: march 2022, just after ‘why can’t we be friends?’ PARTIES: Cass @magmahearts & Nora @honeysmokedham LOCATION: NYC SUMMARY: A continued look at the week Cass and Nora shared together in that past they keep referencing. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

With waffles eaten and stolen money left out on the table, Nora and Cass made their way out into the busy streets of New York. Cass didn’t know what their next move was, and she didn’t think Nora did, either. Privately, she found that she really didn’t care much. She had someone walking in step beside her, and that was a lot more important than something silly like… where they were going. They’d figure it out.

If they could stay on the sidewalk, anyway. A woman brushed by them, nearly knocking them both off the curb and into the street. She didn’t even look at them; it was like they were invisible. Cass shrank a little as the woman approached a waiting taxi, bags in hand.

Her stomach was round, and her shirt lifted around it. It was clear that she was very pregnant, both from her appearance and from the one-sided conversation Cass could hear her engaging in. “It’s called a ‘babymoon,’ mom,” she was saying, rolling her eyes in the taxi driver’s direction. “No, I think it’s stupid, too. But Dale swears by it. ‘A week out of town before the baby gets here,’ he says. ‘It’ll get us through those sleepless nights!’ I think he’s lost it. I’d much rather go on vacation when I can see the sand between my toes.”

Still ignoring the two girls on the sidewalk, the woman lowered the phone from her ear and turned to the cab driver. “Oh, I forgot my wallet! God, I’m so sorry, can you — Would you mind running upstairs for me? I cannot do the stairs again, and the elevator’s been out for a week. I swear, if I try to go back up, this baby is coming out in the stairwell!” She laughed, fishing in her pocket for the keys and holding them out to the driver. He took them with a longsuffering sigh. “It’s apartment 227! Oh, you’re incredible!”

Cass watched the exchange as if she was watching a particularly engaging episode of television. She was an invisible spectator here, and so was Nora; two girls so uncomfortable to look at that everyone would much rather look away. All too soon, the episode ended. The cab driver returned, handing the woman her purse and her keys. The car pulled away. The credits rolled. Cass turned to look at Nora, a glint of excitement in her eyes. “I have an idea!”

It was a scene from a normal teenagers life. Two girls, they could be best friends, walking side by side. The happiness they shared was palpable. Nora found herself attempting a smile, the corners of her mouth tucked ever so slightly into a smile. It was downright indulgent of Nora. This had been the experience she’d missed out on her whole life. The friend. In Nora’s mind she could see a world where the two of them had a friendship necklace, each of their torn halves coming together for a whole. Two monsters. Two friends.

Did Cass know Nora was a monster? Could she feel it in her bones? Nora didn’t look different. Humans were fooled by her. It was probably harder to be an outward monster. Then again, most people just ignored Cass. Something that still baffled Nora. Cass was a burst of energy, bright and inviting. Nora’s eyes gravitate to her despite all the action around them. If it hadn’t been for Cass’s interest in the woman and driver in front of them, Nora wouldn’t have paid any attention to them. But Cass was interested, so Nora stood next to her watching the woman talk.

I have an idea.

The exhaust of their car caused Nora to cough. That was one thing she didn’t miss about cities. They smelled. Every few steps was something new for her nose to pick up. Most of it was rancid. Nora blinked back at Cass, trying to figure out what the idea could be. Did Cass want to go into their apartment? They knew the tenants would be gone for awhile. “I’m down to break and enter.” Nora admitted. Nora fumbled in her pockets before finally pulling out her set of lock picks. “I’ve got these.”

Nora pushed the buzz buttons of each apartment until someone finally buzzed them in. Once they were in, Nora held the door open for Cass. “227?” Nora asked, making sure she’d heard the right room. Nora started climbing the stairs. “2..2..7” By the look of the apartment hallway these were mid-luxury units. They didn’t have the fancy amenities that luxury apartments offered, but they weren’t broke living either. It took a minute but Nora got the satisfying click of the door open with her lock picks and stepped in. “What are we looking for?” Nora asked. She could use some new clothes. The stiff fabric of her outfit was getting annoying.

Nora knew what her idea was before she said it, and there was something so exhilarating about that. It was like the friendships she’d only ever read about, the people who knew one another so well that they could finish each other’s sentences. All her life, Cass had been told in no uncertain terms that she would never have something like that. Through the actions of everyone who had ever left her behind, and sometimes through their words, too. She remembered the girl in Utah with the hair that was so blonde it hurt to look at it in the sun sometimes, remembered how she’d looked at her just before she’d left for good. You’re just exhausting to be around, Cassidy. No one is ever going to do it for long.

But maybe it would be different with Nora. The girl in Utah had never known what Cass was going to say before she said it, and neither had the boy in Michigan or the girl in California. Maybe this was a sign that everyone had been wrong, that there was someone who was going to be able to stand her for more than just a fleeting moment. In her head, she was already writing a wild fairytale, already inventing a world where Nora was here, where Nora stayed, where Nora liked Cass even when Cass was hard to like.

Nora produced a lockpick set, and Cass lit up. She usually just burned locks off doors, because it was never like she intended to stick around after breaking in somewhere. But this was different. This was a chance at something normal, at least temporarily. She didn’t want to burn the lock off the door. She wanted to live in the fairytale she’d already built for them.

“227,” she confirmed, grinning as she walked into the building. The apartments looked nice, and Cass followed Nora down the hall, watching with some fascination as she picked the lock. Walking inside, she turned back to the other girl and grinned, allowing herself to fall backwards onto the couch. It was soft, cushiony. Definitely the softest thing she’d ever sat on. “Nothing,” she replied to Nora’s question with a shrug. “Did you hear the lady outside? This place is going to be empty for a week. We can stay here for a few days!”

The apartment was painted in shades of millennial grey. It was the kind of decoration that reminded her that there were people in this world incapable of having creative thoughts and instead were happy with industrialized cookie-cutter decorations. Three canvases, painted white, lined the entry hallway. The canvases had already been white before painting, Nora knew, and the only addition piling white paint on had been the texture. Nora paused in the entryway to stare at the blank paintings, head as empty as the picture themselves. Why would anyone pay for anti-art? Was it supposed to be a deep and thought-provoking piece of materialism? Nora glanced around the millennial grey apartment once more. No. Nora felt she could safely assume it was an unironic artwork placed there to look good.

Cass saved Nora from her spiraling thoughts obsessing over the painting. "Stay here?" Nora repeated. Stay here. With Cass. It sounded nice. Both of them had nowhere to go. It was a game of pretend. Two friends, roommates in the big city. Another one of those movie plots Nora had seen but never thought she would live through. "Yeah." Nora agreed. "Let's stay here."

Nora's boots were off within the moment. If they were going to stay here, she might as well get comfortable. Nora ventured further into the apartment, opening doors and cabinets to get a good look inside. Upon arrival in the closet, Nora was instantly stripping out of her stiff and dirty clothes. Modesty wasn't something Nora considered. Modesty wasn't for models who were changed in front of a room full of people who were all employed to make sure she looked as good as possible. At all times their eyes had remained on her, judging her, criticizing her, changing her. It resulted in a kid who didn't think twice about stripping in front of anyone, or in a place where someone could walk in and see. A body was just a body. A tool.

The selection of outfit choices leaned towards beiges and browns. There weren't enough blacks to cover Nora's punk aesthetic choices. Eventually, she made do with black sweatpants and a hoodie. The soft fabric felt like heaven after months of travel in the stiff, smelly outfit. Nora walked back into the kitchen and started emptying out her jacket pockets. "I'm going to do laundry." Now she was truly playing house, but if this was going to be her only chance to reset her clothes, she had to take it. "Do you want to throw in for it?"

Nora double-checked all her jacket pockets, making sure no animals remained. She'd pulled out two snakes and one spider from the insides. Ever since she was young creepy animals had gravitated to her. Nora loved it. It was just a hassle for laundry because she needed to make sure none of her friends got her. Nora rotated the snakes, one into the hoodie pocket and one into the hood. Happy she got them all, Nora dumped the clothes into the laundry machine.

"This is nicer than sleeping under a bridge." That's where Nora figured she'd post up. "We have air conditioning." Plus there was a kitchen that was probably fully stocked. It was going to be a good week. Nora just knew it.

It wasn’t how she would have decorated an apartment, if she’d ever been able to afford one. Cass had always gravitated towards bright colors and liked floral patterns, feeling far more at home when the light reflected off something colorful than she did in a place like this, where it seemed to disappear into the dullness. Back in Hawai’i, she’d been fascinated by the human hula dancers and what they wore, how they moved. Not the ones in the cities, who were there for the tourists, but the real ones. The ones who danced only for themselves in bright, flowy dresses and skirts. On the rare occasions where she got to choose her own clothes and surroundings, she gravitated towards a similar style. Bright, flowy, free. This apartment felt like the opposite.

But it was a roof over her head. It was a game she could play, a place where she could pretend she fit in for a little while. It wasn’t what she would have chosen for herself if she could choose, but the view from the window reminded her of a poster she’d seen for a TV show that looked cool, and there was a TV in the living room so maybe she could watch it after all. And Nora was here, too. She might not have picked this apartment if she’d had more options, but she would have picked Nora either way. Even if they’d only just met, even if Nora might be just as temporary as everyone else had always been, she’d still pick Nora.

It wasn’t until Nora repeated back her suggestion that they stay in the apartment that Cass’s heart clenched in her chest, because what if Nora said no? Cass would pick Nora, but she didn’t know if Nora would pick her. No one else ever had. But then, Nora agreed as if it was easy, as if it was simple, and the vice gripping her heart loosened its hold. She flashed Nora a smile and began searching for the remote.

Following the other girl’s lead, Cass slipped off her shoes — a pair of worn combat boots she’d gotten from someone somewhere who she remembered even when she pretended not to. While her general style was bright and flowy, her shoes tended to fall into a category like this. Comfort was important when you were living the way she’d been living for years now, and you couldn’t exactly hike through the woods in heels even if the woods were a part of you. Boots worked best.

Finally finding the remote, Cass grinned as she picked it up. She heard Nora undressing behind her, heard clothes hit the floor, but she didn’t turn to look and she didn’t think much of it. In the aos si, after all, there had been plenty of nymphs who forewent clothes entirely. Nudity was neither foreign nor strange to Cass, who had grown up in two worlds with very different views on it. “Do you want to watch something? This TV has Netflix logged in.” She pronounced the brand’s name carefully, because it wasn’t really something she’d said often. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d had actual access to it, but she’d absorbed those experiences with the hunger of a starving person, eager to know all she could about how to see the media she’d come to love.

“Laundry?” Cass looked down at her clothes. They were filthy and ripped, and it probably was a good idea to wash them, wasn’t it? Nodding, she got up from the couch and walked over to the closet, looking at the clothes inside. Beige. Brown. Tan. Where was the color? The closest thing she could find to something she liked was a patterned button up shirt and a long black skirt. Like Nora, she undressed with little fanfare and changed into the clothes, fiddling with the shirt’s collar in the mirror for a moment before nodding and turning back towards the other girl. “Here,” she said, dropping her things into the washing machine. She hoped they’d survive the experience.

Smiling faintly, she nodded in agreement to Nora’s statement. Definitely better than a bridge. Bridges were dirty and loud and someone always came over to bother you when you wanted to be alone. This was different. It was nice. It was just Cass and Nora. “I bet we can find some really good snacks. And they’re going to be gone for a week — we’re doing them a favor eating them. They’d be expired when they got back.”

Was Cass asking her to Netflix and chill? It was a common phrase Nora had heard. Invite someone over, turn on Netflix, not watch Netflix. This was different because the two of them were suddenly playing house in an apartment that neither lived in, and both had just met. What an odd situation. Nora walked out of the bedroom in her new clean clothes, glancing to where Cass held the remote staring at Netflix. There had been something about how she'd said Netflix, it probably was just an honest request. "Sure. I'm down."

Nora waited for Cass to change and dump her clothes in the washer before messing around with settings and detergent and it was off. God. Nora wasn't the most pristine person in the world but it felt good to not be in scratchy stiff clothes. There were things to miss about her life in the lap of luxury, a lot of things. One of them being her endless access to ham. Living on the road was really just moving from one location she thought she could get something to eat to another in an endless cycle. It was hard to just enjoy being out there sometimes when she didn't come across resources for days at a time.

It was as if Cass was reading her mind, because Cass was bringing up snacks. Talking about how they would be doing the family a favor by eating their snacks before they expired. Nora stared at Cass, her bright light, the other monster in the room. The fact that they'd been thinking the same thing. Was there unity in being monsters together? Was this the understanding she'd been searching for her whole life? Because it sure felt like understanding on a level she had thus been unaccustomed to.

Nora realized she had been staring and not answering. She blinked, looking away suddenly once again conscious that all she did was stare at Cass. Did Cass even know Nora was also a monster? Was that something Cass would want to know about her? If Cass was light, then surely Nora was the dark. The lower depths of monsterhood. Feasting off of people's fears and tormenting them. Nora almost asked just then if Cass ate something of humans, but she refrained.

"Right. We are also doing them a favor by watching their apartment. No one will rob it while we are here." Except for them. But Nora figured what they took wouldn't be much. How could it? They both lived a life on the go. Anything they took would have to come with them.

Snacks. Nora drifted her way through the kitchen. Popcorn was a classic, she dropped it on the counter then kept searching. Zebra cakes. Who bought zebra cakes? Nora had seen them at the store but never actually tried them. Normally she was a savory food type of girlie, but the appeal of zebra cakes had always been a question to her. She would try them. Nora finally worked her way to the fridge, which in her opinion, was the house of the tastiest treats a kitchen could hold. To her utter disappointment, to her sheer bewilderment, there was no meat in the fridge. "This couple is the worst." Nora muttered under her breath, slamming the fridge shut and throwing the popcorn in the microwave. "Extra butter?" Nora asked Cass, trying to mask her disappointment.

When was the last time she’d done this? Sat on a couch with a pretty girl and watched Netflix on a TV so large that it seemed to take up half the wall? Cass wasn’t sure it was an experience she’d ever had before. She didn’t quite know how to act. Were you supposed to do something specific? Were there rules? Those old questions repeated over and over in her mind — Am I doing it right? Am I good? Can we be good? She was afraid to ask any of them aloud. She was so terrified that the answer would be no.

She wondered if Nora had the same questions echoing in her own mind. It didn’t seem like it. The other girl moved so comfortably through the strange apartment, just as she had on the street before. Like she was so sure, or like she was so good at pretending she was sure. Either way, Cass felt a hint of jealousy towards her, followed by a quick feeling of guilt. Nora deserved that certainty in a way Cass probably didn’t. Nora was funny and kind and fearless. Cass wasn’t any of those things.

But maybe she could learn to be. Was it okay to ask Nora to teach her? Would Nora say yes if she did? She was so full of things that she wanted to say and questions that she wanted to ask that she found herself falling silent instead, so afraid that anything she gave voice to would be swiftly denied. The things you wanted could only hurt you if you said them aloud, couldn’t they? If you trapped them in your ribcage, no one knew to reach in and take them away.

Nora was staring at her, but it didn’t feel like the bad kind of staring. It wasn’t like how people looked at her out on the streets, where she was a dirty thing that they couldn’t decide if they wanted to glare at or look away from. It wasn’t like it had been in her aos si, either, where everyone looked at her like she was a problem. But Nora was staring at her in a way that made her feel warm. Like being looked at wasn’t a bad thing.

“Yeah,” she agreed when Nora finally spoke, smiling slightly. “Exactly. They’d have an empty apartment otherwise and, like, anyone could come in. People could go into their nursery and stuff. We won’t do that.” It made her feel a little better, this not-quite-lie. Everything she was saying was true — if she and Nora weren’t there, the apartment would be empty. And someone else could come in. Maybe they weren’t doing them a favor, but they weren’t malicious, either. They were just two kids who wanted a place to sit for a while.

Nora busied herself in the kitchen, and Cass scrolled through Netflix until she found the sitcom with the happy, smiling people that she’d seen in the magazine. She clicked to play the first episode, letting the sound of the speakers fill the empty room as Nora rifled around behind her. “Extra butter is good!” She called back. “Um, are there any, uh… chips?” Chips were a good movie snack — she’d seen it on TV.

“People pay others to house sit for them.” Nora watched the popcorn bag start to inflate in the microwave. The little kernels popping into something more. “Here we are, giving them our services for free.” Nora had seen some hints of green during her initial tour of the apartment. She could only assume, based on the dull and dead vibes of the place, that those plants were plastic only put there for decoration and nothing to do with nurturing life. But if it called for it, Nora would pretend to water those plants.

“You’re right. We won’t go in their nursery.” Nora could stick with that rule. There was nothing about her that wanted to go investigate the baby room. Baby toys and soft things. Those had no appeal to her. Nora was full of sharp edges and a tough cool appearance she actively needed to keep up at all times. “When I was a kid I heard a story about a babysitter who called the parents to ask if she could move their clown statue because it was creeping her out, and the parents said they didn’t have one. Turned out it was just some creep who was sitting there watching them the whole time.” The microwave dinged, letting her know the popcorn was done. Nora took it out, juggling the hot bag between her two hands. “We’re doing them a favor. With us here, no one is sneaking in to wait for them.” No one except them, but they would make their escape the moment the couple returned.

Nora dumped the popcorn in a bowl she found and dumped in butter to give it time to melt while she raided the kitchen for chips. Chips. Chips. “Yeah, they got these vegestraws.” Nora finally announced, pulling out the bag. Grabbing her haul, Nora made her way to join Cass on the couch. Nora slid down next to Cass, carefully placing her load on the coffee table. “Full House.” Nora commented, noticing a baby Olsen on the screen. “I haven’t seen this in years.” Her dads had used to watch it while doing her hair as a kid. It brought back a warm feeling of nostalgia in her.

The couch was comfortable, a lot more comfortable than the hard ground out in the middle of nowhere. Nora curled in on herself, her legs moving up to her chest with the hoodie she was wearing covering them. A comfy ball on the couch. “Ha. It’s a good choice, you know? It’s kind of like we’re playing house.” Nora commented as she watched Uncle Joey say something funny on the screen. “Since this is only an apartment two people make it full.” Could Nora call them people? Two monsters. Maybe that made the house even fuller.

“They do!” There was a hint of excitement in Cass’s voice, like remembering that people paid for things like this made her feel better about doing it. It wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t feel bad about squatting in a couple’s house while they were on vacation; this was the kind of crime that hurt no one. There was far less guilt involved with this than there was with even something as small as picking a pocket, because no one was losing anything here. The couple would come home, and their apartment would still be there. They’d have their baby, they’d live their lives. They’d probably never even know that their home had provided a safe haven to two homeless kids for a few days and if they did, they’d never think about it again. Their lives were so full. Cass and Nora, if they ever became aware of them at all, wouldn’t even be a blip on their radar.

That was how it always was for Cass. She existed on the outskirts of people’s lives, a temporary fixture that they looked at for a day or two and then left behind, a thing thought of once in passing but never again after. She glanced at Nora, wondering if things might be different with her. When they inevitably parted ways, would Nora still think of her sometimes? Would she look back on today later, when she had better friends and a better life, and reflect on the strange girl she’d met in New York City? It was a nice thought, even if part of it ached. If she couldn’t be loved, she’d at least like to be remembered.

Her eyes widened at Nora’s story, fascinated by the tale. “Really? That’s so creepy. Ugh. Clowns are the worst.” She shivered dramatically, playing up the discomfort she thought she was probably supposed to feel. Really, the story was too foreign to be scary. In order to conceptualize the invasive feeling that a person breaking into your house might elicit, someone would first need to understand what it felt like to have a house. Cass didn’t. She’d never had four walls to live between that felt anything like hers, never had a place where she felt she ought to be safe. When everywhere you’d ever lived belonged to someone else or existed as public property, it was hard to fear a stranger invading the space.

“What are vegestraws? They don’t sound very good.” At least they had popcorn. The place was sparsely decorated, and Cass wondered if the couple was one of those types who always seemed to grace magazine covers — the ones who valued appearance over everything, the ones people found easy to love because there was nothing beneath the surface level. She wished, sometimes, that she could be like that. She’d often thought that people would love her if she was just a little less. But she didn’t think she could give up liking chips and bright colors and flowy clothes. You could only change so much of yourself before it became a lie, and Cass had never been a very good liar.

Nora recognized the show, and it felt like Cass had passed some kind of a test. Like she’d received a passing grade in ‘picking the show,’ like she’d won a prize. She grinned, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “I’ve never seen it. Do you like it?” She paused, watching the family on the television. “They all look happy.” Was that what a family was supposed to look like? Or was there no ‘supposed to’ when it came to families? Cass had always been sure that she was doing it wrong, but maybe there was a version of family that she could still fit into. Maybe she just had to find it.

And maybe this was the first step. Nora said they were playing house, and Cass felt warmer than she had in a long time. And given the fact that there was literal magma flowing through her veins, that was probably saying something. “Yeah,” she agreed with a smile, “it does. We’re a full house here.” It was a good feeling.

#bex made this header because their headers are perfect #chatzy #chatzy: cass #full house

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laufire · 10 months

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"La Promesa", ep. 1

I did end up starting this Spanish show/soap my mother is now binge-watching. 1 (1h+ long) episode down... 240 to go until it ends (I think??) in December ñalsdkfjasf.

I called it "Spanish Downton Abbey" and it's more or less accurate LOL. Think Downton if the father and head of the failing state was a bigger idiot than Robert; Cora died after two children and he then married The Evol Stepmother from Hell And Second Worst Person in The World* to have two more with her; and the character in Mary's position was a mix between her and Sybil personality-wise, and had a twin brother. There are two other children: a middle boy, Manuel, The Silly Second Son Turned Heir Who Really Only Wants to Build and Fly Aeroplanes (AND is the show's Helpless Love Interest), and the charmingg and spoiled younger girl, Leonor.

BUT. None of them is the protagonist. That title belongs to Jana, a girl who's infiltrated the manor as a maid to uncover the truth of her mother's murder & her baby brother's abduction. She's headstrong and probably too impulsive to lead such a task with the cunning and grace it requires LOL, but I'm rooting for her!! I like her. And I have to, with this face *-*

Predictably, I liked the main antagonist, the Marquise, a lot too LMAO. Spanish TV is good at making me hate the villains (they are teeeeeeerrible people) and making me look forward to their demise, but I have certain Types, and in her case I might have mixed feelings! I particularly enjoyed that she is so hostile to and mistrustful of Jana from the start; she shows good mercenary instincts if nothing else.

There's also loooooots more murder than in Downton Abbey just to start with lol. The episode opens with Jana (then called Mariana) and her mother Dolores running through the state, chased by some masked men in horses that wanted Jana's baby brother**. They kill her mother and get the baby, and Jana barely gets to escape by jumping into a river, with the men assuming she's dead. And then the episode ends with the lady of the house, the Marquise Cruz Esquerdo, murdering her stepson when he accuses her ("them") of killing Dolores, and everyone in the house discovering the body the next morning.

The episode itself revolves around the older brother's (Tomás) wedding to a rich, hapless heiress in order to save the state (he's also in an illicit relationship with one of the maids). He's the one who dies and… I'm a bit torn about it LOL. Mainly because he and Cruz had a GLORIOUSLY hostile dynamic I would have loved seeing for longer maybe with hatesex included idk. the chemistry was there. But alas! It needed to happen xD

(this is after she stabs Tomás so. in a way, they DID have hatesex!)

As for other things in the episode: Jana and Manuel have a brief meet-cute when he sees her conning her way into the service and finds it SO charming he just MUST ask her out ñalsdkjfaf (she's briefly under the impression he's in service as well, since he was working on the aeroplane. She still says no because she's in Mission Mode. Keep that energy, girl!). By the end of the episode she's saved his life*** when he has an aeroplane accident and he's Fully In Love. I'm tentatively into them?? Incredible.

Another thing I liked from the episode was that the service characters are clearly going to be more involved in Plot and Intrigue and DRAMA TM than in DA. The butler obviously Suspects Something regarding Jana and is already far more interesting than Carson, the marquise's personal maid is a heinous shit-stirrer of the first order (O'Brien is NOT on her level)... I'm looking forward to getting to know them the most.

Anyway. I don't know when I'll have the time to continue but so far, I'm into it. For sure, some of the acting was over the top and some of the dialogue was heavy-handed as fuck (there was a conversation between the eldest daughter, Catalina, and her father, with the typical "you need to move with the times to keep the house! I'm good at this, I should be the heir!" "no because you're A WOMAN and you need to FIND A HUSBAND and OBEY HIM IN EVERYTHING" shit that was... yikes. and I hate the father btw. I know we're meant to see him with more benevolence than the likes of Cruz and her father but I don't like him one bit lol).

BUT I'm looking forward to seeing more of the characters, and especially, to seeing grandpa get his comeuppance <3

*the Marquise's father, Chief Rapist and Literal Former Slave Trader, wouldn't let her usurp him like that!

**we don't know why this happened but given the marquise's father is said to have been raping the housekeeper for who knows how long, and that I know she's pregnant in a later episode... my suspicions are running that way, at the moment. I also wouldn't rule out him & his daughter killing the lord's first wife t b h.

***Jana uses this to leverage her way into a permanent job AND it doesn't soften Cruz towards her even a little bit, when it's clear Manuel is the apple of her eye. This is why they're my faves so far xD

#talking to the void #patriotic tag #la promesa #jana expósito #cruz ezquerdo #jana x manuel #my thoughts #promesa thoughts #cruz x tomás #id in alt text #captioned

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kaelio · 1 year

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(2/2) I think ultimately YES, this is really interesting! To me, at least - to some people. I'm in my 30s (read the books in highschool) so I don't even have the justification of youth. The books are so wild and unevenly written (and about vampires, inhuman blood drinkers) there's no way to really judge the ethics of the characters because there are none. But that's what makes them so interesting to me in that regard? IDK.

(1/2) Forgive me making this ask anon, and I swear I'm not meaning to be hostile but "instead you have people pretending that like, rescuing a dying enslaved person from a basement is technically "abduction" and it’s like.... Is that what we’re doing? Is that interesting to you?"

I mean, I say it's not interesting because I do think it's explicit between both versions of events that Armand can leave at any time. I think we could legitimately ask questions like "did Marius have an obligation to tell Armand he could easily take him back to Kievan Rus?" or "how much money would Marius actually have given him?" or "was Armand telling the truth when he said he would use every resource available to return?" or even "did Armand THINK he was telling the truth about using every available resource to return and/or did Marius take that at face value?" but acting like there was anything morally questionable about the first 12h of "dying enslaved person being tortured to death in a basement"->"person who is well enough to continue being alive and make alive-people choices" is genuinely silly unless you're taking an incredibly radical position that vampires don't have the right to have any influence on human affairs whatsoever.

Anything from bath-onward we've got a lot of Questions going on but anything prior to that I actually think is pretty morally unambiguous. There's even an argument that the moral unambiguity of that casts a dark shadow as a precedent, if you like to be that way, but if you overhear a person is being held captive and killed and you're walking by and you have the unqualified power to do something about it, I think you should do that. If you heard about uhhh... Jeff Bezos walking by a house where someone was being tortured to death and he went "hmm! not my problem" you would probably not consider that to be in his favor. I can't imagine what kind of libertarian thinks the authorities were in the wrong at the Ariel Castro house.

Probably the most morally correct thing is rescue -> recovery -> return to Kievan Rus with some money, but it's not like things were going that well there at the time either, and is this what Armand would have wanted, and is the denial of vampirism ultimately in Armand's best interests or is it itself a form of self-congratulatory withholding? Much to chew on!

[e: Also in B&G Marius says he was compelled to save Armand because Marius himself had been kidnapped and had his life torn away from him, and anything is possible but I think that's pretty credible. Just like the fandom is weird about viewing Claudia as forever-young because she's stuck in a child/young woman's body (depending on if we're talking about book or adaptation), sometimes people are weird about Marius being like, firmly an adult when he was compelled. Sure, he's calendar-year older than virtually everyone else as well, but it feels like that's often used as an unfair shorthand to consider some events as meaningfully traumatizing and others not. Marius is upfront with Thorne about how he's never gotten over having his life taken away from him. If anything, that's one of the big stumbling blocks for him and Armand understanding one another. Armand is, arguably, discarding very little; Marius lost a lot and had wanted to keep it. He considers those years in Venice, when he was pretending to be a person, happy years, which is a joke. He wasn't remotely human. It's a farce.]

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neonphoenix · 2 years

Note

if you haven't read it yet, Batman: Gotham County Line is a goofy but conceptually interesting 3-issue run where 1. Batman has a jetpack because he's in the suburbs and can't grapple around 2. he's in a cursed eldrich suburb full of zombies 3. one of the zombies is robin!Jason but they actually write him surprisingly complex for, well, the "mandatory zombie Jason appearance" of mid 2000s comics. It veers between silly and horror in what I think is a fun way and Bruce does like, so much character growth in just a few issues? Love that for him. It's firmly "Alright" not good or bad, but I'm obsessed with the themes it plays with, not sure if you'd be interested.

Just read it, it seems to be a typical science vs magic setup, focuses on facts vs faith and whether anything happens to us when we die.

Gonna toss my step-by-step commentary below the cut because it's long. Most of the start is summary of the comic, check the bottom for a summary of my thoughts.

Book 1: The Obvious Kill

First thing we see? Batman making death threats to Joker. I think whether or not he intends to kill him is beside the point, it's all about how the Joker is used to challenge Batman's beliefs and force him to toe the line.

Joker makes a comment about how being dead would suit Batman because then he'd be able to see everyone he'd lost, Batman declares Joker is, "Crazier than I thought," because he believes in something after death.

What follows is a brief discussion of facts vs faith with Alfred, something which I thought was funny because Bruce declares there are no facts to support an afterlife, despite all the people he's met up to this point who could feasibly support it.

Now that the setup is out of the way, we receive a call from Gordon and go to meet him in his pyjamas. He's got a case file full of incredibly gruesome murders that have been occurring in the suburbs, following the same MO as a recently captured thief.

Batman agrees to look into it, and jetpacks out into the suburbs, after noting the very specific ways in which the murders were carried out. He figures out how the thief and killer were sedating the families, and gives it to the detective on site, Greer. While there, they receive news of another set of murders, and head over to the scene, where the suspect is just leaving. The suspect knocks Batman out by injecting him with something.

When he comes to, we're introduced to the other two detectives on the case: Keith and Radmuller. They aren't very happy with Batman being there, but he is able to conclude that the killer is somewhat aware of his movements, leaving a short list of possibilities.

Batman visits the thief to find out who he's been making sleeping agent for, only for the thief to be shot by a sniper before it can be revealed. He engages the suspect again, and yet again has his ass handed to him.

But now he knows who the killer is! He reveals to the other detectives that it is none other than Radmuller. He jetpacks over to Radmuller's apartment, and enters, only for a rope attached to the door to pull the stool out from under Radmuller, leading to a dramatic hanging.

Radmuller gets carted off to the morgue, and Batman heads home. Unfortunately, that's when the zombie apocalypse begins. Radmuller wakes up and zombifies the paramedics with him.

Book 2: Death's Highway

Before getting into the second installment, I'd like to take a moment to point out how much of an impact the coloring has on this particular story. As the tone of the story shifts, so does the tone of the panels. Most things are muted, but other things are oversaturated in order to draw attention. It really complements the plot nicely, so I'd recommend anyone interested in reading the full comic to pay attention to it.

Back to the writing.

Bruce wakes up in a cold sweat with nightmares about being torn apart by zombies. He checks his blood to see if he's been inspected with anything, but everything comes back normal. He speaks with Alfred, who, outside of Bruce's field of vision, seems to pull a worm from his head and then absorb it into his hand. Our first clue that something really isn't right. If the zombies weren't enough of one already.

Speaking of zombies, Bruce hears something in the cave and turns around to find a hoard of zombies. He flees to the batmobile while trying to figure out what's wrong with him. He turns back into the cave, and the zombies are only images on the monitor. In the next panel, everything is back to normal. He asks Alfred to run a security check. Everything is fine.

Gordon calls, tells him detective Keith wants to talk. He leaves and phones her. There's something wrong, Radmuller's body has disappeared, and she needs his help. Batman notes that regardless of how much he goes over the facts, they don't make sense. There's something more he's missing. Here we see the return of the fact vs faith argument, as guys facts aren't enough to fill in the blanks.

He meets Keith, she gets killed by the last man Radmuller killed. He's a zombie, and missing both his eyes, as are all of Radmuller's prior victims. There's a motif of sight somewhere in here.

As Keith dies, she begs Batman to tell her there's something more, and he can't. Instead he apologizes and shuts her eyes. Back to the sight motif. Batman has both of his eyes, but he cannot see. He shuts the detective's eyes. The man missing his eyes sees more than both of them.

This is a good time for Deadman to emerge from Keith's mouth. There could be symbolism there but I think it's mostly dramatics.

Outside, Batman pursues the zombie.

He then calls Alfred, to check in on things back home. He's been getting more and more uncertain throughout the story, and keeps putting up more walls and falling back on what he thinks he knows.

Everything here is not as it should be. It's almost a little funny, to watch this bit. Alfred doesn't say things are normal, just that they are as they should be. He should be a rotting corpse. Checks out I guess.

Batman runs into Detective Greer, or not accurately, is run into. Like Alfred, Greer is rotting and his left eye has rolled back into his skull. Half blind. They talk a bit, but it doesn't really provide answers. Deadman shows up and declares that they can't provide Batman with answers it's, "Like a snake eating its own tail." He reveals that they're all trapped in some sort of in between state, a fold in time.

Deadman is literally from the land of the dead. That in and of itself should be enough fact to explain that people stick around when they die. Not for Batman though!

They return to Radmuller's apartment, where it all started. There, Batman finds himself. Literally.

He's so obstinate. The facts are right in front of his face but he doesn't like them and so refuses to believe them. He's incredibly blind. They leave the apartment, only to be confronted by a horde of zombies. Deadman is quickly overcome. Batman, on the other hand, is only about to be, at the hands of Radmuller and his army.

Finally though, he admits that he's afraid.

Book 3: Night of the Living Dead

Batman is being overcome by zombies. Somehow, he's feeding them. Radmuller comments that it's because violence is all he knows.

Eventually, Radmuller himself steps forward, crooked neck and all. As he begins to beat up Batman, though, his neck seems to straighten. It's a visual symbol of his gaining strength.

That's 3-0 in Radmuller's favor, for anyone keeping score.

Radmuller reveals that not all of these people are his victims, some are ones Batman failed to save, angry at him for not being there. They attack him, and eventually he is forced to run to find Deadman. I think what he's most terrified of is being alone and without a partner.

That's when help arrives in the form of a partner he failed to save: Robin. Unlike the other dead, Jason isn't mad at Batman for failing. He's just here to help him.

Robin saves him, and is strong enough to hold back the zombies long enough for Batman to escape to a house, where he discovers Parsons (the thief from before, who was shot) protecting children from their dead parents outside. Parsons is definitely some sort of figure, but I'm not sure what I'd call him. Parsons directs him towards the basement, where he discovers Radmuller's parents, along with a young Radmuller.

Batman yells at him to shut up, and Radmuller vanishes alongside his parents.

When Batman comes out of the basement, Parsons asks him, "You see?" To which he agrees, saying, "Yeah. I saw." His eyes are beginning to open for the first time. He doesn't get it all yet, but he's starting to.

The zombies break in, and he sends everyone upstairs, telling them he's not alone. Then he calls for Deadman, who appears and asks if he figured it out. It's Batman's reality, both he and Radmuller have control over it. The Phantom Stranger shows up to do something cool and defeat zombies.

I'm at image limit or I'd be adding more, but the Phantom comments on Batman giving power over to "The Hanged Man" which seems to be s reference to the Tarot card.

"The Hanged Man is the card that suggests ultimate surrender, sacrifice, or being suspended in time."

Which honestly seems to be very fitting with this story. Trapped in a fold in time, Batman has to surrender his worldview in order to get out and save everyone.

He goes outside, talks to his parents (as is necessitated by these storylines) and his mother tells him to "Remember more than the pain." He then takes this advice and goes to face Radmuller again, bringing Radmuller's parents along with him.

He defeats Radmuller with ease this time, and the whole thing starts to fall apart. Radmuller's parents confront him about what he did. Jason tells Batman he'll see him around, which Batman agrees with, before leaving, and Deadman instructs him to go back to the start. Batman returns to Radmuller's apartment, this time cutting the rope before he can hang himself. When he drags him outside, it's only been a few minutes since he went in originally.

Radmuller gets hauled away, and Batman reflects on how he's just like any other criminal now. He also implies that he now believes in an afterlife as he jetpacks away.

Themes, motifs, symbols and notes:

Color. I mentioned that the coloring impacted the story a lot, and it really does. Red, blue, & yellow all set very clear tones throughout otherwise muted scenes.

Sight. Blind men and dead men are more capable of sight than men with functioning eyes. That's a common mechanism in stories (see Oedipus) for revealing the truth. In this story, blind and dead men help Batman to open his own eyes. It's also interesting to note the partial vision that shows up in characters such as Alfred.

Robin. Robin saves Batman in this story, like he does throughout DC storylines. The most interesting thing about it is comparing this Jason, who isn't upset with Batman at all, with post-resurrection Jason, who is spitting mad about not being saved.

How much of it is real and how much is fabricated by Batman? His parents say they appear as he remembers them. The people seem to act based on how he thinks they should act. But Jason hardly blames him for his death, even though Batman blames himself for it. So I think the people only appear as he thinks of them, and he doesn't actually have any influence over how they act

Radmuller is the hanged man, and a reference to the Tarot card.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head, but I'm interested in hearing your thoughts as well!

#can you tell ap lit was one of my favorite classes #i read into symbolism to an excessive degree #Batman: gotham county line #Bruce Wayne #trying to decide if there's enough of Jason to tag him but i didn't really focus on him #it's a very spooky feeling storyline #seems like a Halloween special type thing

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clairecrive · 3 years

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Heyy:) can you write Nikolai x tidemaker reader, while Nikolai is still Sturmhond and the reader is part of the crew. Nikolai fell in love at first sight but the reader is a little introvert, but she snaps one day and confesses her love to him.

Sorry English isn’t my first language:)

Stars in the night

a/n: Hi hun sorry for the long wait. it's a bit shitty but I hope you're still around and like this x

warnings: none, fluff

word count: 2.8K

tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @pansysgirlfriend, @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep , @lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl,@gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis, @carnationworld, @thanossexual, @luvxginger, @sanna2020, @partiesandblurrypolaroids, @edithsvoice, @wafflesandschemingfaces, @snugleo, @sugarmelonwater (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

Nights were usually y/n’s favourite time of the day. Chaos and shouts left place to eerie silence and the comforting quietness of the stars. Being on a ship meant always having people around whether they were shouting or singing or playing or whatever.

Y/n didn’t mind their company per se, it’s just that sometimes, people’s presence can get too much. But whenever she felt overwhelmed, she knew she could count on the stars to anchor her and help her breathe.

After an exhausting day at sea, no one refused the possibility to sleep and recharge. So, more often than not, y/n didn’t have any trouble in taking the night shift. It actually made her even more popular with the rest of the crew.

The crew’s captain was another thing. Y/n hadn’t a precise idea on him simply because he was always up to something. Sitting still was not in his blood, even where there were no chores to attend to. If there wasn’t something to do, Sturmhond would create it.

He was such at antipodes with y/n’s personality that their interactions were limited to her assignments, her report after her shift or him updating her about his plans. Or rather- her role in them. Y/n wasn’t foolish enough to think that he really made her part of his plans. And to be fair, y/n never asked more than what directly concerned her. Maybe that was why Sturmhond was so interested in her.

There was nothing subtle about the man. From the way he walked like he owned the world, to his shiny red hair. So, when he unusually started to roam around her just because, y/n did notice. Hell, everyone on the ship noticed. It was hard not to in such a limited space.

However, y/n thought nothing of it. It was just him being his extravagant self. Nothing new, honestly. She did not mind it either. The man had a way of being there without being overbearing, which was more than y/n could say about any other men she had met. Well, all except Tolya, of course.

He had started by bidding her good morning and goodnight every day. Then he would come to find her throughout the day, to chitchat above all things. To y/n’s horror, the privateer didn’t desist. He kept coming and y/n honestly didn’t know how to react.

She had always found him quite handsome and charming, but there was something she was absolutely shit at: small talk. And the man wanted exactly that from her. Alas, it all ended up with Sturmond’s voice filling the awkward pauses and y/n barely answering his questions.

She knew in her heart that she was giving him the wrong impression and she feared that her awkwardness would be mistaken for coldness making him eventually desist. Despite her fears though, the man didn’t seem off-put by her behaviour. He kept coming and coming but that didn’t ease y/n in any capacity.

Then one night, he stopped beating around the bush. It didn’t exactly catch her by surprise, y/n knew him, it was only a matter of time before he came out with it. It wasn’t in his nature to be discreet. Or so she thought, based on what she saw.

“Why did you want to be part of my crew? You don’t seem to like me,” he wondered, his green eyes shining in the moonlight.

Despite the words that left his mouth, y/n knew what his question implied. What he was really asking. But however powerful she might be, y/n didn’t have the guts to be upfront with him. Not even with the comforting presence of the stars as their witnesses.

If only he knew.

She knew that this could potentially be a chance for her to test the waters, to see what his intentions were and to make her clear. But alas, she knew nothing about flirting. Deflecting it is, then.

“Tolya and Tamar trust you. I trust them with my life so,” she shrugged, tacitly implying that she somewhat trusted him too.

“I see. So not only do I owe them my life but also an incredible crew.”

“The big and mighty Sturmhond praising someone other than himself?”

“I only sing praise when they’re due.”

“And, of course, no one deserves it more than yourself.”

“Well, you said it darling.” He flashed her a dazzling smile that made the moonlight pale.

Y/n rolled her eyes a bit to convey her annoyance and a bit to avoid him seeing the blush rising on her cheeks.

Truth be told, Tolya and Tamar weren’t the only ones that persuaded her from becoming a part of his crew albeit they were a big part of it. She wasn’t lying when she told him that she trusted them with her life. If it wasn’t for them, y/n would probably be a soulless machine right now. Her body on the outside but really nothing that made her y/n on the inside. That’s what happened to Grisha in Shu Han.

She owed the twin everything but that wasn’t why she made the decision to join them on the Volkovny. They didn’t force her to follow them or anything. And y/n couldn’t deny that Sturmhond’s handsome face didn’t make her sway a little in her decision. That was, however, something slippery about the privateer. It didn’t make him untrustworthy per se, but it certainly made her wary about trusting him.

The biggest push that prompted her to the Volkovny and life on the sea was her experience in Shu Han. Being Grisha meant not having a safe place outside of Ravka and sometimes in Ravka as well. Her home country was war-torn and as much as y/n had been trained to be a soldier all her life, she didn’t feel ready to take part in a fight that she didn’t feel her own.

Despite his unorthodox methods, General Kirigan’s sole purpose had always been making Grisha safe. And seeing as she had seen first-hand how the world treated Grisha, y/n could really get behind his plot, not caring about how bloody it was.

Life on the sea meant no more persecutors. Outside of her crew, no one in the ports they sailed to knew she was Grisha. Not that she was ashamed of who she was, but it’d be like having a mark on her skin if people knew. A mark that made her unsafe. She craved a life where she didn’t have to constantly watch her back. And being on the Volkovny granted her wish.

Not that it was a safe lifestyle, of course. But y/n was a survivor. If she had come out of the keirgud alive, she could well out best every threat that she will eventually cross on the sea. Besides, she knew that the twins had her back. And, in a small percentage, so did Sturmhond.

She and the captain didn’t exactly have a relationship, not like the twins have. She wasn’t his confidante or anything and she preferred to spend her time on her own -as much as life on deck allowed her- but since she was such in close quarters with the twins, that definitely made her closer to him than the rest of the crew. Not to mention that now the captain had started spending his nights with her too.

Well, not all night and not every night but it was a substantial increase in his time spent with her. Sure, it was all parts of him doing his rounds at night and being his amiable self.

So why the hell did her breath hitch whenever she caught his silhouette approaching? She hated herself for feeling like this. And him. Only that she didn’t, not really. It wasn’t his fault, was it? It was just her being silly. It’ll pass, sooner or later.

Only that, of course, it didn’t. In fact, it got even worse. If before she could manage their interaction by playing aloof and uninterested, it has now come to the point where she almost blubbered. Her heart hated her, it’d beat frantically whenever he’d approach, and his intoxicating smell made it impossible to form a coherent thought.

So, y/n decided to just stay clear of him to prevent any embarrassing situation.

After that, things didn’t get weird per se. Seeing y/n alone and drifting away from most group gatherings wasn’t weird. What was though, was her absence during the night shifts.

Before she monopolized those shifts, now she took turns like everyone else.

That was the big spy that made everyone worry about her. Non though went to talk to her about it. It would have been too personal for most of the crew to ask, and those who didn’t think better of it.

The twins knew her very well, she’d come to them whenever she was ready.

The captain… well, he didn’t react at all, which made y/n think that he hadn’t noticed anything.

He very well did, though. And the sign that he did was that he hadn’t come to her anymore. He noticed her withdrawal and while he didn’t understand why he respected her decision.

That didn’t mean that he gave up on her entirely though. His research moved elsewhere; his tactic shifted from approach to observe.

It took him almost a week to be feed with this new tactic. Not only did it prove unsuccessful, but he had almost broken a limb or two in his spying attempts.

One night, the one when he knew that you had taken the shift, he shifted again to ”approach”.

“Lovely night, eh?” He grimaced as the words left his mouth. Lamest approach ever.

“Oh, captain,” y/n exclaimed, startled by his unexpected presence, “yes, indeed.” She agreed, turning back to rest her arms over the bannister.

Nikolai’s eyes shine with amusement and y/n grimaced, cloaked in the darkness of the night, she was torn between wanting to punch herself or him. Maybe both.

“Sorry for startling you. I was surprised to see you here.”

“I’m on the night shift today,” she explained even though it wasn’t needed but saints. If they had given her social skills, she would have been too powerful.

“I see. It does not happen as often,” his eyes roamed over to her face, he could only see the side facing him thanks to the moonlight.

Y/n knew what he was doing, the man was hardly subtle, but she appreciated his attempt of breaching the subject lightly.

“We all took turns; it wasn’t fair for me to hijack this time shift.”

“I’m far too smart for you to lie to my face,”

“Excuse me?”

“What I mean to say,” he sighed, regret showing on his face, “is that I worry that you might have changed your habits because of me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“It has not escaped my notice that you’ve trying to avoid me.”

“Avoiding someone on a ship is an impossible feat.”

“I’m aware,” he smirked, and something told her that seeing her trying to do exactly that amused him to no end. Y/n turned back towards to sea and said nothing. Better silence than pointless words.

“So,” it was Sturmhond who broke the silence, “want to tell me what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, captain.”

“Again with lying,” he chided softly. Sturmond knew y/n like the back of his hand. Being on a ship will do that. He knew then that the best way to approach her wasn’t to put her under the spotlight or in a corner.

She sighed, knowing that lying to him would not get her out of this situation. Trying to muster her courage, she turned to him.

“Alright, you’re right,” she conceded and that alone was telling since Sturmonhd’s ego didn’t need any stroking. “You haven’t done anything wrong, though. It’s me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You should because it’s true. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my emotions and I don’t know how to deal with them.”

“So, you just run from the situation?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it running,” she mumbled under her breath. His intense stare put her even more on edge.

“Isn’t that point of living, though?” he added softly, “Feeling?”

“Maybe.”

“Amazing,” he said with an edge to his voice.

“What?” Y/n’s eyes flickered to him and the expression on his face left her wondering if he was serious or making fun of her.

“I’ve seen you facing volcras and other enemies straight on with a courage that puts to shame many soldiers and yet this is what you’re afraid of?”

“Rejections is much scarier than combat.” Abandoning every attempt of pretence, y/n went with the truth. She was already in the game, now she had no choice but to play.

“Is it?” His brow raised and now there was no doubt that he was making fun of her.

“If something goes bad in a battle, I’m dead. And there’s nothing for me to worry about if that happens, right?”

“But putting myself out there and then getting rejected, means living with the shame and embarrassment of knowing that I’m not enough.”

“Well, that’s a rather tragic take on it.”

“Joke all you want. I don’t suppose you know what it feels like, giving your shining hair and dazzling smile.”

“While knowing you think that of me brings me immense joy, I would also like to point out that you’re wrong.”

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrow in wonder.

“Rejection takes a whole other shade of intensity when it comes from your family.” The words were said lightly but they made her breath get caught in her throat anyway.

“Is it because of your lifestyle?”

“It’s because of their opinion of me that I’ve chosen this lifestyle.”

“I’m sorry that your family is unable to see how much you shine.” “Maybe it’s because you’ve blinded them?” She tried to ease the tension and she was rewarded with a tease of a smile.

“Oh, don’t point it at me! I will lose my eyes and then you’ll throw me from this ship,” she shrieked and went to shield her eyes as if she was under the midday sun. This foolish stunt earned her the captain’s laugh. One so full and rich that left no doubt of its authenticity. It made y/n smile too and wish that he’d do that more often.

“I would never throw you from this ship.”

“What use could I have with no eyes?”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find you something else to do.”

“Like being the ship’s clown.”

“While you amuse me to no end, I was thinking about a far more private role.”

“Private as in?”

“Meant for my eyes only.”

“Selfish much?”

“When it comes to you? Shamelessly so.”

The privateer leaned down to her, agonizingly slow giving her all the time to pull away if she wanted to. A million things swirled through her mind in those few seconds. Every worry about what was going to happen, about all the ways this could go sour.

The wheels in her mind turned incredibly fast almost making her lightheaded. Before this could turn into a full session of overthinking though, y/n shook her head effectively stopping the thoughts from growing.

Despite her lacking in basic social skills in an incredibly sad way, conversation with him always flowed easily. She never worried about what she was supposed to do or say or whatever. She could just… be. Be y/n.

That was priceless if not rare. And right then and there she decided that she wasn’t willing to lose it. Not without fighting.

Borne from the spur of the moment the best decision she could ever make, she leaned into him as well. Closing her eyes, she was able to see the corner of his lips lifted a little before she felt his lips on him.

Saints.

Did she say that she was afraid of feeling? Fuck that. This feeling, the feel of the touch of his lips on her, his fingers lightly stroking her face, his breath inside her, him becoming a part of her? She was pretty sure was going to die if she went too long without it.

Angling his head to the side, she pressed her lips on his with renowned fervour. Her hands found their way in his strands. A moan left him as y/n swallowed the sound. Using the grip on his hair, y/n pulled him to her. Sturmond gladly followed her lead, returning the intensity of the kiss before his hands gripped the back of her knees, lifting her up.

He lightly used the bannister as leverage, his grip shifting to her hips holding her so tightly so that losing her was not an option. Not now, not ever.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai reader x grisha reader #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov imagine #nikolai lanstov imagines #nikolai lastov fluff #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov x y/n #nikolai lanstov fic #shadow and bone

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

Un(holy) Trinity

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader x Shigaraki

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, threesome, manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, breathplay, stepcest, breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege, elements of mindbreak and god complex (?)

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: my first threesome and idk how to feel about it but here it is! If it’s bad I can blame it on the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth extracted and am currently in a world of pain :) also i’m on bedrest and incredibly bored so if anyone has requests or thirsts or just wants to chat... yeah

also if this banner is shit i’m sorry i rushed and made it on my phone cause i just rly wanted to to post

This is part 2 to my other fic Love Thy Brother which you can read here

Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” - Genesis 3:1

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity to your step-brother, no less.

The night that it happened, you lay awake in your bed dreading the aftermath of the horrific incident. How could you face him again? How could you face your family? How could you face God?

You were too cowardly to face the rest of your household. The Todoroki family welcomed you into their home only for you betray them by sleeping with Touya. Ever since you were little, your mother would say she had a sort of sixth sense that meant God would always tell her when you’d been up to mischief. It sounds silly but there was no explanation for how she would always catch out in lie or know things that you never told her. You feared she would take one look at you and know the sin you committed. And so you chose to make yourself scarce, taking extra shifts at work and choosing to study at the campus library rather than at home. Your siblings seemed to notice how busy you suddenly were, often remarking how they missed you around the house. That just made you feel more ashamed.

As for God, you felt like you needed to do whatever necessary to prove your faith. You wanted Him to know the extent of your shame and remorse. You were weak in spirit, making you an easy target for someone as devious as Touya. You prayed and begged for forgiveness until your knees hurt but no matter what you did, the guilt was inescapable. You realized it was because, irrespective of the regret and remorse you felt, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed what happened. You liked the way Dabi made you feel and you hated yourself for it. But no matter how much you liked it, something like that could never happen again. As penance, you banned yourself from bringing your hands anywhere near your groin. After all that temptation is what brought you to this point in the first place. But the thread of your self-control is thin and withered so at night when you’re certain everyone is asleep, you’re humping your pillow like an animal and biting down on your lip trying to keep from moaning his name. At least you weren’t touching right?

Dabi, by some God-given miracle, made himself scarce as well. It wasn’t uncommon for the noirette to disappear for days at a time doing heaven knows what only to arrive back at home like nothing happened; so no one really questioned his absence. Perhaps he felt the same way you did and was avoiding facing you and the other Todorokis.

Yeah right.

Shame? Todoroki Touya doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

In any case, you had become used to a Dabi-less house and so lulled into a false sense of safety, slowly but surely reverting back to normal. That’s why as you make your way downstairs, prepared to go to your church, the sound of gunfire and explosions from the living room doesn’t alarm you. Probably Natsuo or Shouto playing one of their video games, you thought. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re met with unmistakable dark locks. Not just him. The back of another person’s head, one with pale blue, shoulder length hair. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a gasp. Neither of them react, seemingly too focused on their game. You don’t waste any time feeling relieved, choosing instead to make a silent escape.

You could only dream of being so lucky.

“Oi!” Your step-brother calls without turning around. He hasn’t seen you, you think. If you move quickly you can still get out of this. “I know you heard me, brat. Get over here before I drag you over here.” He still doesn’t bother to turn around but the sharpness in his tone lets you know that you’d be smart to listen. You take a second to steel your nerves and make your way over to the couch, trying your best to look as intimidating as possible. You scowl at both men but they are so engrossed in their video game, they don’t even acknowledge that you’re standing right there. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? We have company.”

We?

The company in question is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s been to the house before although he’s never even so much as glanced in your direction, too busy with his phone or playing games with Dabi. Despite your hard expression you can only manage a meek “Hello Shigaraki.”

He responds by finally looking at you, with a sleazy grin, a pair of crimson eyes, surrounded by creases meet your own. “Sup.”

Beer cans litter the coffee table, one of them being turned into a makeshift ashtray while both have smouldering cigarettes perched between their lips. “You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.”

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” Dabi mocks you with a nasal voice.

You simply roll your eyes, not interested in continuing this interaction any further. “Whatever. I’m leaving now.” You state with as much firmness as you can muster. You spin on your heels but are kept in place by long, slender digits wrapped around your wrist.

“Where are you off to anyways?” The game paused, both boys now looking at you.

Out of habit, you answer truthfully. “Bible study.”

Shigaraki and Dabi burst into raucous laughter.

You should have lied.

“Nah you’re gonna hang out with me and Shigaraki for a bit.”

“Dabi, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything except what I tell you and I’m telling you to sit.”

Before you can protest you’re being hauled on to the couch, squeezed between the two of them.

“Nice necklace.” Tomura snorts, hand reaching out to grab at your crucifix but you swat it away. His gaze is unnerving. It makes you wonder if- no. He promised he wouldn’t.

Just like that, their game is resumed, as if you were never there. A few rounds pass, no words exchanged between either of them, only curses muttered under their breath. “Dabi, can I please go. I’m bored.”

Wrong choice of words.

“You hear that Tomura? The princess is bored.” His fingers are still moving rapidly over his controller.

“Really now? Come on then Todoroki, let’s show her a good time. I’ve seen how she likes to have fun.”

His comment on your necklace suddenly makes sense, but you still can’t believe it. “You didn’t…” you whip your head back to look at Dabi.

”Sorry doll, you made your Nii-san so proud, I just had to show you off.” Dabi smiles shamelessly, lighting himself another cigarette.

“You’re fucking sick Touya.” Tomura says, however his tone is not one of disgust but rather of admiration.

“You promised...” Your voice breaks. You’re humiliated beyond belief.

Both of them laugh at you again, discarding their controllers. “Told you, it’s adorable how stupid she is.” Dabi remarks to his friend, as if you’re not sitting right next to them.

You try to force your way off the couch but get pulled into Dabi’s lap, one of his arms hooking around both of yours, securing them behind your back. You squirm in his arms but he stills you with a hard slap on your inner thigh. “Be good okay? Don’t embarrass me.” He nuzzles into your neck.

Shigaraki flips up your dress exposing your white lace panties. He runs his thumb up and down your clothed slit, he fabric slowly becoming even more transparent. One severe jerk to the top of your dress and the straps are torn clean off, revealing the matching bra. “Yo, Touya. I thought she was a good girl.”

Dabi peers over your shoulder to get look. “Who’s all this for babe? You screwing the preacher or something? Or were you hoping I’d do something like this?” He tugs down your bra until your breasts are spilling over the top of it.

“Dabi…” Your choke on your plea when he sinks his teeth into your neck. He bites down so hard you’re positive he’s left a mark.

“Who?”

“T-Touya-nii.” You whimper.

“Better.”

Your destroyed dress is discarded somewhere across the room and you find yourself on your hands and knees with Shigaraki kneeling on the couch in front of you and Dabi behind you.

“Go easy on her alright Tomura. It’s her first time sucking cock.” He chuckles.

Your eyes go wide. “Wait...” you mewl but neither pay you any mind.

“And you.” Dabi yanks a fistful of your hair. “No teeth. No puke. Or I’ll let my boy ream your little ass as punishment.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Shigaraki mutters, pulling his semi out of his sweatpants, rubbing his tip against your lips. His is not as scary as your step-brother’s but him staring down at you like this, makes him seem every bit as intimidating.

Pre-cum dribbles from the swollen tip. You’re not entirely sure you want that in your mouth but you’re also not sure if you have a choice so you open up hesitantly.

Dabi’s right. It is your first time doing something like this. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do but as it turns out you don’t have to do much, not with the way Shigaraki starts thrusting his quickly hardening member into your mouth.

“Move your tongue slut.” The man in front of you grunts. You do your best despite the heavy intrusion to obey his command, moving from side to side, swirling around the head when he pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you with cruel vermillion eyes, panting as he strokes himself in front of you, spreading your saliva across his shaft before sliding deep into your mouth again.

Behind you, Dabi spreads apart your cheeks, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands. “Remember what I said. Be good and I’ll give you a reward.” He pulls your panties to the side and lets out a whistle at the sight of your dripping slit. “She’s enjoying it. Make her take it deeper.”

You can’t possibly fathom how much deeper he can go when his head is already nudging at your tonsils. You try to swallow the saliva building up in your mouth, making your cheeks hollow out around Shigaraki’s shaft. Seems like that was the right thing to do as his hand flies to the back of your head. “Shit. Shit. So good.”

Dabi’s breath wafts over your pussy. He spreads your lips apart and you feel his hot tongue lick up the juices leaking from your hole. You squeal around Tomura’s dick. You want to pull off but his spindly fingers hold your head in place.

“Told you angel. Good little sisters get rewards.” With that he takes your clit between his lips and suckles on it gently while one of his fingers circles your entrance. Knuckle by knuckle he slides into you, making you keen. You arch your back trying to shift your hips backwards against his hand, silently urging him to find that special spot he showed you last time. He establishes a loose rhythm. Hot wet muscle and cold metal of his piercing circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, before applying suction while his fingers work you open.

The sensation is overwhelming, a form of heavenly torture and your thighs quiver barely able to hold you up while you use your last bit of mental strength to focus on suppressing your gags. That mental strength all but evaporates when the digits inside you graze that rough patch embedded in your walls. It’s so pleasurable your reflex is to run from his fingers. Luckily for Shigaraki, that means you move forward, taking him further into your mouth.

“This where you want me? This your spot, angel?” Dabi taunts you. Shigaraki holds you in place while two of your step-brother’s fingers drill your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. Garbled moans and cries leave your mouth and reverberate around Tomura’s cock, proving to be too much for him ultimately.

“Shit Stop!” Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls out your mouth so that a string of your drool drips down to your breasts.

“God! Touya-nii!” You sputter out.

“Still with the God shit?” He uses your hair to force you to look at him, neck twisted at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. “God ever make you feel this good?” His fingers thrust into you harder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ngghh-N-no –oh! Oh!” is your incoherent answer.

Dabi forces you back down, shoving you face first into the cushions. “See? Fuck him. Give up on god. Give up on everyone except your big brother cause no one else can make you feel this good.”

You’re so pathetic. The way you’re rocking yourself in unison with the motions of his hands. The way your tongue hangs out of your mouth, impeding any sort of intelligible verbal response. The way you’re mindlessly nodding along to whatever filth is coming out of Dabi’s mouth.

“C’mon Touya. Turn her around. Wanna try out that sweet pussy you’ve been bragging about.” You’re reminded that you aren’t alone. No, your brother’s best friend is right there to witness exactly how pathetic you are.

“Yeah in a minute. I’m still having my fun.” Dabi answers, face pressed against your mons before working you with his mouth once again.

“Man! Come on!” Tomura whines.

“I said in a minute. Not my fault you can’t last.”

It’s amazing how they can bicker like this right now, as if you aren’t on your hands and knees for them, gummy walls still pulsing around his fingers. However, it’s not long before Dabi’s focus is back on you taking you to the brink of orgasm. He slows his fingers, keeping you balanced on that razor thin edge. “Should I make you cum angel?” His voice is dripping with fake concern. “Dunno… what’s in it for me?”

“Anything! Touya-nii please!”

“Anything? You gonna obey me? Do whatever I say like a good little angel? You gonna worship me?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s mocking you.

Probably the latter. And you deserve it too.

Your faith was the thing you deemed more important than anything and anyone else but Dabi, all too easily, convinced you to disregard that. Made you lose all sense and give into lust by showing you mindblowing pleasure, only magnified by your awareness of how deeply sinful this all was. That’s the extent of the power he has over you. The story of Adam and Eve is one you know forwards and backwards and yet you were so easily tempted forbidden fruit and left completely corrupted. Yeah, he’s definitely mocking you.

“Any- fuck- anything” You’re wiggling your ass, goading Dabi into finishing you off

“Cum in my mouth. Angel, give it to me” That’s the final straw. You explode around his fingers. Despite your walls, clamping around him, he manages to piston into you, hitting that squishy spot with astounding accuracy. His unyielding stimulation makes it feel as though the high won’t end. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it does end though, his fingers drag out against the pull of your swollen pussy. He licks you clean making sure he gets every last drop of your cum, both inside and out, on his tongue. The ball of his piercing catches onto your rim making you yelp. He soothes the sting with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Tastes so sweet angel. So sweet knowing I’m the only one to ever fuck this pretty pussy.” He snickers before adding “So far.”

“Yeah, can I fuck her now?” Tomura was turned on before but seeing the way you fell apart at the hands of your brother? His minimal patience has run out. All he can think of now is being inside you.

“You heard him babe. Turn around.” He spanks your ass. You try to turn around but thanks to your shaky legs you nearly fall off the couch. Dabi catches you before that happens and he dutifully sets you up on all fours, held up by quivering limbs. You hear heavy breathing from behind you as Shigaraki taps his head against your puffy clit while you twitch in place.

“She wants this so bad. Had no idea your Christian little sister was such a whore.” Shigaraki mutters. He holds you still as he buries himself in you, breathing becoming more erratic with every inch until his hip bones are digging into your soft flesh. He’s so deep. You feel so full. You squeeze shut your eyelids, savouring the stretch.

Calloused fingers press into your jaw, making your eyes shoot open. “Pretty angel, did you forget about me?” Dabi looms over you, making a show of spitting in his palm and using it to stroke himself. He slips his thumb into your mouth, pad pressing down on the plush pillow of your tongue. “Gonna stuff you nice ‘n full angel.” All you can do is blink up at him with teary eyes, pupils blown wide with desire.

Shigaraki begins thrusting into you, hips moving at a brutal pace. Dabi isn’t far behind him, replacing his thumb with his cock and you don’t waste time waiting for him to tell you what to do. You close your lips around his shaft, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Unlike his friend, Dabi starts off slow. His piercings drag across your tongue and you taste metal and the salt of his pre-cum. It takes some time for you to get used to taking him in your mouth, the jewellery an added obstacle.

You feel so full.

Shigaraki is bottoming out with every thrust, it’s so lewd the way it makes you squelch around him. Dabi’s shaft is rubbing your throat raw and still, you make an effort to take him deeper. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he fucks you mouth.

He looks so ethereal, so euphoric, letting out little moans and whispered expletives. The sounds he makes are divine, so heavily contrasted by everything you know about him. It leaves you star struck. He recognizes the adoration in your eyes and responds in kind with a cocky smirk. He remembers how you looked at him when you first met. Disdain and judgment. Now you look at him like he’s your only salvation.

It’s sad actually. How you’re so desperate for someone to tell you how to live. And what a sweet, adoring little follower you are. Wasted on religion if you ask him. So soft and pliant, perfect for your big brother to mould and corrupt into his personal fuckangel.

“Angel, Nii-san’s gonna fill you up. And you’re gonna take it yeah?”

Your whole life you aspired to this holy standard of perfection in the hopes of escaping eternal damnation. But you’re beyond absolution now.

“All of it down your throat.”

It’s okay though.

If heaven doesn’t feel like this, you’re not sure it’s worth all the effort to get there.

He holds your necklace behind you like a leash, twisting it around his fingers. Between the way he’s basically strangling you and the way your swallowing muscles contract around his cock means that you’re not getting much air into your lungs. Your head is spinning, from being both oxygen deprived and cock drunk.

“Your God doesn’t want you anymore.” The clasp snaps and he dangles the charm in front of your face. The mould of Christ nailed to the cross taunts you. What was once a symbol of divine love and God’s boundless forgiveness and sacrifice is just a reminder of how far you’ve fallen into depravity, creaming around Shigaraki’s cock as he ruins your cunt while your Nii-san claims your throat “You’re filthy.” Touya sneers at you as he holds himself in your throat, watching you cry and choke around him. “Dirty fuckin angel.” He grunts as he floods your mouth with the taste of his cum. It’s not exactly pleasant but you try to swallow it all down. There’s just so much. That means he’s pleased with you right? You want him to be pleased. Good girls get rewards he said

“It’s okay.” He muses as he pulls out of your mouth. “You have me. I’m better than God and I Iove you when you’re nasty like this.” He empathizes his point by dragging his wet, softening cock across your face. “Nii-sans perfect little angel.”

It’s so pitiful how the small praise makes your heart bloom and makes your hole flutter.

You’re coughing up Touya’s cum while your body shakes with Shigaraki’s thrusts.

“What about me hm? I’m fucking you. What? You don’t like it?” Tomura’s going harder now, determined to get his fair share of your attention.

“Shig-Shigaraki – shit. Slow down!”

You’re ignored by both of them once again. If anything, Shigaraki starts fucking you harder

.”Yo’ dustpot. You better pull out. That hole still belongs to me.”

The warning falls on deaf ears, Tomura is too far gone. “So warm, she’s squeezin’ me. Fuck. Fuck.’’ No thoughts, just your tight cunt.

“Gonna do whatever I tell you?” Dabi’s talking to you now, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

You nod still staring at him with absolute devotion.

“Touya-nii’s will be done? Huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

When you don’t respond he grabs you by your cheeks forming an open mouthed pout. “Say it.”

“Touya-nii’shhh will be done.” The words come out distorted but he’s satisfied

“Oh yeah? Then be good angel slut and come on his cock for me.”

You’re pushed over the edge, coming for the second time. Your walls clamp down around him as you sob out both their names in the form of incoherent babbling. It hits you as hard as the first one. You’re so caught up in your high you barely register the vice grip on your hips, the frantic humping against your ass. “Tight. Fuckin tight! Gotta breed! Breed this fucking hole.”

His hot, sticky cum floods your walls with, your throbbing cunt milking him for everything he’s got. He ruts against you a couple more times before removing himself completely.

You hear the familiar click of a camera. He’s sorry (not really) but the sight of your fucked out hole leaking globs of your cream and his cum was too hot for Shigaraki to not add to his spankbank.

“Thanks for that little sis.” Dabi is resting on the couch, head thrown back smoking a cigarette.

“Yeah thanks sweetness.” Both men, tuck themselves back into their pants

Everything feels so surreal. You cautiously move you hand between your thighs. Feeling your sore abused cunt in an attempt to grasp the reality of what happened.

Wait a minute.

It’s too much, that too sticky to be just your arousal down there. The more you squeeze, contracting your pelvic floor, the more it seems to seep out of you.

“You… You came inside.” You murmur as your eyes well up with tears. Whatever daze you were in seems to be broken by this revelation. Instead it’s replaced by fear of what the consequences of this might be.

Dabi smacks his friend upside the head. “You fuckin’ dumbass. I told you not to.”

Judging by his grin, Shigaraki doesn’t register the insult. He’s too busy basking in the afterglow. “Aw, don’t cry babe. You were gripping me so tight, I thought you wanted it. ‘S’okay, your Nii-san will get you a plan B”

“Fuck no. That’s your jizz inside her.” He scowls, eyes focused on the cum that’s leaking out of your spent pussy.

“C’mon Dabi don’t be like that. I’m broke right now.” Shigaraki pleads.

Touya huffs and rolls his eyes. “You can get yourself a morning after pill right? Tomura will pay you back.”

“Yeah babe. I promise.” He gives you a dopey smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying. Yeah, you know better now. You just nod as you pull up your panties, cringing at the sticky, wet sensation against your cunt.

“Me and Tomura are heading out. Make sure you clean all this up before anyone gets home.”

“B-but Touya-nii-“ you snivel.

“No buts. Clean up or you won’t be sitting comfy for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yes Touya-nii.” You reply defeated.

“And do it properly. Fuyumi has 3 brothers, she knows what a cumstain looks like and I don’t wanna have to do any explaining to her.”

You only nod, trying (and failing) to blink away tears.

Dabi rewards you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Best little sister in the world.” And he leaves you with that.

1K notes · View notes

annaofthenorthernlights · 2 years

Text

Feel and reason

Fanfiction, Frozen modern AU

Pairing: Kristoff / Anna

Rating: T

Word counting: 2905

This is fluff.... sweet fluff...

Find the fic on AO3

Chapter 8

2 weeks later….

It was Friday afternoon, and Sven and Kristoff were on their way back from surveying and rearranging some work progress at one of the construction sites and pleased with what had been accomplished so far. Kristoff scribbled down the protocol for their documentation. He grinned secretly when picturing Anna controlling their notifications on working hours, accomplishments, use of material and so on.

She was very meticulous in her task of checking the documentation on the planning and execution of assignments. She was also not squeamish when it came to filling in missed entries or pointing out gaps in figures and work entries. Not that she was disrespectful to anyone. Oh, no, Anna was charming and showed a lot of understanding for the many tasks the team had to cope with. If there was something to complain about, she always pointed it out with humour or a kind comment. No one should feel that their work was not appreciated. In fact, she was always a welcome guest in the workshop, and Kristoff found himself getting annoyed when Anna talked to someone else about a protocol or discussing an assignment other than him. But she was only doing her job... At home he had her to himself....

You're such a dork...

“So, how´s life at home?” Sven asked while he drove them back to the firm in the company´s pickup.

“Hm.” Kristoff raised his head and looked at his friend, trying to gain some time because he never knew what to answer.

“How are you two doing as flatmates?” Sven winked at him with a grin.

Kristoff sighed and adjusted in his seat.

“Fine. We´re doing fine.”

“Having some fun?” Sven asked all casually, but Kristoff got the hint.

“Yes, Sven, we are having fun, but not the way you might understand that word. We cook, we clean, we eat together sometimes, not always and we watch movies. I mean, you´ve come for visit and seen the place and how she´s improved it with her little décor things. Yes, we have fun, okay?!” He huffed and looked outside the window. Of course, Sven was going to ask that at some point. But then Kristoff had to think of that movie Anna had been talking about, “When Harry met Sally”. Was it possible that a man and a woman could be friends without falling in love? It was a silly question because Kristoff knew the answer all along, and Sven must know it, too…

“Hey, Kristoff. It´s okay, you know. But don´t be so hard on yourself. I mean, if you like her so much, why don´t you tell Anna?”

“Sven!” Kristoff´s voice got a bit louder by now, “She´s just moved in, has just started a new job which I think she is doing great on. But still, I can tell she´s tired in the evening and she keeps asking me so much about work background that I can´t figure she´s interested in me anything less than tutoring her about woods and timbers, construction site planning and price figuring. And then, don´t forget she got cheated by that asshole not even a month ago. Such things need time to settle, okay?!”

Kristoff hadn´t intended to yell at his best friend, but he was torn between being respectful, which was a basic must for him, and then falling for a little more each day. It was awesome to live with Anna under one roof, but painful all the same. But if Kristoff got asked to chose between the pain of living with her and not having her closer than sitting together on the sofa and watching a movie, shoulder by shoulder and then the pain of living without her at all, he was so certain that he´s chose no 1.

But Sven didn´t seem to mind. He turned to take a brief look at his friend and nodded, only to focus back on the road.

“I see, and yes, you´re right about all those things. But then, I have eyes, you know, and I can tell that Anna is for one an incredible catch when it comes to her work. I mean she does an awesome job, yes. But! Kristoff, you would not notice yourself, but she tends to come down to us often, and I doubt it has to do with the fact that she has more questions than Sam did. Yes, understandably she still must have more questions, but Oaken could answer them, too. And then, when she comes around to our desk, the look she gives you… Man! You don´t even see it, do you?!”

“What look?” Kristoff stared at his friend.

“THE look, Kristoff, THE look. Though to be honest, I get the notion that Anna herself doesn´t even realise herself, otherwise she´d control herself more, believe me!” He chuckled and shook his head. “Maybe the saying is true.”

“What saying?”

“That love makes blind. Both of you don´t see the way you both look at each other. It´s cute and sad in one, you know.” Sven quickly placed a firm hand on Kristoff´s shoulder and then put it back on the steering wheel.

“You really think so?” Kristoff asked quietly, lowering his face to rather lost study his protocol.

Sven sighed and nodded. “Just tell her. You have nothing to lose.”

***

Anna had left the office a bit earlier, being privileged that she could schedule her working hours herself, according to upcoming work and pending forms for her controlling.

She wanted to use the time that she got the house to herself when Kristoff was to visit Grand Pabbie this afternoon. Coming from the grocery store, Anna prepared a little surprise in form of a self-crafted Advent calendar. That meant that she hung two cords along the kitchen wall, on which 24 little cotton bags were attached. The little baggies were printed with little reindeers and numbered from 1-24. She put some chocolate, other sweets, tiny cookie packs and for Kristoff two or three mini whiskies (he liked them occasionally with some coke). It was only a few days for Dec 1st to arrive and Anna was determined to make the Avent days somewhat traditionally cosy. She put a cinnamon scented candle on the living room table, but then she was not sure if the odour will be too much, leaving the judgement to Kristoff. If he didn´t like it, she´d put the candle into her room.

So far, she was pleased with the prospect of the holiday season to start. She was ready. But for what…? It was rather a rhetorical question and she sighed rather agitatedly.

She could at least try… but how… Kristoff being such a correct man – she mustn´t mess this up!

Her mobile buzzed and Elsa was calling.

“Hi, Elsa.”

“Hey, Anna. How you´re doing?”

“Fine! I´ve just prepared for the holidays. Do you have an Advent calendar in Japan?”

Elsa chuckled.

“No, Anna. There are none, but I get a lot of other nice things to see here.”

“Oh, Elsa, are you alright? How is your project going?”

“Thanks, pretty well, actually. If you like, I can send you some drabbles on the email. Like that you can see what I´m working on.”

“Oh, yeah, please do that.”

“And Anna… how is your work going?”

“Hm. Not too bad. I think I will get the hang of it. This is so interesting. Would you know how many kinds and families of wood there exist on the planet?” Anna was still so fascinated about all those facts she´s learned from… mostly Kristoff actually…

“Hm… no. But tell me,” Elsa wanted to hear about other stuff, “how do you like your new home?”

“Uhm… yeah, it´s nice.” Anna bit her lips, what should she say?

“No fights, no arguments?” Elsa´s voice bared a mischievous tone.

“Hm, no… well, arguments, maybe… but fights… no, no fights.” Anna shrugged and fiddled with the calendar-bags to adjust them neatly along the cord.

“So… and do you have some pictures of your room and the flat?”

“Oh, pictures, yes. Sorry, Elsa, I have not made any yet, I just finished with the unpacking and decorating.”

“Oh, don´t bother, I can wait. But hey, what about your flatmate, Kristoff. Do you need to decorate him, too, or could you manage a photo of him at least?”

“Oh, sorry, forgot about that… Yes, I will…” Okay, she could surely ask him about that one…

They said goodbye and Anna put away her mobile after checking on the time. She still got about an hour before Kristoff came home. Perfect!

It was about time and now… Anna went to her room and rummaged through her cupboard drawers. The last two weeks she had been occupied in arranging her room and stuff, and it took her longer than first thought because she ´had been so tired in the evenings after all that new input she got at work. But today, she felt much fitter already and Anna was so desperate to take the time for some beauty care. Not, that it really mattered, after all, Kristoff himself had teased her about fussing around concerning getting nice legs in November. But Anna felt like giving herself the treat for simply feeling better about it.

Aha! There it was, and she pulled out the epilator she had finally detected in one of the delivered boxes last week.

She took the device with cable to the bathroom and undressed so far as to leave her underwear on, a combo of purple silk, that helped Anna to the feel of quality time. So then, it was time to get to business and she plugged the epilator cable into the socket, when she heard a rumbling thunder from afar and a bit later, lightning hit the sky.

Oh no! She hated thunderstorms. Hopefully Kristoff would be home in time, so she needed not stay alone with such weather threatening around the house.

***

Grand Pabbie had been transferred to the geriatric internal medicine ward a few days ago, and he appeared so much better than those few first days when on intensity care. Kristoff was so happy to see his grandfather sitting upright in his medical armchair during the day and right now, he was reading the newspapers.

“Hey, my boy, how good to see you. Please come and sit down.” He smiled at his grandson and then turned his head to see if there was someone following Kristoff.

“Anna´s not coming today?”

Kristoff chuckled and bent down to kiss Grand Pabbie on the forehead.

“First, hi grandpa, good to see you, too. And no, Anna couldn´t make it. You know, still a lot going on for her in the new job and she had some plans today about preparing for Advent season.”

“Oh! Nice. You´ll be spoiled?”

“Don´t know about that.” Kristoff shrugged, he hadn´t thought about that stuff much before.

“You´ll tell me.”

“I will.”

“But tell me how you´re doing the two of you?”

Kristoff stared at Grand Pabbie, not really knowing what to say, because until now his grandfather didn´t have the breath and strength to ask more and then listen for a while. The visits had been kept brief and reduced to a minimum of conversation. But ever since he was allowed up and about, Grand Pabbie became more active in his talking to the visitors.

Kristoff scratched at the back of his neck and grimaced.

“Everything´s fine, Grand Pabbie. We are… well, uhm… we are doing fine, yeah.”

His grandfather folded the newspaper that still laid on his lap and put it on the little table next to him, only to turn and look straight into Kristoff´s eyes.

“Why so reluctant?”

“What do you mean?” Kristoff blinked, feeling a bit uneasy about where this talk was going.

“You´re doing fine. Whit what? Chatting, working together, cooking, housekeeping?” He smiled and folded his hands in his lap.

“Yeah, right, all that. We´re doing fine on all those things. Anna is great, you know. She´s so… cool and nice to have around.” Kristoff smiled back, that wasn´t even that difficult.

“Hm. Nice.” Grand Pabbie nodded. “And have you told her already?”

“Told her what?”

“That you love her.”

Kristoff´s eyes snapped wide, and his mouth dropped to his chin, leaving him speechless, and Grand Pabbie chuckled, nodding understandingly.

“I thought she´s your girlfriend.”

“Uhm…”

“You wish, she was your girlfriend, right?”

Kristoff blinked, and his heart galloped in his chest. “How… How did you know?”

“I´m the love expert, rigth?"

Oh, that, yes...Kristoff grimaced, but Grand Pabbie pointed a fatherly finger at the young man´s breast.

"Whenever you talk about Anna, your eyes shine like the polar star and your face lits up like a light bulb. But you never talk about her as your girlfriend. You avoid calling her that way.”

Kristoff lowered his face, he felt embarrassed for having lied to his dear grandfather, but Grand Pabbie didn´t seem to be annoyed with him, in the contrary.

“Kristoff, don´t fret. Just tell her. I´m sure she´s just waiting for you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I can understand that you are smitten with that fine lass. Yes, yes. And I tell you, she´s smitten with you, too. Just don´t brood too much, my boy. You can do it.”

“But Grand Pabbie, we hardly know each other, have only met about two weeks ago. And I´m so sorry now to have made up that story.” He ran a hand along the back of his head, but Grand Pabbie didn´t even respond to Kristoff´s apology.

„Kristoff! I might be old, yes, but not too old to see when there is love in the air.”

Later, when the young man left the hospital, he felt light-hearted and scared at the same time. What if Grand Pabbie and Sven were right? His thoughts ran wild in his mind about how to approach Anna when he came home. But then, first, he needed to get home before that raging storm was going to make it impossible to drive the road.

***

Anna was nearly done. She had started with the sensitive armpits, which had caused her to flinch at times but worth the effort, then she operated her left leg from bottom to top, which made her breath into the pain because the top of the thigh was the part that she epilated far less than the calves. This was the worst part, and she huffed some hissed curses and groaned to the stinging pain, but desperate to have her skin nicely hairless. Finally, she had finished, taken some deep breaths, and walked around in the bathroom a bit just to sit back on the bathtub edge, putting up her foot on the edge and starting on her right leg.

If only that horrible flash of lightning and thunder didn't make her flinch so badly each time it struck to make her slip her working hand so that the device pinched slightly the skin she was working on.

---

Kristoff was relieved to be home, when he found the living room and kitchen abandoned and silent, only dimly lit by the reading lamp. Maybe Anna was in her room. He went over to the kitchen to check on tonight´s dinner only to notice the change on the wall.

“Wow!” He exhaled and took a closer look at the two calendars. How sweet that was, such a lovely contribution to the cosy home. He smiled and turned to get out the ingredients and cooking utensils to start the preparations, but then wondered what sound there was suddenly coming from down the hallway. It wasn´t loud but buzzing strangely.

Kristoff put down the vegetable knife and went down the hallway only to stop before the bathroom door, where he made out the buzzing. So, Anna was in the bathroom, alright, but the noises coming to Kristoff´s ear were rather odd. There was some huffing, groaning and heavy pressed out breaths, accompanied by some hissed “shit, ouch, uhm…” And a thought suddenly hit his mind, and his eyes grew wide. But that couldn´t be, right?

She wouldn´t do that in there, no?... Or would she? Why not on her bed...?

He idiotically stared at the door, and for a second simply struck by the sheer imagination of Anna in the bathroom with her… device… But which one…?

You´re such a jerk! The epilator – idiot – the epilator… Of course…

Kristoff blinked and shook his head, blushing on his own dirty thoughts and then, she was only doing what he had teased her about himself. If she felt better with smooth legs, so then.

He turned and quietly went back to the kitchen to tend to his work, though the picture of Anna rolling her buzzing lady shaver up and down her legs was more than distracting. Some rolling thunder pulled him back to reality, and he continued with chopping some salad.

The storm had increased, and the rumbling thunder was now clearly close. And the lightning that fell at the same time frightened even a grown man with the bright light that lit up the sky on the horizon.

It was rather eerie and the rumbling and flashing practically over them when suddenly there was a loud crash, and the light went out.

Lightning must have struck, but that scared Kristoff less than the shrill and terrified scream coming immediately from the bathroom.

#fanfic #Kristanna modern AU #Frozen AU #Kristoff #Anna #sweet fluff #friends to lovers #something´s brewing...

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yandere-society · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Synopsis: Taehyung was a man of many things: handsome, young, rich, the reigning lord of the Kim manor. He was a man adored, a man respected. But beneath the studly exterior, he held a dark, demonic secret that floated towards the surface once every full moon. It was this secret that would unknowingly entangle you in his claws until there was no way out.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Possessive Tae, Werewolves, Kidnapping mention, Sexual assault, Murder, Death, also it’s unedited cause I hate myself

Headline: Beast Of The Night Strikes Again! 2 Dead, Several Injured

Admin: @roses-ruby

The town suffers through another full moon of terror as the one described as the ‘dog beast’ struck again late last night. Lawmen are baffled at the carnage, describing the victims torn limbs and missing hearts as an act- “most definitely inhumane.” Townsfolk have stated that they heard the creature growl and moan for hours on end until it seemingly disappeared near the Kim manor. As for the owner of the manor, Kim Taehyung - an attractive bachelor who inherited his great grandfather’s land - refused to comment and dismissed the claims of such a being as “ludicrous and delusional.” Whatsoever it may be, the fact of the matter is that there is someone or something raging with bloodlust every time the moon shines its brightest and it might just be out for your heart next.

“It is truly incredible how some of the most credible news sources have begun to sound so half-witted these days… ‘attractive bachelor?’ Seems like you’re up for auction in the middle of this tragic incident…”

“It is a small town with unusually large tales…they’ll do anything to sell their trashy story…” He runs his fingers through his long black locks, a small huff of irritation leaving his lips.

“A story that will keep children up past midnight I’m sure…” The older gentleman places today’s paper back on the table and walks up to where the younger stood, matching his distant stare out the window. “The flowers were exceptionally beautiful in this year’s bloom. Such a shame they’ll be dead soon.”

It was a passive observation, one he didn’t have to respond to; however, it was his nature to always hold a firm stance on even the slightest of interactions. He hums in agreement, gazing out towards the colorfully green garden that his study overlooked. But rather than admiring the beauty of the large field, his eyes were instead hooked on a small figure bustling about the grounds in a long black dress.

“Master,” A calm voice interrupted him from his trance, “Shall I adjust your schedule in case you were to head into town today?”

His long-time butler, Seung, bowed quietly in his direction.

“No need.” He replies mindlessly.

“Now, now,” His uncle next him chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “It would do you good to show your handsome bust among the public. Your presence as Lord might provide some comfort…”

As if he should be the one comforting weeping mothers and terrified children.

He was about to decline the smiling face of this man who bore him nothing but animosity, but he was interrupted by his uncle’s careless gaze suddenly modifying into something additionally sinister.

“Or is it that you’re too tired for such a simple task? You look as if you have not slept in ages. Are you doing alright, perhaps?”

Other than the shiver that ran down Taehyung’s spine at his foxiness, he was unfazed by the weighty question. Usually, his feigned concern would make him chuckle, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from last night’s events.

“I’m fine.” He turns to Seung without missing a beat, “Uncle is right. Get the carriage ready, I will be heading into town today.”

“Yes, Master.” Seung bows, but before he could quietly leave the room, Taehyung calls for him again. “And get my Uncle’s carriage ready for departure as well. I am sure at his age he would love nothing more than to be resting at home this very moment.”

There was a small confrontational silence between the senior and him after his loaded remark. But it vanished the very next second when his Uncle began to chuckle loudly, as if there was nothing but mirth between the two of them.

“You are right on the mark, young lad. As sharp as ever I see.” He spins around, walking back to the table he once sat at “I shall be out of your hair soon.”

Taehyung watches him as he picks up the paper he had been scrutinizing before he commences his departure from the chamber.

“Are you perhaps interested in the dog beast?”

“Why, not at all,” He responds calmly, turning to the younger with the same somber expression as before, “I just need some entertainment for the road. Surely, you don’t mind?”

He did not. For now, he desired his uncle’s departure the most. It was not as if he could see his own forthcoming demise stained in the ink of that paper.

Autumn’s cool breeze surrounds your body as you tend to the large grounds of the Kim manor, trimming off uneven stems from a massive rose bush.

“___,” A frantic voice suddenly calls your name, capturing your attention as your gaze falls down onto a petite figure dressed in a similar maid’s uniform running towards you, “___! Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Today’s paper!” Seulgi spoke out of breath, like it was the most obvious thing, “Those men…aren’t they the same lads who-”

“SSHHH!” You hiss, blocking her loudmouth with your palm. Her whines against your hand were similar to that of an adolescent as you whirled your head around the garden, making sure no one was near your vicinity. “I told you not to speak a word of that!”

Seulgi successfully tugs you off of her, “I know! But is it not bizarre? That beast attacked those men!”

“There is no beast!” You growled, “Everyone in town was aware that Wan and his men were good-for-nothing hooligans! They probably wandered into the forest late at night, drunk and belligerent, and attracted a bear!”

“Hmm, perhaps…” Seulgi pouts, “But what about the articles? All those farmers who lost their cattle the same exact way… with their hearts missin-”

“I’m sure those are nothing but carnivorous rodents.” You huff in irritation, picking up the sheers to return to your work. The girl besides you threw a tantrum using her feet, and you wonder when exactly it was that you befriended such a child. “Are you even done with your station or will I have to do that for you again after the Housekeeper is done scolding you?”

This manages to scare her off, and you watch her retreating figure in slight humor before turning back to the rosebush. As you snap another set of leaves, you manage to take a glance at the window of the lord’s study, apprehensively watching his back disappear further into his room.

All you’ve wanted from this manor and its lords was a chance to toil quietly – in peace. Your simple servant status does not offend you, rather it provides you security in relations with the world. You were not interested in meddling with anyone’s affair, especially with those who lived in powerful and dangerous realities. So, it does not matter.

What you saw last night, near the clearing behind the manor does not matter. It had nothing to do with you, and you were planning on keeping it that way.

Lord Kim was annoyed.

Really though, when was he not? As the carriage decelerates into the gates of his estate, his exhaustion only multiplies. Faking a straight face and an empty gaze took its toll on him, even if he had been playing theater his whole life. It was hard enough to keep up with this perfect charade as the lord of the manor, but it had just gotten worse with time…and with the incidents.

He was reluctant to head into town, leer over dismembered bodies and chat with the commissioner, but did so anyway thanks to his uncle’s instigation. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice - any sign of weakness would invite his extended family to sink their teeth and claws into him, wringing him dry within a matter of minutes. His father died too early and Taehyung did not bear a successor yet, so whoever would be the first to either exhaust, kill or seduce him would eventually take his place as lord. After being unfortunate enough to witness countless amounts of cruelty from them since age eight, he knew he had to keep his farce strong.

Common folk would think he was protecting his blessed birthright. But in a deep, hidden corner of his mind, the reality loomed that neither this life nor this manor was blessed in the slightest.

“We’re home, my lord.” His thoughts are interrupted as the carriage stops, the door opening to reveal a flawlessly still Seung waiting for him to disembark.

As he exited his carriage, his shoulders drooping and head spinning, his eyes managed to fall on you in the distance. You stood far away, underneath the stone canopy of the servant’s quarters, next to that bumbling friend of yours with your head bowed as the housekeeper shouted herself silly at the both you. It seems that you have once again found trouble thanks to the petite nitwit by your side.

Yet still, even with your gaze downcast, he could sense the poise in your stance. An aura of composure and self-confidence that has never left your being no matter where you stood, or who stood over you. At first, he just happened to relate to you and the notion of keeping together a tough act. But over time, he came to realize that you weren’t acting at all – that you, a mere servant, were as perfectly assured as you seemed.

It made him envious.

“Master?” Seung pulled him back to reality.

He turned away, scuffing his expensive shoes amongst the gravel to head into the direction of his manor. Yet still, after the small sight of you, he couldn’t help but smile to himself for the first time that night.

“Dinner is served.”

A tray was lifted to reveal a large pot of thick, saucy white soup. He had wanted something light ever since the previous night, and the chef had delivered quite nicely. Taehyung sits patiently, waiting to be served as the maidservants walk into the room with the housekeeper. His eyes immediately land on you out if habit, and he wonders if you were to tend to him tonight. But to his surprise, it’s your friend who comes up to the table to oblige him his dinner instead. She takes a ladle and dips it into the soup – just a minute, she forgot to pick up his soup bowl?

Realizing she forgot the bowl; she looks startled for a bit before she hovers a hand underneath the ladle and walks closer to his direction. He has to try really hard not to burst out into a fit of laughter as he witnesses you shake in fear at her antics. Seems like he was not the only one distracted because the very next second your friend trips over her own foot on the way to his bowl and loses her grip on the soup-filled ladle, which flies towards him.

And in an instant, his whole head was wet and runny with his dinner. It was quiet for the first minute – which appeared to have stretched out into hours for the servants – until many different voices began shouting at once.

“Y-young Master! T-Towel- I shall fetch a towel!”

“MY LORD!”

“My lord! I-I-I apologize I-!”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your face was stiff in horror as you watched the creamy soup drip off his hair. Seung ran back into the room with a towel in his arm as the housekeeper bellowed at your friend.

Before Seung could wipe his hair, Taehyung held his wrist and took the towel into his own hands. Then he stood up, surprising the whole room, even the shrieking housekeeper, shut. He lightly wiped the edges of his bangs for a minute in silence, feeling the wet soup drool into his shirt before he turned towards your friend.

“Well, what a mess…” He stated absentmindedly, watching the girl shrink under his gaze until she became as small as a pebble. She seemed to be trying her utter best not to cry.

“Lord…” A soft, but confident voice interrupted the dead silence of the room. You stepped up next to your friend, your head down as you cleared your throat, “It…It is my fault actually…”

Your friend turns to you in shock. Everyone in the room was now glancing at you; the servants with petrified eyes and Taehyung with amused ones.

“Explain yourself.”

“Th-that…I spoke about the dog beast who was in today’s paper to miss Kang and…and I seem to have frightened her which is why she’s been a bit distracted…b-but it is my fault, so I deserve the punishment.”

“N-no!” You friend suddenly cries in a strained voice and you elbow her to keep shut. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, before complying to your implication with her eyes squeezed shut tight. The servants all held their breath, waiting for the lord’s next move. They all seem to flinch when he sighs,

“…I see…” Taehyung holds in a chuckle, “You’re right miss ___, this indeed seems to be your fault…”

Seulgi quietly whines in her throat and you wish she could for once read your mind and jam her loud trap.

“…Well then,” Taehyung’s deep voice captures your full attention, “Meet me in my room an hour before midnight. I shall decide on your punishment by then.”

No one said anything further, but they all seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing. Even Seung appeared disturbed. But…it just couldn’t be… The lord has never even taken an interest in women much less bed with one. You, too astonished to remember your place, straightened your posture and stared at him straight in the eye for the very first time. There wasn’t any hint of jest or error, which left you further baffled at the Lord’s request.

No, perhaps it was just you who misunderstood.

“Y-yes Lord.” You manage to spit out.

At your approval the lord smiles, which startles you out of your insolence. You return to your humble position as the Lord begins to walk away from the room.

“Seung, prepare my bath.” Taehyung calls out in glee.

“…Yes, master…”

You sigh, standing in front of the thick wooden door of your Lord’s master chamber.

“Well, there goes the goal of keeping from trouble…” You whisper to yourself in defeat. And thanks to that gigantic fool Seulgi, you were late to your own punishment trial. She would not stop crying and apologizing, even though you told her it was now your problem, so she has nothing to be sorry about.

Still, the main dilemma for you in this moment was not her, but your current circumstances. Why were you called out to the Lord’s chamber an hour before midnight? The sensitive time frame would provide anyone the wrong impression, not just you. If he really were to ask you to…bed with him…what then?

You quickly shake your head no. It was not healthy for you to have such thoughts about your Lord. Since adolescence, you had been a reasonable girl who was guided by logic. There was no rationality in this idea and you’re sure Lord Kim had a good excuse for calling you out so late – an excuse that has nothing to do with...whatever you were just thinking. After pulling yourself together with a deep breath, you knock on the wood three times.

“Come in.” You immediately hear, which allows you to nervously turn the handle and push open the door.

There stood Lord Kim, by the end of the bed, in his sleepwear. His hair was a mess of slight, drooping curls, possibly the aftermath of his bath, and his stare was a lot more lax than normal. You gulped quietly under his gaze, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

“You’re late, miss ___.” His voice was deep, but soft. It felt as if he was trying to jester you.

“I-I apologize, my Lord. I was held up by the housekeeper…”

It was a lie and you did feel guilty, but it would also be immensely satisfying to witness that old witch being chided.

“My, my, it seems like she is always after you and that friend of yours,” You could hear what sounded like mischief in his tone, “Which reminds me, she came to speak to me.”

“The housekeeper?”

“No, your friend. She told me you lied for her.”

That was the last straw. You were going to kill that idiot.

“I…I…S…” What were you to say now? Should you apologize for your dishonesty?

“I think it’s commendable.” You were interrupted from your thoughts by your Lord’s words. When you meet his eyes, you see him smiling gently in your direction. “You tried to protect your friend. It takes a good heart for that.”

“Thank you, sire…” You weren’t sure how to adequately respond - if he really was complimenting you. Your uncertainty stemmed from your upbringing; rather than a trait to compensate, behaving and caring for your younger siblings was regarded as your duty. It was also why maid work came so easily to you. And Seulgi, with her childish nature yet endearing personality, reminded you of those you tended to back home, so you considered looking after her a mere responsibility.

“I do like that nature of yours.” He proceeds casually, making you blush. “But I still have to punish you for your dishonesty.”

You nod your head, eyes falling to the floor. Even without gaping at him, you were aware of how strong his gaze was. It was only natural to get disciplined as a servant, but for it to come from Lord Kim himself made you fearful.

“Miss ___, sleep with me.”

Your head whirls up to meet his stare, shock painting your face.

“W-”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Although you’re quite beautiful, I only desire your lap.”

…

What?

“I-” Your Lord stutters, facing away from you and crossing arms in embarrassment, “I just…these days I have been having some trouble sleeping. Many peers have remarked on my dark circles and laxing attitude. This won’t do! As the Lord of the Kim manor, I have to appear fully rested and in the best condition at all times or else.”

He turns back to your direction,

“W…when I was a young lad…I would sleep on my mother’s lap. It was the most comforting of places to me and sleep was never a cause for concern back then. Which is why…I wanted to seek that same comfort once more…so that I may be able to rest heartedly and prepare myself to face the world of politics tomorrow. I just…I was wondering if I could borrow your lap for a few nights?”

It was quiet after his explanation. Your mind gradually processing all the information in his tale. He appeared to be immensely nervous, as if waiting for you to decline. You had to hide your amusement.

“I am ready for my punishment, my Lord.”

The young Lord smiles, which has your heart racing. Surely, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you. Please sit on the bed, near my headboard.” He orders bashfully.

You swung another sheet over the clothing line.

Days had passed since your initial ‘punishment,’ and today would mark the first whole month of you lending your lap to your Lord. Your nightly time with the Lord had become an occurrence you cherished. There was so much you managed to learn about the man who rested on you – like how he scrunches his nose when he encounters a nightmare or how he moans only when he is in his deepest of slumbers. He was different than how you originally imagined; his cold exterior was nothing but a farce. In reality, he was so childlike and so innocent.

So different from other men.

Yes, that’s right, he was nothing like Wan. Remembering that scoundrel had you shivering in your legs from disgust. You usually didn’t have the most pleasant encounters with the men in town, but Wan had been a special case. Although you did not wish to think ill of the dead, there was nothing ever good about that man, and frankly you’re not very upset that he’s gone.

You remember the day much too clearly; it was a week before he would meet his demise. The housekeeper had sent you and Seulgi into town on a shopping errand – she wanted you to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time you went into town for a chore, but it would certainly be the most unpleasant.

As you and Seulgi stepped out of the farmer’s store carrying a load of groceries in a paper bag you held with both arms, you spotted Wan and his friends walking towards you from the opposite direction. They were cackling loudly, drunk in the middle of the day and out of their minds. You paid them no attention, ready to head back to the manor but your unwitty friend stared straight at them until Wan eventually made eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well,” He slurred in your direction, catching your gaze, “If it isn’t the whores of Kim manor!”

Because of his brash nature, everyone’s regard fell on the two of you. You tried to look unfazed by his disgusting behavior, taking Seulgi by the hand and leading her around the men. But Wan interjected your path as his friends laughed on.

“We need to get back. Leave us alone.” You stated calmly

“Why, we won’t keep you for long,” He grinned, and you recoiled from the alcohol in his breath, “Besides, they won’t miss you- them rich folk. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

His friends began to shout and woo, enclosing in on you almost completely, and you could feel Seulgi shaking behind you.

“We need…to get back.” You say once again, cursing at yourself when your voice cracks. Wan throws his head back and laughs as hard as he could while the townsfolk just observe the show. Anger begins to well up alongside the fear and you purse your lips, picking up your feet and tugging Seulgi along.

It didn’t matter if you had to bulldoze through him, you were going to get back to Kim manor no matter what. So you step close, ready to collide into him before he suddenly sidesteps. Thinking he was distracted; you weren’t prepared for his swift movement and you certainly weren’t prepared to feel a hard thwack on your backside. A breath of surprise leaves your throat and the feeling in your arms disappear, which lets the paper bag fall out of your grasp, spilling its contents along the street. You stare at the ground, paralyzed by shock as Seulgi meekly cries out your name.

“Wan, you mad lad!” Someone from his group yells, clasping their hand into his in jest while they all express their amusement at your humiliation. The group aggressively howls, making perverse remarks before eventually continuing down the road, fully disregarding your presence. They left, without any consequences. As if they didn’t just horribly disgrace you.

“___...” Seulgi steps up to your side, crying her eyes out in worry. If this was another time you would console her – scold her for being a crybaby – but at the moment you could think of nothing. You had been a maidservant for almost a decade now and even then, you had never been treated so awfully. What’s worse is that they all saw…they all saw and said nothing.

Not wanting to waste a minute further, you fall to your knees and start gathering the vegetables that fell about. Seulgi calls your name again but you focus on your task. You have to stay composed, you have to stay composed – you repeat it to yourself like mantra. But that sensation of emptiness returns, and you freeze. Before you knew it, you were trembling on the floor with tears streaming down your face and everyone still watched on.

“___.” Seulgi wrapped herself around you tightly. For a moment your fortitude was shattered as you cried in her arms on that dirty street.

Wan was most definitely scum, you conclude with a huff as you finish straightening the laundered bedsheet. But still, you halt, dying the way he did…it’s something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Your mind wanders back to that paper, torn limbs and missing hearts. Could it possibly be related to what you saw that night on the previous full moon? With a frown, you stare up at the sky, watching the whiffs of white clouds swirl through the blue fabric.

“___!” You hear the familiar shouts of your name and turn to see Seulgi running towards you. “___, there you are!”

“What is it this time?” You sigh as she encloses in on you

“___, is it true that you are consummating with the Lord?”

Dropping the sheet out of your hands, you spin towards the loudmouthed idiot, “W-w-w-where did you hear that?”

“The other maidservants were whispering on it,” She replies with an innocent grin, “Is he as good as the rumors say?”

“A-a-a-as the w-what? What rumors- what- consummate- a-are you out of your mind?” You were blushing from head to toe.

Seulgi looks dejected at your response, “So it isn’t true?”

“Of course not!”

“Ohh,” She groans sullenly, “But I guess it would be impossible for a lord to take interest in maidservants like us.”

Your bashfulness vanishes in an instant. She was correct, there is absolutely no reason for you to find yourself special. Lord Kim had made it clear that he has no interest in you, he just requires a lap and is too proud to ask someone close. This was originally a punishment for you and nothing more – you shouldn’t become too attached.

“___?” Seulgi’s voice was low, “Are you alright? You seem down…”

“…I’m fine.” You mutter, composing yourself, “But more importantly…why are you here to ask me about baseless gossip? Are you done with your station? Remember you have to use the right tools- just scrubbing vigorously doesn’t work-”

“Oh my god- yes, yes, yes!” She responds by childishly covering her ears, “I have to use the coil sponge not the foam one, I get it!”

You begin to scold her as she laughs, prancing around the grass without a care. But soon the humor dies down and it was time to return to work. Before she leaves for her station, she makes a passive comment.

“Tonight’s another full moon. In the night of Samhain.” There was something dim about her tone as she gazes up towards the sky. You join her, wondering if she somehow had the same bad premonition as you did.

While you were chatting with your friend, Taehyung was having tea with a man he’d rather throw into a river.

“What brings you here?”

“My, do you sound cold.” His uncle chuckles, taking another sip of his tea, “Am I not allowed to visit my nephew out of fondness?”

“Well, after twenty-so years, consider me surprised.” Taehyung deadpans, which only further humors the elder.

“Perhaps I do have a motive.” He grins for a moment before all signs of amusement vanish from his expression. “I could not help but toil my mind over that paper from before. The townsfolk swore they heard the dog beast growl late into the night before fading behind Kim manor.”

“I thought we agreed the paper was nothing more than gossip fodder.”

“And perhaps that’s all it is.” His uncle’s smile was innocent but held such contempt. “However, as a gentleman who resides in the city, I find myself quite inclined by the mysteries of small towns such as this.”

“What nonsense,” Taehyung scoffs, “Are you saying you wish to investigate this supernatural rubbish the townsfolks gripe about?

“Indeed! The dog beast is nothing but rubbish!” The elder’s laughter was hearty, “But then, there is the question of who killed those men?”

The room was silent, drowning in the animosity the two men felt for one another. Neither one spoke – his Uncle because he had nothing more to say and Taehyung because he felt his throat clogging. He wanted to decline, desperate to splurge words of refusal, but then the fact that he had something to hide becomes too apparent.

“Surely, you won’t mind me staying? Just for one night?”

“Stay as you wish, uncle.”

You were already situated on his bed when your Lord swung the door open.

The sound made you jump, and you immediately rose to your feet to show respect. He began walking towards you in a fast, heavy pace with his feet striking the wood. His face had you unnerved – anger in his frown as well as what you could only describe as dismay in his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to react, you were taken into his arms in a sudden and swift motion.

It left your mind blank.

He squeezed himself onto you, his chest colliding with yours as his scent surrounded your senses. Your arms were hovering his back while your fingers curled into themselves, unsure of your position at the moment. Lord Kim hugged you tight, as if he was afraid.

“M-my Lo-”

“Tonight.” He interjected, muffling into neck as he laid his head on your shoulder, “Do not let me go tonight, whatever you do. Hold onto me as tight as you possibly can, do you hear me? Do not let me wander, I beg you.”

His tone broke your heart. He sounded so frightened – so desperate and you had no clue on how to help him. The Lord has always been the strength of this household. No one had ever witnessed him so distressed, not even at the previous Lord’s funeral. Hesitantly, you placed your fingers against his vertebrate and sat back on the mattress, guiding him gently down with you.

“I won’t let you go, my Lord.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He placed his head on your lap, arms still clinging onto you like a child. His mind seemed to be in the middle of a warzone against himself. The memory of a young man sitting in front of his father’s casket, immobile and silent as a rock, was still so vivid to you. You had only been at Kim Manor for a few months back then, and you remember being disturbed by his attitude – wondering if he had any feelings at all. But after learning about how often his extended family plotted against him, to the point of kidnapping him as an eight-year-old, you began to view that tearless boy with pity.

Watching him tremble in your lap has you reaching out to him. Your digits tread into his soft hair and you slowly move them about to calm his tremors. He seems to respond; his quivers coming to a slight halt at your touch.

You don’t know for how long you rubbed his head, listening to him breath.

You don’t know when you fell asleep.

His whole body was aching as he walked towards the grass, trying to ease the sharp pain in his head.

He had been taught that the best place to alter was out in an open, murky environment. Somewhere you could feel the air on your skin as the patches of hair slit through your pores like needles through fabric. Yet still, somewhere impenetrable through the naked eye. There was an area like so behind Kim manor – a clearing that was connected to a large acre of uninhabited woods. And among those acres laid several swamps and bogs, which formed a thick layer of fog around the grounds of the manor – most prominent on the night of the full moon.

It was the perfect place for him, who had been poisoned with this modification.

With his mind as cloudy as the fog, he thinks back to the first time he witnessed his father alter. He was far too young, a month away from ten, when he was brought out to this clearing and visually counseled on his dreadful future. More than anything he wanted to look away, he did not wish to see his beloved father become this monster, but Seung held his hand tight and told him to hold witness for his very own sake. And he witnessed – witnessed his father thrash about as if he wanted to claw his own brains out and he cried.

He cried along with his father. But there was never any other option for him than to tolerate the dread from his place as heir to Kim manor.

It was always painful, every moment his heart pumped blood into his body, he moaned in agony. While the night raged on, he noticed his panting grew deeper by the second – tone sinking to a gruff growl which rips through his chest. His eyes and sense of smell grew keener, large nails grotesquely rip through his skin and his teeth began to enlarge. The image of the moonlight basking on his skin was the only thing offering him refuge.

If he had a choice, he would have chosen to stay inside with the warm you, stare enchantedly at your resting face like the many instants he’s done before. But his changes weren’t just physical. In this state he was bigger, louder, hairier, teethier – more aggressive. His desire for blood was intense but ever since he met you, so was this raw lust. As a rational man with a sense of morals, this perverse craving ashamed him, yet the beast inside did not care for his customs. It wanted to possess you, every ounce of you, thoroughly. To mate with you in a way that wasn’t meant for humans. Being around you in this condition would break the mental leash he chains this deviant with.

Although every time he alters, he feels it loosening. There was something wrong with him – his father and grandfather were able to restrain the beast from rampaging throughout town. But he, on the other hand, had been consuming the town as his sole hunting grounds for some months now. Which is why the “dog beast,” once a mere legend mentioned every decade, was printed in previous months paper.

It is as if the creature wishes to mock him and the slipping control.

Drenched in sweat and agony, he knew the transformation was almost complete when he suddenly heard a small noise. He immediately spun around and met the petrified eyes of his uncle.

Neither of the men spoke – both gaping at each other with pure, unfiltered fear. The chill of the night establishes its presence in the worst moment possible. Taehyung was afraid for reasons too many, none he could not lucidly list. He recalls what occurred the last time the beast was enraged by someone and he desperately wishes not to hurt anyone ever again in this form.

Opposite from him stood his uncle, wondering just one thought out of an infinite. How does a normal man, one untouched by the knowledge of this being, react in this situation?

A normal man would run. A normal man would cower in fear. A normal man would beg for his life. But he, the rightful heir to the manor, declined to let this young bastard trample him in such a way. It wasn’t that his uncle was a man without fear. And it wasn’t that he held great courage either, but rather, the very oxygen that burned through him was fueled purely by his stubbornness. He has spent the majority of his life trying to crush first his brother and now his nephew, so when this chance has presented itself so deliciously, he refuses to let it slip through his fingers.

“Y…” His voice was hoarse, throat achingly dry, “What are you?”

Taehyung stands there quietly, unresponsive to the question. Although he was the larger one, he felt so scared and so small. No one had ever spoken to him in this form which is why he was unsure of what to do. He had been a fool, he thought if he could sleep in your arms and you held him tight, he would be able to stop himself from altering tonight.

But now he understood, there was nothing that could.

“You killed those men.” His uncle continues, all on his own. As if he’s suddenly reached enlightenment.

“You do not…understand…” Taehyung shakes his head like a child about to be punished. He didn’t mean to kill anyone. He’s never hurt someone in his whole life. That night, on the previous full moon, it all occurred without any of his own authority.

Taehyung was a despicable man. Wan had hurt you, and he saw it. But rather than step in and intervene – rather than protect you from that scum – he instead just stood by and watched it transpire. No matter how many times he thinks back to it, no matter how often he racks his brain for an answer, he still does not understand why he did nothing. Perhaps he was paralyzed from his own traumas and forced himself to retain his composure – however the beast did not care for his pathetic reasons. It taunted him the whole week leading up to the full moon. Hurt him with insults he knew he merited.

“You’re weak.” It growled, “Weak and puny. I shall protect her myself.”

And then, for the very first time, Taehyung took the life of another human being without any cognizance. What’s worse is that he enjoyed it. That thought alone petrifies him.

“No, I do not understand you. And I do not wish to.”

“Please…” Taehyung begged as he held out his deformed hand to plead with the elder. Did this man think Taehyung desired this life? Did he think he desired this hundred year old curse - originating from a place long before his time - that was forced upon him and on any man who dared to reign over Kim manor. Perhaps despicable, but Taehyung was still softhearted. The reason why he tried so hard to keep his title as Lord was so that no one else would further suffer this abomination, even if it concerned his bastard uncle.

And it’s also the reason he made peace with dying alone, without a bride and without children. He was meant to stand alone. That is...until he met you.

“How dare you. How dare you grovel to me, you servant of the devil.” The disgust and venom in his uncle’s tone made him recoil.

“No-” It was only a matter of time before the beast consumed him whole and he was certain, like before, it would not spare any mercy. The adversity is something Taehyung direly yearns not to repeat.

“I shall bring the priest and the commissioner. I shall tell them what you did. You shall be brought to justice for what you did to those men. You shall suffer in hell when they burn you at the stake!”

“Please- uncle- please listen TO ME-” He clasped his claws against his mouth when his voice became utterly inhumane. The beast was crawling out of his throat and his sanity was slipping. No longer was he able to see what was in front of him and once again he began to fade, like he did all those times before.

“Run!”

Taehyung with the last of his conscious tried his hardest to warn the man and take a dash for the woods but it was far too late.

The last thing he heard was his uncle’s shrill scream, and then all silence for him.

You woke up to a thump.

Or at least you were certain that was what you heard as you sit up on the bed. Your vision was groggy, mind still half asleep as you look in the direction of the sound’s origin. For a minute it was soundless, and then there was another thump. You weren’t sure what it was, but you stood up nonetheless, slowly walking towards the door. Still unaware of your surroundings, you stop in front of the wood, distracted by your own dizziness.

In the tranquility of the room, you caught a noise so faint, you thought perhaps you were still in your nightmare from before. It was immensely faint, but you heard it. The rapid breathing behind the door. Unhurdled by emotions such as caution and reasoning for once, you swung the door open in confusion. And as soon as you did, your own awareness came back to you at full force.

A clothless man stood before you, covered from head to toe in blood and gore. Your breath was stuck in your throat, eyes widening into saucers once you saw the length of his fangs. It took you a full minute realize that it was Lord Kim.

“W…what…” You step back in horror. Perhaps you were still dreaming.

The fear had snuck up around your waist and grabbed you by the throat, leaving you without the ability to move. He gazed at you with eyes that were a bright yellow, yet darker than any man’s you have ever looked into. Your orbs travel down his body as you absorb in his abnormal height, his ripping muscles, his long fingernails and…and his hand.

There was a heart. In his hand, he gripped a fleshy and large organ and you knew it was a heart.

Missing hearts.

“Nooo…please.” You quiver, crying without him ever speaking a word. All signs of alarm were raised in your mind and you don’t even remember what it was for that you came here. Only Seulgi’s words about the dog beast reigned in your ear. The world was spinning as your Lord…as he began to walk towards you. Your life started to flash by your eyes, and you closed them shut tight, so you would no longer have to witness this terror.

“Shhh.” You heard a deep growl before you felt cold and abnormally large fingers on your face. A gasp escapes your throat as he caresses your cheek.

The next thing you knew, you were floating. Your eyes flew open and you saw yourself being carried by him. There was no moment for you to react, as you were subsequently placed upright onto the bed. No longer restrained by his arms, you shifted about in a frenzy.

“Ah…uh…”

“You are mine.” He states as if it was a fact.

Then he comes over you – wrapping his enormous, dirtied limbs around you as you squeak. He lays his head in your lap and you feel the tears leave your eyes as he yet again resembles your Lord. What you had thought of as just a hallucination from the fog was actually reality. That night, on the previous full moon, you woke up and strolled the grounds to clear your head of Wan. It was then that you saw the most horrid of things – you saw a giant dog shrink into a small human who resembled the Lord.

And you had told yourself lies. Told yourself it wasn’t true and told yourself to forget. But all logic was failing you now as a creature from hell winds down on your very own body. You muffle your cries and fear – too afraid to awaken the beast.

Taehyung laid peacefully in your arms; his mind detached from every other thing that did not concern you. The heart he held in his hand had stopped beating a long time ago, but he could still feel it slipping through his fingers. He is not sure, even as a beast, as to why he takes the hearts of victims. Perhaps it has something to do with how it’s his heart that hurts more than anything else each time he alters.

Well, it did not matter now, he thinks as his perception starts to drift. Nothing mattered at the moment – not the heart, nor his uncle’s body, not even your reaction. For this moment, more than anything, he just wants to rest.

To sleep, in your lap, under this cold, beautiful moonlight.

________

A/N: Okay so I really hate this I apologize. I had intended for it to be longer but well :) October has officially been 2020′s busiest month for me...but I hope you enjoy this garbage lmk what you thought!

#bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #taehyung x reader

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ficcrimes · 3 years

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Fandom: Helluva Boss Characters: Blitzo, Stolas; mentions of Stella, Octavia, Moxxie, Millie and Loona Ship: Stolas/Blitzo A/N: this is my piece for the Stolitz zine, Seasons, over on twitter! My bit’s finally been released, so I can publish this here now! Summary: To everything, there is a season.

——————————————————————————

i. summer

It was supposed to be a one night stand, and nothing more than that.

When presented with the opportunity to get his hands on that one particular grimoire, Blitzo didn’t think twice about worming his way into the Geotian Prince’s bed. What was one hot night with an ancient, entitled demon? Of course, he hadn’t stopped to question just why it had all happened the way it had, either. Whatever made Stolas not only agree to but pursue this whole lewd affair was really none of Blitzo’s business. Maybe he had a thing for imps, or some sort of weird, classist fetish. It really didn’t matter. At a glance, and that was all Blitzo had allowed himself to take when it all started, it seemed simple enough.

But it didn’t quite turn out that way, did it?

What started as something that had been meant to be short and sweet and fleeting turned into much more than Blitzo had bargained for. It’s nothing he can’t handle, of course, but Stolas calls on him frequently and comes on incredibly strong. It’s a little jarring, to say the least, but Blitzo can’t bring himself to outright turn the advances away.

He needs the book, after all. And, all things considered, this isn’t the worst possible thing he could have been doing to keep it. This is what he tells himself, anyway.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, for all the fuss he puts up whenever Stolas calls, at least Stolas makes him feel… something. Wanted. Needed. Even if it’s only physically. Even if it’s only temporary.

But then Stolas makes the once-a-month arrangement with him, and an already hazy situation becomes a little hotter and a little heavier. Their meetings are no longer quick and to the point. Suddenly Stolas wants to have fun with it; he incorporates games and costumes and silly little things into the affair that Blitzo’s not above or below doing. He’s a performer, after all - and at least Stolas seems to be enjoying the act.

He spends the night and wakes up in Stolas’ bed more times than he’d like to admit. Most of the time, he’ll leave before Stolas wakes up. But there are some days when he wakes up to Stolas propped up and leaning over him, all four of his red eyes heavy-lidded and bleary with something Blitzo pretends isn’t there.

He also pretends the rush of heat that surges up his spine isn’t there, and that it doesn’t count for anything.

As sleazy as it all is, it’s a good business deal and he wants to milk it for all it’s worth while it lasts - because he’s sure that it won’t. Nothing that burns this hot for too long is meant to last.

ii. fall

There is something so incredibly and unconventionally charming about the little imp.

It’s not every day someone like Stolas came across someone like Blitzo, and he’d been intrigued almost immediately by him. He was crass and rude and didn’t seem to think twice before speaking whatever happened to be on his mind in the moment, and Stolas found himself liking that more than he should have.

So, when Blitzo made his interest in the grimoire known, and it was evident all he had to offer in exchange for it was his own body, Stolas didn’t put up much of a fight or fuss. He knew he shouldn’t have been traipsing about behind Stella’s back and closed doors, but the supposed-one-night-stand promised to be the most exciting thing he’d experienced in a long, long while.

That first night with Blitzo had been unlike anything Stolas had ever had before, with his wife or otherwise. The sheer amount of skill the little creature had was surprising, and the way Stolas’ body had ached for him after he’d gone spoke in volumes.

Maybe it’s not in his best interest, or even in good taste, to start calling on Blitzo whenever he feels himself craving what only the imp can give him. And maybe he should learn how to properly manage and articulate the desperate desires he feels, instead of going off on long, unfiltered, filthy rants.

But Blitzo never explicitly tells him to stop, and so he doesn’t.

There’s a part of Stolas that understands Blitzo seems to merely put up with these antics so he can continue to use the book, and that’s alright. For a while, anyway. The more Stolas finds himself thinking about that, the more he can feel something creeping up on him, slow and steady. The ache he feels for Blitzo starts to change, and it’s not just his body that needs him.

He doesn’t really notice at first, continues to mistake the desperate need for the imp’s attention as something carnal and older than even himself. How silly to think his entire foundation could be shaken after so, so long, and by such a small and silly creature. And yet, eventually he catches himself drawing silly little caricatures on important papers of the two of them. Or he finds himself staring longingly at his phone when he can’t seem to get a hold of Blitzo.

By the time he’s suggesting they make their meetings a little more frequent and planned, Stolas realizes he’s in over his head. Or, perhaps he’s just head over heels. There’s really no difference here.

The whole situation is a little messier and more complicated than he would have liked it to be, but Stolas tells himself it will be worth it in the end. Until then, though, even if it’s only once a month, he feels like his walls can come down and he can be himself while Blitzo shares his bed.

He doesn’t mind when he wakes up to find the imp’s already left him. He understands. But it’s when he wakes up to find Blitzo still in bed beside him that makes his heart swell with something unspeakable.

He thinks, if things were just a little different, he could have this feeling always.

But Blitzo always leaves, and Stolas is always left with the weight of this feeling that’s too big for either of them.

iii. winter

Blitzo is right in thinking that things couldn’t stay so simple forever.

An already complicated situation gets that much worse when things like feelings and wives and daughters get caught up in the mix.

When Stolas calls him up out of the blue one day and says, very quietly, very seriously, that they “need to talk,” Blitzo almost wishes it had been one of his usual calls. Something cold and dreadful shoots up his spine by the time the call ends, and he’s already preparing himself for the worst. His mind is already racing, torn between coming up with some other lucrative back up plan and trying to persuade Stolas not to do this.

However he chooses to define ‘this’ in the moment, he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

Stolas is quiet as Blitzo lets himself into his office space, book tucked under one arm. There’s no coy smile tugging at his beak.

Blitzo knows, and so he drops the book onto the desk that separates them. “I figured it’d only be a matter of time before you called this shit off,” he says through a sneer.

Stolas winces, and draws the book just a little closer to himself, fingering the crescent moon. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact.

“It’s not - You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs quietly.

“Oh, you’d think so, huh?” Blitzo replies, because he understands more than Stolas thinks. Stolas doesn’t know anything he doesn’t want him to know - and maybe this is happening because of that. Maybe if he’d been just a little less guarded and a little more obvious, things could have been different.

However… None of that would have changed the fact Stolas was a Prince, with a wife and child. And Blitzo understands that, too.

“No, no. I get it,” Blitzo starts, and waves Stolas off with one hand. “You got your weird royal bird shit to do, and fucking an imp on the side’s getting in the way.”

Stolas wants to say something else, Blitzo can see it in his eyes when all four finally meet his, but what actually comes out of his mouth is a quiet, “...that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit looking like some sort of kicked hellpup. It’s not like you’re losing anything by taking the book back.” Blitzo almost regrets those words the moment they leave his mouth, but decides maybe they’re for the best. If Stolas is angry instead of just sad, it will make this easier.

But Stolas doesn’t get angry; he just looks all the more hurt. He sighs and steels himself. “I’ll see what I can do about loaning you my grimoire in the future, Blitz,” he says, “but for now, I can’t allow it.”

Hearing Stolas call him by his name instead of ‘Blitzy’ is what turns that cold trickle into a flash flood of ice. Something cold and hollow fills him, and Blitzo wishes it didn’t sting the way that it does, wishes he could feel anger instead of this.

“Sure thing, Your Highness,” Blitzo mumbles back, flipping Stolas off with one shaking hand. “If that’s all you got me penned in for today, I’ll see myself the fuck out. Thanks.”

Blitzo slams the office door on his way out, and Stolas can hear Stella screaming after him as he leaves. It’s only a small relief to hear Octavia chime in, telling her mother to leave him alone.

“At least he’s leaving,” Stolas hears her say, and he wishes she were just that little bit older so she’d understand this situation better. He had ever slept with Blitzo because he didn’t love her, but because he’d long since fallen out of love with her mother - but a royal marriage was not so easily left behind.

He sinks back in his seat and sighs heavily, pinching the bridge between his eyes. His heart no longer feels airy and light; instead it feels heavy, like it’s sinking into the pit of himself and weighing him down.

iv. spring

It’s weeks later and well into a work day when Blitzo emerges from his office. The first thing he notices is that his employees all seem to have disappeared, though he doesn’t have much time to wonder about that. His foot catches on something, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself on a nearby desk. He twists around to look at the offending object that he knows should not be there, and sees that it’s a package of some sort. Brown paper-wrapped and addressed to him, and distinctly book-shaped.

He groans inwardly and hefts it up, the weight familiar, and the scent clinging to the wrapping even more so. Not that the break had been clean, but of course Stolas would have to go and try and make things complicated.

He doesn’t know if Stolas dropped it off personally or had it specially delivered, but he understands why the others left when it got there. Had he been in their shoes, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to risk it, either.

There’s no call or warning before he shows up at Stolas’ mansion, book in tow. He doesn’t use the front door, because he knows other, quicker ways to get to Stolas personally. And, surprisingly, none of those ways have been deterred or altered. It’s almost like Stolas had hoped he wouldn’t actually stay away.

It doesn’t take him very long at all to find Stolas, in his bedroom and lounging about as though he hadn’t just tried to lay some sort of intricate trap. It says something that the Prince’s surprise is entirely feigned, and there’s a grin tugging at his beak as Blitzo kicks the bedroom door shut.

“Ooh, what a surprise~” he coos, and Blitzo rolls his eyes.

“Cut the crap,” Blitzo mutters, dropping the book heavily onto the bed.

Stolas smiles and shrugs his shoulders. The robe he’s wearing slips from one lithe shoulder, and he doesn’t bother to adjust it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. That,” he gestures to the book, “is just a gift. Circumstance aside, I’d hate to see your business fail.”

Blitzo snorts and grins in a way that shows his teeth. “Don’t you worry about I.M.P. We’re doing just fine without your borrowed little magic tricks.”

For just a moment, Stolas seems to falter, frustrated - not with Blitzo, but the situation itself.

“You really couldn’t think of any other way to get my attention, besides throwing me your scraps?” Blitzo presses on, crossing his arms over his chest, one brow raised.

“I didn’t think you’d return a call, or want to see me,” Stolas admits, and makes a vague gesture to the mansion. “And inviting you back here seemed… uncouth, at the very least.”

“Never stopped you before, did it?” But now Blitzo’s grin seems a little less antagonistic, a little more playful.

Stolas lets out an airy, half-laugh. “You’re not wrong.” He finally adjusts the shoulder of his robe, and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking about… Well, us. And I was thinking that, maybe we could… I mean, to start, we never should have - but…”

He sighs, and offers Blitzo a weak smile.

“I’ve missed you, Blitzy.”

It’s short and sweet and simple - just like this whole mess should have been from the start. But it’s not, and it never will be, because those three words and that sickeningly sweet rendition of his name coming out of that horrid bird’s mouth send that familiar warm rush right through Blitzo’s entire body.

“I see what you’re doing,” Blitzo says quickly, narrowing his eyes.

Stolas chuckles, shrugging. “I’d like to try again. Only no strings attached this time.” To make his point, he raises one hand and urges the grimoire over to himself, letting it hover between the two of them. “You’d be free to use this whenever you like, and though I would greatly appreciate your… company, there’s no need for a strict schedule.”

Blitzo eyes the book for a moment, and then shoves the magically aloft object aside. “And what about your ball and chain? You sure you wanna put up with her conniption fits?”

“You let me worry about Stella,” Stolas waves the thought aside. “A very serious discussion is long overdue, anyway.”

“And your kid?”

“Via will be okay. She’s young, but getting old enough to understand, I think.”

Blitzo looks the owl demon up and down, then shrugs a little himself. “Not the freshest start of the ages, but I’ll take it.”

Stolas smiles and breathes a sigh of obvious relief. “I’m glad,” he says quietly and moves closer. He lets one hand wander admiringly over one of Blitzo’s horns - and, for the imp’s sake, pretends he doesn’t notice the way he leans in to the touch.

“I have to wonder, though,” Stolas says after a moment, before the quiet becomes too much too soon, idly stroking the inner curvature of the horn, “how did you manage to keep I.M.P afloat without my grimoire?”

Blitzo leans away from the taller demon, and he grins again, wide and sharp. “I copied the spells out of it ages ago,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder. “Just in case this whole shebang went down the shitter.”

Stolas stares at him, a grin of his own tugging at his beak. “Oh, you clever little thing,” he muses, reaching out and taking Blitzo’s face into his hands. One thumb moves gently over where white meets red.

Blitzo has a nasty habit of speaking before he thinks, and Stolas has to wonder if he realizes what he’s admitted to. If he’d had the pages copied this whole time, either he’s a very dedicated actor and didn’t want to tip Stolas off - or, perhaps, it was all just a very convoluted excuse to keep coming back.

A blush starts to bruise the bridge of Blitzo’s nose. Stolas smiles.

“And here I thought you’d needed the book,” he says. “How silly of me.”

#helluva boss #stolas #blitzo #stolitz #fanfic

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starlightsearches · 3 years

Text

Fences - Modern AU Neighbor! Hux

@aramanna asked: Neighbor!Hux fanfic? Your dog wanders into his yard and you start talking after clearing up the mishap?

Hey friend, thanks for the request! This is kind of a modern version of a post TROS Hux, where he’s a little healthier, I think. The reader is a teacher because I’m a self-indulgent bitch 🥰 Also, I’ve never seen Peter Rabbit, but reading this again I feel like this might just be Thomas McGregor. Let me know if I’m right, I guess 😂😂😂

Warnings: discussion of a family member passing away, mentions of hospice care, maybe language?

When Armitage Hux isn't working, eating, or sleeping, he is in his garden. Which, for him at least, was a lot like work. Even so, he found that it relaxes him; there was something about being outside in the evening light—watering his flowers, picking stray weeds—that made everything clearer. He never had space like this when he lived in the city, but now that he’s away from it all, taking care of this space; it’s made him a better lawyer. Whenever he’s stuck on a case, feeling like he's exhausted every possibility, a few moments with his hands in the soft soil helped him unearth the perfect solution to his problems.

And sometimes you were there, in your own backyard, of course. He wouldn't watch you—that would be wrong—but he couldn't help but notice you through the little gaps in the chain-link fence. Sometimes he found you in your hammock stretched between two trees at the back of your house, your legs the only part of you visible as you swayed in the breeze. Or occasionally you’d spread out a blanket on warm summer days, soaking in the sun as you read.

Every so often he'd get the wild idea that he might say something to you, before changing his mind, or losing his nerve. He hadn’t said more than a handful of words to you since you moved in next door a few months ago—only visiting your doorstep on the rare occasion that your mail was delivered to the wrong house, or he wanted to borrow a cup of flour, or he needed some milk. Lately he’s played with the idea of approaching you about replacing the fence that runs between your houses—a terribly ugly chain link fixture—but he’s been putting that conversation off for some time now, waiting for the right moment.

Today could be the day, though. It’s a quiet Saturday, the last rays of sunlight stretching over the thick green grass, the air alive with the smell of earth as the water trickles from his hose over his many flowers, the sound only interrupted by the occasional passing car.

Hux listens more closely when a new sound is added—the slam of your back door, and then a series of gleeful yips, but he doesn’t let himself turn around just yet, choosing instead to feign indifference for a few more moments. This is the real reason he’s been putting off the conversation about the fence. Your incredibly enthusiastic new puppy has given him twice the opportunity to spend time with you. If you could call it that.

He turns now, after what he thinks is an appropriate waiting period, and you catch his eye, offering him a slight wave, which he returns—with the hand not holding the hose, this time. You’re attention pulled away from him for a moment as you watch the little corgi zip around your small yard, but Hux keeps his eyes on you, appreciating the way you light up with laughter at the dog’s antics.

He could talk to you right now, if he wanted. Could strike up a conversation about something inane, like the weather, invite you over for a drink, or maybe dinner sometime. He doesn’t think you’re seeing anyone, after all—hasn’t noticed any overnight guests, hasn’t seen you picked up for any dates. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Your door slams again, pulling him out of his fantasy world, and he turns back to see your yard left empty. Another missed opportunity. Hux doesn’t let himself feel too low about it; there’s always tomorrow.

He wakes early on Sunday morning—always awake before the sun rises—and that suits him just fine, padding through his empty house to the kitchen. Grey light streams in through the windows as the quiet morning sounds fill Hux’s ears: water boiling on the stove, the quiet rustle of cat food as he scoops some more into Millie’s bowl.

Where is Millicent? he wonders to himself—she normally sprints into the room at the first sign of her morning meal, but now he sees no sign of her. Hux wanders into the living room, eyes scanning the floor before he finds her by the sliding-glass door at the back of the house, her eyes watchful, tail swishing back and forth.

“What are you doing, Millie?” he asks, and she turns to look at him with her wide, intelligent eyes, offering him a soft meow in response. He really has to stop doing that, talking to his cat. It’s just another testament to the adverse side-effects of living alone. Millicent stays by the door, turning her eyes back to the glass, and eventually Hux caves, walking to the window, hoping to see something more interesting than a stray bird or squirrel.

Hux gasps as soon as he sees it, yanking open the sliding glass, not bothering to find shoes before he steps out onto the cool, wet grass—still damp from the early morning mist. A soft cry falls from his parted lips while he takes in the damage. His garden, it’s ruined.

He picks his way through the clods of dirt that litter the grass, trying to get a better look. There’s not a flower that’s been left undisturbed, every single one of them ripped from the dirt, mangled, crushed. Totally unsalvageable.

The headache that blossoms behind his eyes is all too familiar as it rears its ugly head. He thought he had left it behind with the Order—the unpleasant reminder that there’s so little he has control over, that something always goes wrong. Now it’s back with a vengeance.

Hux hears the little yip from the far side of the yard and turns to look, hoping to catch the culprit that had destroyed all his hard work. He sees the bushy little tail, wiggling as the intruder paws through the soft, brown earth, and he recognizes it immediately. His suspicions are confirmed when he turns the other way, notices the gap created at the bottom of the fence that separates your property from his.

The dog yelps when Hux grabs him and immediately begins to squirm, trying to get free, but Hux holds on tight, stomping back through the grass all the way to your front door, breathing hard. He knocks three times in loud, rapid succession, and he only has to wait for a moment before it opens.

As soon as Hux sees you, his anger vanishes, and a cacophony of other emotions takes its place. Embarrassment is first—you’re standing there in your pajamas, squinting into the first rays of sunlight peeking up over the houses across the street as you rub some leftover sleep from your eyes, and Hux just now realizes that he is also still in his sleepwear: an old t-shirt and some boxers, a ratty, blue robe thrown over his shoulders.

“Hello, Armitage,” you greet him with a smile, the sound of his name on your lips bringing a blush to his cheeks. You’ve always called him Armitage, ever since one of his stray bills had found its way into your mailbox, and he’s never had the courage to let you know nobody calls him by his first name. “Did you need someth-”

You gasp before you can finish, finally noticing the writhing little dog in his hands, and you reach for it immediately, pulling it in close to your chest. “Noodle!” Hux tries to process the exclamation before he realizes you’re still talking to the corgi—that must be his name. You turn your attention back to Hux and he pulls his robe closed over his pajamas, wrapping his arms over his chest. He needs to tell you about the fence, his garden. He can’t let himself get distracted.

You’re talking again before he gets the chance to formulate a sentence, holding the little dog against your hip like a baby, where he rests without wiggling, occasionally licking at your bare arm, looking up at you with his soft puppy eyes. “Thank you for bringing him back, I didn’t even realize he had gotten out of the yard,” you say, “I didn’t leave the gate open, did I?” Hux pauses, wondering how he should break the news to you. You still haven’t noticed the dirt covering the little demon’s paws, and you look at him with such innocence that for a moment, he thinks he should just leave and take care of the mess himself.

His silence says enough, your face falling when you first realize what it could mean. You look to the dog’s paws, then see the mud caking his fluffy little legs. “Oh no, he didn’t . . . “

“You should see for yourself.”

Hux watches as you take in the wreckage that was once his garden. You don’t say anything for a few minutes, just standing, staring. He had been so angry when he had first seen the carnage, but looking at it for a second time, he can’t find any of the leftover rage anywhere inside of him, especially not now, as he’s seeing it through your eyes. You look like you’re about to cry.

“I’ll pay for a new fence,” you say, turning to look at him with such urgent sadness, “and I’ll buy you new flowers. I’ll plant them all myself.”

“That’s- that’s not necessary,” Hux stutters out a response, looking away from you, back to the destroyed flower patch. He can’t stand to see you like this, so torn up over a silly garden, and with every passing moment he grows more and more sure that you’ll never want to speak to him again after this, if he doesn’t make things right. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You reach out to him, your grip firm where it rests on his arm. “Please,” you say, and you’re not just asking, you’re begging, “please, let me help. I can fix this.”

Hux looks down to the place where your hand rests against the arm of his robe, watches the way your fingers flex against him, and his heart softens, lifting his eyes to meet yours again. He gives you the smallest nod, watching as your face lights up with joy, relief, and for a moment, he finds himself feeling incredibly grateful for your silly, little dog.

___________________________________________

Hux looks back, as he wanders through the aisles of his favorite greenhouse, checking, once again, to make sure that you’re still following him before placing a few marigolds in the cart with a small cough. You had admitted pretty early on in your negotiations that you didn’t know much about gardening, but you had still insisted on helping, and Hux just couldn’t say no.

You’re easy to be around, he finds quickly, despite his nerves. He had been afraid that the rest of his day would be filled with awkward silences and stilted conversation, but words flow like water between you. You had spent the drive here telling him stories about your students, about what life was like before you moved, about the family and friends you left behind, and how much you missed them.

“Why’d you leave?” he asks absentmindedly, searching through the pansies for the healthiest of the bunch, his eyes searching for you again when you don’t immediately respond.

“My grandmother,” you begin, suddenly melancholy again, “I used to live with her every summer here. She left her house to me when she passed. I don’t know if you remember her.”

Hux thought back, easily conjuring the image of his old neighbor in his mind. She was a sweet lady who dropped off cookies to his porch when he first arrived at his new home, or occasionally asked him for help hanging a painting, carrying in her groceries. She had been the one who had found Millicent, when she was still a stray. He still remembers how sheepish she had looked, asking if he would take care of the little kitten while she found it a new home. I’d look after her myself, she had said, standing on his doorstep with the little orange bundle in her arms, but I’m not as young as I used to be.

“I remember her,” he says, and you smile again, “ but I didn’t know her that well.”

“She liked you-” you push the cart forward a little, nudging him with your shoulder as you pass, and the contact leaves him struggling for air, “I called her a lot, when she first started to get sick. She always talked about your flowers,” your voice grows thick, and you clear your throat, “she insisted that they put her hospice bed by the big window in the kitchen, so she could still see them whenever she wanted.”

You keep walking, steps a little more hurried now, maybe so he won’t see you tear up. Hux follows closely behind, still trying to process everything he had just learned. He could make sense of your reaction to the flowerbed fiasco now, why you had looked so distraught.

“She mentioned you,” Hux says, walking quickly to catch up with you, “now that I think about it. She’d tell me I’d have to stay for dinner some night, so I could meet her favorite grandchild.”

You laugh, your eyes lighting up in a way that makes his heart drop to his stomach. “That sounds like her; she was always quite the matchmaker,” you respond, before your eyes grow wide with embarrassment, and you realize what you’ve just said. Hux can feel his cheeks grow warm as well, and neither of you breathe, staring at each other in the middle of the aisle. He can scarcely let himself believe it, but it’s impossible to deny, the way you glance down at his lips, your own parting in response. Hux leans in, just slightly, just enough to feel the heat of your skin. He’s not sure if it’s your perfume or the air of the greenhouse, but everything smells like flowers, and desire, a heady scent that goes straight to his head as he watches you close the gap between his face and yours, your eyes still focused on his mouth, your breathing hard.

There’s a slight cough, and then a giggle, and you both turn at the same time, looking to the end of the aisle. Hux can feel his blush grow deeper when he sees the intruders, a group of girls—high school age, he thinks—watching you with wide eyes and mischievous grins.

“Sorry,” one of them says, and the other two break into fits of laughter again, “we were just trying to get through.” You move the cart out of the way good-naturedly as they move past, barely able to contain their laughter as they glide by.

You look at Hux again, but the moment is lost, to his dismay. You clear your throat, looking back at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Is there anything else that we need?” you ask, and he scans the cart in front of you, absolutely overflowing with flowers.

“I think that’s it,” he says, turning back to you. “Let’s go.”

___________________________________________

Golden rays of sunlight pour in through every window in Hux’s kitchen, the warmth of the day just beginning to fade into a quiet, twilight-kissed evening. You’re resting against his kitchen counter, eyes wandering around the space, but Hux keeps his eyes on you as he pours some water into a glass. You’re glowing, he thinks, and it’s not just the sunset. Your eyes are brighter, skin glistening with sweat before you swipe the back of your arm over your forehead to collect the stray perspiration. A soft breeze blows in through the open windows, a breeze that smells like freshly-planted flowers and the first inklings of nightfall.

Hux hands you the glass, and you take it with a smile, drinking deeply. You had both worked through the heat of the day, side by side, planting and watering and cleaning, everything about it natural, easy. He had shown you how to remove the plants from their temporary pots, brush the soil from their roots—watched as you created small indentations in the new dirt, the gentle work of your hands, and he thought back to the greenhouse, and the smell of flowers and your skin.

You finish draining the glass, wiping away a stray droplet of water that travels down your neck before you catch it with your fingers. He moves in closer. He doesn’t want to lose this moment.

There’s a stray smudge of dirt on your cheek, and he brushes it away with the pad of his thumb, pulling his attention to you.

“Thank you, for this,” you whisper, and you smile at his confusion, “for letting me help. I would have felt really guilty if you had to do that all alone.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hux is thrumming, his heart a live-wire. Just being this close to you has filled him with fire—twin sunsets, one inside his chest and the other flooding through the windows.

“I’ll get the fence repaired, as well,” you set your glass down on the counter behind you before lifting yourself onto its surface, sitting with your legs dangling, leaning forward so you can look him directly in the eyes. “Or we can get it replaced, if you’d rather-”

It’s more than he can bear, this small talk, more than he can take to be so close to you and be forced to think of you being so far away, to have you anywhere but with him, in his kitchen, his garden, his bedroom. He kisses you before you can finish your thought, before he can think about being alone again while you’re on the other side of the fence—a whole life-time away.

“I don’t want to talk about fences anymore,” he mumbles against your lips, barely able to hear himself over the sound of your breathing, intoxicated by the feel of you. You pull him closer, wrapping your arms more tightly around his shoulders, and suddenly, fences are the furthest thing from his mind.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #general hux au #armitage hux au #modern au #general hux fanfic #armitage hux fanfiction #general hux/reader #general hux/you #my writing #requests #aramanna

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trials-by-blood · 4 years

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Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

"You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

"I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

"N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

"UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

"I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

"Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

"Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

"The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

"W-hat was it? His name?"

"Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

"I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

"Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

"As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?

#yautja #predator #human/predator #alien vs predator #ask

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tobiomlk · 4 years

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39 for kageyama if you can ....... please :')

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿. kageyama tobio

𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁. #39 “don’t cry.”

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲. hurt / comfort !!! tobio is no good with tears and i love him

Kageyama knows it’s bad when Suga-senpai confronts him about it.

“So,” he ambushes him during lunch time, around the vending machine (Of course he waits around the vending machine, Kageyama’s favoured spot to get his daily dose of milk). “What happened?”

Kageyama frowns. “About what?”

“You know what I mean.” However, Sugawara smiles, in that nurturing way of his that always makes Kageyama feel a little lighter. And a little troubled as well, because he can’t believe how utterly transparent he could be at times.

Kageyama chooses to direct his glowering towards the vending machine, gaze flickering between a carton of milk or yogurt, a predicament he struggled with each day— but which was considerably easier to deal with, next to the one he currently had at hand, that’s it. He growls when he notices the guilt is dawning upon him, again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sugawa asks, gently as ever, and Kageyama wants to say no, because a part of him does not wants to talk about it. But the other part, the vulnerable, insecure one, seems to be taking over him more often than not these days, and so he decides there’s no harm in speaking to a familiar face.

Far too violently, Kageyama presses both buttons simultaneously and lets the vending machine do the decision for him. “We had a fight,” he says, quietly.

“So I heard,” Sugawara recognizes, but Kageyama isn’t really phased about it. Suga is, like, everyone’s go-to when it came for a comforting presence. He’s reliable, a good listener, and just as great at offering advice. He’s the type of person with lots of strengths that Kageyama himself lacks, and Kageyama can’t help but envy him, just a tiny bit. “It was that bad?” he probes, and Kageyama purses his lips in a flat line.

To put it truthfully, it wasn’t supposed to be that bad. To put it very frankly, it was incredibly and thoroughly moronic of both of you to have gotten so worked up over such a silly argument. Because that’s what it was; a silly argument, a minor discussion that the two of you blowed out of proportion and allowed to scalate the way it did. Stupid, sensitive teenagers.

“Have you tried talking to them?” Sugarawa asks.

“Yes,” Kageyama replies, but he doesn’t seem precisely happy. “but they don’t wanna talk to me.”

“The cold shoulder, huh?” Sugawara sighs, very much like a father would do. “Well, they can be quite petty, too.”

Kageyama nods in silence, lacking for better words. It frustrates him to no end, to be on such terms with you, to have you completely overlooking his existence. It frustrates him. And he doesn’t even gets to apologize or raise the flag of truce because you won’t even look his way. The mere thought is enough to have him slamming his head into the wall and scream at the top of his lungs.

“What are you planning to do, then?”

Kageyama stops himself from doing so, though. “What can I do? They’re gonna ignore me anyways.”

“But you don’t want to let things go on like this, do you?”

Kageyama’s frowns deepens (if that’s even possible), but before his brain’s broken wires can sort out a way out of this fucking mess, his focus is taken away by a tiny little drop in his right cheek— followed by another one, and other one—

“Well, no one told me that it would be raining today,” Sugawara says as he looks up, gray clouds gathering above them. “C’mon, let’s get going before we get soaked.”

Kageyama agrees, although half-heartedly. For whatever reason, the light drizzle failing upon them seems to be reminding him of something, but he can’t exactly put his finger as to what it is. He always brings his umbrella, he couldn’t possibly have forgotten it—

Oh.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Powerless, you stand at the entrance of the school as you take in how the harmless rain at the beginning of the day had evolved into a massive downpour. Most of the students proceed to head off under the shelter of their respective umbrellas; shelter you can’t afford because, mind you, you rarely cared enough to bring an umbrella of your own.

Tobio always shared his with me, after all…

No. Don’t think about Tobio. Don’t think about Tobio and his pouty face and how he always puts up a fight before letting you get away with whatever you want, the space under his umbrella included. Don’t you think about it. You’re supposed to be mad at him, and rightfully so. He was mean (and so were you) and said mean things (and so did you) and you weren’t going to let it slide just like that. You had a pride to keep. Yes. You had one.

(But what about him?) No, this isn’t about him. This isn’t about him. (He’s probably hurt, too) And that’s on him. He started it all (let’s be real, you kinda were at fault as well) and he’s gotta live with it. (But he tried? To apologize? Several times?) NO. You don’t wanna hear it. You’re mad, reasonably mad, and it’s perfectly warranted. You could be mad for the rest of your life, if you wanted to (but you didn’t). End of the discussion.

The rain comes down steadily. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop any time soon. Fuck it. You’re not letting the rain keep you stuck with your inner conflict any longer. You bend forward to make sure your shoes are strongly tied and place your backpack over your head, making the perfect shield. You’re Unstoppable now. No rain is getting into your way.

Ready, steady...

“What are you doing, dumbass?”

Go— Ok, no go.

You’re torn between offering him a snarky reply, scowling at him or simply icing him out, but once you lock eyes with Tobio all you want to do is (redacted). Oh, would you look at that, you brain has already repressed that memory!

“None of your concern,” you end up saying, immediately averting his gaze. Tobio can’t even feel glad about you finally breaking your vow of silence towards him.

“Is that so,” he replies, and you hate how defeated he sounds. How can you be mad at him if he doesn’t make it easy for you?

“Are you heading home?” he tries once again, and you’re definitely not endeared by it.

“Well, I was going to before someone stopped me.”

“It’s raining,” he points out.

“It certainly is,” you agree.

An uncomfortable silence follows. It’s one you aren’t used to at all, especially around Tobio. It felt so wrong.

You’re oh-so interested into the tip of your shoes that it startles you a little when a familiar umbrella suddenly appears in your field of vision. You didn’t even feel Kageyama coming closer, but there he was; standing a few steps away from you, handing his very own blue-ish umbrella. It takes you a second to take in the whole situation.

“Here,” he says, not budging an inch from his position. There are so many things you could question, but you can’t even find your voice to do so. Kageyama scoffs. “Don’t give me that look. You never bring one yourself, do you?”

And then it hits you. Violently, like a sudden epiphany, even when it’s something you’ve known for a long time now.

He cares.

Seeing you aren’t trying to accept the offer, Tobio nudges the umbrella in your direction, vehemently. Nothing. He knits his brows together. He knows you’re stubborn, but so is he, and he isn’t taking a no for answer— Wait.

“... Are you crying?”

It’s crazy how all it takes for you to crack are three words, because suddenly you’re choking on your own tears, so it’s kinda pointless to try to keep appearances now. And Kageyama dies a little, because oh my god you’re crying.

“Hey… Hey!” he flails, voice admittedly cracking. “Why are you crying? It’s— It’s something I did?”

But since you’re in no condition to speak up, his questions remain unanswered. He has never been at such a loss for words as he stares at you, sobbing and whimpering and scrubbing at your face just to let more tears stream down your cheeks, pretty much like a kid would do, which only makes it all the more heart-wrenching. All the more unbearable to witness.

Kageyama unconsciously searches in his pockets for a handkerchief or a tissue or anything that would make you stop crying, really, only to realize he doesn’t even has one of those to offer up. But there’s something in the way you cry your heart out that shakes him to the very core, that disarms him and calls for desperate measures. So, he does something he usually wouldn’t.

You flinch noticeably when a hand hesitantly brushes against your cheek. The touch is awkward, yet undeniably gentle, and you momentarily stop your crying to blink up at him through the tears. It’s blurry, but you can still make out his deep blue eyes. The way he freezes as soon as he’s caught, like he’s just broken some sort of unspoken rule by initiating physical contact and is waiting for divine retribution or something. His lips pursing in that signature pout of his. You take in every part of him, gratefully.

“You hate me?” You don’t even realize how uncalled for your question sounds until it’s out, but what is done is done, and Kageyama seems so genuinely bewildered— It’s almost laughable.

“How could I possibly hate you?”

And that’s all you need to put aside every bit of your stubborn pride.

“I don’t wanna fight anymore,” you state, finally.

Kageyama needs an actual second to register your words. “Ok,”

“I hate fighting.”

“Me too,” he admits, far too quickly to be insincere, far too unfiltered for your liking.

“I don’t wanna be mad at you,” You’re probably just running your mouth at this point, but you just can’t bring yourself to stop. “and I don’t want you to be mad at me, either.”

“I’m not mad at you.” he says, and it’s as comforting as it is nerve-wrecking. “And you don’t have to be mad, if you don’t want to.”

Sniffle. A tiny, selfish tear attempts to slip away, but Tobio wipes it before she gets too far. “So don’t cry…”

But crying does not obeys anyone’s command, so you keep sniffing and snivelling for a while until you’re finally done with it, and Tobio stays. He’d stay forever, if you’d let him.

Eventually, the rain ceases.

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boundinshallows · 4 years

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Peaky Rare Pair Bingo Mid-Fest Round-Up

We started the Peaky Blinders Rare Pair Bingo Challenge back in July and still have a few weeks left. However, I thought it would be a great time to do a mid-fest round-up to catch folks up on what’s been written so far.

Rare Pairs are tricky things. They’re rare because they don’t get a lot of fanworks produced about them. And in turn, sometimes the authors don’t get a lot of love on their fics because the audiences are limited. It becomes a vicious cycle, and in the end, fandom suffers because there's an overrepresentation of just a few pairings, but many amazing characters to love and explore.

I would like to invite you all to take a look at some truly incredible pieces of fic for some much undervalued pairings in Peaky Blinders. If you have a moment, please leave the authors a comment to keep fueling their creativity, even if it’s brief, especially if you like the ship. Kudos are wonderful too, but comments really help writers know there’s an audience out there looking for rare pair content.

Cheers!

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Chester Campbell / Tommy Shelby

Shameless by AbusiveLittleBun || [ E ] Tommy has his usual meeting with Campbell in a café but decides to spice it a bit up.

Tatiana Petrovna / Alfie Solomons

Solnishko by Valkrist || [ E ] There was something lovely about all the movements, about kneading the dough, while listening to some radio shows, shaking one’s hand and laughing about the people and music the whole time. As stupid as it could be, Alfie didn’t like to be interrupted during this process. There was only one exception, only one person that could call him or come in without having to deal with his grumpiness.

Vivid by Strawberriez8800 || [ E ] In which Alfie dreams about getting fucked by Tatiana, and asks Tommy a question.

Dazzle Me Blind by Strawberriez8800 || [ T ] Tatiana glances back at Alfie over her shoulder. “Have you ever been fucked by a princess?” “Can’t say I have, no.” “Good,” she says, voice like molten gold. “I like to be the first at everything I do.”

Singular by Strawberriez8800 || [ E ] Alfie tugs on Tatiana's silver chain, pulls her down towards him. “Something you should know, princess,” he says, mouth brushing against the shell of her ear, “I’m not in the habit of sharing, am I now.” She grins a feral grin. “Not even with Tommy Shelby?”

Barney Thompson / Tommy Shelby

Play Pretend by Valkrist || [ T ] It shouldn’t feel this way, should it? He shouldn’t be that afraid, feel more comfortable. Enjoy all the moments, blossom and feel all this happiness, but he didn’t. Why was he sad? Why didn’t he experience the same things others were talking about?

Peaches, Roses, Sandalwood by Valkrist || [ E ] There was something fascinating about all the oils, vials and equipment standing on the table. Small glasses, various colors, paste, scrapers, everything one could imagine. Different scents filled the room - and in the middle of it all there was one filled, slightly violet flacon.

Always Landing on Their Feet by Valkrist || [ G ] Tommy had always been torn between doing business properly and giving Charlie enough love and attention. Never really knew how to do it well enough, how to make his childhood fulfilled enough, but he had thought that it was okay, that he did his best giving Charlie good education and lovely father-son evenings. Had even dared to think that his boy didn’t have any secrets and behaved nice when he had to go to London for some days. Well, this was until he got one particular fateful e-mail.

Indulge a Desire by Valkrist || [ E ] There were many things that helped Barney forget about all his duties for a while, but the low lighting was the best one, after all.

Been Reading Books of Old, the Legends and the Myths by Valkrist || [M] Remember the last time we wrote each other letters? I don’t, but well, maybe it’s a good idea. Kinda funny to send all this words, knowing that you won’t read them immediately. But I won’t write them too often, still gotta pay for my living, you know.

Tu as tué la peur qui là dans mes bras by Valkrist || [ T ] Tommy chuckled. It was always funny to listen to Barney, even if he couldn’t understand how the latter managed to stay that calm. It seemed as if Ollie made nothing but mistakes, but Barney was patient, so terribly patient. Repeated the words again and again, encouraged Ollie to go on and not to send it all to hell.

Thoughts of You Consume by Valkrist || [ E ] Barney had already known what was about to come at the races. Going there hadn’t really been his preferable option for the day, but there was no harm in doing it - just being on Tommy’s side, looking at the majestic horses and seeing the other man’s lips curling into a smile when everything went the way it should. Barney didn’t understand much of this sort of business, but it was alright as long as Tommy knew what he was doing.

May Carleton / Tommy Shelby

When You Walk in Smelling Like Her Perfume by Valkrist || [ T ] May had never thought this necklace would mean so much to her one day. It hadn’t been much more than a lovely gesture back then, a little present, a joke. Something that looked lovely and united them. Even the telepathy coming with it didn’t seem intimate back then, being a lovely side effect. Oh, how easy it had been back then…

Between This Heartbeat and the Next by Strawberriez8800 || [ G ] Tommy is looking at her like he’s finally living their moments rather than stealing them. What a sight it makes.

Off the Beaten Path by Strawberriez8800 || [ G ] Thomas is waiting for someone; May is not so conceited as to assume it is her, yet when she takes the seat beside him and orders herself a drink, with the way he looks at her, it would be asinine to conclude the case is anything else.

The One Who Got Away by Boundinshallows || [ M ] Tommy and May go on an overnight trip to purchase a horse.

James / Tommy Shelby

This was Nothing by AbusiveLittleBun || [ E ] Tommy is frustrated after another meeting with Alfie and he needs an outlet. Luckily it finds him first.

Salt and Mint by AbusiveLittleBun || [ E ] Tommy was forced to remain for dinner at Ada's, in fear of James revealing their little secret, and makes a deal with the boy for his good behavior... things escalate very quickly.

Like Thunder, Like Lightning by AbusiveLittleBun || [ E ] Tommy feels torn after his hasty departure from Ada's, and a surprising phone call might, or might not help him move forward...

R U Mine? by AbusiveLittleBun || [ E ] Tommy goes back to James, but it also comes with more consequences than he imagined... (Direct sequel to Like Thunder, Like Lightning!)

Jessie Eden / Ada Shelby

Dress by Keine_angst || [ G ] Now that she's made peace with her feelings towards Jessie Eden, there was only one obstacle left. The dress.

Hungry for (Your) Love by Keine_angst || [ G ] “Tommy, sweetheart, how can you expect me to agree to do something for you if you don’t explain what do you need from me?” she pointed out the obvious, because really, it wouldn’t be safe to just say yes and take the pot luck, not when Thomas Shelby was in charge. Ada agrees to help her brother out, but things get out of hand.

Billy Grade / Finn Shelby

Beyond Redemption (Just a Pawn) by Valkrist || [ M ] Finn was angry, fucking angry. Should’ve probably known that it all would come this way. Done something against it. Then again, what could he have done? Tommy hadn’t told him that much, trying to keep him away from this bad kind of business. Football bets were alright, but nothing more. Didn’t need to ship cocaine or opium or whatever this was about. Bets like in the good old times, having Billy to write everything down.

Gina Gray / Oswald Mosley

White Swan by Valkrist || [ M ] It was funny how they all hadn’t noticed it at all, Mosley thought. Such blind people. Didn’t see it, maybe simply didn’t want to, who was to say that. He hadn’t been truly interested in joining this dance - an evening with a bunch of fucking Gypsies wasn’t exactly his idea of a well spent time - but apparently there were some good things about occasions of that kind. Well, as long as he ignored the opium, cocaine and brandy. Really didn’t seem to know the rules, this silly people.

Lizzie Stark / Tommy Shelby

Again by Emjen_Enla || [ T ] Tommy rolled over. Again. Or Tommy and Lizzie mostly fail at this sharing a bed thing.

Bonnie Gold / Goliath

Raise the Boxing Gloves by Valkrist || [ M ] Poor boy didn’t know what dreamless nights were anymore. Always had something to think about, adventures happening, a combination of all the things he had experienced. Sometimes bad, sometimes good, sometimes it was simply unclear. But Goliath could beat it all out of him if he wasn’t careful enough. Made him forget with ease, his senses focussing on some little, often rather unimportant details. An impressive and talented young man.

Ollie / Alfie Solomons

Our Bones May Turn to Stone but Hearts like Ours Don’t Rust by Valkrist || [ T ] The dunes, the water, the sand, it was all calming. Ollie simply couldn’t get used to it after having spend so much time in London, knowing all the dirt of Camden. Muddy shoes, blood, he had seen it all, even though it was way better than Birmingham, if Alfie was to be believed.

Luca Changretta / Tommy Shelby

Now and Forever by AbusiveLittleBun || [ E ] Luca is enchanted with the beautiful blue-eyed boy that attends the school he helps his mother at, little does he know Tommy Shelby feels the same way towards him...

Boysenberry Tie, with Periwinkle Eyes by WTSL_Writer_of_Things || [ G ] The bow was strange and new, the colour hard to come by and find. It wasn't often people managed to dye a bow that colour, so he snatched it up and bright it home to his blue eyes doll. Years go by and he finds that colour again, this time as a tie, and he gets the tie for his new Periwinkle eyed lover, who he practically drops to the floor for. So he gets a boysenberry tie, for the Periwinkle eyes of his strange lover.

Oswald Mosley / Tommy Shelby

Coat Wrapped Around His Shoulders by Valkrist || [ M ] It was a miracle, a fucking miracle.Tommy still didn’t know how Barney had stayed alive, but he had. Could have shot Mosley marvelously if it weren’t for this horrible interruption. A life for a life, except both people had stayed alive this time. And this was the other side of the coin. Mosley was still alive. A wonderful plan, all for nothing. So much effort put into it, all for nothing. But at least they hadn’t caught them, so Tommy could still keep his cover. Could enter the hospital without people suspecting him, ready to figure it all out.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #ada thorne #lizzie stark #jessie eden #tatiana petrovna #may carleton #oswald mosley #gina gray #finn shelby #barney thompson #chester campbell #luca changretta #long post

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