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the-bats-who-simp · 9 months

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Devotion to the Preacher

~Part 2~

A Bat Coven LLC Production

Summary: Vivian's probation is lasting longer than she expected it to. No matter how much she tries, Jamie doesn't seem to budge. Eventually, matters must be taken into her own hands...

Warnings: Smut 18+, Praise Kink, Spanking, Fingering, Unprotected P in V Sex, Sir Kink (kind of?), Dirty Talk, Swearing (I'm going to hell for sure, also this was nooot proof-read), Cult-Like Behaviors, Religious Imagery, Blood, Witches.

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Vivian tried her hardest to not appear bored or upset. She stood obediently behind Jamie on his pulpit with the others, watching and listening intentely. As intentely as she could, of course. The congregation started chanting and she followed suit, but it was more mindless for Vivian. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

It had been three weeks and she was still on her probation. Lilith and Nora were free to return to their usual duties after a week or so. It made sense, of course, Vivian had done the most towards the demon summoning, so by all rights her punishment should be longer.

But it was an accident. Why was she being punished so long for an accident? She knew she wouldn't do it again, Vivian had learned her lesson.

She missed participating in rituals. Her probation meant she'd missed the full moon and the time to spend the night in the woods-encircled meadow with the others. Vivian burned her incense and laid out her altar accordingly but it wasn't quite the same. Dancing, burning offerings, and chanting all naked in the moonlight...

Vivian was never exactly dependent upon partaking in her Indulgences, as good as they were, but now that she was barred, she felt needier than usual. She'd pretended like she wasn't bothered when Nora's punishment was lifted and practically the entire valley heard her pleasured cries.

She banished the memory as best as she could, but Vivian's thighs still betrayed her, pressing together. Maybe Jamie would notice, but she didn't care, instead focusing on him taking a chalice from David. It triggered more memories for Vivian, seeing the cup.

Back then, she had no idea what the Latin chanting meant. Even now she still didn't fully. It was brand new to her then, though, the church empty save for her, the other witches, and Jamie, standing behind her to perform his part of the ritual.

The wood basin she sat in had a few inches of water in it, various herbs floating around her legs. It smelled earthy, a pleasant smell. She felt something soft fall around her and on her head, ashes of some kind. It clouded up the water. The smoke from the incense caught the candle-light to make its curls stand out against the otherwise dark church. The windows were shut even if it was past midnight.

Somehow the pendant around her neck made her feel even more naked, a gold V with red crystals, representing her name. It had been explained to her that each witch had some symbol that was theirs, a sign of inner power of some kind. Lilith used hers as an example, a rune, she said, representing angels. It was drawn on her wrist as well.

A warm liquid spilled onto Vivian's head, briefly making her forget her shame of being so exposed. Too thick to be water, she looked down and realized her skin and the water was stained red. Blood. Whos or what, she had no idea. Rather than feeling disgusted, it felt comforting, empowering in a way. It blended into her hair, thin streaks running down her arms and breasts.

"For the witches." Jamie had said in English, which the others repeated in unison. He offered Vivian a hand to help her out of the basin. The self-consciousness she had felt stepping into the basin nude had vanished as she stepped out similarly. Jamie smiled down at her, taking her chin between two fingers before kissing her gently.

Lilith had been right; his charms were too tempting to refuse. A baptism and a wedding of sorts, yet the blood only managed to stain Jamie's two fingers that had touched Vivian's face. She licked them clean herself.

Remembering they had shared the bed that night only irritated Vivian in the present day more. She tried to not think about it, she'd be welcomed into Jamie's embrace when the time was right, she need only wait.

Of course, trying to not think about something only made you think about it more.

Jamie ended his sermon and dismissed the congregation of villagers as usual. Sometimes he spoke to them, sometimes he had things to attend to. The witches always stayed still until instructed otherwise.

Once the last of the villagers left, they relaxed, removing their ceremonial robes and masks. The others cleaned up, but Vivian wasn't allowed to. She quietly began to slip out of the church.

"Vivian?" Jamie called after her. She perked up, immediately looking back to him. Maybe this was it, maybe she was released.

"Yes, sir?" Vivian asked, trying to not let her hope show lest she be wrong.

"You'll bring your macaroni salad to dinner tonight, love?" Jamie said, smiling warmly. Vivian's smile faltered for only a second. Not the response she was hoping for. She nodded.

"Of course. Extra carrot bits." Vivian replied, retreating out the door and back down the hill towards her house. She couldn't cry, she refused to cry.

A single sob escaped her lips as she sat on her bed. How long was she to be punished for? It was Friday, if she wasn't released today, it would be another week. Fridays were her days, the nights she'd spend with Jamie.

Vivian took a breath, wiping the stray tears from her hot face. Maybe he would release her at dinner tonight. That made sense. They could retreat to his room immediately after. Vivian's resolve hardened as she picked up her shattered pride and wandered to the kitchen to boil some water.

She was going to make the best damn macaroni salad she'd ever made if that's what it would take.

***

Eating dinner communally was always a nice time. The sun was hanging just so in the sky so everything was cast in a warm glow as it set. Usually they ate inside Jamie's dining room, but today it was nice enough out that the coven sat around a bench outside. Jamie always sat at the head, Nora at his right hand. David sat next to her, then Eva. Theresa sat at the opposite end of the table to Jamie. Then Mars, Lilith, and then Vivian directly to Jamie's left. Eldest to youngest. Vivian would always be the baby of the coven.

She tried to act on her best behavior, being more polite than usual and filtering her swears. The perfect witch. She passed around her macaroni salad, made conversation, acted like nothing was wrong.

It only got harder the longer dinner seemed to progress and the more mixed signals Jamie seemed to be sending. Looking at her when speaking to the collective, intentionally brushing his hand against hers to take a platter of food.

Then Jamie noted the storm clouds rolling in and bid everyone goodnight before retreating back to his house. Everyone grabbed their dishes, but Vivian stared after Jamie numbly. Her stomach knotted and she fought back her damned tears.

"I'm sorry, Viv. Maybe he's still trying to figure things out. You won't be on probation forever." Lilith said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Vivian just nodded, not looking at Lilith. The other witch left her alone, grabbing both hers and Vivian's platters. The least she could do was wash the dishes for her.

Eventually Vivian was alone at the bench as the rain began to fall. Sighing, she traveled back down the hill and mentally prepared herself for another Friday night alone. She lit her fireplace and candles, slipping into her nightgown and staring at the flames for a while.

Could she go for another week? And even then, there was no guarentee next week would be it, either. Would Jamie really make her sit on the side for a month? Maybe longer?

The thought sent anger bubbling through Vivian. That's ridiculous! Over a month of being punished for an accident. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Fueled by her anger and perhaps her neediness, Vivian grabbed a night robe and threw the front door open, stepping into the drizzle and marching right up to Jamie's house, the lights inside warm and inviting.

Well, she was going to get in either way.

Planting her feet, she knocked on the front door. Five seconds passed before Jamie opened it. He was still dressed in his day clothes, just less put together, the white button up he wore under his waistcoat unbuttoned at the top to let some of his tattoos peek out. He opened his mouth to say something before Vivian cut him off.

"Are you ever gonna take me off of probation? It's already been three weeks and you're looking at turning that into almost a month. We both know what I did was an accident and we both know I won't do it again. I've tried everything, been the perfect witch and it gets me nothing. The fuck do you want me to do, get on my knees and beg? Well, here. I'm begging. I want off probation. Now."

Jamie said nothing for a moment, just looked at Vivian. Sopping wet and irritated in the rain on his stoop. A smug smile curled onto his face.

"You want off your probation?" He asked.

"Yes! And wipe that stupid smirk off your face. I'm here, this is what you're gonna get."

"And you think you can speak to me like that?"

"I'll say whatever the fuck I want, I'm not playing games. I. Want. Off. And you--"

Jamie slammed his lips down onto Vivian's, holding her head in place with one hand on her jaw. She could feel the smirk on his face, but Vivian suddenly didn't care, relieved to be touching Jamie again. He pulled away, his hand sliding further down her jaw to cup her chin, holding tight.

"That's all you had to do." Jamie said lowly.

"What? Bitch about it?" Vivian asked.

"Ask me. Nora's right, you do have a problem with your confidence. You need to assert yourself and be more forward. Your instincts are very sharp, you just need to trust them."

Vivian blinked. "So I could have been released three weeks ago if I'd just asked?"

"Yes. And now you're released."

"Oh no the fuck you don't, does this mean you'd let this go on for months if I kept saying nothing? Are you insane?"

"Maybe. But I knew eventually your own need would push you forward. Poor little Vivian, all pent up and needing a release." Jamie grinned and licked his lips. "Is that what you need?"

Vivian nodded, heat rising in her stomach. Jamie leaned in closer, holding her jaw tighter.

"And you didn't touch yourself at all while waiting for me?" He asked. Vivian flushed but shook her head. Her big brown eyes widened, almost too innocent.

"No sir." She whispered.

"That's my good girl." Jamie said, sweeping Vivian off her feet and shutting the front door as he brought her inside and up the stairs to the bedroom. The butterflies began to fill Vivian's stomach as Jamie laid her down on the bed. He crawled on top of her and began kissing her forcefully, his tongue already probing her mouth. She whimpered, trying to pull him closer. Her hair sprawled out around her, looking like a fan of blood around her head.

Jamie started kissing down and biting Vivian's throat, trying to mark her as much as possible with purple bruises. A single weak "fuck" escaped her lips as her hips began to roll of their own accord. Jamie sat up, snaking a hand behind Vivian's back and pulling her into his chest, holding her there.

"You really should be more watchful of your language, love." Jamie said, his voice already an octave lower. "I'll give you two options. You can bend over my lap and take your punishment or you can get on your knees and take my cock into your filthy little mouth."

Vivian felt her cunt clench around nothing at his words, but chose to not respond verbally. She instead slid away from Jamie's grip and laid herself neatly across his lap, her ass up and waiting. Jamie smirked, running a hand over her backside. He hooked his finger under the waistband of her panties and gently slid them down and off, exposing her to him. His hand caressed it again before landing a harsh slap down against it. Vivian let out a yelp, ignoring the wetness beginning to drip down her legs and onto Jamie's pants.

"If you swear, we start over." Jamie said, landing another slap to her ass. Vivian whimpered but nodded her understanding. She took the next three spanks graciously before letting out a loud moan on the sixth. She'd always hated getting spanked as a child, yet now here she was practically begging for it.

She moaned louder on the seventh slap, the sting growing worse. The eighth she let out a breathy "oh..." before stopping herself from adding the "fuck."

"Such a good girl, taking her punishment so well. And you're learning. We don't use that language unless I say we can, right?" Jamie cooed, delivering the ninth spank to Vivian's ass. She screamed, feeling more warm slick leak down her thighs.

Once Jamie spanked her for the last time, his fingers slipped down to her cunt, collecting the wetness dripping from it. He examined it on his fingers for a moment before indicating to Vivian to sit up. She complied, face red as she straddled his waist. The nightgown she wore was already covered in wrinkles.

"Is everything okay?" She asked. Jamie ran his thumb against his fingers, inspecting the arousal on them with a smug smile.

"Little Vivian liked her punishment, didn't she?" He turned to look at her, putting his fingers into his mouth to suck her slick off. "She's dripping everywhere."

Vivian nodded sheepishly, wrapping her arms around the back of Jamie's neck. He chuckled, pulling her arms away before lifting the bottom hem of her night dress and pulling it over her head. He tossed the garment aside, leaving Vivian fully exposed to him. Her hands went to the buttons of his waistcoat, but Jamie stopped her, resting them on his shoulders as his spit covered fingers slowly traveled lower until the brushed against her lower folds. Vivian sighed, her head falling backwards.

Jamie sank two of his fingers inside of her, curling them to brush her sweet spot. He pulled his fingers out again before stuffing them back inside, repeating the gesture. Moans tore their way out of Vivian's mouth the faster Jamie thrusted his fingers. She began to see stars, the pleasure overwhelming her.

"Are you gonna cum, love? Are you gonna soak my fingers?" Jamie asked her, almost mockingly.

"Mmm... 'm gonna... please. Please, let... let me cum. I'm..." Vivian's words were broken up by moans and gasps. Her hips rolled as she chased her orgasm. Jamie's thumb found its way to her clit and started tracing small circles. Vivian seemed to take this as permission, screaming Jamie's name as she came around his fingers.

"That's it, good girl. Shh, there you go." Jamie said soothingly, helping Viv ride her orgasm out before removing his fingers completely. He brought them up to Vivian's lips, to which she took them in her mouth instantly. She sucked his fingers, rolling her tongue over the tips in a desperate attempt to clean them completely.

Jamie gently moved Vivian off of his lap to lay on the bed. Slowly, he peeled off his outer layers until he wae fully nude and bared in front of Vivian. Her mouth went dry as he crawled back on top of her, kissing her hungrily. They were both able to taste her arousal on each other's lips, which only fueled them further.

Vivian felt herself being rolled over, now laying on top of Jamie with his head against the pillow. He broke the kiss, cupping her jaw and running his thumb across her bottom lip.

"My beautiful little witch..." Jamie whispered, slightly struck in awe of Vivian. Her cherry red hair fell in thick waves down her front and back, already frizzy from her sweat. Her big brown eyes, always lingering on him as if he were sculpted by the gods themselves. Round face, pale skin, full lips, all of it Vivian and all of it just for Jamie, forever.

A smirk curled on Vivian's face this time as she started grinding down on Jamie's waist.

"How about you show your little witch how much you love and desire her?" She said lowly.

"And how do you propose I do that?" Jamie was being cheeky now.

"Am I allowed to swear?"

"Mmm... one swear. Any more after that and I'll have to punish you again."

Vivian grinned, continuing to rotate her hips.

"I want you to fill me with your cock and fuck me. Claim me as yours and mark me all night long. I want to be your good girl." She said breathlessly. Jamie grinned before positioning Vivian over his length and letting her sink all the way down on it. She gasped at the intrusion, clenching around him as she adjusted. Jamie's hips stuttered at the sensation, making Vivian clench her teeth.

Once she felt comfortable, Vivian started to raise and lower her hips, gently riding Jamie with small gasps. Her pace began to increase as Jamie began to match her with his own hips. More moans and gasps escaped Vivian as she bounced increasingly rapidly on his dick. Then, Jamie began to thrust up into Vivian, hitting spots deep inside of her that made her scream. Her fingers dug into his chest as his hands found her hips.

"Such a good girl..." Jamie started, pausing with a gasp of his own. "Such a good fucking girl, fucking herself on my cock, taking me so well."

"Always your good girl, always gonna be your... fuck, your good girl." Vivian babbled. Without missing a beat, Jamie landed a slap against Vivian's ass, causing her to yelp out a moan.

"Vivian, your language." Jamie hissed.

"Sorry, sir." Vivian sighed, reaching down to rub at her clit to chase her high. A growl formed in the back of Jamie's throat before her gripped harder onto Vivian and flipped them both over. Jamie pounded into Vivian, making her scream. She felt Jamie wrap her leg around his waist as he angled himself deeper into her.

"You're mine, you understand? I need you to say it, tell me you're mine." Jamie bellowed, thrusting wildly.

"Yours, I'm yours. Always yours, always mine." Vivian managed to choke out. "I'm... god, Jamie, I'm gonna... ahh..."

"Gonna cum? Go ahead, cum for me. Cum for your preacher." Jamie reached down and circled Vivian's clit again. It pushed her over the edge as she came with a loud cry. Jamie thrusted into her a few more times before he released inside of her. Vivian gasped for air as Jamie flopped down on top of her. They were both covered in a thin film of sweat, their hair soaked and frizzy.

Vivian let out a smile with a contented sigh, reaching down to brush a stray lock of hair out of Jamie's eyes. He smiled at her, leaning forward to capture her lips in a tender kiss. He rolled off of Vivian before pulling her close to lay her head on his chest, stroking her hair gently.

"I love you, Vivian. I never want to make you feel like you have to earn it. It's yours. Just like the others, I am yours just as you are mine. My witches." Jamie said softly. Vivian smiled.

"Even if we summon demons by mistake?" She asked. Jamie chuckled.

"We'll figure it out. You're all smart enough to come up with something." He paused. "All night, you said?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Vivian asked smirking as Jamie rolled back over her.

"What did I say? You have to behave yourself." He said, his hard tone contrasting his grin.

"But what if I don't want to?" Vivian asked coyly as Jamie crashed his lips into hers.

#hahaha holy shit that's it that's your smut ya filthy bats #the bat coven llc #the bat coven #the jcb llc #bat coven llc #jcb llc

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dracarys-wp-writes · 3 years

Text

Moments

Title: Moments Requested by: @hacker-ghost

Request: 5 times Corpse almost kissed the reader and one time he actually did. Where corpse and reader are like bff roommates, oblivious to how much the act like a couple even though everyone tells them that. (additionally I'd love to end it with something like it turns out that Jack Felix and others were betting when it would finally happen 😅) (A/N: Sorry I couldn’t work the bet part into this with the way that I was going with it.)

Word Count: 3739

Warnings: Little swearing, Angst, mutual pining, little fluff. (c/b/f/n) = Childhood Best Friends Name.

Note: Just to be clear I will not write things that would make Corpse uncomfortable and If he ever says that he is uncomfortable with fanfiction being written about him I will delete this. *** Y/N and Corpse had known each other for several years, 4 years to be exact and they have been best friends for three of those and roommates for two, and for the last year Y/N had been developing feelings for the man. She thought that he had the same feelings for her but over the past few months she had begun to doubt it, there had been several times that she thought that he was gonna make a move and kiss her but every time he would pull back or something would cause an interruption and he would pretend that it never even almost happened.

It was starting to frustrate her because she actually wants him to kiss her, but she’s too afraid to take the leap herself and make it happen.

The First Almost Kiss:

Over the past few days Y/N had noticed that her best friend and roommate Corpse had been acting a little weird around her and when she asked about it he just brushed it off.

“It’s nothing Y/N” would be the answer that she got each time she asked and each time she sighed not believing him but she didn’t press it. It was a few days later that it almost happened for the first time, the two were sitting on the couch having a scary movie marathon, just cause they could and Y/N loved scary movies, all the curtains were drawn to the point that it was dark in the apartment and the only source of light being from the TV playing the first Paranormal Activity movie. Y/N had her head laying on his shoulder something that wasn’t unusual for their movie marathons, when there was a jump scare and she jumped letting out a little squeal, which made him laugh. She playfully glared looking up at him, she loved hearing his laugh. He looked down at her with a teasing grin on his face, they locked eyes and she couldn’t help but let the glare slip off her face, she could get lost in his eyes. His eyes broke contact and flicked down to her lips and then back to her gorgeous (y/e/c) and he leaned in slightly as if he were going to kiss her and, her breath caught in her throat, and her hands got a little clammy, and then all of a sudden he pulled back and cleared his throat. Y/N dropped her head, her cheeks heating up from the embarrassment, that she had actually wanted him to kiss her and she thought he was going to only for him to pull away, she wasn’t surprised, no one that she liked in the past had ever liked her back so why would he be any different? She blinked back tears of disappointment, and focused on the movie as an awkward silence settled between the two, it got so tense that Y/N had to leave the room because she couldn’t take it. After she was in the safety of her bedroom she let out a sigh. He watched as her door shut and he kicked himself ‘Fuck, nice going now you upset her. Why the fuck did you even try that? Of course she’s not going to like you the same way that you like her.’ She was upset but just not for the reasons that he was thinking, he thought she was upset because he had tried to kiss her, when she was really upset because he didn’t kiss her. ***

Things got a little weird between them after that but Y/N tried her best to just brush it off, like she wasn’t slowly falling for him more and more, but she never let it show cause of course he wouldn’t feel the same way about her. The next time it almost happened was a month and a half later.

The Second Almost Kiss:

Y/N sighed she had been feeling a little down ever since the incident but she refused to bring it up, he could tell that something was bothering her but she wasn’t budging on giving up what it was. No matter how hard he tried. Y/N had been in the kitchen making lunch for the two of them when all of a sudden she heard a crashing sound and immediately she ran towards the noise and what she found was Corpse, in front of a broken mirror and she sighed “Come here” He looked at her noticing the startled look she had on her face, “Sorry.” She gave him a smile shaking her head “It’s okay, Corpse, you don’t need to be sorry the noise just scared me a little that’s all” and then she made him sit down before she pulled a first aid kit out from under the sink and she started cleaning his hand, disinfecting it. She leaned a little closer to him to get a better angle while cleaning the cuts on his knuckles from the broken glass., she was putting the bandage on his hand and she looked up not realizing how close together they were, she ended up staring into his eyes, and if she were to lean forward just a half and inch their lips would be touching. She unintentionally pressed a little too hard on the bandage, as she was pressing it down making sure it was secure, that made Corpse wince and slightly hiss in pain and he pulled back, she gave him a sheepish look as both of their faces heated up slightly embarrassed at how close they had gotten. “Sorry, I didn’t mean t-to press that hard.” she avoided eye contact as she stood “there you go all cleaned up. I’m just gonna get the rest of this glass up and uhh there’s food on the counter. I was just finishing up making lunch when I heard the glass breaking.” Then she carefully cleaned up the rest of the broken glass. He nodded at her “Uh Thanks.” ‘Stupid, remember the last time you tried that, she got upset.’ ‘What the hell was that? Why are you so damn careless? Literally could have kissed him there, if you weren’t so careless’ Were the thoughts that simultaneously popped into their heads as they quietly walked into the kitchen, a tense silence falling over them for the second time.

The third time that he almost kissed her happened exactly two weeks after the second incident. Y/N felt even more down than before she really beat herself up for messing up the second time, and she just kept reminding herself that she’s reading too much into that he doesn't have the same feelings for her that she does for him. The Third Almost Kiss:

It had been two weeks since the mirror incident and Y/N had finally managed to convince Corpse to get out of the apartment for a little while, it was around 8 PM and she convinced him to go on a walk with her, since it was late and there wouldn’t be that many people around and he reluctantly agreed.

So they went for a walk. It was a nice night out a little cloudy, and he couldn’t help but smile at the smile on her face as they walked back towards their apartment. It was almost 10 now even if he wouldn't admit it he had enjoyed going out on the walk with her, the two were about a block away from home when it started raining.

Y/N grinned, she had always loved the rain, she used to play in it as a child, and getting caught in the rain like that made a feeling of nostalgia flood through her. Corpse ran in the direction of the apartment but stopped noticing that Y/N hadn’t followed so he looked back and saw her smiling, with her arms open, and she started spinning around in the rain laughing and seeing her that happy made a smile slip onto his face. He decided then that he loved seeing that smile on her face, she stopped spinning and grinned at him “Come on, spin around with me… I love playing in the rain.” she gave him a little pout and he sighed but walked back to where she was and she made him spin in circles with her as the rain pelted down soaking both of them. He smiled the smile she had on her face right now was worth standing out in the rain for. He spun her around, kinda like they were dancing in the rain and they both had the biggest smiles in their faces and they both leaned in slightly and right as they were about to kiss a car drove past, running right through a puddle and splashed them both making them pull apart. Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks tinting red, she cleared her throat “we should probably head back before we get anymore soaked from the rain” He agreed and they headed back to the apartment with a bit of an awkward silence enveloping them as they walked home.

The fourth time was a few days after the almost kiss in the rain.

The Fourth Almost Kiss:

The cough coming from the other room was what distracted Corpse from the editing of the video that he was supposed to post next weekend. Quickly looking at the bottom corner of the computer screen checking the hours, the young man saw that exactly three hours had passed since the last time he checked her. He paused everything he was doing, got up from his chair, left his recording room and headed to the kitchen where he picked up a small bottle of water and some strawberry cookies, which were Y/N’s favorites.

Without delay he knocked on the girl’s bedroom door, waiting for the little hoarse ‘Come in’ that came in response, and entered it. He found her sitting on her white gaming chair, with some headphones on her head and totally focused on the computer screen, which showed the construction of a witch house that she seemed to be making in Minecraft.

“Here, eat this and hydrate yourself.” He placed the items on her lap which was covered with a fluffy blanket that she had to cover her legs, and was careful not to step on the other empty water bottles that she had on the floor next to the desk. He also guaranteed that he was out of the camera frame and was not seen by any of her viewers.

"Thank you." She said, coughing again. She was pale but with red cheeks, her face was glistening with sweat and she looked sleepy and tired.

"Take a short break. It's been 20 hours, it's almost over." He informed her, checking now the watch on his wrist (it had been a birthday present from the girl in front of him), and making sure he was right in what he said.

Y/N was making her monthly challenge of streaming for 24 hours straight, just pausing to go to the bathroom and eating something. Corpse had gone to sleep and woken up with her still on the computer, and every three hours he checked on her.

Still looking at the screen she opened the package of cookies, took one and stuck it in her mouth, eating it quickly. Then she opened the water bottle and sipped it all in big sips, and the empty bottle went to join the others on the floor to be filled with tap water later.

The cough came back again, however.

"Are you okay?"

"My throat hurts a little." She informed in a tired voice and eating another cookie.

Corpse narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and without further ado he approached and touched her forehead and cheeks (his hand and the black sleeve of his hoodie being the only thing they could see). "Y/N! You are hot, you must have a fever."

"No I'm not, I'm okay."

"Yes you are, finish the stream now."

"I can't, it's almost over."

"Don't be stubborn, of course you can. They agree with me, stop and go to bed."

And it was true, her chat was in an uproar with thousands of people sending messages so quickly that it was almost impossible to read, extremely concerned about the girl and also telling her to end the livestream.

"Alright..." Y/N quickly said goodbye, extremely sorry but at the same time too tired to fight against them.

He calmly helped her walk to the bed (after that she almost fell when she got up) and when the stream and the computer were off. He snuggled her up in the bed, and left quickly to fetch more water and some medication that they had in home.

When Corpse returned he watched her put herself in a more sitting position, and gave her the pills which she swallowed quickly, then coughed a little. Corpse sat on the bed next to her, touching her forehead again, feeling her skin almost boiling against his cold hand.

"You pushed yourself too hard, Y/N."

"Maybe, but... I feel like I'm disappointing them, however." She said sadly.

"You're not, you have to take better care of yourself."

"Look who's talking." Y/N provoked.

"Shut up." He laughed, pulling her hair back behind her ear and watching her fever-red cheeks.

"Thanks Corpse, if you weren't looking after me, I don't think I would."

"You do the same for me..."

They shared a smile and a sweet look. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, the two snuggled together. "You should stay away, I don’t want to make you sick."

"You need me here."

"You can't live without me." She said with a malicious gleam.

"No, I can't."

And then, without really knowing how, they gradually got closer to each other ... ending the distance centimeters that separated them slowly, now so close that their breathing is mixed and their lips almost touched ...

Until Y / N quickly pulled away to have a coughing fit, and looked at him embarrassed.

"I-"

"I'm going to get the thermometer, we have to measure your temperature." Corpse ran away so fast that it left Y/N unresponsive…

And the next day he was sick too.

The Fifth Almost Kiss: Y/N sighed she had finally given in to go on a blind date that her (c/b/f/n) had set up she wasn’t looking forward to it but she had to forget about him somehow since it had been made clear at least in her head that Corpse didn’t return her feelings, so she had agreed to the blind date as a way to forget about her feelings for her roommate. Corpse had been pacing around his room while Y/N got ready for her blind date, he really didn’t want her to go, a feeling of jealousy bubbled up in his chest thinking about it and right then he told himself that he was gonna try and stop her from going. Y/n had spent the past half hour trying on different outfit with (c/b/f/n) on facetime, and was finally in an approved outfit, that made her roll her eyes she really didn’t want to be doing this but she felt like she didn’t have a choice at this point so she would push down the feeling that bubbled up every time, she thought about it. After about 10 more minutes she was finally ready and ended the facetime call, she gave herself a once over her bathroom mirror, before walking out into her room, she slipped her shoes on and grabbed her bag. A thought lingered in her mind as she walked towards her bedroom door ‘maybe I could pretend I got sick last minute and back out.’ then she shook her head knowing that (c/b/f/n) would never believe it, wouldn't be the first time that excuse had been used to get out of a date. ‘Suck it up Y/N and stop being such a little bitch, it’s just a date, you’ve been on them before’

She walked out of her bedroom, Corpse looked at her and faltered ever so slightly, she looked beautiful, he always thought she looked beautiful but at that moment she took his breath away.

“Who are you going out with again?” “I’ve never met him actually (c/b/f/n) set it up, it’s a blind date.” “Why agree to go out with someone you’ve never met?” Y/n shrugged “i don’t know, try something new I guess.” she walked towards the door “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now, so I’ll be home later.” she opened the door but before she could walk out he gently grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. “Don’t go.” Y/N looked up at him “why? Why don’t you want me to go?” He looked down into her eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand from her arm, but he hesitated and once again didn't kiss her. She sighed "I'll see you later."

Then she walked out of the door.

Corpse ran his hand through his hair "dammit, that was your chance why didn't you take it?"

Y/N took a deep breath as she got out of her car at the restaurant that she was supposed to be meeting her date at.

She waited outside the restaurant for three hours and her date never showed, she rolled her eyes and couldn't help but feel slightly down about it.

She got back into her car and drove home.

She walked in and didn't see Corpse so she figured he was in his recording room, she doesn't want to bother him even if all she wants is one of his hugs that always makes her feel better.

She kicked her shoes off by the door and dropped down on the couch pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees and she sighed a feeling of sadness settling in her chest. She really just didn't want to be alone right now so she got up and knocked on the door she heard "Come in."

She walked in "hey."

He looked at her "hey Y/N, how'd it go?" He questioned.

She sighed trying to not seem as bummed out as she really was “it didn’t” She didn't do a very good job at hiding it cause he caught it almost immediately. “What happened?”

“Didn’t show… all the effort I put into this, only to be left standing outside where we were supposed to meet by myself looking pathetic for 3 hours.” she sighed. All he did was stand up from his computer chair and pull the girl into a hug. ***

Corpse had reluctantly gone out with Y/N, she had convinced him to go to the beach with her, it was the middle of the week in October so there shouldn’t be too many people around. She smiled at him as they sat on the sand “See not so bad is it?” He gave her a look “I guess not” was the answer that he gave and everything was going just fine until about an hour later. Someone nearby had recognized his voice but wasn’t sure where it had come from so Y/N got him up off the sand and ushered him towards the car “Let’s just get out of here alright? They haven’t located where we are so we can slip past without being noticed okay?” The man in question nodded at her not saying anything to avoid further being noticed and the two successfully made it to the car without incident Y/N pulled the keys out of her pocket and they got into the car and she started driving them back to their apartment. Y/N pulled over about halfway home because the man beside her was having what seemed to her to be a panic attack, his hands were shaking uncontrollably and she noticed the ragged breathing and deduced that he was having a panic attack so she pulled over to try and help him calm down, she unbuckled her seat belt and completely turned in her seat to face him “Hey, look at me.” She tried to get his attention but it wasn’t working; he was too lost in his own world of panic. So she grabbed his face and gently turned his head to look at her “Corpse, look at me, I need you to focus on the sound of my voice, okay?” but he was still not responding to her and then suddenly she remembered reading something about panic attacks and holding your breath so she blew out a breath and muttered “god I hope this works.” She grabbed his face and leaned over the middle console of the car and she kissed him, the kiss lasted maybe 15 seconds before it was over and he let out a shaky breath but it wasn’t feeling like his throat was closing up on him anymore. “Why did you do that?” Y/N let out a breath as well before answering “I read somewhere that holding your breath could stop a panic attack, so uhh when I kissed you, you held your breath and it looks like what I read was right because it stopped.” They are staring into each other's eyes now Y/N had a soft smile on her face as he stared back at her with a small smile present on his face as well “was that the only reason you kissed me to get me to hold my breath?”

Y/N’s face turned red “I- uh… Let’s go home yeah?.” he agreed and she got turned back around the right and finished driving them home. Once they got into the safety of their apartment Corpse looked at Y/N “So are you gonna answer my question or not?” her face heated up once again as she stuttered “Uh- I- Uhh” then she tried to walk past him but he grabbed her arm lightly to stop her. And he turned her around to face him and whispered “Because I am hoping it wasn’t the only reason.” then he kissed her again only this time he was the one that instigated the kiss, Y/N smiled into the kiss before she kissed him back.

THE END

#corpse husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse imagines #youtubers #youtuber imagine #imagines #fluff #corpse husband x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x fem! reader #corpse husband x female reader

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

Text

NSFW 18+ Plushie - Dom! Bakugo x Bratty! Reader

WARNING: Everyone in the story is 18+ and consensual. Bdsm, DDLG, spanking, sexual content, harsh language, daddy bakugo, bratty/submissive reader, etc.

Check out my other similar works here

A/N: I had fun writing this one. So enjoy my fellow brats. My request are open so send them to me. Thank you for the 100+ followers 🥺 more bratty reader x dom bakugo content is on its way.

Words: 1,450

"Suki! Please!" You begged again as you walked past a store full of your favorite anime characters.

"No." Katsuki harshly states and continues walking. You were on his last nerve today. You woke up in a bratty mood and was taking it out on Katsuki. This man only has so much patience he can give and you made sure to take up every ounce of it.

You were getting desperate. You couldn't help you were a collector and loved collecting anything cute. Especially when it came to your favorite anime(s). It also didn't help you lived in Japan which was full of all things anime. Katsuki always spoils you wether he likes to admit it or not, but in your mind, you really needed this. It was the cutest plush of your favorite anime character. Granted, Katsuki would argue you have too many plushies at home and he was not wrong, but that didn't change your mind as you tried to dig your heels into the ground.

"Daddy please!" You whine.

Katsuki turned to look at you.

"Nice try, but answer is still no, dumbass."

You pout and continue to protest to go into the store, but Katsuki's grip is firm and strong. That still didn't stop you from putting up a fight. One of the many characteristics Katsuki loved and hated about you. You are just as stubborn and persistent as he is.

Katsuki let go of your hand and turned around to face you. You could tell he is a ticking time bomb and you have pushed your limit with him today. You have dated the ashy-blonde long enough to not be scared, though. You're still his girlfriend no matter how much of a brat you can be.

"Tch. Y/N, I am really not in the mood to deal with your shit right now. You have to the count of three to act right or your ass will be sorry." Katsuki warns while clicking his tongue.

You cross your arms and huff as you stand your ground. You wanted your way and you planned on getting it no matter what.

"One."

You didn't budge.

"Two."

Okay, a little more concerning.

"Three."

Katsuki picked you up and put you over his shoulder. The crowded shopping center stared as you demanded your strong boyfriend to put you down. You have pissed him off many times in public, but never to this degree. You actually were a bit nervous as he carried you into the store you wanted and walked into the nearest dressing room.

Katsuki set you down to your feet once he locked the door. You didn't meet his fuming interrogating gaze in fear you would meet under the heat from his anger.

"You're really lucky I'm being nice and punishing you in a secluded area since you decided to put on a show out there." He states.

You knew what that meant as you watched your significant over sit in the chair. He patted his knee for you to come sit. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you slowly made your way over to Katsuki. You sat in his lap - otherwise known as your throne - and refused to meet his harsh gaze.

"What's the matter? You don't want to face the repercussions of your shitty actions, brat?"

"I'm sorry, daddy." You say, sincerely.

He chuckled scornfully before starting to pull down your pants and underwear.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are. Try to be quiet while I make this pretty ass of yours bruised, got it?"

You pout as he bends you over his lap. You should've known this was bound to happen. You just didn't expect him to do it in public. A quickie? Sure, but punishment? This wasn't like Katsuki. He always said if you were going to act like a brat in public he is going to punish you in public. He has never done it, but you usually don't act up this much in a day for him to do so. You really pushed your luck.

"Yes."

You wince as a hard slap hits your left ass cheek.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. You do know how to listen."

You brace yourself as Katsuki follows through with the punishment. You did your best to be quiet, but Katsuki being who he is, he made sure you counted and thanked him for each slap. He even made you say it loud enough for people in the store to hear you. Also, Katsuki was not a gentle spanker. When he gives his punishment, he makes sure you remember it. This time was no different. It's only fair since you decided to embarrass him, right?

After 25 smacks, some using his quirk to make sure you have a friendly reminder, he helps you pull up your pants and panties. Your eyes were puffy from the small sobs and tears the flowed out during the process. You were about to walk out when Katsuki cleared his throat to grab your attention.

"Where do you think you're going?" Katsuki asked, leaning back in the seat, with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. If you weren't embarrassed and upset with him right now, you would be riding his dick at this exact moment.

"N-Nowhere." You stammered, trying so hard not to give him a snark remark.

"Damn right you're not. Your punishment isn't over."

You let out a sigh of frustration before walking back over to him.

"On your knees." Katsuki instructs.

"R-right here? Don't you think we will get caught?"

"Does it look like I give a fuck, princess?"

You couldn't argue with that logic. Katsuki was never one to care about others and their opinions. So, you do as your told. You were not in the mood to do what you were about to do, but you are the submissive after all. You're surprised and blessed that Katsuki only gave you 25 spankings. Especially since you have been on his bad side all day today.

"You know what to do."

You begin unbuttoning Katsuki's black skinny jeans and pull down his underwear to reveal his hard dick. Katsuki just stayed in the same position as before with a smirk as he watched you go to work. He enjoyed you taking all of cock in your mouth. He usually likes to participate in thrusting his dick down your throat, but considering all of the hell you put him through today, he was taking this time to relax.

Your tongue played with the tip of his thick cock before you slowly take in inch by inch into your mouth. At some point, Katsuki's hands found his way to your soft hair as he made some groans and moans. He could tell you were struggling to take in all of his dick and he liked that.

"Someone struggling to take all of my cock in their mouth, hm?” Katsuki coo’s as he ruffles your hair some.

You glared at him as you continue to do your task. He smirked some more.

“Want to say something?” Katsuki asked as he used some explosion with his hand for extra effect. That took the glare right off your face.

“Didn’t think so. I suggest you get more to work, princess. I’m not cumming anytime soon.”

You continue to suck his dick. You do your best to deep throat as much as possible. Especially to prove a point you did not need his help getting his huge shaft down your throat. Usually, he forces it down your throat so you did not need to work as hard, but this time was different. Katsuki is finding amusement out of this.

After about five more minutes of you bobbing your head, making choking noises, glossed eyes, runny nose, and puffed lips later, Katsuki finally climaxed. You swallowed his cum like a good girl and take his shaft out of your mouth.

“About time.”

You tried so hard to not roll your eyes so you closed them for a moment. Katsuki pats your head before he buttons his pants back up.

“Now. Let’s go get you that plush you’ve been begging me for, brat.”

You smile but it suddenly drops.

“What about my face? Everyone probably knows what happened.” You state with embarrassment.

“Oh, trust me. They know. Let them see what happens when brats disobey their daddies.” Katsuki smirks as he helps you up and out the dressing room. You trailed closely behind him, ignoring the stares and comments people were saying. Needless to say, you got your plushie and even an extra thing you wanted.

The overall thing you learned today was not to mess with daddy.

©bakugosbratx

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angstymarshmallow · 3 years

Text

i’m going to ruin you for anyone else - m!blaine x f!mc

[a little note: don’t mind me, just been agonizing over this fic for days].

[words counted: 1.4k]

It’s supposed to be easy. Hating him.

At least that’s what she keeps telling herself.

But hating Blaine is getting and harder and harder, especially when he’s like this. When he makes her laugh until there are tears in her eyes and she can’t breathe. When his touch is too gentle and every horrible name she can think of vanishes the moment their lips crash into each other. When he looks at her – really looks at her and makes her forget even the most prying eyes could be watching if they aren’t careful.

Then when it’s all over, she remembers. She remembers her mother’s painful warnings and her rather precarious circumstances before the guilt starts to sink in. The guilt that chews and eats her up inside and like stale gum – all she wants is for it to spit her back out.

Ryan’s eyes goes to the slim watch by her wrist as Blaine presses a kiss into her naked shoulder. It’s soft and gentle, like he’s being right now. Which doesn’t help, not at all. Not when she’s supposed to be far, far away from him.

“Is it that time already?” His voice is still tinged with sleep. It’s a lower timber that makes her stomach do stupid little summersaults as he kisses her bare skin again.

Without thinking Ryan turns to meet his lips. She pulls her fingers through the tangled mess of his hair; much like the tangled mess they’ve started to make of their lives.

He moans her name low in his throat. Softly. Wanting.

His arm encircles her waist invitingly, until he pulls her closer.

And the urge to simply fall back into bed with him is so strong that it scares her.

Ryan breaks the kiss first, placing a hand on his chest as a warning that they need to stop. They have to stop. She bites her lower lip, trying her damndest to ignore the urge to kiss him again when he dials up his smirk to a thousand.

“It’s past that time actually. And I’m sure Tatum will have my head the second I get out of here.” He did her a favour after all when she’d admitted she was going to see Blaine and there’s no way he could change her mind. But he warned her; the favours aren’t going to continue just because she loses all sense when she’s around Blaine. She’s got to get them back eventually.

“I should really get going.” She says this to him as much as herself. And yet despite how quickly the words fall, she still can’t quite make it out of bed. She still can’t quite tear herself away from him.

It’s the first time they’ve lost so much track of time only to wake up to the chilling reality that midnight is almost here. And it’s far past curfew.

Steeling her nerves, Ryan finally manages to slip away – taking the sheet with her as if to persevere some sense of flimsy modesty. She avoids his eyes as she crosses the room, looking quietly for her clothes.

“It’s really late.”

“Mmm.” There’s her skirt in the corner by his dresser. Although she has no idea how it got there.

“I should walk you back.”

She hears the slight creak of his bed as Blaine gets up but she’s still looking for her underwear to pay much attention. “You really shouldn’t. Tatum is probably waiting outside.” Probably is a serious understatement as her bodyguard takes his job very seriously and every moment she’s spent up here is probably another moment he’s considered the thought of barging in. Which would have been mortifying. She’d never live that down.

“I really should, at least downstairs to make sure you’re safe.”

“I don’t need –”

“You don’t need another babysitter to keep you out of trouble.” He says the words impatiently, his tone almost clipped as if expecting her answer. “But that’s not what I’m offering Rutherland.”

“I don’t care what you’re offering,” her eyes are still looking for the rest of her stuff. I need to get out of here. Because every time they get to this part, she starts feeling weird – like there’s something stuck in her throat that she can’t get out. .

Giving up on finding the missing garment altogether, Ryan angrily shrugs on her jacket.

Blaine’s dark eyes are mocking as he rolls them to the ceiling. “You’re really gonna do this?”

“Do what?” But she isn’t really listening. Ah! There’s my shoes!

She puts them on before she finally turns to him; startled he’s gotten dressed twice as quickly.

“How long are you gonna pretend you’re sick of me, Rutherland?” His words are teasing when he says this but underneath all his swagger, something tells her it isn’t just a harmless question.

It’s a dangerous one.

Ryan shrugs, not quite meeting his stare. “As long as I have to.” And she probably has to for the rest of their lives.

“Can’t have your pretty reputation ruined by me, huh?” There’s no more teasing behind his words as he says this, only a sense that he’s disappointed that nothing’s changed.

And why would it? Nothing can change. Their countries are at war. They always will be. “Sorry we can’t all be like you, not caring how my own actions affect other people.” She stares him, refusing to budge an inch. A country of other people no less.

“Not caring is a stretch,” Blaine snorts.

But he isn’t backing down and the space between them is remarkably smaller. “I just don’t see the point of following stupid rules that predates when I was born. The fact that you’re so hell-bent on doing so while sleeping around with me just makes you the hypocrite.”

The accusation is like a slap in the face and Ryan steps back, her head reeling from shock. Guilt has started gnawing at the bottom of her stomach. Her cheeks are hot and she tries not to think of how much he’s right. “That’s not –” God, he’s such an asshole. She fumes. “That’s not exactly fair!” She jabs a finger at him, “it takes two tango and we both know you can’t be caught dead in public with me.”

The fact that he pretends otherwise, makes him just as much of a hypocrite. Maybe even more. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you care what people think.”

His eyes narrow a little, “I don’t.” Blaine said curtly, tone deadpan.

“Then you really don’t get it. You don’t understand.” Nobody does and nobody ever will. The pressure of being who she is, the fact that no matter what she does it’ll never be enough. It’ll never good enough for her.

Ryan shoves him, but Blaine doesn’t move in an inch. Somehow the gesture has brought them even closer.

But his laugh is as bitter as the midnight chill. “How can I understand when you never explain?” He spreads his arms wide, his tone mocking. His eyes blazing something Ryan can only describe as heat. Hunger for more.

But she isn’t ready to give more. There can never be more. “I-I-I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She snaps, voice wobbly. “I shouldn’t even be here. God, this is – this is so stupid!” Why can’t she get a grip? Why can’t she forget about him?!

She’s almost so lost in her own thoughts that it doesn’t register at first until he’s nearly an inch away that there’s no space left between them. Her breath catches in her throat. His free hand encircles her wrist.

It sends a jolt through her that makes all her thoughts go quiet. She tries to pull her hand, but he doesn’t let go. “Let go.” The words are a half-cry, a half-whimper. She’s torn by his stare.

The look in his eyes are smoldering, cackling with a fire almost steals her next breath. “You don’t want me to let go.”

She doesn’t. God, she really doesn’t. But if he can’t let her go, she’s afraid she’ll never be able to let him go. When did her desire to leave become as strong as her desire to stay? “I said let me go, please.”

Something flickers in his eyes and then just as quickly; it dies. Blaine drops his hand, apologizes though tight-lipped before showing her the front of his dorm.

They never say goodbye; not when they know they’d do it all again tomorrow. Over and over again in a heartbeat. Except this time, this time it feels different.

This time it’s so eerily quiet that Ryan thinks she should say something. Say anything. But before she turns around, the door has already been slammed shut – and she’s left alone with her thoughts.

He’s going to ruin me.

The thought is equal parts terrifying as it is exciting.

Tags: @flyawayboo lifeaskim

#foreign affairs #choices foreign affairs #blaine hayes #blaine hayes x mc #playchoices #choices fanfiction #foreign affairs fanfic #FA #an angstymarshmallow writes #when i say I agonized #I AGONIZED #but the sweet pull of angst #here i am #hope someone enjoys this!#as much as I agonized over it lol

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snelbz · 4 years

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The Ranch {15}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Opening day had arrived and Nesta was caught somewhere between puking and a heart attack. She hadn’t slept at all, but she wasn’t tired in the least. Cassian, however, had snored the night away beside her, not caring what day it was. She envied his ability to sleep through chaos.

Although it probably wasn’t chaotic for him.

He didn’t stress about much.

She envied him for that, too.

It was just after five a.m. when Nesta hauled herself out of bed. She did yoga, a simple workout that had been approved by her doctor, then drank a glass of water and a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade.

It was all she wanted, lately.

Lemonade.

Freshly squeezed.

After letting Beau back in the house, she checked the clock, once more. It was nearing nine, and Elain would be showing up, soon, with a haul of bouquets to decorate throughout the main house.

Nesta and Cassian were still staying in the master bedroom. It was easiest as she prepared for the opening, and Nesta was starting to think that it was best, overall. His cabin was small, and so was the house that she occupied on the land. She wasn’t certain how she would feel once guests began checking in, but for now, the master bedroom of the main house had been treating them well.

Nesta planned to dress in a modest sundress and sandals, laying it out to wear, and all the while, Cassian stayed sleeping soundly, Beau snoring once again at his feet.

She didn’t bother to wake him, not yet.

The celebration didn’t begin until one.

As she stood in their bathroom, she pulled the measuring tape around her stomach, which was still flat as could be. She held the tape up, her thumb indicating where the end of the tape had lined up with the tick marks and looked at it.

She had gone down. By four millimeters.

She groaned, sitting down on the edge of the porcelain, and rubbed her fingers into her temples. So far this baby had made her vomit constantly, she hadn’t woken up without a headache in over a week, and she had probably consumed enough lemonade to ensure she’d never need to take a vitamin C supplement again.

And she had nothing to show for it.

Save for her massive, heavy tits.

Cassian had noticed, which, honestly, wasn’t saying much.

She sighed and stepped into the dress, pulling it up and reaching behind to zip it, which wasn’t a problem, until she reached her back.

It wouldn’t zip.

The fucking dress wouldn’t fit over her breasts.

She groaned, staring at herself in the mirror, the dress remaining unzipped.

“Come on,” she said, cursing, trying again at the zipper.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Cassian!”

Nothing.

The man slept like a brick.

So, she tried again, louder. “CASS!”

“Hmm? What?” his sleepy words came from the bedroom, and she instantly felt guilty for waking him, but she needed help.

“I need you,” she said, turning around to show the half-zipped back of the dress in the mirror.

A minute later, a bare-chested, sleepy-eyed Cassian padded into the bathroom. He took one look at her and raised a brow. “You look nice.”

“My dress won’t zip,” she snapped.

“It’s your tits,” Cassian mumbled, and Nesta’s lips formed a tight line.

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped. “Help me, please.”

With a sigh, Cassian came up behind her and tugged on the zipper. It moved maybe half an inch, but not anymore than that. “Babe, it’s not going to zip.”

“Well, try harder!” she scolded.

He sighed again, knowing better than anyone not to argue with a pregnant woman, but more specifically not this pregnant woman.

He pulled and pulled and pulled, until he knew it wasn’t going to budge and he looked at her in the mirror. He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and said, “If I zip this dress up, you won’t be able to breathe, and if you do, these gorgeous, amazing, huge breasts are going to make a special guest appearance for our first guests.” He reached around from behind and palmed them through her dress, hoping to at least make her smile.

The scowl she was giving him through the mirror could have frozen Hell itself.

Cassian quickly dropped his hands. “Do you have another dress you can wear?”

“No,” she snapped. “I have very few, appropriate dresses and they’re all this size, in this cut.”

She tugged on the zipper another few times, but there was nothing.

“Fuck!” she cried.

Cassian frowned, trying to pull her into him for a hug, but she wouldn’t let him.

“I need a dress,” she said, hurrying from the room. “I need something.”

“Hello?” Elain’s voice traveled through the house from downstairs.

Cassian let out a breath. “Thank the gods.”

Nesta shot him a look, but he only held his good arm up in surrender.

“Up here!” Nesta growled, frustration still lacing her tone.

Elain was in the doorway a moment later, eyeing Nesta, then a disheveled Cassian. “Something looks off. There’s a situation happening here, isn’t there?”

“My dress won’t zip,” Nesta snapped.

“It’s her tits,” Cassian supplied.

Elain cleared her throat. “Well, let me take a look.”

She walked up behind Nesta and tried the zipper, but it still wouldn’t budge. After digging her phone out of her pocket, she said, “We have a few hours yet. How about I take you into town a minute to find something new?”

“There’s no time! I still have so much to do and I haven’t even started baking and-.” Nesta began to hyperventilate, something she’d never done in her life, but thanks to these damn hormones, something that was triggered nearly every time she cried.

Cassian was there in an instant, his hands framing her face. “Sweetheart, breathe. It’s okay. I can handle everything, except the baking. Go with Elain, pick up a dress that will accommodate your growing...assets, and come back and everything will be ready for you.”

Nesta nodded, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out. She mumbled, “They’re not assets.”

Cassian looked like he wanted to protest, but didn’t. “Go. I will finish the last minute details. When you come back, all you’ll have to do is bake, and I’ll be there to help you with that, too.”

“I do like ordering you around,” she muttered.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Alright? Go with Elain. I’ve got this.”

She nodded, hesitantly, but didn’t complain. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he breathed, then looked to Elain, thanks in his eyes.

He gave Nesta a slow, soft kiss before she left with her sister, quietly, in her shorts and tank top. Elain helped her into the passenger side of her car, even though Nesta didn’t need help. It was her sister’s way, though, with her gentle spirit.

They drove into town, mostly in silence. She was grateful for her sister, for her gentleness, her caring-ness, her kindness, but she had nothing to say. All Nesta could think about was what Cassian was getting done in her absence.

Elain parked downtown, on the main strip, just next to a little boutique they used to shop at all the time in high school. She followed her sister in and looked at a wall full of sundresses.

“Alright,” Elain said, clapping her hands together. “What are you thinking?”

“Literally anything that fits,” Nesta mumbled.

“Well,” Elain began, picking up a pink floral number that Nesta prayed was for herself and not her. “What size have you been? You don’t exactly need to jump straight into maternity clothes. So we’ll either need to pick a size up or find a more...forgiving fabric.”

Nesta glared at Elain over her choice of words, but she began to flip through the dresses. “I wear a four, so I guess I should look at sixes?” She held a dress up, but the lime green fabric nearly hurt her eyes.

“Or a stretchier four,” Elain reminded her. “How about this?”

She held up a pale yellow dress with a grey pattern stitched in. Nesta made a face of indifference. “Don’t know if yellow is a good color for me.”

Elain nodded. “That’s fair. Yellow isn’t a good color on anybody.”

Nesta chuckled and the two of them set to searching, each finding a few dresses Nesta didn’t absolutely despise.

She tried them on, but refused to show Elain any of them, no matter how much her younger sister protested. At last, she settled on a pale blue dress, reaching just above her knees. The spaghetti straps were decent in holding up the fabric that mostly covered her breasts. She changed into the clothes she had arrived in, claiming it was the one. After paying for it, she dragged Elain from the shop, ordering her sister to take her home.

Elain didn’t argue. She wasn’t one to argue, anyway, but Nesta assumed it was mostly because of her current attitude. Nesta couldn’t apologize, though. She was too pregnant to care about her sister’s wishes, as awful as it sounded.

When Elain was pregnant with Azriel’s spawn, Nesta would react the same.

True to his word, Cassian, with his good arm, was displaying Elain’s bouquets around the house, on every table and shelf. He had also vacuumed and dusted, once more, for good measure. He’d even gotten the things he thought she was most likely to need out on the kitchen island for her, although those things only consisted of sugar and flour.

Elain had made herself scarce, going to find Azriel and promising she’d be back to help as soon as Nesta needed her, and Nesta made her way upstairs, dress bag in hand. She heard the shower running and made her way into their room. The white dress she intended to wear - the one she’d specifically bought for this occasion - was still on the bed where she’d thrown it on her way out. It was next to Cassian’s sling.

She sighed and re-hung it on the plastic hanger and knocked on the bathroom door. Cassian’s muffled reply sounded and she let herself in.

He called over the water, “You find a dress, baby?”

She entered her closet and hung them both up, deciding not to wear the blue dress until after she’d finished baking. “Yeah. But I don’t like it as much as I liked my white one.”

“I’m sure you’re going to look as beautiful as you always do.”

Nesta smiled toward the shower, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. Well, not in-depth, anyways. The frosted glass allowed Cassian to see out just as much as it allowed Nesta to see in. And all she could see was a vast expanse of tan, naked, wet skin.

Gods it has been so long since they’d had sex.

Three more days and Cassian would be off of light-duty, as they’d jokingly started calling it. To the doctors, it meant Cassian was allowed to stop wearing the sling and was allowed to return to work, as long as he continued to have Az do the literal heavy lifting. But to the two of them, it meant the end of a nearly three-week-long dry spell. Longer than they’d had to go since they’d gotten together.

She nibbled on her bottom lip as she said, “Thank you for prepping for the opening.”

“Of course,” he replied, above the water. “Anything I can do to help. It’s nice to feel useful.”

She leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom to say, “The band should be arriving any minute now to set up. I could use a shower, so hurry up.”

“You could use a shower?” Cassian asked, pretending to be oblivious. “Were you inviting yourself? There’s room for two.”

“Three more days,” she warned.

“I can’t even see you naked?” he laughed, his heavy feet turning atop the tile.

Nesta sighed. Of course, he could, but the temptation that came along with such had her toes curling. “Hurry up, Nazari.”

“Join me, Archeron,” he argued. Then, he added, “I promise to be nice.”

Nesta hesitated, but sighed and stripped off her clothes, quickly wiping the remnants of her tear stained makeup off. She tossed two towels on the vanity by the shower, knowing he hadn’t remembered to grab one for himself, and pulled open the door.

The warm steam enveloped her as she stepped in and was face to face with his, well, back. She reached up and traced the ink that swept from his left shoulder blade down the outside edge of his spine. The shiver that went through him had nothing to do with the cool blast of air she’d let in when she’d stepped in, but before he could turn, she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind.

“Do you think people are going to like it?” Her cheek was pressed to his warm back. The question was quiet, barely audible over the water pattering on the tile.

“Like what?” He asked, after a moment.

“All of it,” she breathed. “My dress, my cooking, the opening. The B&B itself.”

He took a moment to respond before turning to meet her, his hazel eyes lit with surprise. His brows were scrunched together as he answered, “Of course they are. Nes, you have worked so fucking hard and you should be so proud at what you’ve accomplished. I know I am.”

She smiled, seeing the truth of his words in his eyes and leaned up to kiss him, pulling back when she was poked in the stomach. “Seriously?”

“It’s been a long few weeks,” he laughed, pulling her against him regardless. He kissed her, his lips still brushing hers. “He’s missed you.”

She laughed, “Oh, it’s him, is it?”

“Yes, him,” Cassian laughed. “I love you, but his obsession with you is an entirely different thing. He’s missed you. Give him some love.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Three more days.”

Cassian groaned, his head falling back. “If you tell me that one more time, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I believe your shit is already lost,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Just a quickie,” he whispered.

Nesta snorted. “No.”

“Please?” He asked, kissing her forehead, her nose.

“No,” she laughed.

“You have no idea how badly I need to be inside you.” He began to kiss her neck, her shoulder, and she let him, loving the feeling on her skin. “Let me make you feel good, baby. It will help make today easier, I promise.”

His mouth continued his assault on her neck while his hand traveled south, stopping to tug on a peaked nipple, which had Nesta whimpering softly. It continued to move down until it was over her stomach, fingers spread out. “I am so proud of you, sweetheart. You told me you were going to do this the very first day you came back and you did it. I love you so much.” He crouched, the spray of the water on his back, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s stomach. “And I love you. More than I can begin to explain. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Nesta was tearing up again, watching the man before her, this powerful man that put his life on the line for his best friend, for her, talking to their baby.

A knock came at the door. “Uh, Nes! The band is here…”

Cassian was back on his feet as Nesta called, “Be right out!”

“No she won’t!” Cassian followed.

Nesta laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re going to make Elain uncomfortable.”

“What?” Cassian asked. “She knows I knocked you up, but us showering together is taboo? Yeah, okay.”

Nesta blinked. “Did you just say taboo?”

Cassian was peeking his face out of the glass, as if it helped amplify his voice. “She’ll be right out!”

He wrapped his arms around her one more time, even though he knew their time was short. “Hey,” he whispered, getting her to look up at him. “You’re going to kick ass today. I love you.”

She smiled up at him and rose up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too.”

And he had no doubt. She would.

Twenty minutes later, Nesta was hurrying downstairs, t shirt and shorts on, hair dried but not yet styled, nor was her makeup done, and met Elain talking with the band in the living room.

“Hey, Lucien,” Nesta said, in a rush. “I’m so sorry. Times just gotten away from me today.”

Lucien grinned, and shrugged. “It’s all good. Elain’s organizational skills are coming in handy.”

Nesta winked at her sister. “Good.”

“I heard the news, by the way,” Lucien went on, nodding to Nesta’s stomach. “Congrats.”

Nesta’s smile softened. “Thank you.”

Elain cleared her throat. “So I was thinking we could set the band up over by the new stables. That’s where we’re serving the food, right?” A nod from Nesta while Lucien listened to his best friend’s instructions. “The vendor tables are going to be all along the west pasture edge and…” She looked down at her watch. “The bounce house will be here at twelve-thirty.”

“Great.” Nesta took a deep breath and was thinking through what all she had left to do.

Cassian’s heavy boots came thudding down the stairs, and he appeared around the corner. “Hey, Luce.” He shook his hand. “How’s that shit bag friend of yours that shot me doing?”

Lucien cringed. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since he was sentenced.”

It had been an emotional day to say the least. They had all been asked to testify, and only Feyre and Nesta had declined. Nesta wasn’t sure her nerves could handle it, didn’t want her baby being flooded with those kinds of endorphins. Feyre told their lawyer she lacked the ability to be subjective.

As one of the intended targets, Rhys would have spoken regardless, but since he had been the one to keep Cassian breathing until they’d gotten him to surgery, his testimony was damning. As were Elain and Azriel’s, though Elain was more of a witness than any direct involvement. Azriel had had to retrace his steps, once in person and once over a map of the property. But all Cassian had to do was answer simple questions. His body, the trauma he’d gone through was evidence enough.

Cassian nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but Nesta cut him off. “Where’s your sling?”

“Come on, Nes, it’s a family fun festival,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re a family, we’re gonna have fun, and I’m not doing anything today that requires my sling.”

“Put it on,” Nesta said, turning to go back upstairs and finish getting ready. “Or you’ll regret it. Elain, you got this?”

She gave Nesta a glowing smile and a thumbs up. She lived for party planning and when Nesta had tried to talk a price for helping, Elain had told her she was offended and to not bring it up again.

After walking back into the master bedroom, Nesta padded into the bathroom and started on her makeup. When she was pleased, she stripped off her tee and shorts and pulled on the pale, blue sundress. Outside the windows, she could hear vendors arriving and scurrying about.

Her nerves were going haywire.

It didn’t help that Cassian had yet to come get his sling. Not only did Nesta have to worry about everything else, but she had to worry about him, too.

Nesta slipped on her sandals and unlocked the velvet box on the dresser, where she took out the necklace he had gotten for her. Standing in front of the mirror, she clasped it around her neck.

After grabbing Cassian’s sling off the bed, she was hurrying back downstairs.

She rushed into the kitchen after finding Cassian talking with Rhys, throwing the sling to him and hitting him directly in the face with the wadded up fabric. She tied an apron around her waist and began to whip up the batches she needed for the macaroons she was making.

After about twenty minutes, Feyre rushed in the backdoor. “Sorry, I know I’m late, I’m here!” She set her bags down and hugged Nesta. “I’m so happy for you.” She pulled away abruptly. “Are your tits…bigger?”

She sighed. “Does no one else know what happens to the female body during pregnancy?”

“I’ve learned, recently, first hand,” Cassian said, mouth full of baked goods. He had claimed he was helping Nesta, but he was doing no such thing.

Feyre shot Cassian a bemused look. “What kind of sex life could you two possibly be having right now-.”

“Feyre,” Nesta snapped.

“She’s right, no physical activity,” Rhysand muttered, his mouth also full of Nesta’s baking.

Nesta was rolling her eyes. “Feyre, can you take these two assholes and give them a job to do?”

“Damn,” Rhysand said, just as Cassian muttered, “Watch your language.”

This only earned them both a death stare.

They were instantly on their feet, following Feyre out of the back door.

Nesta sighed, thankful to her sister for giving her the small moment of peace and quiet in what she was expecting to be one of her busiest days yet. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and memorizing the scents around her: the warm, sweet smell of the baking macaroons; the rich, woodsy scent of her childhood home; the earthy scent of the rolling pastures. But there were also subtler smells around her, that were harder to pick up on, but just as important, like the unpleasant, but honestly, not that horrible once you get used to it manure; the hint of bleach and lemon from where she’d spent hours cleaning the kitchen yesterday; the heady pepper and spice scent of the love of her life.

Nesta tried to stop the quiet sob that left her mouth, but her hormones were so crazy. She was just so overwhelmed by where her life was, how happy she was in Velaris when she never thought she could be. She was having the baby she never thought she would with a man she never could have imagined.

And now she was carrying on her father's legacy, his dream. She looked out the window, watched as the flurry of people set up for the celebration that the whole town was invited to.

A celebration for her father, for his dream, for the rebirth of something Nesta once had no interest in, but now put her everything into.

The thoughts running through her mind had her eyes growing misty, but not with tears of sadness, only joy.

After finishing up in the kitchen, Nesta walked out into the backyard, where everything seemed to have been already set up. There were lawn games spread out, the band set up by the stables in the distance, tables laid out where the caterers were setting up the food.

People would be arriving any minute.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Nesta turned to find a woman with a kind, familiar face approaching her. “Hi, welcome to Belles & Blossoms.”

She smiled fondly. “You don’t recognize me.”

Nesta blinked a few times. “Alis? Oh my, goodness! Hi!”

She embraced the sweet woman who’d taken an interest in a surly teenager in a diner, taught her to love cooking, and all manners of it, not just French gourmet.

“I heard you were back and reopening the B&B,” Alis smiled. “We will have to catch up some time so you can tell me all about your adventures.”

“I’d love that,” Nesta agreed. “I went by the diner a few months ago, but you weren’t working.”

“Well, I’m glad I hunted you down,” she chuckled. “Are your sisters here?”

“Somewhere,” Nesta said, looking around. All she could see was Cassian standing by the beer table, helping himself. When he caught her eye, he waved.

He still wasn’t wearing his damn sling.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Alis,” Nesta said, chuckling softly. “The resident thorn in my side is poking me.”

“Cassian Nazari is a nice boy, Nesta,” she said. “He’s been sweet on you for quite some time.”

She spun, looking at her quasi therapist, surprise on her face. “What?”

Alis laughed. “You always had your nose in a book, you never stopped to notice when someone was noticing you. Even all those years ago.”

She winked and headed towards the house, blending with the small crowd that had begun to accumulate. Nesta stared after her, blinking.

“You look lost.”

Nesta jumped, having been lost in her own thoughts, indeed. Cassian was standing behind her, watching her, thoughtfully, a plastic cup filled with beer in his hand.

Nesta’s look of surprise turned into one of frustration. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is your sling?”

Cassian blinked. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Cassian,” Nesta groaned, but he was only laughing.

“I’m fine, alright?” He held up his cup as proof. “Took my pain meds, got my alcohol, even Rhys says it's fine. I promise to put it on as soon as all these people leave.”

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line. “You’re trying to uphold your tough guy image, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Absolutely, yes. Yes, I am.”

She pursed her lips, trying to keep the smile from forming, but Cassian saw the side of her mouth twitch. He saw the sparkle in her eyes that only came out for him. He wrapped her in both of his arms, holding her tightly and kissed her forehead.

She gazed up at him and smirked, “So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t tell them all how you cried during the end of Eight Seconds?”

His tone was one hundred percent genuine when he said, “He was riding for Lane, Nesta. Even you were tearing up.”

She laughed and leaned up on her toes, kissing him. “Or that you tear up when you tell me stories of what you want to do with our baby? Or when you talk to our baby? Or when you do anything that has to do with our baby?” She was laughing by the end, but silent happy tears were streaming down her own face.

Cassian watched her, absolutely adoring everything about the woman in his arms. He hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and said, “Okay, you emotional basket case. Let’s go find you some lemonade.”

“I really like lemonade,” she whispered.

She was convinced it was her one true love, as of lately.

Cassian grinned. “I know, sweetheart.”

The entire town began to gather as they walked about the grounds, Nesta sipping on her lemonade as she greeted her guests. She was surprised by the turn out. She had hoped this many people would show up, but to actually watch it unfolding was miraculous.

Cassian was his usually charming self and, true to his word, he seemed to know everyone.

“How are you feeling?” Mor asked, when they’d joined her on the porch. Her plate was piled high with Nesta’s macarons, as well as the barbecue they’d had catered for the event. How she managed to stay so fit but eat as much as she did was a mystery to everyone.

“I’m okay,” Nesta smiled. “The morning sickness is the worst part, not that I can even call it morning sickness. It happens at all hours of the day, with no warning.”

Feyre crinkled her nose. “Between that and your unintentional boob job, I’m beginning to think adoption may be a good fit for me.”

She laughed but Rhysand shook his head. “You told me last night you can’t wait to start having kids.”

She glared at him. “I said start trying to have kids.”

He chuckled. “My mistake.” He kissed the top of her head and headed to meet Az and Cass at the food table, which had apparently become a beer pong table.

Mor asked, “But aside from that, the pregnancy is...normal?”

Nesta laughed. Their friends had all had questions about it, whether or not she needed to take it easy for the next six months. They’d had questions about it, but at her doctor’s appointment the week before, he’d told her to follow the same precautions as a normal, expected pregnancy. It wasn’t staying pregnant that was a problem for Nesta’s body, it was getting pregnant.

She started to reply, but a deep voice behind her asked, “You’re pregnant?”

She turned and found Tomas and a friend on the porch steps. She looked around frantically, trying to locate Cassian in the crowd, or Rhys, Azriel, anyone that was Tomas fucking Mandray. They weren’t at the stables, not with the food. Her phone wasn’t on her. Mor didn’t know Tomas and Feyre and Elain didn’t know how truly deeply her fear of the man ran.

But Nesta nodded before turning her back to him, hoping he’d go away.

He didn’t. “Congrats.”

To anyone else, it would sound genuine, but when Nesta looked back over her shoulder, she saw the gleam in his eye, that familiar gleam, one she loathed with every ounce of her being.

He was pissed.

Years later, and he still thought he had some sort of claim on her.

“Thanks,” she gritted out, through clenched teeth.

“Where’s the dad?” Tomas went on. “Have to congratulate him, too.”

Mor opened her mouth to answer, but Nesta was already saying, “Don't know.”

Tomas nodded, Elain shooting a worried glance at Nesta.

“Well, hopefully I run into him before the days done,” Tomas said, then winked, before walking away.

Nesta’s blood ran cold.

Elain places a gentle hand on Nesta’s knee. “Are you-.”

“I’m going to be sick,” she said, shooting to her feet and heading for the house. She knew her nausea had nothing to do with the child growing inside of her and instead to do with the man that couldn’t accept that she no longer belonged to him and never would again.

She threw herself up the stairs, where no one was, and fell into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was on her knees, her skin hitting the tile with such a force that she cried out as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

She knew she was crying, knew her makeup was running, and it only grew worse as she thought, I have to get to Cassian.

What if Tomas did find him? Surely he wouldn’t congratulate him, surely he would have other things in mind.

And Cassian was in no condition to hold up his end of a fight.

But a soft knock came to the door.

“Nes?”

Cassian. His deep, calming voice floated through the door.

She tried to speak, but instead, another round of heaving hit her and Cassian tried the knob. “Sweetheart, the door is locked. Are you okay?”

She heard muffled voices from the other side of the door, barely registering that one was female. She tried to say something, anything, but it was as if her voice wouldn’t work. She climbed to her feet on wobbly legs and unlocked the door.

Cassian opened it, finding her with puffy, red eyes, streaks of mascara running down her face, and bruised knees where she’d dropped to the tile.

His gaze fell, heartbreak filling his eyes as he shut the door softly behind him.

“Elain found me, said something happened with Tomas.” His voice was soft, both of his hands cradling her face. Concern lacing his tone.

They had talked about Tomas before, but very little. Enough that he knew what had happened between them, knew the hatred and fear that Nesta felt when it came to her ex.

When Nesta didn’t answer, Cassian pulled her into his chest and held her tightly, closely.

“I hate him,” she whispered.

“I know,” Cassian breathed, rubbing slow circles on her back.

“My face is ruined,” she said, and when she looked at his shirt and saw the mascara stain on it, her frown deepened.

“Makeup can be re-done, shirts can be washed. Not a big deal.” He kissed the top of her head and stooped to pull a makeup wipe out from under the cabinet. He handed it to her and pulled the shirt over his head, wincing slightly as he raised his left arm. Nesta’s eyes were concerned when he looked back at her. “I’m fine, I promise. Just sore. See?”

He went through the motions of the physical therapy Rhys had shown him and Nesta silently watched. The only reason she wasn’t making him put the sling back on is because Rhysand had said it was healing well and he could use the movement to keep it from getting stiff. She sighed and nodded, trying to salvage what she could of her makeup, while Cass leaned on the door frame, watching her. Still shirtless.

Nesta tried not to look at the puckered scar forming on his chest, even if he didn’t seem to have a problem messing with the tender spot.

“It’s all going to be okay,” he whispered, watching her with his arms crossed. They were the same words he had muttered a million times since he’d been shot.

Nesta just nodded, not quite believing them, not quite wanting to protest, either. She dropped the wipe in the wastebasket and met her reflection.

Good enough.

“Perfect,” Cassian said, his voice still low.

Nesta closed her eyes and took a deep breath before meeting his stare. “Okay.”

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his hand.

“I’ll go get you a shirt,” she said, in answer.

Cassian grinned. “What? I can’t go out like this?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll start a riot.”

He strolled into his closet and came back out in one of his old faded t-shirts he loved so much. She wanted him dressed a little more nicely, but she decided it didn’t matter what he was wearing. This was their home. Why put on an air that they were anyone but who they really were.

He took her hand, but when he headed for the door, she hesitated, tugging him back lightly. He looked at her.

Her bottom lip was between her teeth. It was a habit he didn’t even think she realized she had, but he knew she was truly worried when that full lip was caught in her teeth. He gently used his thumb to free it and leaned down to press his own lips to hers.

He asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Tomas said he… He wanted to congratulate you, on our pregnancy.” The words were small. Scared.

“Congratulate me?” Cass asked. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, taking a breath. The words began to flow out of her in a whoosh of air. “And that’s why it worries me. I don’t know what he wants to do to you, but you’re in no condition to fight, but I also really would prefer not to make a scene at our own grand opening, and-.”

“Nes, baby, breathe.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe, sweetheart.” She did as she was told, tamping the hyperventilation down. “Do you really think Azriel and Rhys would let anything happen today? Or anything happen to me?”

She shook her head.

“Stop worrying,” he said, that little smile plastered on his lips. “If it helps, I’ll stay right close by until everyone leaves. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, smoothing out her dress even though there were no wrinkles. She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t help it.

Not today.

It was all too much.

“Do you want to order pizza for dinner?”

Her head snapped up. A night to not cook, a night to eat greasy, cheesy food and just relax? “Please.” Then she added, “And can we watch a bad movie?”

He held her hand as they headed back downstairs and into the crowd. “The worst movie we can find.”

The rest of the afternoon had gone well. They hadn’t seen Tomas again, but Nesta kept Cassian within view until everyone left.

He knew she worried about him, and he didn’t want to cause her anymore stress. She had enough on her plate.

Which is why Cassian was walking up the stairs of the little house, a box of pizza, a giant bottle of lemonade, and a twelve pack of beer in his arms. Since it was the first night of guests in the B&B, they would be spending their more private evenings in one of the little houses. Maggie would be on site from nine in the morning until five in the afternoons, Wednesday through Sunday. The guests all had the emergency number Cassian and Nesta had set up. Everything was going smoothly and he’d even stopped in to check on the guests on his way back to the house.

Tonight, Nesta needed to de-stress.

And Cassian had a few ideas on how to make that happen, starting with junk food and her requested “bad movie”.

The first step of that was already in motion. Nesta had been soaking in the clawfoot tub with a book for the past forty-five minutes while he picked up their dinner.

Beau poked his head out through the newly installed doggy door, not quite used to the weird way he’d been getting in and out of his houses. He gave a short yelp of greeting and Cass tried to get him to come through the flapping door, but after a solid forty seconds of nothing, he gave up and opened the door.

He found Nesta in the kitchen, at the stove and he set the pizza box down on the counter. “I thought you didn’t want to cook.”

“I don’t,” she sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about the smell of mirepoix, even if I don’t have a dish to put it in.”

Cassian walked to the fridge, putting the lemonade and beer in, grabbing one for himself before shutting the door. He looked into the pan. “Onions, carrots, and celery?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “And butter and garlic.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

Her wet hair was bundled on top of her head. Her face was bare, not a stitch of makeup on, and she was wearing one of his old rodeo t-shirts.

He turned her face towards him and softly pressed his lips to hers. “Gods, you are so beautiful.”

Her eyes narrowed but she could stop her small smile. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Cassian asked, cracking open his can.

“Complimenting me,” she said, simply, taking the giant bottle of lemonade he’d gotten and pressing it straight to her lips.

“No glass?” Cassian asked, amused.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Why would I waste time with a glass?”

He couldn’t argue with that logic.

He gestured to the pan on the stove. “Do you want to put that on top of your pizza?”

She scrunched her nose. “No, the smell was enough. I’m ready to eat my pizza though.” She was eyeballing the box and Cassian laughed.

She started to clean up the kitchen and he put the pizza in her hands and said, “Go. Sit. Eat. I’ll handle this.”

Nesta smiled and did exactly that, while Cass put the cooked vegetables in a bowl to cool down. Looks like Beau was going to be getting a good meal tonight.

Eventually, Cassian finished up with the kitchen and joined Nesta on the couch. After a fierce debate about what exactly fits the parameters of being a “bad movie” and genuine offense from Cassian when Nesta picked one of his favorite childhood movies, they finally agreed on a cheesy romantic comedy and Nesta was asleep on Cassian’s chest almost immediately. He turned the tv down and changed it to roping highlights, scrolling through his phone. His good arm was still around her, but he was able to do what he needed with his left arm.

After about an hour, even he was tired from the day’s festivities. When his eyelids slid shut of their own accord for the third time, he knew it was time to move to the bed.

“Nes,” he whispered, peppering her brow with soft kisses. “Wake up.”

She stirred, but whimpered, forehead creasing as she frowned in her sleep.

“Nesta, wake up, sweetheart.” He gently shook her.

She gasped, eyes wide. “Where is he?”

He framed her frantic face with his hands. “He’s not here, baby. It was a bad dream.”

She was still breathing hectically, eyes searching everywhere, from shadows in the corners to the hallway behind them. “Bad dream?”

“Just a bad dream.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, let’s go to-.”

The sound of glass shattering filled the small house and Nesta screamed. Cassian immediately pulled her into himself and covered her body with his.

Beau was barking, but the shattering had stopped. And once Beau realized they weren’t under attack, he quieted down, too, going to sniff at the middle of the room.

The silence was disconcerting. Nesta was quietly crying into Cassian’s chest and he unwound her fingers from in his shirt. He stood, following Beau to where he sniffed. He was careful not to step on the glass, picked Beau up before he could do the same, and herded a shaking Nesta into the bedroom. He calmed her down before coming back out and inspecting the item that had shattered not only serenity of their night, but also their front window.

A brick, with one, solitary word scrawled in baby blue paint:

Congratulations.

#the ranch nessian #theranchnessian #shara collab #sharacollab #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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subarublue · 3 years

Text

Where’s a Stud When You Need One?

One Shot

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Not specified

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Dante x Reader (Reader’s gender not mentioned)

Word Count: 2255

Read on Ao3

Summary: “Babe, what’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to find a stud so I can hang this stupid thing up!”

“Well, there’s a stud right here that can hang it for ya!”

Notes: My attempt at humor. Hopefully, it’s at least somewhat funny. This was inspired in part by a discussion I saw on Reddit. I hope that’s okay. I’m still new to this whole writing bit and didn’t know if I needed to ask permission to use it as inspiration or not? Not sure who I would even ask anyway, lol. Oh well. I’ve given credit here so hopefully that’s enough. Not sure if all of it is true or not, but we’ll just pretend for the sake of this story, mkay?

You glared at the little device in your hand. It had been working properly the last time you used it, so why wasn’t it working now? Granted the last time you had used it was quite a while ago. In fact, it was probably about...okay, so you couldn’t exactly remember the last time you’d used it, but that couldn’t be the reason. No, of course not.

You placed the stud finder against the wall again, sliding it from left to right more slowly this time, waiting for that telltale “beep” that indicated the presence of a stud. You passed over the short length of the wall you were working with again for what felt like the one hundredth time. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. You let out a frustrated groan.

Your frustration finally caught the attention of the other person in the room. Dante looked up from the magazine he’d been reading at his desk. His feet were propped up on the wooden surface, which made it a bit awkward for him to turn around and look at you, but he managed.

“Babe, what’re you doing?” You could hear the confusion in his voice when he spoke. You glanced back over your shoulder at him to see his brows furrowed in a look of concern for you.

“I’m trying to find a stud so I can hang this stupid thing up!” You growled, gesturing at the large, heavy, framed mirror leaning against the couch. You turned back to the wall, staring it down as if you could see the studs inside it yourself with your nonexistent x-ray vision.

You heard the plop of the magazine landing on the desk and then your boyfriend’s boots hit the floor, followed by the screech of his chair sliding over wood as he stood.

Dante came up to stand next to you, first looking at the wall, then to the mirror, then at you. As soon as you saw the grin on his face, you knew something stupid was about to come out of his mouth. He gestured to himself, jabbing both his thumbs to his chest. “Well, there’s a stud right here that can hang it for ya!” he punctuated his statement with a wink.

“Not what I meant, Dante and you know it,” you practically growled at him. Normally, you would’ve laughed at your boyfriend’s cheesy one-liners, but you were just irritated enough that you didn’t find it funny this time and you simply glared at him. You really weren’t in the mood for this. Suddenly though, an idea on how to get back at him for his joke came to mind. A stud, huh? We’ll see about that.

Dante was unperturbed by your glaring expression, still smirking at you. That only made you more determined to poke a little fun at him. You still held the stud finder in your hand and you brought it up, holding it next to your face so it was now in his field of view.

Your glare morphed into a mischievous grin and he blinked in surprise at your sudden shift in mood. “So, think you’re a stud, do you? Why don’t we test that out?” You winked back at him.

To his credit, Dante didn’t budge when you suddenly shoved the seemingly defective device into his chest. Unfortunately, you didn’t even get a single moment of victory as the little device immediately let out that telltale “beep” you’d been trying to get for the past half hour on the wall. All you could do was gawk at the little gadget still held flush to his chest. The beeping continued as if it was mocking you; now you wanted to throw the stupid thing across the room.

“Soooo,” Dante drawled and you glanced up to look at him. You immediately regretted that when you saw the roguish grin now plastered on his handsome face and mentally prepared yourself for the teasing that was about to ensue. He paused for a moment, and wiggling his eyebrows at you, spoke over the incessant beeping of the little device, “Looks like it’s working, babe.”

You groaned again as you let your hand drop from his chest which cut short the stuff finder’s beep. There’ll be no living with him after this, you thought over-dramatically. You were back to glaring at him now. “No it’s definitely broken. Or maybe I just bought a moron finder on accident, instead.” You tried to get the ball back in your court for this, but the look on Dante’s face told you he wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s working perfectly.” He crossed his arms over his chest, still smirking, “And I can prove it to you.”

You scoffed at that, your tone haughty as you goaded him, “Oh, yeah? How?” You weren’t sure it was a good idea to take up his challenge, but you weren’t backing down either, so you were left with little choice.

Dante uncrossed his arms and held out a hand, silently asking you to hand over the device. You were almost reluctant, but you knew refusing would result in an automatic forfeit so you roughly plopped the little machine into his waiting palm. You weren’t sure how it was possible, but his grin got wider and it did nothing to quell the feeling of dread in your gut. “I’ll show you,” he said confidently.

He turned then and walked over to another section of wall nearby, stopping in front of it, then turned back to look at you. Smirk still in place, he held your gaze, eyes never leaving yours as he lifted the stud finder to the wall. He hadn’t moved it but an inch across the wall before the traitorous little thing started going off and your mouth fell open in surprise. “What the hell?!” Dante broke eye contact with you as he shook with laughter.

“Shit sweetheart, you should see your face right now!” He grinned triumphantly as his laughter settled down. “Guess you just don’t know a stud when you see one.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you again.

To say you were embarrassed was a bit of an understatement. You were pretty sure you were as red as his trademark jacket and you brought your hands up to hide your face from him in hopes of not giving him any more fodder for his teasing.

You heard the beeping of the stud finder come to a stop and then his footfalls as he strode back over to you. He set the device down somewhere (where, you didn’t know or really care at the moment), then felt his hands on yours, gently pulling them away from your red face.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.” He was winking at you again. “I’ll just have to show you what a real stud is.” The wiggling eyebrows made a reappearance. You couldn’t help but laugh at it now, as ridiculous and cheesy as it was, realizing belatedly, that this was the end result he’d been going for the whole time. You’d been getting frustrated and he’d come over and put a smile back on your face, just like he always did.

As your laughter tapered off, you raised up on the tips of your toes to give him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for that,” you said gently. His teasing grin softened into a warm smile at your gratitude. In the end, it seemed you were both winners.

You looked down and picked up the stud finder from where he’d laid it on the coffee table and stared at it with a resigned sigh, turning it over in your hand as you observed it. “I just don’t understand why it wasn’t working for me...” you were talking mostly to yourself, but that didn’t stop Dante from responding.

“Well, you see...” he trailed off, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his head with a sheepish look on his face, “You’re probably gonna have to find somewhere else to hang that if you need a stud.”

“Why?” You gave him a confused look.

He gestured to the area of wall you’d been working with as he spoke, “There’s not a stud in there.”

“WHAT?” He winced a bit as you raised your voice.

“Not sure why. Probably construction just cutting corners when they built the place and didn’t put any in. Or...well, it’s a pretty small section of wall so, maybe it didn’t matter?” he shrugged as he said this, like it was no big deal.

“You mean you knew that all along and you didn’t say anything!?” Your voice was still raised, though not as much as before. He had a bit of a guilty look on his face since, yes, he’d known from the start why your stud finder ‘wasn’t working properly.’

“Hey! You didn’t exactly tell me what you were doing.” He held his hands up in defense for a moment before continuing, “And, well, I think it’s kinda cute when you’re focused and working on a project like that,” he said as if it was a good excuse for not informing you of the problem sooner, “especially when you bend over.” He was back to grinning now and you rolled your eyes at that, annoyed. It didn’t deter him though, “Look at the bright side, babe...at least you know it’s not broken.” He cocked his head to the side with a smile and you found just couldn’t stay mad at him. He had cheered you up after all (even though he could have prevented your frustration in the first place).

“Gotta say though, I didn’t know those things could work on people.” he said curiously as he looked at the device in your hand.

“Well, it’s an electric one, not magnetic, so it makes sense that it would work on a person.” you said as you held it up.

When Dante didn’t respond at first, you looked from the stud finder to him, noting the confusion on his face. “What difference does that make?” The confusion was evident in his voice now too.

You dug into your mind to reach that well of useless knowledge lying around in there somewhere for a (hopefully) Dante-friendly explanation. “Electronic stud finders detect changes in the dielectric constant of the wall. It’s different when it’s over a stud rather than empty wall space.” At your statement, he only had a blank look on his face and you realized your explanation wasn’t as Dante-friendly as you’d hoped.

“So...does it measure the density of the wall, or something like that?” That was a fair assumption on his part, but not quite right.

“Not exactly. It measures how well an object allows an electric field to pass through itself.” You tried to explain it in the simplest way you could think of. There was a long moment of silence as you watched his face. He was no longer looking at you, staring at the floor instead, obviously trying to process that in his head.

Realization finally seemed to dawn on his face after a few moments, but whether it was from understanding or realizing he wasn’t going to understand, you weren’t sure yet. He finally looked up at you again. “Okay, I think I get what you’re saying, so yeah, makes sense why it would work on me. I am a big stud after all.” Dante just couldn’t stay serious for long, and you were fairly certain now that he didn’t get it all, but he had you laughing again, regardless.

“You’re such a dork! Of course it would work on you. Stud or not,” -he gave you mock hurt look at that- “you’re healthy so there’s no reason it wouldn’t.” Well, as healthy as a half-devil who ate almost nothing but pizza and strawberry sundaes could be. You were certain if he were completely human that his horrible diet would have killed him a long time ago.

“What does being healthy have to do with it?” His head was cocked to the side again with that same curious look on his face that you were coming to love more and more.

“Supposedly, if it doesn’t beep when you try it on someone, they could have a bone disorder.” You weren’t sure of the validity of that, but you’d heard it somewhere and it had stuck it your head like all the other tidbits of useless knowledge you had.

“Wait, really?” He looked surprised for a moment before his face slowly melted back into that roguish grin of his. “You mean like an erection lasting more than four hours?”

You groaned at him, “Not that kind of bone disorder!”

“What? I’m sure it’s a valid problem for a lot of guys out there.” He started to gesture to the stairs. “We could always go find out if it’s a problem for me.” He was winking at you again.

You gave him a deadpan look as he started backing away from you towards the stairs. He was throwing you what you assumed he thought was a sexy smirk. You couldn’t deny that it was working though, as you started following him, current project forgotten and out of mind. “Yeah, yeah, like I’d raise awareness for that disorder.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Dante remained unfazed, scooping you up bridal style and making his way up the stairs, not even missing a beat in his reply, “You’ll raise something, babe.”

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc dante #gender neutral reader #my writing #dante x reader #suby scrawls

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desiraypark · 3 years

Text

Boiling Point (Pt. I)

So, on another platform, @yourpaterson, @leather-and-embers, and I started a little something. It got angsty. It got love triangle-y. Hate-sex was involved. A lil’ jealousy. I’ve decided to expand upon this potential love triangle with a backstory for “Desiray”. Characters: Desiray (as a character) x Kylo Ren x Paterson (not yet mentioned)

Disclaimer: This backstory is fiction. None of it is a reflection of my personal life, my childhood, or even my personality. // Content Warning: Abuse (memories of); engrained misogyny; broken home; broken mother/daughter relationship; broken (non-existent) father/daughter relationship; child abuse; burns; abortion mention (as punishment/in an abusive tone). Mentions of supernatural abilities.

When did Desiray know she was “alone”? When she was 15 years old.

“Watch the pot on the stove for me, will you?” Mama requested. Desi nodded. Her sister sat across the table from her, doing her homework. Desi was doing the same. Mama left the pot of boiling noodles when she went to use the restroom.

Bubbling, bubbling--not quite ready.

No one knew it, but Desiray was at a breaking point. Her first boyfriend--well, who she thought was her boyfriend--he’d denied her in front of his friends to raucous laughter. “I’m not trying to be your boyfriend, I was just trying to fuck,” he’d said once the laughter subsided.

____________________

Even when she was an embryo, Desi had learned that no matter how often and how much people hurt you--especially men--you must remain dignified. Ladylike. Take verbal and physical assault in stride. Your patience would be rewarded, someday.

“I should have made you get an abortion,” Desi heard her father say when she was floating in her mother’s belly. Yes.

"Who...who told you that?” Mom asked when Desi brought it up.

“You should have gotten an abortion like dad said.” That’s exactly what Desi told her mother in an argument.

“Who...who told you that?”

“I heard him say it.” _____________________

Dad was in the living room watching television with a drink in one hand and an appetizer of a sandwich in the other. Because he was the only one in the home deserving of an escape from his family. And of course, when his mental vacation was over, he decided to bring hell to his wife.

Bubbling, bubbling...one more minute.

Voices raised. Desi rubbed the weariness away from her forehead--hoping that her ability to hear might be temporarily erased with the rub. Dawn, her sister, shrunk in her chair. Mama came into the kitchen. Sigh. That usually resulted in Desi and Dawn being caught in the crossfire.

Bubbling, bubbling...turn the burner off. Move the pot.

Mama wouldn’t finish dinner tonight.

To this day, Desi still can’t quite remember what they were arguing about. But she remembered the important things.

Her own angry scream.

“Leave her alone!” a declaration of independence.

Her father’s screams--his dampened and steaming back. The penne noodles on the floor.

The most painful memory: her mother screaming “Desi! What is wrong with you?!” Her father never hit her, her mother, or her sister ever again. Instead, he found lovers to impose the violence of his fist or mere presence upon. Dad came home when he wanted. And Mom became Desi’s silent aggressor--resentful that her daughter had disrupted her normal.

That year, Desiray learned that she was alone. But she refused to be helpless.

____________________

Years Later

The First Order base was interesting, to say the least. A Galaxy History major, Desiray responded to a holonet posting for a ‘Historical Transcriber’ with the base. The main part of her job was to transcribe the data and recordings of old (or aging) droids and other receptacles of archival information. The “second” part of her job came later--when she quickly grew tired of hauling droids to the repair department when one failed her. Soon, she learned how to repair them herself, and became an unofficial repairwoman of all droids.

It was her second day on the job when she sat down in the cafeteria. After two bites into her sandwich, she felt someone staring at her. Whatever kind of Spidey senses or intuition she was "gifted” at birth, she considered it more of a curse than a blessing. Sometimes it came in handy, being “wise” or “empathetic”, as she’d been described. But other times, she just wanted to eat a porg breast sandwich without ~feeling something~.

Her eyes scanned the room--slowly and inconspicuously--until they landed on a tall figure dressed in black, talking to an officer. But he was looking at her. She knew he was.

She’d seen this guy on her first day and noticed that people moved hastily out of his way. If you asked her, she’d seen scarier. She placed her focus back onto her sandwich.

“Grown ass man walkin’ around in a Party City costume,” she thought to herself.

Desiray glanced up again and the man was gone.

Kylo Ren.

She’d heard that “Kylo” was his title and not even his first name. A “mysterious” type. Whatever.

One day, she’d happen to have been walking past the control room when he was throwing one of his infamous tantrums. She just shook her head.

“What a fucking brat.”

Suddenly, Desiray felt her arm being yanked and her body being pulled into the control room. Ren towered over her and pushed her against a wall.

“Do you have something you’d like to say to me...” His head tilted down to look at her identification badge. Or her tit. Or both. “Parker?”

“If I did, I would have said it,” Desiray spat back. She pushed against his chest, but he didn’t budge an inch.

“Every time you walk past me, something bitchy runs across that brain of yours. Why?”

“I suppose your bitchiness just rubs off on everyone, Mr. Ren. Now, can I go to my office?”

Desiray couldn’t see his face. But she knew he was smirking. A deadly combination of anger and lust radiated from his flesh and past all of the shit he was wearing.

“A little girl pretending to be tough. We’ll see how long that lasts...”

And with that, Ren walked out of the control room, leaving Desiray standing against the wall--catching her breath and calming the beat of her heart. A beat of fear mixed with anger.

One month into her new job. Almost two months in a new city--about 25 miles away from her hometown...

...and she’d already come across yet another man who needed another pot of hot water thrown against his back.

#desiray rp #yourpaterson #leather-and-embers

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years

Text

@gingerreggg whee it still continues

Heads Up- Part 7 (Joseph x Bust!Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"You sure this is the right place?" Joseph asked Suzi as they toured the art supplies section of the local shopping center.

"Sure! Loggins and Messina are Professor Lisa's main suppliers of art materials! They also offer them wholesale for cheap prices. We're gonna need it..." she whimpered, eyeing her wallet sadly.

"Professor Lisa?" Joseph asked. "As in...Elizabeth Joestar?"

"Oh, you know her?" Suzi exclaimed.

"She's my mom, I didn't know you were a student of hers..." Joseph sighed, Suzi apparently not having made the connection with the Joestar surname. Having his mother be a renowned professor in the field of visual arts was quite a burden on Joseph. He wasn't especially close to her, and the few memories they had together were of her being strict and of high expectations. She was distant both physically and emotionally, yet the weight of her achievements rested heavily on Joseph's shoulders.

He was glad to have a little apartment to himself once he turned 18. A small place he could call his own, and have a little freedom to express himself.

Though as of the moment, it was no longer a home solely his.

"I wonder how Caesar's doing back home, alone." Joseph whispered to Suzi.

"Oh, relax," she laughed, as she felt the types of clay on exhibit trying to find one matching Caesar's consistency and texture. "I made sure the door's locked and he has stuff to keep occupied, he'll be perfectly safe."

--------

Caesar cautiously thumped his way across the house. It was the first time the clay bust had been left home alone since the day he came to life, and he felt uneasy.

He'd promised Suzi and Joseph he wouldn't cause any more trouble after last night's fiasco. Still, Suzi felt it was better off to be safe than sorry, and spent the early morning Caesar-proofing the house. She removed any platforms low enough for Caesar to jump up on-- she'd measured his highest jumps at five inches-- to keep him from trying to climb up dangerous places, and she'd also put bubble wrap on hard objects such as table legs and sharp corners in case of him bumping into things.

Caesar frowned. He felt he was being infantilized, treated like a baby. He chuckled snarkily to himself in hindsight, given that he was after all only a week old, and whether that would classify him as a baby, even with a grown man's mind and personality.

And besides, as much as he detested admitting it, he knew what Joseph said the previous night was true. He indeed was just a helpless, limbless chunk of clay. He could only bounce his heavy, squishy torso slowly across the floor with much exertion, and hardly anything more. Who knows what could happen if he'd found himself alone outside?

Yet he still felt a sense of yearning for the great forbidden outdoors, as he looked dreamily out the window. He wondered how far he could possibly go. He'd managed to make it to Joseph's lawn last night, and couldn't think how much further he could have gotten if Joseph hadn't caught up with him. Hopping on his neck was slow and hard, sure, but if there was one upside to being made of clay, it was that he never felt tired or sore from moving the way he did, and briefly contemplated if he could have explored a good distance in his new world hadn't it been for Joseph's advantage of legs.

But each little squeak of his varnished torso with each hop reminded him of Joseph's painstaking effort he took the previous evening to repair him. How he'd gone out of his way to make sure Caesar wasn't in pain, and was always in tip-top condition. How he'd shown him genuine friendship even if the artist was silly and exasperating at times. Hell, the very fact that he'd kept Caesar at all instead of disposing of him or destroying him out of fear was already something the stubby clay being was already very grateful for, and he felt that, after all he'd done for him, it was better off not giving poor Joseph any further heartache.

He turned his eyes toward the books and art supplies that Suzi left behind for him on the living room floor. Perhaps there was a better use of his time than getting himself into trouble.

------

"This much for a dollar?" Suzi cheered with glee. "Sure, we'll take it!"

"How much clay do we need?" asked Joseph, lugging several other blocks in a heavy basket. Suzi had insisted on different types of clay closest to the kind that Joseph had made Caesar from, to test which one would suit him the best.

"Not enough to make a whole body, of course!" she giggled. "At least not yet."

"So do we like, start by giving him an arm? Or some pecs?" Joseph giggled mischievously, imagining the possibilities.

"We'll get there bit by bit," Suzi reassured. "Soon he'll be a complete person!"

"I hope so," mumbled Joseph doubtfully. "I hope we complete him in time for me to graduate..." Joseph scratched his head.

"Well, I think we better get going home now." Suzi said, double-checking the supplies to make sure they had all they needed. "I'm sure Caesar's been waiting."

------

"Hey, Cae," Joseph announced as he entered the house. "Sorry we took so long."

There was no familiar greeting thumps this time, however, so Joseph went to the living room to investigate.

And then his jaw dropped.

Caesar, during their absence, was painting.

He'd found Joseph's art box, the same one he'd meddled with on the first morning, and, using one of Suzi's paper sheets on her clipboard as a canvas, was using a watercolor palette. Joseph watched in amazement as Caesar, dexterously gripping the paintbrush in his lips, dipped the brush into the paint, and with a coordinated rotation of his head and a flexing of his mouth, he streaked the brush across the paper, forming a line of color on the sheet.

The painting itself wasn't much: it was little more than an abstract mess of different, haphazard streaks of color looking like a cross between a kindergartener's doodle and a Jackson Pollock painting. But the fact that it was made by someone without limbs and only a few days old was a tremendous achievement in itself, and Joseph couldn't hold back a tear of joy.

Caesar was so preoccupied with stroking the brush, that he scarcely noticed Joseph entering the room until Joseph called his name. Caesar flinched in surprise, dropping the brush as his mouth popped open in shock.

"Joseph! I-I didn't know you were here! I'm sorry," he said apologetically, making a few hops on the floor to turn himself to face Joseph. "I was just bored and wanted something to do, I hope you don't mind."

Joseph gestured to the painting with great amazement. "I didn't know you had such a talent for art!"

Caesar looked up at Joseph and grinned.

"I am art," Caesar said proudly, trying to stand as tall as he could, which was just a bit more than Joseph's knee-height.

"How did you do it?" Joseph asked.

"A lot of patience, a lot of persistence and a lot of bouncing," Caesar replied with a chuckle. Joseph couldn't help but notice, as Caesar smiled, that his nose had flattened slightly and his front teeth were slightly crooked, likely from their unintended use as substitutes for fingers.

"You've done a wonderful job, but I think you overdid yourself," Joseph said, gently lifting up Caesar off the ground. "You need just a little bit of fixing," Joseph said, imagining the struggle of Caesar having to use his nose and teeth to move things around.

It was hard being just a head.

-----

"Okay, this won't hurt a bit," Joseph said, as he gently squeezed Caesar's soft clay nose back into shape.

"Ah, that's better," the bust replied, as he sat once more on his birthplace: Joseph's working table. "I couln't help but squish my nose a bit to push that art box of yours along."

A wide grin crept across Joseph's face.

"Well, the good news is that you won't have to do that anymore!" he said, gesturing to a large block of clay on the opposite end of the table, still wrapped in a thin layer of plastic.

Intrigued, Caesar carefully bounced closer. "What-- what's this? What does this mean?" he asked, perplexed.

Suzi followed into the room with a huge smile, carrying another clay block.

"We're making you a body, Caesar!"

Caesar's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Could...could you really do that?"

Joseph shrugged. "I don't know, but I think it's worth a try!"

"We're gonna experiment a bit on how to pull this off," Suzi said, peeling off the plastic covering of the clay block. "We guessed we'd build on you bit by bit so you gradually get used to having more of a body."

"Gee, I never thought," Caesar said, gratefully. "Let's do this."

-----

The two artists began with a stub of a right arm, all the way up to an elbow. Perching Caesar onto the workbench, they began to outfit him with the stump, using Suzi's anatomy reference guide to scale and sculpt the limb.

"I wished I had that book sooner," Joseph laughed, as he smoothened Caesar's newly attached arm nub. "Then I wouldn't have settled for making only a bust."

Soon the stubby appendage was tacked on, and Joseph began to paint. He stroked and blended with the same amount of dedication he'd given Caesar's head, shaping it as to merge with Caesar's shoulder seamlessly, texturing it perfectly as to look almost like human skin, until at last, painted and sculpted, it looked perfect, like a natural outgrowth of Caesar's rudimentary body.

"Go on," Joseph said encouragingly. "Try to move it."

Caesar strained and struggled to do just that, staring at the new limb intently, with determination, but the elbow-length stub refused to budge. Not even a wiggle or a twitch, no matter how hard Caesar tried, the arm stub remained a motionless deadweight.

Caesar looked at Joseph, clearly worried.

"Jojo...I can't."

Joseph felt a sinking unease. He reached out to touch Caesar's skin. His head and neck felt oddly warm like always, warm like a living person's skin despite being textured, and having a consistency, like clay. But there was a sharp divide where the new arm met his torso-- beyond that line, the clay of the arm felt cold and lifeless to the touch. It felt dead.

"Something's wrong," Joseph said. Suzi came over for a closer look.

Pulling out a pin from a box of supplies, she sharply poked the arm stub. "Feel anything?"

"Nope," Caesar sighed.

"How about this?" she asked, poking a bit higher.

"Still nothing."

Suzi poked the arm higher and higher, but Caesar felt nothing. But after several pokes, she reached the line where the warm, living clay met the useless stump.

"Ouch!" Caesar cried as Suzi jabbed him finally at a spot he could feel.

Suzi shook her head. "Maybe it's because it's incomplete? Should we try finishing a complete arm and hand?"

"I'm not really sure how sentient clay bust anatomy works," sighed Joseph, "but I suppose it's worth a try. After all, Caesar only came alive once I completed his head."

Caesar shuddered at the prospect of coming alive before his head was completed, but sighed in relief that he only did animate once it was.

"Just hold on for a while, alright Cae?" Joseph said in an attempt to reassure the anxious bust. "Hopefully you'll soon have a body."

Joseph sat down and ruffled his brown messy hair in frustration.

This, as it turned out, was a lot more complicated than it had first seemed.

---------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #gingerreggg #hands of life au #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #heads up #battle tendency #caejose #caesar x joseph

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

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Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Twenty-Three

The following day, Noctis and Ignis sat at a table in the dining car. Their gazes were focused on the passing scenery. "Feels good to ride the rails," Ignis commented, shattering the silence between them.

"Sure does," Noctis replied, his eyes never leaving the beautiful scenery.

"Eager to drive once we're in Gralea?" The strategist inquired.

"If they'll let me."

"We're fortunate to have the Regalia at all. We owe the first secretary our thanks."

"She'd get more thanks if she gave us a discount."

"Those transceivers are top-notch. I recall when the Hydraean raged-In the midst of the empire's retreat, one conspicuous craft remained behind: the chancellor's. The last thing I remember seeing was his ship, heading for the altar. I fell unconscious...and was powerless to stop him," Ignis said.

"I'm just glad you're alive," Noctis spoke his true feelings. "And what happened (Y/n). I can't even imagine what it was like for her."

"Indeed," the tactician sighed sorrowfully. "I failed to protect you both."

"Are you really still talking like that?" The younger boy huffed. "I don't see why you're so hung up on it. I mean, we're both okay."

"Noctis is correct," (Y/n) said as she appeared out of thin air, standing at the end of the table. "There are moments where we are powerless and unable to protect those we cherish. What truly matters is Noctis and I are here with you, Ignis. The fault lies with the chancellor. He is a twisted man and is responsible for what transpired in Altissia."

"I cannot deny your words, (Y/n), for they hold truth," the tactician confessed.

"Let's rid ourselves of such a melancholic topic," she said. "How's your eyesight?"

A giant smile appeared on the bespectacled boy's face. "Blurry, but shapes and colors are prominent."

Noctis looked toward the Horseman. "That's good, right?"

"Very," she giggled. "Although, I am rather flabbergasted at how brisk the remedy is working. It's possible there's a small amount of energy left within your body from wielding the Ring which is aiding your body in healing."

"Does that mean Specs could regain his sight in a few days?" The raven-haired boy asked with a hopeful tone.

"If he's able to see shapes and colors by now with only two treatments, it's highly possible he'll regain his eyesight in a couple days." She turned her gaze back toward Ignis. She climbed into the seat beside him and placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face toward hers. A smile morphed on her face when she took off the visor and analyzed the scars marring his eyes. "The scars are also mending. You will most likely regain your eyesight before they vanish."

As Pestilence dropped her hand from Ignis' cheek, a cold sweat washed over her body as a familiar pain arose in her chest. Unconsciously, she fisted the fabric covering her chest as her breathing became shallow. With shaky arms, she pushed herself out of the booth. She didn't make it far before collapsing to her knees.

Noctis was the first to notice her state and went to her side. "H-Hey, what's wrong?"

"Noct, what is it?" Ignis asked when hearing the boy's worried tone.

"I don't know!" He shouted as he caught the girl before her entire body crumpled to the floor.

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out in pain, but she was unable to hold the whimpers at bay. Ignis heard and carefully maneuvered out of the booth, using his hands to guide him. While his eyesight was returning, it was only mere shapes and colors at the moment. Fortunately, that was enough for him to reach his beloved's side. Carefully, he took her body out of Noctis' grasp and pulled her close. He held her gently as he asked, "What ails you, (Y/n)?"

She closed her eyes as she leaned against him. "A-Ardyn..."

Noctis' eyes narrowed at the mention of the chancellor's name. He clenched and unclenched his fist, tempted to slam it against the ground in anger. "The hell did he do to you, (Y/n)?"

"I-I know not of what he's accomplished, but King Aeshema has detected a dark entity residing within me. I fear it is the "gift" the chancellor mentioned."

Ignis remembered all too clearly what Ardyn spoke of on the day of the rite. While he was unable to see her current state, he imagined how much pain he inflicted upon her without laying a hand on her. "There must be a way to purge it from your body."

With shaky hands, (Y/n) conjured up the glass vial containing the healing remedy. She handed it to Noctis, who was perplexed as to why he was receiving such a thing. "Please, Noctis, take this. Could you be the one to administer the rest of the remedy?"

The raven-haired boy hesitantly took the vial. "Why does it sound like you're leaving?"

"I fear the worse is about to happen," she confessed. "If what Ardyn said is true, then I should be as far away from you and the others as possible."

"What nonsense do you speak of, (Y/n)?" Ignis hissed.

"This entity dwelling within me will soon flourish and I will no longer be in control of my own body." She broke free from Ignis' tender touch and forced her body away from his. With feeble legs, she pushed herself off the floor and set her sights on the adjoining car. She stared through the window on the door and her eyes widened in horror when spotting the man behind her tainted body.

Ardyn grinned at her before spinning on his heels and walking way. Pestilence dragged her legs forward, but she only made it a few steps before someone latched on to her wrist and stopped her from leaving. Before she could argue, she was spun around and pulled against a toned body. One arm snaked around her waist while fingers secured her chin and tilted it upward, forcing her (e/c) eyes to lock with emerald ones.

As (Y/n) was about to make a remark, Ignis slammed his lips against hers. Her eyes widened in shock at the ferocity behind the kiss and would have stumbled back if his other arm wasn't wrapped around her waist. She debated kissing back but feared if she did her conviction to leave would shatter. Placing her hands on his chest, she tried to push him away. Unfortunately, he didn't budge an inch. The kiss dragged on and the pain in her chest became bearable and soon extinguished.

When the needy and intoxicating kiss ended, Ignis' opened his scarred eyes. He kept ahold of her chin as his foggy eyes could make out her gleaming (e/c) ones. Though blurry, he knew exactly what his eyes were focused on. "The Astrals themselves will have to strike me down before I let what happened in Altissia repeat. I refuse to lose you again."

(Y/n), eyes still wide as saucers, scanned the advisor's face. His words made her heart thump wildly inside her chest, but she had to chase after Ardyn. "Ignis, I..." Her eyes darted toward Noctis before returning to the strategist. She grabbed the wrist of the hand holding her chin hostage and pried his fingers from her face. "I hope you'll forgive me." With those final words, she vanished into a cloud of smoke.

She reappeared in a random car, looking around for the chancellor as the pain from earlier returned. When spotting the man, she followed him. A few people aboard the train eyed her strangely as she hurriedly ran down the aisle and toward the connecting car. As the distance between her and Ardyn shrunk, the pain in her chest festered.

Entering the next car, (Y/n) summoned her staff and casted a shadow spell. Black tendrils barred the door located in the back, preventing the man from exiting the train car. The small group of people saw the appendages and quickly ran to the previous car in fear. Now it was only Pestilence and Ardyn.

The chancellor chuckled as he swiveled on his heels to face the girl. A wicked smile blossomed on his face as he removed his hat and politely bowed to the Horseman. "Ah, a pleasure to see you again, (Y/n). I presume I've the honor of using such an alluring name, correct?"

"I've no time for formalities or idle chitchat," Pestilence snapped. She held her staff in one hand while the other remained over her chest. She was still weak from the earlier pain and was having issues standing on her own feet when it returned tenfold. Fighting through it, she jabbed her staff in the chancellor's direction. "Your plans will fail, Ardyn."

Another menacing chuckle emitted from him as he took a single step toward her. "You sound quite certain, my dear. Although, my plans have already been set in motion. I'm afraid you're too late."

(Y/n) backed away from him as he slowly closed the distance between them. She was sweating bullets from the increasing pain, her legs shaking. She lowered her staff, using it as a crutch. She was unable to keep the tendrils alive as they disappeared in a black cloud of smoke. Her back collided with the door, gritting her teeth in agony.

Ardyn came to a sudden halt, covering his face with his hat. "You are the last remnant." He lowered his hat, revealing daemonic features. An eerie black substance oozed from his mouth and cloudy eyes, his skin a sickening pale hue. The black veins within his body were prominent against his pale complexion.

A gasp of horror came from the Horseman at the frightening sight. She tried to cast a spell, but his hand lunges out and wraps around her throat. The moment his hand began squeezing her throat, the pain in her chest reached an unbearable level. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but no sound came from her throat as it was constricted by Ardyn's hand. "Shall we depart, my dear?" He chortled, enjoying watching her writhe in pain as she tried to fight against him.

(Y/n) dropped her staff. It 'clacked' against the floor by the chancellor's feet. Even in her frail state, she tried to pry the man's hand from around her throat. Due to the pain in her chest and the lack of oxygen, her strength was greatly diminished. She tried to kick him, but she couldn't swing her legs hard enough to do some damage and force him to release her. Her vision slowly began fading to black and eventually, she lost consciousness.

<-----------<<<<<

Noctis, who remained in the dining car after Ignis left to search for (Y/n), stared out the window and admired the scenery as he sat back down at the booth. He tore his gaze away from the passing scenery and glanced down at the glass vial in his hand. He fiddled with it for a few minutes before placing it in his pocket.

After a while, Gladio visited the dining car and told him what he learned on his reconnaissance mission given to him by Ignis. Each passing day, the night grew longer. Sunlight was slowly vanishing from Eos and no one knew how long it would take for the darkness to consume the entire planet.

Once the brute left, Noctis was soon visited by Prompto as the train passed by a snowy mountain range shrouded in mist. They discussed the strange phenomenon for a few minutes before the raven-haired boy felt a chill down his spine. He looks around the dining car and suddenly realizes that no one else is moving. Everything is blanketed in gray and everyone is frozen in place. Seeing Prompto was missing, Noctis stood up. "What's going on?"

Noctis suddenly hears Ardyn's voice behind him. "It's a real mystery."

He promptly turns around to find the chancellor standing not too far away.

"I'm not liking that snow cloud. Kind of gives me the chills. Like, who comes up with this stuff? I couldn't dream something like this if I tried. It's a wondrous world," the man said.

Noctis glared at him as he growled, "The hell are you doing here?!" He springs forward to punch Ardyn in the face, but he dodges.

"Whoa, what's going on?! Easy there, buddy. Didn't see that coming. You alright?"

The raven-haired boy conjures a sword and swings it at the man, who steps back just out of range. "Shut up!" Noctis hissed.

"Be careful there! Wait-is this for real?" Ardyn questioned with a worried tone. He turns on his heels and begins to run away. Noctis pursues him into the cabin car. The chancellor runs into one of the cabins and shuts the door.

Noctis walks down the aisle toward the cabin and jerks the door open. "Show yourself!"

Suddenly, Ardyn leans over from behind Noctis. "Uh...Noct?"

Said boy swings around with his fist, hitting nothing but air. Once again, Ardyn has vanished. The young boy clicked his tongue in frustration. "That son of a bitch..." He runs to the next car, where he sees his target backing away.

"C'mon, Noct. You're scaring me! Seriously, man, cut it out!" Ardyn wailed in fear. He passes to the next car, where Noctis continues to pursue him. "It's not safe. Plus, you're causing a scene. Quit playing around, okay?"

Noctis catches up to the man and conjures a sword once again, which he immediately takes swing with, attempting to bisect him horizontally. "You think this is funny?!"

Ardyn ducks the blade, then quickly scrambles to his feet and runs toward the next car. "Dude, are you seriously trying to kill me?!"

Inside the next car, Noctis was distracted when his foot kicked something. Looking down, he saw a strange object. He kneeled down on one knee to get a better look at it. When he picked it up and analyzed it, his eyes widened once recognizing what the object was. It's (Y/n)'s staff. He pushed himself up, taking the weapon with him. His eyes trailed up and down the staff before looking back in the direction Ardyn vanished. Gripping the staff tightly, his knuckles turned white. He knew something had happened to the Horseman and who the culprit was. "Damn bastard... I'll make sure you pay!"

#ffxv x reader #ffxv #final fantasy xv x reader #final fantasy xv #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #Noctis Lucis Caelum

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zestycompress · 4 years

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Ultimate Duo! Ch. 1

ok so BASICALLY... giorno & kars being homies and it’s a fic

here’s the ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25085071/chapters/60765478

For a few minutes, Kars didn’t realize he was back on some solid ground. He believed he was going to spend the rest of his immortal life in the cold dark emptiness of space. That caused him to stop thinking, why would he want to be aware of nothing? Kars was frozen, his muscles refused to budge no matter how much of his strength he tried using. It was all useless.

Eventually, his body returned to its normal state. Kars stretched his limbs, listening to the satisfying cracks and sighing. His mind was still a bit foggy, but he was able to remember some names and moments in his life. There were a few painful memories like losing his allies Esidisi and Wamuu and losing to that damn Joseph Joestar. Then there were better ones like becoming the ultimate lifeform. (Which he still is…)

Everything else was simply a blur, which annoyed him greatly, but that wasn’t something he was going to concern himself with. He was back on Earth and the first thing he was going to do is get revenge. Unfortunately, his legs were wobbly when he stood. They gave out and let him fall back onto the ground.

Kars let out a low growl before attempting again. He didn’t fall this time, but his legs still weren’t steady.

“Excuse me, signore.”

The voice startled him, almost making him fall back onto his knees. Turning around, a blond human was staring at him. He looked pretty young too despite his serious expression.

He recognized the language he spoke. It was Italian, wasn’t it?

“What do you want?” Kars hissed, giving the boy an intimidating scowl.

“Well, I saw you had a few difficulties standing and I just wanted to know if-”

“You wanted to know what?”

The teenager blinked, he was caught off guard. After clearing his throat, he began talking again. “I just wanted to know if you were alright, signore, that is all.”

Kars let out what seemed to be an annoyed sigh. He spent a few seconds in silence before speaking again. “Tell me, what is your name, human?”

“I am Giorno Giovanna, and you signore?”

“...Kars.”

Giorno hummed, examining the Pillar Man’s horns right above his forehead and the bizarre lack of clothes. He cocked an eyebrow, curiously tilting his head.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, signore Kars,” he pointed at him. “But are you even human?”

He only laughed in response.

~~~

It felt weird letting a stranger live with you, especially when you have such a small room. Giorno could tell Kars was judging everything in his room, probably saying “damn, you live like this?” in his head. He felt a bit nervous. He picked up books and flipped through the pages. It didn’t seem like he stopped to read anything written. Most of the books Giorno owned were about botany or zoology. When there was a picture, Kars spent a few more seconds longer on the page, then moved on.

Kars was hard for Giorno to read, he revealed little to no emotion.

The Pillar Man placed the books back to their original spots, then continued to explore the rest of Giorno’s room. As he did so, the young boy awkwardly stood near the doorway.

“I don’t have a place for you to sleep, but I could let you have my bed,” Kars immediately rejected his offer.

“Don’t bother, I don’t need sleep like you.”

...either he was really dedicated to pretending he’s not a human or he truly isn’t one. Honestly, he couldn’t tell. Giorno was never given an answer.

The teen glanced around, trying to figure out what to do next.

“Would you like me to get clothes for you? No offence, but I think you need some,” Giorno said.

“Go ahead, do whatever. But if you bring me something ridiculous, I’ll slice your head off.” Kars responded with a glare.

Giorno didn’t doubt it one bit.

When he went out, he made sure to pickpocket from a few strangers, hoping his new roommate didn’t have expensive tastes. He didn’t plan to buy much anyway, just a shirt and pants, maybe another thing if it matches the outfit. Giorno’s definitely not going to buy any undergarments for Kars, the man can do it himself. He bought a white collared shirt and black pants, Giorno may or may not have stolen some other clothes as well. As he walked back with some newly purchased (and stolen) goods, he spotted a slightly worn novel. When Giorno moved closer, he noticed it was something about history. Should he bring it back to Kars? After a moment of pondering, he snatched the book and left.

If the stranger liked the book, they wouldn’t have left it out like that.

~~~

“I’m back.”

Kars glanced at him while Giorno stared back at him with wide eyes.

His hand was gone, instead replaced with a plant. Not just any plant of course, but the pluchea glutinosa. From what he’s read, it was presumed to be extinct since the 19th century.

Yet, here it was, right in front of him.

“Are you a Stand user?” Giorno practically blurted out, summoning Gold Experience right after he asked.

“A Stand user? I don’t know what that is.” Kars’s gaze turned to the book. He flipped the page and the plant turned into a strange green goo, then became a different plant.

Was this not the power of a Stand? Or is Kars playing dumb?

“MUDAAA!” Gold Experience dashed forward, a fist inches away from colliding with the Pillar Man’s skull.

He didn’t even flinch.

Of course, the Stand didn’t even hit him, though it was quite close to doing so. Kars lifted his head up, turning his head to Gold Experience. He frowned and looked around with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Giorno,” He said. “Do you feel that?”

Curious, the teen moved forward and replied. “Feel what, signore Kars?”

“There’s a presence here,” Immediately, he stood up. “I can feel like, but there’s only us here.”

Kars searched around in Giorno’s room, opening his closet and checking underneath his bed only to find nothing. Giorno stared at Gold Experience and allowed the Stand to move closer to him.

He wasn’t a Stand user, but he could feel the energy of a Stand?

“Signore Kars, I think that presence your feeling is Gold Experience.”

His little exploration came to a halt as he turned to Giorno with a bewildered expression. It only remained there for a second before it changed, perhaps to rage.

“What the hell is Gold Experience? Are they human like you?” Kars yanked on Giorno’s collar, his face uncomfortably close to the teen’s. It felt like his ruby red eyes were burning holes through him. “No, that can’t be. It’s something else, isn’t it? You know, don’t you? Giorno Giovanna, if you don’t tell me right now-”

“It’s my Stand!”

Slowly (or probably hesitantly) Kars loosened his grip on Giorno. His gaze stayed on him, but it was less intense, but filled with suspicion.

“Explain it to me.”

~~~

Giorno explained all that he knew about his Stand and how only he was able to see it. Kars appeared to be fascinated with the new information. It was something that was worth caring about, but he wanted to know more. It disappoints him that Giorno’s knowledge was limited. He considered doing experiments on him, but he was the only Stand user he knows. It would be a shame to have something unfortunate cuts his life short.

Plus, it would be a waste as well.

He has lived for millennia and has never seen such a phenomenon. Maybe the hunt for the Red Stone of Aja prevented him from learning about peculiar things such as Stands. Now that he has achieved his goal of being the ultimate life form, Kars could explore other things in the human world. His expectations for humans are usually pretty low, so he’s not going to be surprised when they disappoint him.

A few hours had passed and it was that time when humans needed their rest. It took awhile for Giorno to fall asleep, he felt Kars’s eyes on him as he turned to get in a more comfortable position. It didn’t exactly help when the Pillar Man got up and walked around or tinkered with the pens and pencils he had on his desk. Occasionally, he would even hear drawers being open or his chair lightly scraping against the wooden floor. Giorno found it annoying, but didn’t bother with telling Kars to be quiet or stop doing whatever.

“Signore Kars.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to become a Gang-Star.”

“...Don’t let anybody get in your way.”

After the little chat, Giorno didn’t hear anything else. Seems like he managed to get some peace and quiet. Soon, he was fast asleep. Kars glanced up at the sleeping boy, then turned to the clothes he bought. He should try them on later.

~~~

When Giorno woke up, he noticed Kars on the floor with the random book he took. The Pillar Man didn’t bother giving him a “good morning”, he was too focused on the old novel.

“Buongiorno, signore Kars.”

In return, he just got a grunt.

...Good enough.

Giorno got ready for the day, putting on his clothes, brushing his hair, making the little curls, all that stuff. Finally, he tied his hair into a braid and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?”

The blond teen paused. “...Out?”

“With anybody? Or are you going alone?”

“I’m leaving by myself, why?” Giorno turned to face Kars, who had his book closed and right next to him on the ground.

Silence.

Kars picked up the book, opening to the exact page he left on. “If you meet any more Stand users, bring them to me.”

...Alright?

The way he speaks annoys Giorno, it's like this man has never been told no, or he’s used to giving commands to people below him. He turned back to the door and twisted the doorknob.

“By the way…”

Good grief, what did he want now?

“...Where are you going?”

“The airport, to scam tourists.”

“Ah.”

Giorno quickly left without another word.

“...What the hell is an airport?”

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 017 [Gravedigger]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,704

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“When the night is cold and you feel like no one knows, What it’s like to be the only one buried in this hole, You can make it to the sunrise.” Our Last Night, “Sunrise”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Stay together and don’t move!” Aizawa ordered. “Thirteen, protect the students!”

“What is that thing?” Red asked as everyone started to notice the villains appearing. “Wait, has the training started already? I thought we were rescuing people.”

“Stay back!” Aizawa pulled his goggles up and over his eyes. “This is real. Those are villains!”

Those yellow eyes. That black and purple smoke. It’s really him, the bastard that changed my life. He’s here, standing mere feet in front of me. And that ugly ass Golem look-alike… I know he’s the one that took Gramps’ life. I always thought that if I was confronted with the bastards that killed Gramps, I wouldn’t hesitate to attack them and get revenge, but… knowing that these kids are here, are in danger… it’s all I can think about.

“So, you scumbags used the press as a cover and sneaked onto campus,” Aizawa muttered.

“What, real villains? No way… How could so many of them get into a U.A. facility this secure?”

“Yeah, Thirteen, why aren’t the alarms going off?”

“Good question… I’m not sure.”

“Is the entire campus under attack? Or is this their only target?” Peppermint asked. I don’t understand why, but the sound of his voice slowed my racing heart. “Either way, if the alarm censors aren’t being triggered, then one of these villains must have a quirk that’s masking their presence here. They carefully chose this isolated facility as an entry point at a time when a class was being taught. They’re fools for trespassing here, but they’ve thought this out. Whatever their plan is, they must have a concrete objective in mind, but what is it?”

“Thirteen, get them out of here and alert the main campus. Actually, if they’ve got the ability to block our sensors… then they might be jamming our regular communications, too. Kaminari, try using your quirk to contact the school.”

“Yes, sir!”

“What are you gonna do?” Izuku asked, voice laced with worry. “You can’t fight them on your own, there’s too many of them. Even if you can nullify their quirks, your fighting style’s not suited for this. Your power works best in one on one fights. It’s not gonna help with a group…”

For fuck’s sake, kid, you’re really gonna tell a pro how his own quirk works? I get that he’s worried and scared, but now ain’t the time for his shit.

“You can’t be a pro if you only have one trick. I’ll leave it to you, Thirteen.” Aizawa jumped down the stairs, using his quirk to erase theirs and his scarf to help the attack. I know first hand how capable Aizawa is, but…

“Woah, he’s holding them off. I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated him…”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the greenette’s shoulder. “Shut your trap and go!”

“R-Right!”

The group started to run for the entrance and, against the voice in the back of my mind, I turned my back to Aizawa and ran after them. We were almost to the entrance when the warp gate materialized in front of us, blocking our way.

“There is no escape for you.” His golden eyes narrowed at me. “We meet again, Jen Winchester. Perhaps this time, you won’t give us quite as much trouble.”

A couple students looked at me suspiciously and I swallowed, feeling sweat rolling down my cheek. “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re gonna get ten times the hell you got before!”

“We shall see.” He hummed, turning his attention back to the rest of the group. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. We are the league of villains. I know it’s impolite, but we decided to invite ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. And besides, isn’t this a fitting place for All Might, the symbol of peace, to take his last breath?”

My heart skipped a painful beat as my eyes widened. What the fuck… they came to kill All Might?

“I believe he was supposed to be here today and yet I see no sign of him. There must have been some sort of change in plans we could not have foreseen. Ah, well, in the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I still have a role to play.”

Bakugo and Red rushed him.

“You fucking idiots!” I screamed.

“Did you think we were just gonna stand around and let you tear this place to shreds?”

“You live up to your school’s reputation, but you should be more careful, children. Otherwise, someone might get hurt.”

“You two, get out of the way right now!” Thirteen ordered, preparing to activate his quirk, but it was too late.

His shadowy body expanded to cover all of us. I tried to push through the smoke to reach Bakugo but it was too thick. “I’ll scatter you across this facility to meet my comrades and your death!”

Gramps’ face flashed in my mind and my body started to shake. No, I can’t let these kids die! I refuse! I felt that familiar feeling of falling through the air as I was forcefully warped away from the group. My back hit the pavement with a loud thud and I grunted, rolling over onto my side. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“How kind of you to join us… Jen Winchester.”

My head snapped up. Standing a few feet in front of me was a scrawny man, severed hands clinging tightly to his body. His face was covered by one, but I could still see his beady red eyes staring down at me from between the fingers. I pulled myself to my feet, glancing to the left where Aizawa was fighting. He hadn’t noticed that I was now in the fray. Good, he doesn’t need the distraction.

“You look just like Alissa,” The man muttered, reaching his hand out toward me. I jumped back to put more distance between us and he started to scratch at his neck. “Gravedigger, go get her. Bring her to me alive.”

The Golem look-alike stood up, his body hunching forward. He grinned widely, showing off rotting and yellowed teeth. His thin body was wrapped in yellowing bandages, the only visible parts of his body being his mouth and nostrils. When he stepped forward, his long legs bent, knees pointing outward. It was more of a waddle than a walk, but it was far from comical.

I’ve got to think this through. I don’t know what this fucker’s quirk is or what he’s capable of. I’ll let him make the first move. I shifted my stance to defensive, hands clenching.

He pulled a dagger from his side, his tongue poking out to lick at his blistered and cracked lips. “That old man… was delicious, you know.”

“What?” My body tensed. S-Surely he doesn’t mean…

“He filled me up for a month after I devoured his corpse~” He brought the dagger up to his face as if admiring it. “I used his bones to fashion this dagger. Isn’t it just glorious?”

“You…” My body temperature shot up as flames danced across my skin.

“He was so tender,”

“Shut. Up.”

“And juicy~”

“Shut the fuck up!” I lunged at him, cocking back my arm to punch him in the face, but he dodged and slid under my arm, aiming the dagger at my stomach. I slammed my foot against the ground and fire sprung forth from the cement, pushing him back. I envisioned myself behind him and I felt my body shift like it was being sucked down a drain. What the hell?

My eyes closed in discomfort as my head throbbed. I opened them a moment later when the pain passed. I… I’m behind him? Bitch how?

He whipped around, swinging the dagger wildly at my body. I felt the metal slice through my skin in several places, my flames crawling up to lick at the wounds. Damn it, this guy is fucking fast. I did my best to dodge his attacks until I saw an opening. He attacked again and I dodged, grabbing his arm. He screamed in pain as the bandages caught on fire, burning them away.

What the fuck? His flesh is rotting away! I can see his fucking bone. Is this… part of his quirk?

“You… bitch!” He screamed, clutching his arm.

“Jen!” Aizawa yelled my name, but there were too many villains between us. He’s fighting so goddamn hard to protect everyone, to keep everyone safe. I have to do the same, no matter what it costs me. I took a deep breath to steel my nerves.

Limit release!

My shirts shattered into dust, replaced by the black bikini top. Power flowed throughout my body, my eyes starting to glow red as they focused on Golem. I don’t care what it takes, I will protect these kids. Even if they don’t like me, even if they don’t trust me, I won’t let them die here. I focused on the spot behind him and appeared there a second later, crying out as I brought a flaming fist to the back of his head.

He went flying backward, but I didn’t give him time to recover, appearing behind him again and slamming my knee into his back. “Eat this, fuckface!” I slammed my fist into the ground, sending a wave of flames through the earth. It shot toward him, the cement cracking and breaking. Just before reaching him, the ground broke outward and my flames shot up, taking the form of a phoenix as it slamming itself into his body. He flew back across the dome.

Breathing heavily, I leaned down to pick up the dagger he had dropped, my fingers ghosting over the handle made of bone. Gramps… you deserved so much fucking better than you got. After everything you did for me, I couldn’t do anything to help you in return. I’m so fucking sorry.

I tucked the dagger between my belt and pants before turning toward Aizawa. My blood ran cold. He was face-first on the ground, blood splattered around his body. The guy pinning him was huge and looked like a fucking failed experiment. Its fucking brain is sticking out.

He grabbed Aizawa’s arm and broke the bones, making Aizawa cry out in agony. My heart lept painfully.

“Shouta!” I pushed off the ground, rearing back before slamming my fist against the creature’s face. His face turned slightly to the side, but his body didn’t budge an inch. What the fuck is this thing?!

“Run… away…” Aizawa begged.

“Like hell, I’m leaving you!” I cried, punching the creature again, but it did nothing but make my fist throb.

“You can erase people’s powers. That’s irritating, but it’s nothing impressive. When faced with true devastating power, you might as well be a quirkless child.”

The creature slammed his palm down on Aizawa’s other arm, making him scream in pain as the bones broke.

“Goddamn it!” I grabbed the thing’s upper arm, setting it ablaze as I raised my temperature. It didn’t even twitch!

He grabbed the back of Aizawa’s head, slamming it against the ground hard enough to leave an indent in the ground.

Calm down, Jen! If your attacks aren’t working on the pawn, take out the puppet master! I glared at the blue-haired male and appeared behind him, flames growing as my anger rose.

“Too slow,” He looked over his shoulder and grinned from beneath the hand. “Just don’t kill her, Nomu.”

The creature was behind me. His large hand grabbed my side roughly and shoved me to the ground. Pain engulfed my whole body as I was slammed down, the cement cracking around my body. I think… he just broke my ribs… Fuck, it hurts… to breathe…

“Tomura Shigaraki,” The warp gate appeared beside him.

“Kurogiri, did you manage to kill Thirteen?”

“The rescue hero is out of commission, but there were students I was unable to disperse and one of them got outside of the facility.”

So help is on the way, but… I glanced at Aizawa. He’s in really bad shape, I don’t know if we can hold out long enough. The school is… so fucking far away from here. No, you can’t think like that, dumbass! I’m not nearly as injured as he is. I just have to… to hold out until the pros can get here. Right… no pressure.

“Kurogiri, you fool. If you weren’t our warp gate, I’d tear apart every last atom in your body! There’s no way we can win if dozens of pros show up to stop us. It’s game over. Back to the title screen. And I was looking forward to finishing this today. Damn it. Let’s go home. Oh, before we leave, let’s make sure the symbol of peace is broken. Let’s wreck his pride!”

In a flash, he was rushing toward the waterline, his hand reaching out… toward Tsu. “Shit!” I struggled against the weight on my back, but this fucker wouldn’t budge. My long-range flames aren’t as powerful and they’re less stable, but I don’t have a choice. I have to stop him! I placed my palm flat on the ground, sending small sparks skittering across the cement.

“Let’s make this hurt!”

His hand stopped inches from her face and I took my chance, the flames shooting up on the edge of the cement, putting a wall of fire between the three students and the man. His hand shot back and he cursed.

“The two of you really are so cool.”

I glanced to my left, seeing Aizawa struggling to hold his head up, red eyes trained on Tomura as he erased the man’s quirk. In a matter of seconds, the creature grabbed both of us by the back of the head, slamming our faces against the cement. I felt my nose snap and I cried out, tasting blood in my mouth. My fingers dug into the pavement, but that did nothing to stop the pain.

His hand left my head and I heard Izuku scream out, following by the earth trembling as a large gust of wind shot by. I slowly lifted my head, my vision blurred from the pain and the tears stinging my eyes. The dust slowly settled and I saw Izuku’s fist against the creature’s stomach. My eyes widened. No, no, no, he’s going to get himself killed! Goddamn it, Jen, move!

“You’re pretty powerful. This ‘smash’ of yours… are you one of All Might’s disciples?”

Shit, if they make that connection and then manage to escape… it’ll be bad. My body screamed at me as I pushed myself onto my knees. This pain… it was familiar to me. How many of my bones had Skye and Heather broken over the years? Granted, they ain’t nearly as strong as that fucker is, but still. I can… I can deal with this pain.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m done with you now.”

Everything’s happening too fast!

The creature grabbed Izuku’s arm and I pushed myself to my feet. Hand fucker is going for Tsu again! I promised to protect these damn kids, but I can’t do anything against that big fucker! My body heated up, teeth clenching as flames raged around me. I tried to appear behind him, but a sharp pain shot through my head. I rushed forward, using my flames to propel me, but I’m not going fast enough. I won’t make it in time!

The entrance doors slammed open, distracting the two from their attack. This is my chance! I pushed my legs harder, slamming my body into the man. He cried out in pain as the flames burnt his skin, his hand grabbing my side. I felt my skin split and crack, pain searing through my flesh as it was eaten away.

I grabbed the man’s wrist, burning his flesh. He snatched his hand away, taking a few steps back to distance himself. We stared each other down, breathing heavy.

“Have no fear, students. I am here!”

“He’s here… All Might.”

I took a few shallow breaths, wincing at the pain coming from all over my body. Tosh, we really need to have a talk about your timing… I glanced at the stairs. He… he isn’t smiling…

“Looks like our game’s getting a continue.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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rex101111 · 4 years

Text

Scars (and what they prove)

And so! My birthday fic for Eri! Actually on time too! What are the odds!

And also another GG/MHA crossover with Baiken and Anji since I haven’t written this trio for a while and thought this was the perfect opportunity. This fic was actually inspired by a comic by @saisai-chan where Izuku shows Eri his scars and helps her be less self-conscious about them. And guess who else has a lot of scars?

Enjoy!

Every time Baiken notices something new about Eri, she is further convinced that her decision to stab Chisaki Kai between his beady little eyes a minute after meeting him was the right one.

It started out with the obvious, the way she slammed into her legs in the middle of the street, running so frantically she didn't even look at where she was going. How she shook in fear as he came up behind her, calmly and slowly stepping towards her. How she ran behind Baiken's legs shivering like a leaf in the breeze.

The way he spoke to her, voice cloying and weightless like rotting wood, his hands beckoning her over less like a child and more like a misbehaving animal. He called himself her father, her his wayward daughter, and Baiken could have smelled the bullshit coming out of his mouth from ten towns over.

She could barely remember what her father even sounded like, but every inch of her coiled up in disgust as he spoke, soft words carrying an arsenic-sweet voice as Eri looked at him like he was the devil himself, this man who would dare call himself a parent.

By the time Eri clutched at the fabric of her hakama with a trembling plea of, "please…don't leave…", Baiken had made up her mind.

She knew a bastard when she saw one, she knew when she was opposite someone who needed to die right now.

As things settled down and she, Anji and Eri were able to travel with a minimum of fuss, she began to notice smaller things about the young Gear. Things that made her clench her teeth and breath through her nose to stop her temper from raising too high.

For the first few weeks, Eri visibly flinched back whenever she or Anji raised their hands in her direction, and the look on Anji's face when he put together the reason why in his head gave her pause. His face was the picture of directionless anger, utterly explosive and completely impotent in it's intensity, for a quick, endless moment, before he breathed through his nose and smiled for the little girl and went on like nothing happened.

Eri wouldn't accept food unless you practically shoved it into her hands, acting like she wasn't hungry at all, she was fine, really. She wasn't cold, or hot, or tired, or uncomfortable unless you pushed her to admit it.

Overall she never acted like the little girl she was supposed to be, instead she took every precaution she could to seem as little of an annoyance as possible, anything to avoid being a burden.

She tended not to spare a thought to someone after she had killed them, but Baiken couldn't help cursing out that bird faced bastard to rot in the deepest hell pit they could find during a long night of drinking months into traveling with Eri. He taught her nothing about being a person, about straightening her spine and looking people in the eye, this man who had the gull to call himself her parent, even as a lie, it made her sick. Made her angry. Made her useless.

But it all paled to the big thing, the one mark from that man Anji and Baiken couldn't seem to wipe away no matter how hard they tried. All the other habits, she was slowly learning to do better, speak up about wanting to eat at a certain restaurant, asking for a dress, those things were workable, things she might learn to stop doing.

The bandages on her arms? Those stayed, and not the Gear Maker himself would be able to convince her to remove them for anything short of a bath or to treat a wound. Even then she would cover as much of her arms as she could, and asked for people to look away as she undid them.

Long sleeves, coats, anything to hide those scars that Baiken only managed brief glimpses of when Eri wasn't paying attention. The look of intense shame on Eri's face as she looked at her bandaged arms dug a pit in Baiken's stomach she had no idea how to fill.

Not that she was any better with her scars, hiding the slash across her eye and burying her stump in her sleeve and under her weapons. She wanted to say something to the girl, but her usual rough handling of situations would do her no good here, she knew. She needed a gentle touch with Eri, in nearly every aspect.

Too bad her "gentle touch" was woefully out of practice. She found herself lamenting that fact as they stopped at a forest near a river to make camp, Anji setting up the tents while Baiken handled the fire and food, and Eri sitting near the riverbed, washing her face from the grime of the last few days of traveling.

Every so often Eri would stop to look at her covered forearms, biting her lip before she went back to what she was doing. Baiken watched her out of the corner of her eye, and felt more than a little listless. This wasn't a fight to win, she knew that, it was something bigger than just another enemy. She took on the responsibility of taking care of this kid and she can barely even think of what to say to her.

She pokes the flame with a stick, her scowl deepening as the fire jumps up slightly at the intrusion, crackling irritably at her before settling back down. An owl cries out somewhere deeper in the woods, leaving only thoughts to bounce around between her ears. Baiken found her eye drifting back to Eri, now simply dipping her feet in the cold water with her back turned.

"Stare at her any more intensely and she's bound to catch on fire."

Baiken whipped her head to look at Anji, eye narrow and sharp as she caught sight of his knowing smile, "most people who sneak up me end up wishing they were." Her mutter only earned her a raised eyebrow, so she huffed and went back to the fire, focusing on the eye of the flame, trying to figure if she can put the food to cook and ignore Anji more efficiently that way.

"She's been quiet today." Anji continues, as if speaking to the air, decidedly ignoring Baiken jabbing the crackling camp fire more harshly than needed, "more than usual, that only happens when she has something on her mind she has no intention of sharing with us."

Baiken stops, looking at Anji with a suspicious eye, "where do you figure that?" She grumbles, something sticks in her throat at how easily he seems to read Eri, "we've hardly known her for three months."

Anji chuckles and shrugs, "kids aren't that good at hiding their habits yet, our little Eri is not much different." She tears her gaze away from the fire to look back at her, hugging herself while looking up at the sky, toes still dipped in the cool lake. "…this time is a bit more worrying, she barely said more than two words at a time since this morning."

Baiken wants to bite back with an I know because she's been trying to figure out a way to get Eri to talk to her all damn day and her head aches too much to focus on her failure further but chokes on it, her hand tightly gripping the wet branch, the thin bark breaking apart under her fingers.

"She's been looking at her scars."

The stick shatters into splinters in her grip, her face impassive as she opens her palm to let its pieces fall into the fire. She reaches for the fish she and Anji caught earlier and impaled on debarked branches to bury one end in the dirt near the fire pit to cook, finally leaning away from the licking heat as she finishes. "She's always looking at her scars."

"Not like this." She knows this tone, this steely nudge in his voice when he plants his feet and refuses to budge. "Baiken, something is wrong and you know it." She breathes a curse under her breath and looks away. "Don't tell me you intend to just sit there and let her fight this on her own."

"You calling it a fight means you don't know you're talking out of your ass." She meets him with her own bite of steel and is a little glad he leans away from her, "I've been trying all day, she won't…even look at me."

They both look to the ground for a moment, before they look up at Eri's back one last time, one of her arms in front of her face, the moon shifting over the trails her scars made on the skin, Eri's shoulders jumped in a barely visible sniff, and she hugged her knees to her chest, taking her feet out of the water.

Anji sighs, "maybe…" he starts, uncertain, and then he moves his eyes very meaningfully towards the stump of her right arm, "maybe if you give her something to look at…"

Baiken raises her eyebrow at him, and another lump forms in her throat. "Why in the hell would I-?"

"Why do you think she isn't talking to either of us?" He gave her a moment to answer, and when she didn't he went on, gesturing with his hands, "because she doesn't want to bother us with it, like she's been doing since the day we met her, the most she ever asked for was that kimono and we practically had to twist her arm so she would admit to wanting it."

Baiken bites her lip, remember what became of that kimono, bloodied and torn and tossed not a week after they bought it.

"Not to mention we might not even know what we're talking about if we try." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses, "we never did find out what Chisaki was planning-"

"Does it matter?" She snapped, the mention of that man's name raising her hackles, Anji knew better to mention corpses to her unless he wanted a reaction out of her that involved a sword, "whatever nonsense he had in mind wasn't worth…whatever the hell he was doing to Eri."

"Another thing we never found out." Anji went on, unimpressed by her glare, "I don't suppose you gave him an extensive interview before jabbing your sword in his skull, did you?" He shook his head, "a bit of insight into what happened might have helped us…speak to the point."

"He needed to die." She announced gravely, her voice offering no room for argument, "right then and right there." Eri gripping her kimono like a life line, Chisaki's rotten eyes, "understand?"

He raised his hands in surrender, "you'll hear no disagreement from me." He puts them down and grips her shoulder, "but I still think you need to talk to her." He pointed rather crudely at her eyepatch, throwing subtly out the window, "of the two of us, you would have the most to teach her about scars."

"She knows about my eye and arm." She said carefully, glaring at Anji's pointed finger until he withdrew it, "you told her about it not too long ago, remember? Gave her that whole history lesson…"

"What I did was give her the bare facts." He shook his head again, "where and why and when, and even than I skimped out on the details." His grip on her shoulder tighten slightly, "whatever I can tell her, it's best if you speak with directly about it, about how you survived those scars."

"You don't survive scars." She spat out quietly, so Eri wouldn't hear, "you survive what gave them to you, you would have me tell her to, what, take pride in dragging herself through a shitty situation?"

"No." He said calmly, unmoved when Baiken's arm rested meaningfully on the hilt of her blade, "I would like you to tell her, first hand, how you handled…" he paused for a moment as she stared at him, "or…didn't handle this, what it made you feel, how you feel about it now…she won't understand it if it comes from me, it will only be real if it comes from you."

She stared at him for a long moment, the fire crackling and insects in the trees the only sound between them, before her glare fell and her voice heavy, "what can I teach her Anji?" She felt exhausted at this moment, more than she felt after hours of battle and bloodshed, just by admitting this simple thing, "what can I teach that girl besides how to be angry? How to grab hatred and pain and use them as anchors even as they drown her?" She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, "what good will it do for her, me admitting how painful this was?" She points to her eye weakly, "how it twisted me and shredded me until I was little more than some bloodthirsty animal?"

Anji's eyes widened, his voice soft like moonlight, "Baiken…"

"What will it teach? What will this tell her about the world and what she can do with her life if the only example she has is me?" Her voice is bitter as she looks back at the fire, she begins to lose her appetite as this conversation drags on, she rubs her forehead, and raises her gaze to him one more time, voice quiet, "…she and I aren't the only ones with scars here."

Anji blinks for a moment, before a hand rubs a spot on his forehead covered by his hair, and his other hand grips a spot on his inner thigh, before pats both spots with a bitter chuckle, "yes, that may be the case, but I had someone to fall back on." His voice was soft, his smile fragile but reaching his eyes, "the colony, the people there…helped, when they could." He shook his head with a heavy sigh, "but, you didn't, until I decided to tag along you were…alone on the road, with nothing but your anger to keep you going."

Baiken had nothing to say to that, but she was starting to catch on to the direction his line of thought was taking him.

"Eri is the same." He said firmly, "she had no one in the world to help her, all she could do was keep her head down as she suffered, nothing to fall back on but herself and her own two feet." His fragile smile turned into a mirthless smirk, "until a few months ago, that is."

Baiken groaned as her own words came back to bite her lightly, not on the ass but more on the back of her heel.

"You know better than I how she felt, to be alone with such a burden weighing you down." He put both hands on her shoulders now, keeping her gaze on him, "you want to know what you can teach her?" He waited for her to nod before brought his face closer to hers, foreheads touching, "alright, here's one; you can teach her how to carry that burden, teach her how to straighten her back and put one foot in front of the other, that is a lesson you are uniquely qualified to teach."

She looked away from him, glancing behind herself to see Eri still hugging her knees in silence, ruby eyes staring into the moon filled sky.

"That girl thinks you're made of iron, and that she's made of glass." Anji continued quietly, hands firm and warm on her shoulders, "show her that the both of you, Gear and human, are both of flesh and bone, and that life always leaves its mark on such soft things."

Baiken looks at him, gaze locked with his, before the line of her mouth curves upwards slightly, mind made up.

"I'll tend to the food." He said finally, patting her gently on the shoulder before turning to the cooking fish, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, "you two take as long as you need." He even waves her off as he gives his full attention to their dinner, leaving her to the plan.

Baiken is quiet for a moment, before she drags herself to her feet, groaning all the way up. She turns and starts softly padding towards Eri, hand reaching for her eyepatch haltingly. She finally manages to slip it off her head two steps before she reaches her, the girl turning around to notice her one step after that.

"B-Baiken?"

She wipes her face with her sleeve, she sounds a bit chocked, but not as weepy as Baiken feared.

"Mind if I sit here?" She points to a spot near where Eri lays near the river, the girl mumbling something before scooting to the right to give the samurai more room. Baiken sits a bit heavily on the stones near the shallow bank, sighing deeply as she places her eye patch next to her knee, looking up at the same moon Eri gazed at earlier, "thanks."

Eri mumbled into her knees, eyes glued to the shining water, her hands still around her legs.

A moment of heavy quiet falls between them, Eri continuing her refusal to talk and Baiken trying to figure out a way to start a conversation she isn't sure she knows how to finish, before Eri glances at the samurai and notices the eyepatch on the ground.

Her eyes widen slightly before she looks up at Baiken's face. She can only see the right, unscarred side from where she sits, but soon Baiken catches her looking, and turns her head to meet her gaze head on.

Eri gets her first good look at the angry, pale slash that cut out Baiken's eye. It starts high, a little below her hairline, before gouging downwards a little to the left of the middle of her eyebrow, and ending an inch below her lower lip.

It dug deep into the skin, a canyon running down her face and casting a shadow on itself, the wounded tissue rising up in uneven clumps around it's edges. Eri unconsciously put a hand to her own face, tracing a ghost of the wound with a finger.

"First time I really show this off to you, isn’t it?" Baiken smiled quietly at her, pointing at the scar, Eri flinching and darting her hand away from her face, "a scary sight, isn't it?"

"N-no!" She stammers, in a bit of a panic, "I-I mean it's! It's not-you're not-!"

"It's okay kid." Baiken calms with a raised hand, "it's okay if it creeps you out a little, it's supposed to do that." She puts her hand to the bottom end of the scar, chuckling quietly, "I know it scared the hell out of me when I got my first look at a mirror."

Eri's mouth hangs open, her hands clutching her kimono near her leg, she feels the wound on her shoulder pulse quietly for a moment. "Did…" She starts haltingly, voice unsure before she swallows a lump in her throat, "did it…hurt?"

Baiken keeps running a finger near the bottom of the scar, looking at the water flow near her feet, "yeah, a lot." She places her palm across the whole of it, pressing slightly on the scar tissue, feeling nothing on that side of her face but light pressure, "couldn't sleep for the first few days because of the pain, needed medicine just so turning my head didn't make me faint from it."

Eri bites her lip, her right hand griping her left forearm lightly, fingers tracing over the scars that stitch across her skin, "does it…still hurt?"

Baiken removes her hand from the scar, and looks at her palm, some small, young part of her expecting blood to shimmer in the moon light, but only finds her calloused skin staring back at her, "not anymore." She runs her hand through her hair and turns her body so she faces Eri properly, "now it's just kind of…numb, near my eye," she chuckles, "well, that and I can't see through it, so."

Eri, unfortunately, doesn't laugh, and another veil of uneasy quiet comes down on them both. Baiken bites back a curse and unclenches her jaw, reminding herself to take it easy and let the girl set the pace for this talk.

Gentle hand, she thinks to herself, over and over, a gentle hand.

Soon Eri's sight leaves her face, and wonders to her right side, where her empty sleeve hangs limply in the calm night air.

Baiken moves to pull down her top, the cloth smoothing over her skin as she slowly removes it. Soon she's bare from the waist up for Eri to see, her modesty covered with her sarashi, but all the nicks and cuts and dents exposed and plain in the moonlight.

Eri can't keep her eyes from bouncing from cut to cut, the various burn marks and pale strips of flesh where skin was torn and bitten. She's speechless, Baiken guesses she's trying to tell her that she doesn't need to show this to her, but she does. She lifts the stump of her right arm, the flesh gnarled and bark like near where her elbow used to be, the skin patterned with saw-like teeth marks.

"Anji told you about how I got this, right?"

Eri stares wide eyed at the stump, mouth hanging open as her fingers trace her own scars, managing only to numbly nod and whisper, "he-he told me you got hurt a-and…and that you were…" her voice goes weaker as she looks down at her own scars, some measure of shame creeping into her tone, "…angry."

Baiken watches her fingers grip her forearm for a moment, before she looks away to grip at the mangled flesh of her right arm, "yeah, I was angry." She sighs and her own shame disperses into the night air where it can't bother her, "angry at the world, angry the one who did this to me…but, I mostly spent years…being lost."

Eri stares at her again, not understanding what she means.

"I had nothing, no home, no family, no history…no future." She shakes her head as she palms her stump, her fingers catching on the teeth marks the saw left behind, "I was looking for…something, something to make all the pain I went through mean something, that all I suffered wasn't for nothing."

Images of the rain flash in her mind, grey tone streets in the middle of the night, the world expanding and empty as she took another step into it.

"I never did find that something," she continued, eyes closed, "revenge seemed right for a time, but it always escaped me, and I was lost again." She looked behind her, seeing Anji moving the fish a bit away from the fire, and felt her chest warm slightly, "I found something, something that gave me direction, eventually, but believe me Eri, being lost and confused was how I spent most of my time before you and I met."

"B-but…" She spoke up at last, confusion on every part of her small face, red eyes shining in the night, "you-you're so strong!" She shook her head, tears appearing at the edges of her eyes, "i-if you get confused and scared, you j-just power through, and get angry, and win, and-!" She hiccupped and wiped her face, face pointed to the dirt, "a-and I…I can't…"

Baiken put her hand to the back of Eri's head, pulling her into an embrace, her tears staining her sarashi where she was held, "strong?" She muttered quietly, putting her chin on the crown of Eri's head, "is that what you think, that I'm strong? And that you're weak? Do you really think that there's that kind of distance between us?"

Eri hiccupped miserably, digging her head further into Baiken's chest, her blunt horn poking the side of the samurai's neck.

"We both have scars, Eri." Baiken continued calmly, voice level and steady, the words forming clearly in her mind, not gentle, but true, "both of us were hurt, badly, both of us were lost, I found something, but that was after years, decades, of searching and fumbling and failing to even get on my feet."

Eri sniffed, looking up at her, blood red meeting pale peach as her lips wobbled.

"The mark on my eye?" She leaned her forehead against Eri's, noses touching. "My missing arm, all these hundred wounds you see on me? They didn't make me stronger, they didn't build me up, all they did was hurt me, and yet here I am." She smiled softly at the girl, voice warm, "you know why that is?"

Eri shook her head, at a loss but hanging on her every word.

"It's because I needed to be strong in the first place to survive what gave these scars to begin with." Her smile widened with Eri's eyes, "see what I'm getting at? These scars are more than just a reminder that I was hurt, these scars, every scar…yours too," she takes her hand from Eri's head, and traces her fingers on the subtle pattern of scars on her forearm, "they're proof we survived, you and I, proof that we are strong, that the world tried to break us and it failed."

Eri was crying fully now, tears rolling down her face.

"You're not weak, Eri." Baiken went on softly, fingers still going over Eri's scars, "you're just lost, like I was, and confused, like I was." She smiled again, "you'll find your way Eri, I promise, I know, without a doubt, that you're strong enough."

The little girl wrapped her arms around her, sobbing into her chest as she let out all the emotions that built up over the last couple of days, her cries causing a few birds to fly out of their perches on nearby trees. Baiken simply held her there, glad she was able to say something useful. She listened to Eri cry, and waited for her to calm.

Soon she grew quiet, her tears drying as she leaned on Baiken. The samurai maneuvered the little girl so her back was resting on her chest while she sat in her lap, the both of them staring into the calm water of the stream.

Their faces were blurry in the river, the moon glinting off the water hiding even more, but Baiken thought she felt Eri calm further as she took in the sight. She held Baiken's hand with both of her own, her scars still open to the air, as she eyed her stump one last time, "does…does your arm hurt?"

"Sometimes." Baiken answered lightly, lifting the cut appendage into the air, "though usually not, the most it does is pinch in the cold near where the elbow was." She puts it down and chuckles, "well, that and its itchy like nobody's business."

Eri, finally speaks up, and she does it with a chuckle that makes Baiken hold back a massive sigh of relief, "yeah, mine itch a lot too." She lifts her own arms into the air, for once not hiding them as she scratches along one of the marks.

Baiken actually looks at the scars now that Eri was displaying them, and she had to take another deep breath to keep her composure. They were neat, evenly spaced, and straight. They were made with specific intent and surgical precision. By the look of the skin she could see the cuts went all the way to the bone in some places, and how poorly they healed tells her they barely bothered to bandage her whenever they were done.

The most she could see were stitch marks on some of the larger scars, but besides that she wondered if the bastard even bothered to bandage her after he-

"Baiken?" Eri's small voice knocked her out of her ruminations, turning to see her confused face, "are you okay? You seemed…angry for a second."

The samurai cursed her short temper and took another breath, "no, no Eri I was just…" She glanced at Eri's scar one more time, unclenching her jaw and sighing, "just think about dumb adult stuff, don't worry about it."

Eri nodded, expression doubtful, and went back to staring at the water, she started to say something else when suddenly, her stomach let out a horrifying sound, a deep growl that Baiken was sure scared any animal that was near into running far away from their campsite.

She laughed loudly, though she was sure to wrap her arm around the blushing girl to take the sting out of it, and turn her head back to look at the fire, "hey Anji! Food ready yet?"

"Whenever you are!" He called back cheerfully, skewered fish held aloft in his hand, "get 'em while they're hot!"

Baiken shook her head, getting to her feet as Eri left her lap, putting her kimono top back on as she walked to the fire to join the two already starting to dig into their meal.

Anji had given Eri the biggest fish they caught, the little girl eating heartily like she hasn't all day, her sleeves riding up her elbows with the scars still visible.

"I'm guessing the talk went well?" Anji asked quietly as he handed her the last fish, eyes focused on Eri as she ate, "think she'll look at those scars of hers a bit differently?"

Baiken took a large bite out of her meal, savoring the taste for a moment before she swallowed, "give her time, she's finding her way."

Anji blinked at her for a moment, before he chuckled and went to work on his meal.

So three finished their meal, the fire warm between them, and the stars bright above them. For a moment, all three of them, lost to the wind and fate, were exactly where they wanted to be.

(Baiken realized the day after that she never asked Eri if her scars still hurt, wondering if they could go to a doctor to help with them. Anji could get that Faust character to show up without too much fuss…

Eri shook her head with a smile, "not as much as they used to." Baiken tried not to feel warm at that, but settled for a grumbling nod and to tell Eri that she should speak up if that changed, the little girl nodded happily, and they were on their way.)

#Guilty Gear #My hero academia #Eri (bnha)#Baiken #Anji Mito #stuff rex wrote #Scars

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weheart-dianelockhart · 5 years

Text

Sentenced to Guilt (chapter two)

Thanks for the love, you guys! Here is chapter two.

The flashbacks came as dreams, each one replaying the events but slightly distorted from the truth, often waking her at two or three in the morning to send her swirling back into chaos. Usually she woke before they got too out of hand, managing to stay quiet enough for her husband not to stir beside her. Tonight’s dream, however, was too vivid. Everything was exactly how it happened. Six men with guns, the door smashing open, her favorite vase breaking, Kurt’s yelling...all so lucid. And then the shot, the ringing in her ears, the scream escaping her own lips, Kurt piling the sheet in bundles on her shoulder to stop the bleeding. It was so loud. Everyone was shouting, the men ordering Kurt to place his hands above his head.

This repetitive part of the dream had become bearable. The noise, the images, the smell of blood. Then the feeling set in. Excruciating pain like she had never felt before. The pressure of Kurt’s arms holding the sheet to the hole just above her collarbone. The chill of the air from the open door. The swat team must have figured out that neither of them were a danger to society and began crowding around the bed. She felt hot power, later she learned this was something to temporarily clot the wound, and soft gauze as Kurt pulled the strap of her nightgown away from the bloodied spot. The following sensation of the men attempting to lift her sent massive chills through her spine causing her to gasp and open her eyes.

She sat up in a sweat, her breath unsteady and her thoughts foggy. A familiar hand on her back that usually brought all the comfort in the world, only caused her stomach to churn. It had never been this bad before. She had never let the dreams go that far. It’s like she was reliving it all. Tearing off the sheets, she practically jumped out of bed as Kurt tried to get a grasp on what was happening. Diane scrambled into the bathroom, the door closing firmly behind her with a loud thud. She pressed her back against it, feeling the cold wood through her silk pajamas. Shutting her eyes, she saw stars and pressed a hand to her chest that was covered in beads of sweat. Her stomach was in knots and sent her to her knees, heaving up her dinner.

Kurt opened the door only to find her coughing on the floor. He knelt beside her, pulling back her hair and smoothing her sweat-soaked bangs from her forehead.

“You’re burning up. Here, sit back against the wall.” Kurt attempted to settle her on the tile.

Everything in her body was screaming for her to get air. Getting out of this tiny space was her fight or flight instinct and she pushed herself off the ground as Kurt turned to get a wet washcloth.

“Diane.” He caught her wrist. It was too much. His concern, his forgiveness, his love. He should be furious with her for bringing this hell into their lives, into their home. Half dazed and half dreaming, her brain told her that in order to keep him safe, she needed to leave as soon as possible. Yanking her wrist from his grasp, she nearly fell to the floor in agony.

Immediately, she knew what she’d done. Coupled with a scream, she felt stitches pop and a warm sensation dripping down her arm and soaking through her shirt. Kurt’s eyes widened and he lunged for her, ready to protect her from herself.

“No!”

“Diane, you’re bleeding—“ Fear.

“I can see that.” Anger.

“What can I do?” He inched closer.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” She brought this upon herself and she knew it. She was shouting now.

“Please let me—“ Worry.

“Just stop!” Exasperation.

“Stop. Stop everything. Stop staring at me. Because I know exactly what you’ll do. You’ll look at me with those big brown eyes and say ‘Everything’s gonna be fine, Annie’ and then you’ll wrap your arms around me like I didn’t almost get you killed and ignore the fact that I’m a shit person.” She was practically sobbing at this point, “I’ve gone off and put the one person in this world I cannot live without in danger. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

Kurt couldn’t move. He knew better than to try to appease her. But this scene broke his heart. The woman he loved had split her stitches, was bleeding down her arm, and was refusing his help.

She picked up her keys and purse. He followed her to the front door, but before he could protest she shouted, “Don’t follow me, McVeigh,” partnered with the slamming of the door.

He understood that she felt smothered, but in no way wanted her to believe that she was at fault for all of this.

“Like hell,” he mumbled taking his coat off the rack and opened the door, just in time to see her Cadillac speed off. Was she really driving herself to the hospital with a bloody shoulder?

He had let her storm out too many times, each one resulting in a rift in their relationship. He let his pride keep him from chasing her down and begging for forgiveness. They always just found their way back to one another because the reality that they couldn’t live without each other kicked in. But the emotional bruises inevitably took a while to heal.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t want him there. He didn’t care if she threw a fit. He was going after her because he loved her more than he thought he could love anyone. And that’s what scared him the most.

The emergency room was fairly quiet on a Thursday night. Dr. Marsee was called immediately when Diane came in with blood stains all over her shirt. She had tried to stop the bleeding on the way, only proceeding to make it look like she had just lived through the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies.

“What happened,” Jill didn’t seem too alarmed after she realized only a few stitches had been busted.

Diane knew she looked like a wreck, the crying spell having left dark circles around her splotchy eyes.

“I thought I told you to take it easy today.” Her comment was accompanied by a light chuckle as she began to stitch up the wound once again. Glancing at Diane’s tear stained face, she slowed her hands.

“Diane. What happened.” She wasn’t asking about the broken stitches anymore. Jill offered her a tissue and fell into a patient silence.

“I was so cruel to him.” She whispered, dropping her head. “If I hadn’t been bleeding I would have turned around as soon as I slammed the door.” Sniffing, she continued.

“I cried the whole way here. I’ve never felt so guilty in my whole life and I want it to stop. I just can’t go on knowing that I could have prevented this whole situation and he never would have been in harms way.” Jill took in Diane’s confession.

“And now he probably hates me.” Defeat.

“I’m not going to pretend that I know the whole situation, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And a lot of couples come through here, so I think I’d be able to tell when one is special. He just wants you to get better. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. Love doesn’t care about that.”

Diane was startled by her sympathy.

“Now. Let’s get you sewn up because I’d be willing to bet almost anything he’s sitting in the waiting room right this minute.” Diane’s eyes shot up to Jill’s and her heart pounded. He wouldn’t have come after me. Would he?

Twenty minutes later, Diane was walking out of the exam room in her blood stained shirt letting exhaustion take over her muscles. She hadn’t slept through the night in two weeks.

And there he was. Standing up against the wall gazing up at whatever news outlet was occupying the nearest television. Diane merely blinked and let tears pour freely down her cheek. He was just waiting for her. Like he had every time she cried, every time she changed her outfit for an event, every time she stayed up late for work. Suddenly every emotion he ever made her feel came surging through. Pride, lust, hate, resentment, fear, passion, joy; they were all there, swarming her psyche. But overwhelmingly, love blew all the others out of the water.

Looking to the floor first, Kurt finally lifted his head to see his shaking wife standing twenty feet in front of him. They stared at each other until the subtle gesture of reaching out his arms brought Diane collapsing into his chest. Whether her shivers came from the cold air or sheer fatigue, it didn’t matter. Kurt wrapped his coat around her shoulders, careful not to disturb her new set of bandages.

Diane took a few steps back, his wool coat almost swallowing her as it hung across her shoulders. He remembered that her emotions were battered and she probably still didn’t want to be touched.

“You came after me.” She was barely able to utter that much without falling apart all over again.

“Of course I did,” he stated plainly, like this was an everyday conversation, but then added, “I always will.”

Diane took in his confession. All the things she wanted to say were blocked by the lump in her throat.

“I think we should talk.” Kurt kept his distance, waiting for her to give the go ahead to touch her once again.

“I agree,” she spoke without budging. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to scoop her up or sit on the other side of the room. It was as if she didn’t feel worthy of his embrace. They were past due for talking. It was time she shared her guilt.

#McHart #The McVeighs #diane lockhart #kurt mcveigh #sentenced to guilt

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jjbaconsumedmysoul · 6 years

Text

Giorno x Reader

First one quick note: I’m sorry I’ve been so slow at getting requests! I think going to close requests today so I have the next couple of weeks to work on them! I’ve just had lots of homework and work recently in addition to club activities and practice, I hope you guys understand :’( anyway here’s more of the Gio fic I’ve been writing as a back up, enjoy!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5...

You left the restaurant as soon as you finished desserts. Of course, you wanted to stay longer, but Giorno insisted it was safer is you leave early. He had kissed your cheeks again upon parting, (you shot a dirty look at Nara as he snickered in the background). You said your goodbyes and exited onto the bustling twilit streets. In a way, you were relieved to be alone with your thoughts for just a moment. Giorno was a compassionate man…

If you did confide your feelings in him, what was the worst that would happen? Hopefully he would understand and take pity on you. He wouldn’t sever ties with you, he couldn’t. But then again, Giorno wasn’t always capable of handling his own feelings. He focused his energy on others rather than himself. Would he even know how to deal with your stupid little crush?

You gasped as a hand covered your mouth, another strong fingers grabbing your wrist before you could fight back. It was then that your arms went stiff. Oh no. You knew this feeling. In an instant, the attacker dragged your body into a nearby alleyway. Your mind flashed back to that night: your frozen terror, the Don’s cold fingers on your cheek, Giorno’s eyes blazing with anger. Your vocal chords refused to budge, so you couldn’t even cry out for help as you saw a sinister looking face appear in front of you. The you hadn’t seen this face before: pale and gaunt, thin lips and high cheekbones, but you knew those cold eyes… There were four others flanking him. All large and tough and… your blood froze. You had seen one of them. He was one of Giorno’s men, assigned to you as a bodyguard. Looks like that wasn’t where his real loyalties lay.

“(Y/n), my dear, it’s so good to see you again.” The leader cooed. You knew those piercing eyes, that slippery voice. It had to be Arrosticini, this power, that playfully sinister cadence. But he looked like a completely different man. “You remember me, don’t you? I understand I look a bit different now,” his grazed his back through short, dark green hair. “But no matter, I’m still the same man I was, and I hope you’ll appreciate that.”

You felt his power dissipate, but only throughout your upper body. You gasped, cursing under your breath. Of course, your first instinct was to run away, but your legs remained glued to the cobblestone. Nonetheless, you tried your hardest to break free of the spell.

“Aww look at how feisty she is,” several of the villains chuckled at their master’s words. “You’re just as cute as you were last time.” Arrosticini grabbed your chin forcefully, bringing your eyes up to lock with his.

“You know if my legs could move,” your veins coursed with adrenaline, which, along with your sheer hatred for the man, moved you to speak. “My knee would already be buried deep in your scrotum,” he only cackled.

You tried to summon your stand. Obviously, you had tried before, but it never worked. Bruno had coached you, and Trish told you what had made it work for her, but it never happened. You thought of wanting to hurt him, wanting to get revenge for what he did last time. Nothing happened. You thought of defending yourself, making sure he wouldn’t get you this time. Again, nothing. It was almost as if he read your mind.

“Now, where’s that pretty little stand of yours? I would just love to see it again. Such raw power and energy.” You wanted to respond with a witty retort, but at this point you were too panicked. How were you going to get out of this? “We could use someone like you on our side,” he had to be joking. “Think about it. I’m sure Don Giovanna runs Passione reasonably, no doubt about it. The people seem to like him well enough. But if you banded with us,” we wrapped his arm around your waist, grabbing your wrist in his free hand, as you did everything you could to lean as far away from him as possible, what the hell was wrong with this guy? “just imagine the possibilities.” You grimaced as he licked his lip, his face just inches from yours. “You could be mine. You’d have money and jewels. People would fear us as walked the streets of Italy. There’s no way you could get to the top with a ragtag team of do-gooders like them. Together we could take over this country.” He was positively sickening.

“I owe my life to Don Giovanna.” You whispered through you gritted teeth. Even if I did join you, I guarantee you would never be half the leader he is,” Arrosticini scowled as he tightened his grip on your waist.

“Well, perhaps I can persuade you,” in an instant he leaned forward, his lips inching closer. Oh god no NO NO! He was insane, despicable. He forced himself into a kiss, muffling your scream of sheer rage and hatred. You had given up on your stand appearing. Even if you could fight, you were easily outnumbered. Giorno. That was all you could think. Please god Giorno, you hated feeling helpless like this, please save me.

“You sick bastard.” If your legs could have moved, your knees would have buckled with sheer relief at the sound of that voice. “Get away from her,” he growled through gritted teeth. Giorno’s voice was unusually hoarse as it resonated through the alleyway. You recognised the shift in tone, those rare moments when he lost his temper and became truly vexed, when he let loose all control in order to utterly destroy his opponent.

A tangle of thorns shot up from the ground, coiling around Arrosticini’s neck. You gasped as this broke his control over the muscles on your legs and the evil don pushed you to the ground. The thorns dug small scrapes and cuts into his neck as he screamed at his subordinates.

“Get him!” You finally caught sight of Giorno, face boiling red with his anger as he prepared to attack. But wait… something didn’t seem right. You scanned the rooftops, the shadows, hidden corners of the alleyway. Backup. Where was his backup? You didn’t hear the hum of a propellor or the click and chatter of Sex Pistols loading up the gun. The men were nearing him, each one towering over his slim yet powerful frame. Without his stand, he could probably only take one of them in a fight, with his stand, maybe three. But there were five circling him. The others would have attacked by now. How could he be so reckless?!

“Leave me Giorno! I’m not worth it!” The evil don turned around to smirk at you. Behind him you saw flashes of gold and silver and all other colors of the rainbow as Giorno began to dodge their attacks. Your eyes followed him frantically, wishing for his safety, wishing you could do something. Small explosions made your head throbbing and your ears ring as you slowly tried to stand up, tried to walk towards him, to do anything you could to keep him safe. Arrosticini only laughed at your futile attempts. Suddenly, you spotted a barrage of red slashes, a claw, some sort of stand, blood dripping from Giorno’s cheek, his arm, his knee.

“GIORNO!”

The world went black.

You felt like you were… floating. Floating in a sea of glittering darkness. You heard muffled sounds from outside the shell of your consciousness. Screams and shouts. Crackles of energy. You felt a dull pain on your arm, like someone giving you a light slap. You didn’t care, though. You liked it here. You were warm and safe. Nothing could hurt you, everything was fine. You weren’t scared of responsibility or living up to expectations. You weren’t scared about school or the unknown of your life ahead of you. Safe… you just wanted to be safe… you wanted him to be safe… him…

You gasped as you vision returned to you, fuzzy at first. A dull ringing reverberated through your skull as you took several deep breaths. You were kneeling over someone on the ground, your face close to his, hand on his cheek. His breathing was rough and jagged. Just as you could make out the details of his face, his eyes fluttered open. He smiled.

“(Y/n),” he took a deep breath as his chest heaved. His words were muffled as they entered your still ringing ears. “That was amazing, I’m so relieved,” you didn’t even hear him as you caught sight of a scratch on his cheek.

“Giorno, you’re hurt!” You grew panicked as you glanced around the alleyway, wondering if you had a spare bandaid or two in your purse. Then you saw them: figures, sprawled along the cold stone floor. You were unable to tell if they were alive or dead, but you couldn’t care less. Giorno was what was important right now. In addition to his cheek, there was a slash on his right arm, tearing through the expensive blue silk, which was now stained with blood. Your first instinct was to rip away part of your dress. You had seen something like this in movies, and hoped to god that it was actually what you were supposed to do. After tugging as hard as you could at the edge of your skirt, the cloth finally gave way, and you tied it tightly around his arm. It wasn’t sterile unfortunately but it would have do its job applying pressure to the wound for now. There was a smaller scratch on his knee, which probably didn’t need much immediate attention, but you tied it off anyway, just to be safe.

“(Y/n),” he had said something else beforehand, while you were trying your best to treat his wounds, but he only caught your attention when he called your name. He sounded hoarse and tired, unlike his usual confident self. “It’s okay, (y/n), calm down,” It was NOT okay!

“Giorno, you’re bleeding!” He caught hold of your trembling hands.

“Panicking won’t help. What matters is we’re both okay—”

“YOU’RE NOT OKAY!”

“It’s not serious, (y/n). I’ll be okay if we get me back to the base. Can you do that for me?” You bit your lip, realising that tears were already flowing down your cheeks as you nodded.

“W-What do I do?”

It was then that you heard a familiar voice calling from the street.

“Guys, I found them!”

#giorno x reader #Giorno Giovanna #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #vento aureo #tw: blood #mild violence #hooo boi this chapter is intense #reader insert #x reader

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madfoot-and-poony · 6 years

Text

Mistletoe

“Hey Malfoy, if you wouldn’t mind, could you stop ogling at your reflection and let us get past you?” Harry snapped, crossing his arm impatiently.

Draco’s eyes caught Harry’s in the reflection of the mirrored vase he had been admiring and frowned. Gently rolling his eyes, he straightened up and adjusted his blazer. “It’s over a thousand years old, Potter. I was appreciating history.”

“Whatever, could you move? Or are you going to continue being a prat and just stand there?”

Something flashed dimly in Draco’s eyes before he shook his head and wordlessly slid out of the way of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry frowned, tapping his fingers against his own arm in frustration.

“What? Too much hair gel seeping into your brain to fight back?”

“Why do you need a fight so badly, Potter?” Malfoy sighed, leaning tiredly against the tall wooden doorway he moved to in order to let the Golden Trio pass.

Harry frowned again.

The truth was, he didn’t really have a definite answer. The war was over, everything was resolved. He was back at Hogwarts for his eighth year. Voldemort was dead. His friends were safe. He could finally relax. So why was he itching to have a reason to erase Malfoy’s stupid nonchalant attitude with a particularly hard shove, perhaps a solid punch to the nose?

“I don’t need a fight. I just find it difficult to deal with the likes of you as if everything is normal.” Harry growled.

Draco’s eyes flashed again and he stood up straighter. “‘The likes of you’?” Draco snorted a humorless laugh, “Say what you mean, Potter. Death Eater, right? That’s what you were going to say?”

“Harry, let’s go.” Hermione gave a sad sigh, tugging Harry’s elbow. “The party’s already started.”

Harry ignored her and took a step closer to Draco. “Yeah. I do mean that. Death Eater. I don’t know how you managed to show your face here this year. Especially when…” Harry’s eyes glanced down to Draco’s arm.

Draco shocked Harry and his friends when he reached down and yanked up his sleeve, revealing the bone-chilling mark on his forearm. Harry deflated slightly, staring at it, unable to look away.

“When I have the mark? His mark?” Draco hissed, taunting him. “The mark responsible for the death of everyone you love? Cedric, Fred, Dumbledore, Professor Lupin, Sirius, Your parents-”

“You bastard!” Harry was shouting, rushing forward and rather violently slamming Draco back against the hard, wooden archway. “How dare you. What gives you the right--”

But it was Draco’s turn to slam Harry against the doorframe, throwing him back with such unexpected power that it stunned Harry to silence as he stared at Draco with wide-eyes.

“I didn’t fucking do any of that, Potter.” Draco growled, just loud enough for Harry to hear him. “I never wanted to fucking join him. I didn’t have a bloody choice, you fucking twat. You walk around all of the fucking time acting like you’re the only one who was damaged by the war. Like you’re the only one who suffered. If you hate me so bloody much, Potter, why didn’t you let me fucking burn to death in the Room of Requirements? We both would have been better off, wouldn’t we?”

Harry, at a mild loss for words, simply shook his head and pushed Draco away, turning to walk back to Ron and Hermione before slamming into an invisible force and being flung back, falling against Draco in surprise.

“Are you a fucking first year? Are you trying to start a physical fight with me, Potter?” Draco asked in absolute frustration, shoving Harry back. Harry stumbled and hit the invisible wall once more and was stopped in his tracks.

“Christ, I’m not!” Harry growled, turning to look at his two friends in bewilderment, putting his hands up and pressing on the invisible wall in front of him. “I can’t get through this.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in the situation, placing his hands on the invisible wall, too, pushing with curiosity. It didn’t budge.

Ron looked mildly horrified. Hermione looked genuinely amused.

“Look up.” She told them.

Harry had never felt his heart drop so far down his stomach when he registered what was hanging above them.

“Bloody hell.” Draco breathed out in frustration. “This is why I wasn’t killed. So Merlin could punish me by putting me through my own twisted, personal hell.”

“I’m not kissing you.” Harry stated matter-of-factly as he glared at the mistletoe above them. “I refuse.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either if I were you. I’ve heard the Dark Mark is contagious.” Draco teased cynically, leaning heavily against the doorframe behind him. “It’s the only way out. We might as well get it over with.”

“It’s not the only way out.” Harry grumbled, turning hopefully to Hermione.

“Sorry, Harry. We’re really late for the party.” Hermione flashed a small grin before grabbing Ron’s arm, tugging him along.

“Hermione!” Harry gasped, trying to rush after her, only to be thrown backwards once more. “Fuck.”

“Now that I have you stuck here, Potter…” Draco started, folding his arms across his chest. “Answer my question. If you hate me so much and if you blame me for the death of everyone, why didn’t you let me die?”

“Why didn’t you let me die?” Harry countered. “That night in your house. You knew it was me. You said you couldn’t tell, but you knew.”

“Why would I want you dead when you were the only hope I had of escaping You-Know-Who?” Draco’s voice was very quiet and he refused to look at the boy standing in front of him. “Now answer my fucking question.”

“I never said I wanted you dead.” Harry grumbled, turning away from Draco as he spoke. “And I don’t blame you for their deaths… I just…”

“Just what?” Draco let out an exasperated groan.

“It’s just normal. It’s normal for me to have you around to argue with.” Harry admitted, turning angrily towards Draco, “And for a while, it was the same as before with you. Until you stopped fighting back. Everyone else looks at me like I’m going to break or snap or just fall back. You didn’t. Until recently. I know that you didn’t have a choice, I’m not an idiot. I didn’t have a choice either. I did choose to be the chosen one. You didn’t choose to be a Death Eater. I know. But you’re the only sense normalcy I have in my life and that is so fucking weird.”

“I thought you just wanted a punching bag.” Draco replied, admittedly surprised by Harry’s words. “So I stopped fighting.”

“Why?” Harry questioned, genuinely surprised. “Why would you just stop fighting?”

“You saved the entire bloody world.” Draco rolled his eyes, “I was willing to hold back my anger to let you release some tension.”

“That’s not fair to you. You don’t have to treat me differently. It’s okay to still hate me.”

“Potter…” Draco let out a frustrated sigh, “I… I don’t hate you.”

“Oh come off it!” Harry cried in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, I want things to be normal. You don’t have to lie to keep me happy. I don’t need you to be like everyone else and to treat me like I’m going to break. You hate me, you’ve hated me since we were eleven. It’s okay. Please, continue. I need things to be normal.”

“I’ve never hated you, Potter.”

“Bullshit!” Harry shook his head, exasperated, “We were on opposite sides of the bloody war.”

“Didn’t we just decide that we didn’t have a choice in that matter?” Draco sighed, “I always admired you, Potter. Sure you annoyed the bloody hell out of me and once you had me within an inch of my life,” Harry flinched at the memory of Draco laying pale in a pool of his own blood in the bathroom, “but I have never hated you.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t you hate me?” Harry asked, his voice quiet and weak, “I don’t get it.”

“I could pretend to hate you, if that will help you in your search for normalcy.” Draco offered lightheartedly.

Harry found himself repressing a small smile. “No, I keep telling you I don’t think it’s fair for you to change in order to help me.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you could be oblivious to everything that happens around you.” Draco snorted. Harry frowned, but Draco’s tone was not malicious which threw him off.

“What do you mean?”

“Merlin, Potter. I’ve only fancied you for about eight years now and you think I’ve hated you this whole time.”

“You… You? What?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Can you just kiss me already?”

“I-What?” Harry choked.

Draco pointed up at the mistletoe. “The whole reason we’re still here?”

“Oh.” Harry gulped, his face flushed, “Right. You’re sure there’s no other way to get out?”

“I don’t really have any resources here to fact-check with, Potter.” Draco huffed, “But it is the fastest way I know.”

“Right.” Harry straightened up, playing nervously with the cuffs of his sleeves. “So, how do you want to go about it?”

Draco rolled his eyes. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked closer. Harry’s breath hitched when Draco placed a hand on his hip and pulled him closer, his other hand going to gently cup the back of Harry’s head.

Harry allowed Draco to drag him in. He shut his eyes and waited in anxious anticipation.

He didn’t dare breathe when he felt Draco’s lips against his. They were soft. Not as soft as Ginny’s were. They were more masculine, more demanding. Neither boy noticed the wards fall. Instead, Draco was guiding Harry backwards until his back pressed against the wall, tilting his head to get a deeper kiss. Harry nervously let his hands take gentle fistfuls of Draco’s hair, surprised at how much he didn’t want this kiss to end.

But it did. When Draco drew away there was a small hint of amusement when Harry involuntarily tilted his chin up to try to keep the kiss going before coming to his senses.

“You should get to the party. Your friends will be waiting.” Draco breathed and Harry shuddered and nodded.

“Yeah.” Harry couldn’t look away from Draco’s soft, inviting eyes. “I… I should.”

“You should.” Draco agreed, looking smug as Harry didn’t budge.

Harry gulped, still softly gripping fistfuls of Draco’s hair. He let out a shaky breath before pulling Draco closer, their lips touching once more.

“The spell’s over.” Draco breathed out in amusement when they separated again.

“I know.”

“If you want things to go back to how they used to be, I don’t think this is the right way to go about it.” Draco mused.

“This is better.” Harry insisted, tugging Draco back. “Don’t you think?”

Draco smirked. “This isn’t what I had in mind for today.” He whispered before leaning back down to kiss Harry again.

Read it on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13130064

#drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #mistletoe #first kiss #Christmas drarry #ao3fic #My writing

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