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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

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Train Cars and Sun Spots - Kaminari Denki

—/—

You think he’s beautiful.

A disarming, reckless sort of beautiful as he barrels into the train, jumping headfirst through the doors just seconds from closing. He erupts into a flurry of fidgeting as he skids to a stop, one hand patting down his wild blonde hair and the other dusting off his sweats. It’s like he can’t sit still. Like he’s got an itch in his skin that’s shifting his weight around, balancing on one foot and then the other- rinse and repeat as he grabs onto the handrail above his head for stability.

Another second passes and then he’s pulling a plastic water bottle from his bag, twisting it open and crinkling the plastic. It seems to you that that he’s trying to make as much noise possible, but then you notice his headphones. They’re black and yellow, undeniably playing at full blast in his ears. You then decide it’s much more likely that he just can’t hear himself- that he somehow doesn’t realize how much of a scene he’s making in the otherwise quiet train car.

You find it a little refreshing, him seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You’d been riding this train for weeks now, to and from school, and you’d seen the same people day after day. The same old businessmen and their same old brief-cases and their same old silence. Not him though- never him and his noise. You were sure you’d remember hearing someone as loud as him.

Still, you try not to stare.

Although, you suppose, it wouldn’t really matter. He probably wouldn’t be able to pick you out of all the other people staring. It’s like he’s got the entire train car arrested and staggered; all eyes stuck on the strange boy who was moving far too much for a 7:00AM commute.

Shifting in your seat, you balanced your book higher in your hands. You hoped that by just barely skimming your eyes over the top, hiding inconspicuously behind the pages, you could look and not be noticed.

You were wrong.

When you glance over at him, he’s already looking at you. He’s got eyes like molten gold, and when he smiles they crinkle closed into happy little slits. That smile is easy and unrelenting when he pushes away from the handrail, hands shoved into his pockets as he nears.

“Hey there!”

His words are friendly, but god, if his voice isn’t loud. You wince, beginning to think that you’d severely underestimated the volume of his music. You’re sure now that it absolutely must be bursting his eardrums.

“Oh-“ He looks sheepish. Then he’s yanking the headphones from his ears, and dropping into the seat next to you. “Too loud, right? Sorry! Didn’t realize.”

You’re stunned.

At first, it seemed unbelievable that this conversation could’ve arised from just a single glance; but then you look a little closer, at his shifting eyebrows and his grin that’s colored shades of flirtatious and it’s a little more believeable. You realize quickly that’s all it ever would’ve taken with him- A single look.

“I’m Kaminari.” He announces confidently, your silence not deterring him in the slightest. “Kaminari Denki.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, hi?”

“Hi!” He greets again, and then he’s pulling that same water bottle from his back. It’s crinkling and half-empty and he’s extending it to you. “Want some?”

It’s in the way his eyebrows wiggle, the mischeivous glint in his eyes- you can see his intentions plastered across his face. The water bottle’s just a front for an indirect kiss. Quite literally the oldest trick in the book.

You want to roll your eyes, but then you look at him again. At his bright eyes and long lashes and shaggy hair falling softly over his forehead. He’s the sort of pretty that gives a lot of second chances- you were no exception to that rule.

“No thanks.” You laugh, easily dazzled by his sunshine smile. You raise a palm to push the bottle away. “Keep it to yourself, yeah?”

“Aww, but you’re too cute not to share with!”

The line rolls off his tongue smooth and easy, and you’re sure now- Kaminari’s a flirt. A shameless, brazen one dripping honey between his words as he fluffs his hair. It’s all a little too natural, a little too practiced. It takes only seconds, and you know definitively that you’re far from the first girl he’s offered his water to.

He’s still cute though, if only in a fleeting way, so you decide to humor him. It’s not like you’ve got anything more pressing to attend to.

“Mhm. And just how often do you use that line, huh?” You ask, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I-“ He starts, but then he’s slouching into the seat laughing. “Yeah, maybe not my best work. Meant it though.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“No, really! I did!”

You look at him again.

Kaminari’s straightened himself, eyes earnest and smile kind as he gazes back. He’s fiddling with the strings on his sweatshirt, idly twirling them between his fingers. It’s a human gesture. Unrehearsed and unpracticed and seemingly only for your eyes. You begin to wonder if that’s his real tactic- coming on strong just to melt into warm, sun-soaked softness.

“Alright. I believe you. Maybe.” You say. “But you’re on thin ice, Kaminari.”

“I’ll take it!” He fist-bumps the air. “See normally, I’d be totally crashing and burning by now!”

“So you are admitting I’m not the first girl you’ve tried that on?”

“What I- Okay. Yes? Maybe?” He laughs nervously, hand once again twirling his sweatshirt strings. “In my defense, I’m not the smartest guy, alright?”

“Nor the quietest either.”

“What?”

He’s got his head turned, cocked to the side as he blinks slowly at you. You think he looks like a confused puppy.

“You practically screamed at me when you said hi.” You tell him easily, letting an amused smile crawl across your lips. “Kinda thought I was being yelled at for a second.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry! Really! I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. Can I give you just a little advice, though?”

“Sure?”

“Don’t scream at the next girl and then immeadiately offer her something to drink. That’s generally pretty suspicious.”

You watch the light leave Kaminari’s eyes and then he folds in his seat. He snaps at the waist, dropping his face into his palms and letting out a theatric groan.

“God, I messed this up.” He whines, peeking at you through his fingers. “Messed up real bad, didn’t I?”

“A little,” You laugh. “But it’s alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re good.”

He smiles then, so relieved and happy and just downright giddy that it nearly blinds you. It’s the kind of smile that makes you think he swallowed the sun; like rays of light were bursting through the tiny gaps in his teeth.

“So, what’s your name then?” He asks.

“L/n Y/n.”

“Y/n. Hmm, I like it.” He sighs happily. “Pretty.”

“That’s my first name.”

“I know.” He grins, all pearly whites and crows feet. You think he’s got a dangerous smile- one that lets him get away with anything. “Figured we’re close enough for that, right?”

“I’ve known you for two minutes.”

“Hey, 2 minutes, 2 hours, 2 years- who’s counting?”

“Me.”

“Okay, well good then.” He snickers. “Because I’m like, really bad at math- Wait. Shit. Should I have told you that?”

“Probably not.”

“Man, I am bad at this.” He whines. His knees knock into yours when he throws himself back into his seat. “It’s not my fault, alright? Usually I never get this this far with girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“Mhm. Cute ones.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes, only so forgiving. “Really laying it on thick, huh?”

“For sure. My stop’s next so I gotta make sure you actually like me at some point in the next few minutes.”

Something evil slithers into your mind, and you’re smirking when you turn toward him. There’s just an inkling, a tiny little theory in your head, and you want to test it.

“Who said I didn’t already like you?”

Kaminari jumps, his cheeks reddening by the second. There’s nothing cool or composed about him and your theory is confirmed.

Kaminari is a dork. A massive, massive, dork desperately pretending to be a cool guy.

“I- what? You like me?” He asks excitedly, voice rising higher. “Seriously? Like, actually?”

“Sure.” You giggle. “You seem pretty harmless, all things considered.”

“That’s- is that a compliment?” He asks playfully, squinting his eyes at you. “Because harmless wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”

“Oh, so you were trying to creep me out?”

“No!” He shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushing as he laughs.

You giggle too, unable to help yourself. Kaminari really is cute, a lot more so when he’s not recycling tired lines.

“You’re mean.” He smiles something small and pleased. “I like it.”

Suddenly the train car jolts, brakes squeaking and squealing as it skids to a stop. You rock forward with the force, and Kaminari knocks his shoulders into yours. When you look at his face, he’s got that mischevious glint back in his eyes, as he bites down on his lip. A second passes and then he touches his shoulders into yours again.

“Really sorry.” He smirks. “Bumpy ride, you know?”

You roll your eyes again, but you are actually feeling a bit charmed. He’s got a sneaky way of buttering people up, you realize- of somehow weaponizing his own embarrassment.

“But I actually do have to go.” He stands, and then he’s pressing his hands together and winking. “I’ll see you here same time tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know, are you gonna yell at me again?”

“Absolutely! Gottta yell at all the pretty girls, you know?”

“Stop.” You laugh, blushing. You nod towards the doors. “I’ll be here, but go. Door’s gonna close, you dork.”

Kaminari nods and then he’s shoving his headphones back in, still crinkling that water between his fingers. There’s nothing quiet about him as he leaves and you come to think that maybe that’s how he really gets you- it’s not with lines or indirect kisses or grace, it’s with air that seems uncomfortably vacant when he leaves. It’s with the vaccuum he leaves behind.

You watch the doors close after him, but he’s stops on the platform, shooting you a thumbs up through the window. There’s a goofy grin plastered across his face, wide and sunny and brillant. It’s the kind of smile that leaves you wondering if Kaminari knows just how brightly he shines.

When the train kicks into motion again, you’re smiling too, rubbing your eyes as you blink away the sun spots he left behind.

//—//

jus a lil somethin for denki,, as a ~treat~,,, may or may not turn this into a tiny lil series we’ll see :))))

#bnha kaminari #mha kaminari #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #kaminari x you #kaminari x y/n #denki x reader #denki x y/n #bnha fic #mha fic

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eternalstrigoii · 3 years

Note

I'd really like an Udo x reader, please! He deserves more love!

Udo x human!Reader with a heavy dose of pining and the promise that Udo and Guin are getting a full-fledged fic.

Your mother was going to have to help you straighten your hair again soon.

Technically, she didn’t have to. You were a grown woman; you could do it by yourself, though it would be far easier to ensure every last strand was as smooth as it ought to be when you had help. Your mother’s help. No one else had ever touched your hair, and rightfully so, in your opinion (until earlier that day). Until Udo reached out, as though instinctively, and brushed back your hair from the shell of your ear. The temperance of his skin was not what jolted you into alertness – though you had not corrected him when he believed it to be – but the gentility of his touch.

It put all manner of thoughts in your head that had no business being there.

You allowed your brush to pause mid-stroke. It was perfectly natural to be lonely. Richard had been gone for nearly a year; the love of your family was unconditional, infallible, and always present to ward off the worst of your yearnings, but it was not the same as having your hand held by someone who loved you. Watching a gaggle of children run throw a meadow of wildflowers, your son among them, and feel at home beside the person at your side. You had only known Udo for a short time, but his daughter was your son’s best friend; you knew him to be a good father, a responsible and devoted caregiver, willing and able to care for children who were not his own.

You just couldn’t decide if you wanted him to love you.

Or, worse still, if you could even acknowledge your feelings in return.

You did not hear the breath of your bedroom door opening, nor the brush of Udo’s wings against the frame as he leaned in to tell you, “The children are asleep.”

You startled. Dropping your brush, you made sure your dressing gown was closed over your nightdress – it was one thing to sit around thinking about him, another entirely to sit in your bedroom, practically bare, when he was a guest in your home.

“I am so sorry,” you began, standing from the bench you’d set before your dressing-table.

The corners of his lips quirked, but did not fully upturn. “You did not hear me?”

“No.” And you should not have gone about dressing for bed until he’d left. What kind of a fool were you? “I should’ve. I don’t know why I’d forgotten you were here—”

“Guinevere,” he cut you off gently, “you are allowed to be comfortable in your own home.”

No, you admitted by way of breathing out rather harshly, you were not. There were standards – rules of propriety, let alone laws of etiquette that you’d miraculously failed to adhere to. A small handful of months under new reign, peace and prosperity and political alliances with entirely new races of fey and you’d forgotten a lifetime of court lessons (many of which had been engrained in shame under Queen Ingrith’s perpetual disapproval). You were not allowed to undress while a male acquaintance resided in your home unless you were chaperoned, which you were most certainly not. Never mind entertain thoughts of courtship with said male acquaintance. Not in the position you were in.

“Aspen and Rojan decided to stay in Arthur’s room. Violet, Dawn and Aya will sleep in your mother’s.” It was only fair, as six children could hardly be asked to share one bed.

You nodded, though the result of that conclusion did not strike you fully until Udo opened the door a bit more as if to enter.

The children occupied every other bed in your home. Which left him with nowhere else to sleep but in your room, with you.

There were alternatives, of course. You could politely relinquish your bed and go sleep with the girls, if there was room. He was your guest; courtesy dictated that you would sleep on the floor if that was what you must do in order to make your guests comfortable, regardless of whether or not said guest understood or acknowledged the social rules that had been engrained into you since childhood.

“Is the front door bolted?” you asked, though the smallness of your voice betrayed you. A moment’s extra time would not buy you much in the way of thought, but—

“It is,” he replied.

Damn. Maybe he knew more than you gave him credit for.

Maybe you shouldn’t have had that thought, lest you start entertaining the idea that the children were filling up every bed in the house and Udo knew what sharing a bed with you would mean to an observant, human outsider. Like your mother, if she returned from the palace earlier tomorrow than she said she would.

“The candles are extinguished,” he left the door open, though, which you could not bring yourself to protest. If the children needed you, it was the easiest way for them to reach you, but it also afforded some sense of lacking privacy – some persistent reminder that you were not hiding away in a love-nest somewhere, and you could be walked in upon at any time, so there was no reason to entertain the idea of being held by him while you slept. Caressing the length of one of his long feathers to see if they were really as soft as they looked. No, you absolutely could not do that.

“Except yours.”

The blue of his eyes was as clear and bright as the winter’s midday sky. . It was not the first time they’d caused you to lose your train of thought (nor the softness in his angular features or the grace in his approach). He joined you, only a pace away from the wool blankets that still lingered atop your bed for those cold, late-spring nights.

What would it feel like to be pressed against him under them?

“My what?”

His bright eyes glimmered. Surely, your voice must’ve betrayed you.

Your face warmed. You had to resist the impulse to pull your sleeves lower so you could fuss with the loose thread on your inner sleeve – it was not ladylike to pull at your clothing, or divert your gaze when someone spoke to you.

“Your candle.” His wing extended as though he gestured with the patterned end of his long feathers.

Yes. That would make sense. If he had truly put everyone to bed and extinguished the other candles – even checked the door to ensure your safety – your candle would be the last one to remain lit, would it not?

“Oh.” Very eloquent. You could almost feel the sting of a silver teaspoon across your knuckles.

“Are you ready to sleep?” He lowered his head ever so slightly toward you. Though some part of you knew that he would be searching your eyes for a response (or, perhaps because of it), yours lifted to the points of his horns, as though expecting them to lower near enough to touch the top of your own head. Never mind that they were another head above the advantage in height he already had.

“I suppose.” You tore your eyes away. Fetched your brush off the dressing table and placed it, bristles-down, in one of the topmost drawers of your chest-of-drawers. Tomorrow’s gown awaited you on the back of your dressing screen, and though it did not necessarily please you to imagine waking early to ensure you had time enough to dress before he joined you, you supposed it was only one morning. Perhaps, after sleeping, tomorrow would not be as awkward as it seemed tonight.

Udo gestured for you to take to your bed. He must’ve wanted you to do as you always did, though he must’ve known you deliberately would not; the opposite side of the bed was your usual sleeping-area, and you made sure to remain as near to the edge as comfortably possible lest he not have enough room for himself and his wings. (Surely, he wouldn’t, but you could no more control that than you could control the lack of adequate sleeping space for two adults and six children in a house meant for three.)

He extinguished the candle with a soft breath.

Yet, even in the darkness of a house at night, you saw the whiteness of his robes. The brightness of his hair. You watched him unwind his topmost layer from around his wings, and relieve himself of it in a folded square like the cloak of a formal coat. It was placed gingerly upon your dressing-table, as though he was uncertain as to whether or not it would be allowed there.

You had the nagging feeling he knew you could still see him.

His underclothes fit to his body more closely than you imagined they might.

You had no business thinking about his underclothes. Even if they were not underclothes in the sense you knew underclothes to be. Clothes under a coat. That kind of underclothes, not….Lord in Heaven, do not lie there wondering if he wears underclothes beneath what he already has on.

He drew his wings close to him before he lay down. He did not draw back the wool blanket that you had crawled beneath, and you did not realize he might see the flicker of unwarranted hurt that crossed your face.

“Would you like a blanket of your own?” you murmured.

“No.” He settled atop his wings, flexing them only a bit, and interlaced his hands carefully atop his stomach. “Thank you. This is a much warmer climate than my own.”

Oh. Of course.

Everything was perfectly reasonable, in the end. You shared a bed because there was no other reasonable alternative. Your children were friends, nothing more, and you often participated in such awkward exchanges because you were still culturally uncertain with one another, nothing more.

You had to force yourself to turn away. “Goodnight, Udo.”

You could only hide so much from someone who lay beside you. Udo watched the tension in your shoulders ease. Listened to your breath begin to deepen. Nervous as you were, the weight of his body beside yours did not disrupt your peace. In fact, he waited until he believed you were past the cusp of sleep to murmur, as if he believed you would not hear, “Goodnight, Guinevere.”

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Tag list: @thesirenswolf @summitofdreams @birdsthough @thesherlockedheart @billywig-on-baker-street @madlenfireknight @squishy-jellyfish @of-the-moors @deathonyourtongue @shinva @quaint-and-curious-being @faro-en-la-distancia @slasherwife @kindawitchyhellabitchy @swim-reaper @mor-ranr @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @boxxyass @everydreamtilldawn

#Udo x Reader #Maleficent: Mistress of Evil #Dark Fey #Udo Maleficent #Maleficent Udo #No Beta We Die Like Men #(I will probably come edit this again one day because it is First Drafty)

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monofpoke4life · 3 years

Text

Shattered

Rain clouds rumbled in the inky blackness of the midnight skies above as sleek, black car skidded as it rounded a sharp curve within the dense forest. Dib gritted his teeth as he cursed at himself under his breath. His shoulders tense and knuckles white as he raced towards the finish line just up ahead. He could see the dim yet steadily increasingly bright glow filter through the towering evergreens.

He had to make it! He just has to before-before-before-

He didn't want to think about it! Thinking about it made it more tangible, and the more tangible it became, so did the potential outcomes. He shook the thoughts from his head! He didn't have time! He needed to focus, or else his world he fought so hard to protect would be in shatters.

He could smell the smoke, hydraulics, and other foreign materials as his car skidded to a halt beside another matching, government, standard issue vehicle. The nearly vacant clearing was illuminated by the raging flames of the Irken wreckage just beyond the rigid form of his reckless partner. The roar of his pounding heart in his ears drowned him in noise as he cut the engine with the wreck fully within his sights. He forced down the nauseous dread that sent his insides on a rollercoaster into his throat, and then to loop de loop through every fiber of his being as he rushed out of the car, sidearm in hand.

"Sir! I'm so glad you're here! You won't believe it! We've got one! We actually got one! Just wait until the rest of the goons at the Department of Government Cover Ups get a load of this," Brandon, the young field agent and partner, exclaimed as he continued to point his gun at the injured figure beside the crumpled ship. With gun drawn, Dib steadily but hastily came to stand behind the overeager agent, seemingly aiming at the green, female figure as well.

"I can't believe it! I mean, I saw it on the radar, but I did it! I shot it down!" Brandon barely registered the way his partner and senior field agent readjusted his hand as it started to tremble, or the tightening of his jaw as Dib gritted his teeth. If he had the energy or time, he'd glare at Brandon for his glee, but now was not the time.

Instead, he focused his patient gaze onto the angry and frantic amethyst of the female Irken that was still pointing her laser gun at his partner. A miracle she was able to stay upright with the way her labored breathing shook her body, or maybe that was from the intense heat of the flames that were practically against her back, from when she initially crawled out of the wreckage, causing her to sweat profusely. Whatever the case, she was itching to move, yet continued to stand her ground with the gun pointing at her.

"Isn't eerie, boss? I mean just look at its eyes! It keeps glancing at its ship, and keeps trying to shuffle itself closer to it! I think there is something important in there! I think it could be something dangerous or valuable. What do you think, boss?" Brandon rambled, not even noticing the way the alien's growling increased at the mention of the contents of her ship.

"Have you tried asking it," Dib asked in an eerily calm voice that Brandon failed to notice, or the way neither Dib nor the alien broke their gaze away from the other.

"Uh-er-um, no I didn't! But I have tried talking to it, sir! It just keeps growling at me, and it refuses to put down its weapon. I don't think it understands English, sir," Brandon replied, assured in his logical assumption.

However, his partner wasn’t as assured, as Dib harshly snapped back, "She understands English!"

Slightly taken aback by his tone, but just assuming it was from his usual ineptitude, Brandon replied, "Well if you're so confident, sir, ask her to hand over her gun. You are the senior field agent after all."

Dib frowned at this, but stepped forward nonetheless. He didn't lower his guns nor did he move in front of Brandon. He stayed positioned behind him as he did just that.

The sneer on her face morphed into a frustrated frown as she slowly moved the gun away. Letting it loosely dangle from her claw by the bit that protected the trigger, before sliding it across the ground where Dib caught it with his foot.

Kneeling down, Dib kept control of his breathing to be steady and calm, as he picked up the gun and stepped back. It matched the steady rhythm of her own tempo, but not that Brandon noticed. He was too blinded in glee at their progress; however, there was something off that he did notice.

Despite having her hands up in surrender, her muscles were still taught as if to spring into action at any second. Although not unusual for someone about to be captured, especially one ready to take the slightest opening to escape, but the way her posture seemed to slump in some form of relaxation sent off warning bells.

Like she was relieved.

Before Brandon could fully comprehend what was going on, not that he would've assumed right, he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against the back of his head as Dib demanded, "Drop your gun, Brandon! Drop it, and kick it towards the weeds!"

Betrayal and horror were the understatements of the century for the look that was on Brandon's face. There was a brief moment of silence, and Dib could practically hear the wheels in Brandon's head turning to figure out a way out of this, dropping his gun in incredulous disbelief.

He should've known Brandon would try to break free, but as Brandon whipped around and attempted to grab Dib's gun, a shot rang out. Dib knew he had nothing to worry about as a flash of blue darted from behind them, grazing Brandon's cheek.

"She's an Irken, Brandon," Dib remarked as he struck him with the butt of his gun and kneed him, before staring down at his crumpled and groaning form, as he continued, "She practically has a full armory on her back."

Brandon growled as he was flipped onto his stomach, knee jammed into a kidney, and arms yanked behind his back as his “partner,” slapped some handcuffs on him. He raged and hollered beneath him as he called almost every name he could think of under the sun, especially using the term traitor. However, Dib seemed unphased as he anxiously watched her dart into the wreckage to make sure the precious treasures were unharmed, disappearing in a cloud of billowing smoke.

Noticing her sudden absence amongst all his yelling, Brandon threw back, "Have you no shame, man?! What about your family?! Think of them!!!"

At this, Dib let his anger slip, focusing more pressure on the knee in Brandon's back as he growled, "I am thinking of my family!"

Just as he said that, some clanging metal graced their ears as the alien darted out of the smoke and wreckage with a blue, glowing orb in her arms about the size of a large beach ball. However, with all of the smoke and the way she held the orb, it was hard to make out what was inside.

A coughing fit triggered by the smoke wracked her body as she dropped to her knees a safe distance from the smoldering ship, still cradling the blue orb protectively. They watched transfixed, one anxious and the other curious, as the orb seemed to flicker. The force field suddenly dropped, and Brandon felt his heart stop.

His head was in a full tizzy as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. He focused on the easiest one his mind could handle. A little robot with metal arms extended protectively to encircle two forms. The force field retracting into its antennaless head. It gently set down two, small, fleshy forms in the grass. One in a fetal position, the other limp.

Kids. The robot pulled back to reveal kids! The alien checked calmly yet urgently over the smaller girl with shoulder length black hair and warm brown eyes full of tears. Other than her little toddler chest heaving in fright, she seemed to be okay. However, the other one, a bit slightly older, who was just out of Brandon's line of sight, appeared to be in slightly worse condition. As she shifted her attention to the boy, he could feel Dib leaning forward to desperately catch a glimpse.

The Irken's form blocked most of the view, as she made a hand motion at the robot towards their general direction. At the silent command, the robot nodded and swiftly slinked like a shadow across the field towards them.

At the sudden departure of the robot, the little girl with her singed dress and trembling lip followed it's barely perceptible movements with ease. She pushed up her round, cracked, little glasses with the ease and dexterity of a child much older than her, and one with far less chubbier fingers than her toddler form. One more human than her.

Not that she looked all that different from a human. Her teary eyes followed as the little robot came to a stop in front of them. Its eyes illuminating them in a harsh yet somewhat dim, red glow.

At the sight of them, the little girl's face contorted in relief and more tears as she went to sprint towards them, but didn't manage to get far as the mother simply hooked a claw in the back of her dress with practiced, almost instinctive ease. Not even looking up as she held a device from her pak above the young boy's body. Brandon gasped as he suddenly felt the pressure on his back remove itself only to have that breath of relief squashed away as the robot quickly took over with the simple command of, "Mimi, gravity mode."

At that, Brandon hissed as the air in his lungs was forced out once more by the little robot. It suddenly felt like a heavy boulder was focused all in one spot on his spine. He watched Dib step in front, into their line of sight, and towards the alien.

Dib tried to simply stride over briskly to the alien. However, he quickly found himself sprinting just as the little girl ripped herself away to sprint towards him, and that when Brandon heard something that made his heart stop.

"PAPA!"

No! He had to have heard wrong, but despite his denial, the little girl continued over and over again, "PAPA! PAPA! PAPA!" Only stopping long enough to jump into Dib's arms. He caught her with almost practiced ease. She nuzzled her way into the crook of his neck, blubbering, as he regained his swift stride, continuing on towards the other two. He nuzzled the top of her head back in comfort, holding her close, as he gently rubbed her back soothingly.

Brandon gulped as his eyes widened. Oh no! Oh god no!

He watched as they were almost beside the other two as he set her down, and she sprinted towards them, blubbering about, "Mama" and "Tibothy."

But Tibothy is the same name of…oh no oh no oh god no!

The little girl latched onto the female's arm as the boy sat up with a whimper just as Dib knelt down beside them, and placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy looked up, and his face finally came into Brandon's view. He was the spitting image of his father, but with dark blue hair and eyes the same color as the female alien, who gently shook the little girl off her arm. Clearly, not one for being hanged onto unnecessarily.

Little tears welled up behind round glasses, and he flung himself into his mother's arms to hide his tears. Dib went to comfort the boy by placing a hand on his back, but stopped and went rigid at the sight of harsh burns on the boy's back. The way he flinched away from the touch at his back spoke volumes of the pain the boy was in, and the sight made Dib stare. Intense rage to rival his sister’s coalesced in his eyes.

Only the sound of the alien's murmured comforts and the action of the little girl flinging herself into Dib's chest seemed to finally snap Dib out of his head. He scooted closer to run his fingers through the boy's hair. Careful not to mess with the singed edges of the tuft of scythe-like hair so identical to Dib's own.

Additionally ever-so-careful not to knock the girl over the girl from his lap, Dib gently brushed over the long gash on the alien's head, above where her eyebrow should be. He wiped away what blood he could with his sleeve, before cupping his hand over her bruised and swollen cheek.

Her worried expression melted away as she closed her eyes, and leaned into the touch. Dib tenderly pulled her closer, and leaned down to touch his forehead with hers. A small, gentle, relieved smile graced her lips as her hand rose to rest upon his. A ring on her last finger glittering in the calm moonlight, as the storm had long since passed. They pulled back, smiling at each other as if in their own little world. A world that consisted of them and their children.

Brandon gulped as he couldn't deny it any more. He fucked up! He fucked up so bad! He shot down his boss' wife and kids!

And, as Dib pulled away to readjust his daughter in his lap, he glared over his shoulder at Brandon, who felt a chill go down his spine. His family meant the world to Dib Membrane, and hell was sure to come to whoever tried to shatter it.

#datr #Invader Zim #Dib Membrane #Tak #Invader Tak #Tadr #OC's #A dash of next gen #Also now on fanfiction.net #IZ

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prettyflyshyguy · 4 years

Text

Ok here’s Chapter 2!!! its unfinished but I have to go to bed but you can have it anyway!! Like last time if you have critique please hit me with it. I am not a writer. I am simply a fool with two wolves inside me, one craves comedic relief while the other is grabbing a knife from the kitchen. (Chapter 1 if you missed it)

Here’s an indication:

The night air was still, in the distance the sound of helicopters and sirens blaring was the only thing to disturb this empty side of the city, evacuation of all citizens long passed. The orange haze of distant lights and fires lit up the otherwise cloudy dark sky. The crack of crystalline and resin structure splitting broke the silence atop the Research Centre. A cocoon spilled out of the split in the hardened shell, flowing and bulging and wriggling out as something churned and shifted beneath the surface. Rapidly the form of a figure started to appear, breaking free, reaching upwards towards the sky until it slipped and fell backwards. It flopped onto the concrete with the grace of a beached whale, and slid a few meters back.

His lungs kicked into overdrive, gulping deep breaths of air to combat the fear, disorientation and adrenaline that shot through his body. Everything was dark, his eyelids felt glued shut. He was hot, too hot, why was he so hot.

Crudely wiping whatever was gunking up his eyes, he began to take stock of the situation. He quickly scanned the area, he was alone.

Except for the cocoon.

‘Shit-’

He instinctively tried calling out but a faint rasp was the most he could muster as he scrambled away still on the ground. He reached for his sidearm holster.

Except it wasn't there.

He felt cold concrete on his back, he pushed into it. It was the only thing he knew was real. It was tangible. He looked back towards the cocoon, a trail of viscous liquid stretched between it and himself. He sat there, frozen. Eyes fixed on the cocoon. Tracing its outline, the way it looked like a figure reaching forward. Forward towards something small that reflected the light, sitting just out of reach of the cocoon on the ground. The huge, gaping split down the back that the trail of fluid lead away from.

Perhaps if he was able to sit completely still he wouldn't be able to feel any of it. The fluid dripping down his hair, into his eyes. The way his arms felt too long. The way his skin felt too tough. The way he felt wrong.

Except he hadn’t forgotten what happened. It was his cocoon.

His heart rate shot up, he started breathing faster shorter breaths.

Leon wasn't particularly afraid of much. He tackled any new situation he was thrust into pretty well, actually. Like his brief time as a cop back in Racoon City when the first outbreak of the T-virus happened. Evicting the ‘monster under the bed’ when he’d babysit Sherry when she was younger. Being injected with a parasite egg by a twisted cult in Europe. Accepting Claire’s challenge of who could eat the most hot cross buns last Easter.

The cocoon in front of him made him afraid.

He focused on his breathing, slowing them down, taking in more air in each breath. His pulse began to calm.

A minute or two had gone by before he realised it was getting cold. The exothermic reaction of the cocoon process had ended quite some time ago and he was no longer receiving the benefits. If you could even call them that.

He thought about it again.

‘Ah. That’s right. The cocoon process.’

His memories were intact up until a point, he remembered the flames and how he tried to scream. He remembered the sensation of his skin boiling. He remembered his joints seizing up and everything going dark. The only person he’s seen come out of a cocoon looking ‘normal’ was Ada, but she must be different. Some kind of twisted facsimile that Simmons cooked up. The Ada Wong that infected him was surely not the real deal, at least he hoped.

Ultimately there were only two choices in his current situation. Continue to stare in abject horror at the cocoon or instead, stare in abject horror at whatever it did to him.

Sharply inhaling, he slowly let his gaze fall from the cocoon to his feet.

At least the assumption was that they were his feet. They looked more structurally like primates but with thick leathery scales or plating running along down from his legs. Not to mention the claws.

‘Ok. Could be worse.’

‘Time to try standing up.’ he thought.

He shuffled into a kneeling position and placed his hands out in front of him on a bare patch of concrete that wasn't covered in goop. Thankfully they still resembled human hands. Just with more scales and claws.

‘Could be worse.’

Very slowly, with plenty of weight on his hands, he attempted to figure out how to stand up. He quickly realised his feet were more comfortable with weight being fully placed on the toes. Like a dinosaur. Maybe he could get a job as a monster in the next Jurassic Park film. In trying to find a silver lining the brief mental distraction meant he almost toppled over, as his legs were quite shaky. Using the wall behind him for stability, he found he was able to stand comfortably if he bent his knees slightly more than he was used to.

Carefully, despite wobbling significantly, he made his way without the aid of a wall towards and around the cocoon, to where he had dropped his communicator after Ada… Fake-Ada, had infected him.

He knelt down and gently picked it up, praying that maybe somehow the flames hadn’t damaged it beyond working. The glass screen was cracked. It was unresponsive.

‘Fuck.’

He had no way of contacting Helena. No way of telling her that actually he’s ok. He had left her to run after Ada and now she’s out there, alone, up against Simmons and his personal security army after everything-

‘FUCK.’

He was so stupid, he let his personal feelings get in the way when he should have just let Chris handle it-

He froze.

‘Chris was just outside the door when it happened. He probably saw the cocoon-’

His thoughts were interrupted as the glass of the communicator shattered as it hit the ground. His stomach convulsed as he began to throw up. He hadn’t eaten in hours but the acid burned away at his throat nonetheless. Tears started to well up in his eyes. The full gravity of the situation hit, everything he put his friends through, everything that’s happened to him. What would happen if he finds them again? Would they recognise him? Would they shoot him? Would he even find them? What if something else found him first?

Shoving all that aside, he pulled himself back into the moment. There was nothing he could do for either Chris or Helena if he just sat here, and the risk of a military cleanup unit passing overhead and seeing him was not one he was willing to bargain on.

The balcony door, left open, creaked slightly as the ocean breeze drifted through the city. It would have been nice if not for the smoke and the eeriness of the place left cold and empty. It didn’t take Leon long to find an apartment that had an unlocked door or window, long forgotten about. The infection came with its advantages, namely making it much easier for him to traverse buildings vertically which meant he avoided streets with military patrols, Ja’vo or worse. Cautiously searching, in case he wasn't alone, he swept through each room quickly before entering the bathroom. The sludge that was left over from the cocoon had started to try like mud all over him, a shower might help relieve the stress. Closing the door and looking around, he caught a brief glimpse of his full figure in the bathroom mirror. He turned away sharply, not ready to tackle that just yet, instead focusing on the uncomfortable fact he could see very clearly despite not turning the light on yet. Once again trying to find something he could root himself too, he sunk his feet into the softness of the bathmat. The cold of the tiles.

He leaned with both arms either side of the basin.

‘Please don’t throw up again.’ he thought.

Without giving himself time to chicken out of it he flicked his head upwards and stared dead on into the mirror.

‘Could be worse.’

His face was still somewhat recognisable, it might have been even more if he didn’t have two mandibles protruding from both his top and bottom jaw each, beginning near his ears and wrapping comfortably around his face. He was able to see them in his peripheral vision so far but preferred to pretend they didn’t exist. Forced to reckon with it now, he toyed around to determine what level of control he had, if any. The top two folded up neatly alongside his cheeks and the clawed tip bent downwards towards his mouth, while the bottom ones extended along his jawline and pointed up at his chin. More concerningly in each corner of his lips there was a line, almost like a split that ran up his cheeks either side. Tentatively he flexed his jaw and opened his mouth slightly he snapped it shut upon seeing canines that were probably a little too long. Among other teeth that probably weren't there before. At least the BSAA had good dental.

Examining the rest, the same plate scales, more like chitin or carapace, ran up his arms, legs and back. Splits down the sides of his arms and legs had more normal softer skin along with his chest, although these including his face were still stricken with splits and scarring in the skin. Much like how Deborah, Helena’s sister, looked after she emerged from her cocoon. At this point he noticed something shifting behind him, twisting slightly revealing in the mirror a set of thin spines that ran down his back. They twitched and shifted higher the more he stared at them, the more his heart rate elevated.

Not bothering to turn on any lights still, he shoved himself into the shower and doused himself in water as once again, he felt his heart rate climb.

Sinking down to the floor he leant on his knees and pushed his fingers into his hair as the water enveloped him.

‘It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse. It could be worse?? I’m a BOW now I’m a fucking BOW I’m a bio organic weapon I’m a B O W I’M-’

Pulling his hands down his hair and over his face, he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

‘Ok this is bad, but you’ve been through worse Leon.’ he considered.

He stared blankly for a moment.

‘Ok maybe you haven't been through worse but at least this time you’re in control of yourself. No mind control parasite cults involved. Look on the bright side.’

He looked down at his feet and the water swirling endlessly into the drain.

‘You’ve traumitised Helena right after the same thing happened to her sister, you have no way of contacting anyone for help, and even if you did, you have no guarantee they won’t just try and kill you.’

He slowly looked up. His entire face, mandibles included, drooped as the water cascaded down.

Pressing his hands into his face and leaning back he let out a deep, long groan while he internally wished he could just scream. God knows if he did, if it would even sound human still.

Debora’s wails and cries still echoed in his mind. Recognisably human in origin but alien and twisted. Would he sound like that too? Like a monster?

(Hi hello its Editing Shy here, sorry this is all I got. I haven't finished it yet, this is the unfinished bit.)

#c virus au #the fanfic saga continues #tentatively gonna post this with #Leon Kennedy #Resident Evil 6 #throws this in your general direction and RUNS AWAY #idk why im super self conscious about this its probably a mix of my nervousness because Im not good at writing and how stupidly self indulge #*indulgent this is lmfao #if I dont make at least 10 really bad jokes to what kind of a writer even am I #I could never write full angst I would actually die if someone didnt make a really stupid comment to try and lighten the mood

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 5 years

Text

Idle Hands Are the Devil’s Tools

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar X Reader

Summary: You are a bartender at LUX, growing to be one of Lucifer’s closest friends in the human realm, attraction swelling in the both of you for the other. On one closing night at the club, Lucifer decides to bet a little wager with you when Detective Decker needs your help for a case and you want to decline. Exotic dancing, lingerie, seducing a crime lord, jealousy, lust, and chaos, the devil’s specialties, soon follow.

A/N: okay so full disclosure I have not seen much, only like eight episodes into the first season but already I’m in love with a general idea of the so far storyline and characters so I hope you guys enjoy this little story because a lot of you requested it and I’m excited *maniacal, evil laughter* feedback is loved and appreciated as always! i wrote this filth in like one night so have fun with this and if yall want a continued part of just smut then fluff lemme knowwww anyway PLEASE ENJOY

Warnings: sexiness, dirty talk, alcohol, infuriating sexual tension, stripper reader, FLUFF, language, near death experience, JEALOUSY hehe, dom! Lucifer, FILTH I SWEAR, implied smut

You clean up the bar counter, wet rag covered in cleaning spray, eyes lifting and making direct contact with your boss, Lucifer. His head tilts to the side, curiously and expectantly, like he wants you to say something, as if telepathic conversation between you two should be second nature, always knowing what he’s thinking.

“You’re really not going to do it?” he asks, alluringly soft voice with that British lilt in it that so many find attractive, maybe that’s why he chose it. Sex appeal.

“Do what?” you ask, evading his gaze the second it turns serious, turning around and wiping down random bottles, aligning them on the shelves.

“You know what, darling,” he sighs, a huff a laughter. “The case Detective wants your help on.”

You stiffen at the mention of Decker’s request, when she came just a few hours before, “She doesn’t need my help... anyone can do it.”

“Well, she chose you, no one else in a one hundred mile radius has an impressive skill set in both martial arts and stripping...” his lips curl when saying the last word, you scold him, narrowing your eyes. “I also wouldn’t mind seeing the latter. I’ve only ever seen you in your uniform,” he scrunches his nose, excitable.

You look down at the sensible attire, a black tank top and dark washed jeans with holes where the knees are. You look back up at him and chew on your bottom lip, pondering that forever reoccurring question of if he’s just being his normal flirty self or if he truly sees you in another light. You only ever come up with the former as the answer. He’s all dark, black suits, raven, slicked back hair, and stormy eyes, all cut from jagged stone, onyx and obsidian. He’s untouchable.

“Stripping put me through college when my parents refused to,” you explain, point blank and to the point. “I haven’t done it since, I quit when I made enough for tuition. It paid the bills and kept the lights on, but the men there... I won’t ever forget the way their eyes made me feel...” you gulp audibly when you remember those disgusting glances, how objectifying they were.

Of course it wasn’t every patron there, some were respectful. Some even got you a good lay, and others sometimes paid an entire month’s rent, but those late night visitors, they were the ones that led you to quit.

“I don’t want to ever feel like that again,” you look at Lucifer and he knows you’re telling the truth, your glassy eyes and wavering stance.

“Y/n...” he says sincerely, reaching across the bar to thread his fingers through yours. You freeze.

“I can assure you at my club, I only let in the best people, they’re hand selected. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, they will be punished and out of the club as soon as you say the word. I wouldn’t be pushing this so much, dear, if it wasn’t so vital to the investigation and to get this crime lord and stop him from killing anyone else, you have to distract him long enough for the cops to get inside. We need you.” He needs you.

“Luci...” you whine slightly, breathing deeply when you catch his stare. “I-”

“Can you do this?” he asks, tongue dragging across the pillow of his bottom lip, twitching in the corners. “For me, beautiful?”

This is one of those moments that has you pondering the stance of your relationship. Because you can’t say no to those eyes. And he knows it.

“You’re terrible,” you sigh, giving up, squeezing his hand before letting go, slipping from his grasp. “But yes, fine, I’ll do it. Because you basically guilt tripped me into doing so.”

“You are only human,” he teases, wearing a cheeky smile when he swipes the liquor from your fingers and pours two glasses. “Don’t worry, love, you’re going to have a devil of a time...”

You take a long sip of your drink, pointing at him accusingly, “Stop it with the puns or I’m out.”

“I’ll also put a little wager on the endeavor, pet, and make it interesting,” he sits up straighter, the nickname he uses for you sending an ice cold chill down your spine. “If you make at least a grand tomorrow night, I’ll tell you what I desire.”

“I have always wondered...” you take another sip of the smooth drink, the burnt amber taste gliding down your throat with ease. “Can you really pin it down to just one thing?”

“For you I will,” he looks at you, genuine. “And if you don’t make that much, I get to ask you. I never have gotten the chance.”

“What’s stopping you from doing it until then?”

He smirks, “Nothing, I suppose. This is much more fun, though, wouldn’t you say, kitten?”

“Okay, then. Deal,” you extend your hand to him and his eyes are alight, scarlet fervor.

He grins wickedly, shaking your hand, “This’ll be such fun.”

~~~~

Maze looks you over, feline eyes slit with her bottom lip caught between her teeth in deep concentration. You two are in the back of the club, music and bass pounding in the dance room while she studies your attire, your new work uniform while aiding in the case. You’re covered head to toe in a gaping fishnet body suit, a black strapless bra laying over atop your breasts and a pair of black lace panties to match with a pair of ebony, Louboutin stiletto heels, a weapon in themselves. She places a com in your ear so you can covertly communicate with Lucifer and Decker.

You feel out of your element, but also incredibly empowered, now that it goes by your rules, what you say goes. Maze put your hair in curls, minimal makeup with a dark lip, and she’s smiling, licking her lips deliciously.

“If Lucifer hadn’t already called dibs on you, mortal, I’d have you right here myself...” she traces a finger down your torso, stopping at your panty line, crimson lips cut from ruby.

“Dibs?” you ask, confused but also intrigued. “When did he do that?”

“If you really don’t know...” she looks at you. “Then you’re an idiot.”

“Bitch,” you scoff.

She smiles, leading you to where you’ll be dancing for the night, “Sure, but at least I’m not an idiot.” That’s clueless to my boss’s affections.

You huff in annoyance before stopping at the individual pole where you will be performing for the night, the club already packed with crowds of dancing, grinding bodies, sweat and musk. Lucifer catches your eyes from across the room, he’s stunned for a moment, like he’s stuck in a moment of shock and he can’t move. You’re breathtaking.

He smiles, lifting a single eyebrow in question, calculating your next move. The crime lord Decker described to you sits on the couch adjacent to the poles and designated dancing areas, his greedy eyes already laying over you and you know you have him hooked.

You look back at Lucifer and hook your leg on the steel pole, spinning around, positioned upside down when you flash the devil a wink.

He’s taken aback by the gesture, eyes wide as saucers, chest rising and falling at the unknown twist in his gut. You slide back up, walking around the wooden square allotted for your dancing, letting the music seep into your bones, move your hips and sway your curvy body to the beat of the song, one you requested. You turn away from Lucifer and lock eyes with the crime lord, you wiggle your fingers in the smallest of waves, flirtatious when your lips move upward, all planned and perfected. The man is caught under your spell and caught completely off guard, perfect for a distraction.

Your hand graces the pole once again when you twirl around, hand running through your hair when you dance to the rhythm of the playlist, eyes closed and letting your body do the talking that your lips can’t. Already both men and women have been throwing wads of dollar bills, in the hundreds now.

Lucifer’s eyes fall over you more than once, but unlike everyone else’s, they hold adoration, admiration, he can’t look away.

“You’re doing this on purpose...” he growls into his ear com, nursing a hard scotch on ice, eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Whatever do you mean, Luci...” you swing around once more, landing in the splits when you face him, laying down fully, face in your hands. His jaw drops.

He’s never wanted someone this badly. It’s like your touching him without actually doing so, your eyes doing all the work for you.

“You look ravishing.”

You belly laugh, throwing your head back when you look at him, smug, “In the way that I look intriguing or that you want to ravish me yourself?”

He sips his drink, fire licking his irises, flickering in flames, “Both.”

“Guys, focus,” Decker scolds in the mic, interrupting the staring contest, having you continue back to dancing, looking back at the crime lord.

He waves you over, a stack of cash beside him that he pats, wanting a personal lap dance. Your skin crawls at the way his eyes trail over you, lingering in places he shouldn’t, but you know it’s for the case, so you can save people. You smile at him, forced, walking down the platform and over to him.

“He want’s a lap dance, Decker,” you whisper, the loud music enough to mask your talking. “What do I do?”

“That’s not apart of the plan, Detective,” Lucifer bites, voice dripping with venom, eyes aflame.

Decker mulls it over, “It’s... actually perfect. Do it, y/n, you’re not in any danger and-”

“She could get hurt, we didn’t plan for this,” Lucifer says, another foreign feeling in his chest where his heart should be, clutching the absence and his jaw clenches. “W-what if she’s uncomfortable?”

“She can do it, because if she does, we have more than enough time for the cops to swarm in and take this guy down, ten minutes tops.”

“I can do it, Luci,” you promise. “He’s only human, right?” you say, voice unsteady when you see the gun in his pocket, burly bodyguards on either side of him.

Lucifer’s chest clenches and he’s forced to watch you straddle the man’s lap, smiling openly at the murderer, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. This hurts more than the injuries, when the Detective shot him, this doesn’t even compare. It resonates through his whole being, he’s rooted to the ground and the fear in your eyes when you throw a look at him kills him further.

“The cops are close,” Decker tells you. “Just a little bit longer and we’ve got him.”

The man beneath you suddenly frowns, “What’s that voice? Do you have a com in? Are you a cop?” He shoots up, pushing you off, you barely catch yourself when you stand.

“Shit!” Decker curses, footsteps immediately following when she runs down the main staircase, gun aimed at the criminal’s head, a sure shot from there. “Alright, LAPD, hands up, asshole!”

The club goes into a frenzy, crowds running out the doors when they hear her yell, giving the perpetrators an easy exit. And in the heat of the moment, the crime boss grabs you, arm around your neck and restricting your airway with a gun pressed against your temple, the cool steel on your skull. Your eyes sting with tears, a damned lump forming in your throat you can’t bear swallow, and Lucifer sees you across the club.

His eyes light up, and he realizes he was wrong earlier, this pain was worse, so much worse. It takes him over and makes him vulnerable beyond repair when he runs over to you but the criminal is two steps ahead, moving with you to the exit, pressing the gun into you further.

“One more step and I’ll shoot!” he tightens his grip around your neck and an empty tear slips past, but you dare not make a noise. “Don’t test me!” He clicks off the safety and you flinch.

You mouth a soft, It’s okay, to Lucifer, watching his face fall, true sorrow in his features.

“You picked the wrong woman to hold at gunpoint,” his chest heaves, but he’s calm and collected, eerie and still like a lake at midnight, the only reflection of light being the moon. “Let her go.”

“Step back or I’ll kill her-”

Lucifer flashes his real face, scarlet and devilish, monstrous and the man drops his gun in a fit of fear and confusion, eyes wide. You knock your head back and headbutt his nose, enough so to knock him out, dropping to the ground unconscious.

You breathe heavy and the tears finally fall. A single, broken sob escapes, you cross over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, crying into his chest, staining his signature purple button down shirt. His arms, once stiff at his sides, encircle around your waist and tug you to him, no space between you both except the fabric of his clothes and lace of your ensemble. And there’s no words needed. His hands rest on the small of your back, and for once they have no intention of ever wandering.

~~~~

You step into the shower, closing the blue tinted, glass door behind you. The hot water slides down your skin, close to scalding, cleaning off the day you’ve had, especially that man’s hands, gripping your waist. Hands on your hips. You close your eyes and tilt your head up, water rushing down your face, waves lapping at skin, kissing your cheeks with warmth.

You step out of the shower after washing your hair, wrapping a towel around yourself when you walk out of the bathroom, water droplets running down your hair and face, coating the tips of your lashes and your pink lips. Lucifer, leaning over the bar and nursing a drink, turns when he hears your wet footsteps advance into the main, sitting room, dark eyes trailing over your figure.

He’s been acting off ever since the incident at LUX, driving you over to his apartment, letting you use his shower, laying out a fresh outfit for you, and offering you a guest bed to sleep in for the night. He thinks it’s his fault, all this, being held at gunpoint and almost being shot, this entire mess in the first place. Guilt is aching in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

And he’s barely talking.

“Lucifer?” you ask, meek and quiet, afraid you’ve already overstepped too many boundaries just being here. You know it’s a bad idea.

“Yes, darling?” he answers just as softly, still not quite looking at you, just staring straight ahead at his cabinet of drinks, ice clinking in his crystal glass of scotch.

“I’m sorry.”

He turns his head in your direction, close to snapping, “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I got sloppy and it almost cost us the investigation... he overheard my com-”

“You’re apologizing... because Detective spoke too loudly and he heard? You’re apologizing for almost getting killed?” he turns fully to face you, setting his scotch calmly on the bar counter.

“Don’t blame her.”

“I don’t. I blame myself for roping you in and getting you involved...” he groans, frustrated, walking slowly towards you.

You frown deeply, confused at his sudden change of heart, regret in his features, the wrinkles in his brow when he furrows it, “Even so we still got him in custody, there’s no harm done, Luci-”

“There could have been!” he yells, eyes rimmed with scarlet. “You could have died, y/n! I could have lost you and it would have been my fault...” his voice wavers, and you gulp, realizing what’s going on.

He was scared.

“Lucifer...” you whispering, cooing softly, a melodic lullaby put into his name.

You step on the tips of your toes to cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb over the stubble on his cheek. He’s trapped.

He’s never experienced tenderness like this before, such love and care in one’s touch, all for him. He doesn’t deserve it, but he’s softening, melting into your palm and he’s a puddle at your feet, eyes locked with yours and he’s thrown away the key. He presses his lips to the inside of your palm, sending electricity through your veins, sparks on your fingertips that shock his skin.

“Stop.”

He pinches his brow, confused, “What?”

“Stop,” you tell him, lips kicking up in a small smile. “Stop blaming yourself, I was sloppy, I admit it, Decker was loud... but I agreed to it, that’s on me. I knew the consequences and I knew what would happen if things went sideways, but he’s behind bars, and I’m not dead. I’d call this a win.”

His jaw tightens, “He put his hands on you.”

“He did...” you agree. “But I’m a big girl,” you laugh, both hands on his face now and he lets you, leaning into your touch like a moth to a light, succumbing to its own undoing. “I handled it.” And something comes over him.

“I should handle him...” he pushes you against the wall, you inhale sharply when you hit the cool material, gripping the front of your towel.

His eyes fall over your face, “For touching what’s mine.”

You open your mouth to speak, say something, anything, but you don’t object, you can’t. It happens so fast, both your wrists in one of his hands pinned above your head, pressing you further into the wall.

And he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter close and he groans into your mouth, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, tongue soothing you when it licks your own. Like coal igniting fire, aiding its own demise. His other hand runs down your neck, ripping off the towel that covers you until you’re bare before him, dripping in more ways than one. He finally lets go of your wrists and you wrap your arms around his neck, his arms looping around your waist and it’s clashing teeth, tongue, and lips, a frenzy of hands and it’s not enough. Not enough. He drinks you in with a hunger that can never be sated, your fingers carding through his ebony hair and tugging, harsh and vindictive. He growls, the devil but still a man, and you make him painfully so.

He picks you up, hands under your thighs when your legs wrap around his torso, soaking his clothes but he doesn’t give a shit, never breaking your kiss when he carries you over to the bed, tossing you on the mattress. He looks you over, hungry and vicious, lips exploring the maps of skin before him, biting and licking all the curves, dips, and sweet spots, finding what makes you tick.

Kissing down your stomach, eyes still holding onto yours, “Tell me, my love... what do you desire?”

“Y-you,” you say, voice shaky and unsteady, gulping down the lump in your throat that makes it hard to breathe.

He smirks, malicious, crawling back up your body and he sucks on your neck, marking your skin with love bites, littered with remnants of him.

“You won the bet, didn’t you, darling?” he kisses the curve of your jaw, licking the lines of your throat, and all oxygen leaves you. “I suppose I have to tell you what I desire, then, don’t I?”

“A deal is a deal,” you smile, equally as excited as you are scared for the answer.

“You,” he scatters his lips across your chest, kissing your breasts. “To ravish you like the goddess you are... to love you wholeheartedly and truly.”

He wraps his lips around your right nipple, swirling his tongue expertly, biting and sucking. His fingers pinch the other, rolling it between his index and thumb, so damn good it’s scary.

You never thought you’d hear him say the L word, and to you, a mortal, no less. You never thought you’d love him too.

“Luci... you’re still wearing clothes,” your fingers fumble for his shirt, tugging it so hard that the buttons pop off, falling off of him. “That’s hardly fair.”

He grins wolfishly when he resurfaces, “Eager, aren’t we, kitten? If you wanted it rough, all you had to do was ask...”

#lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer fox #as requested #requested #fanfiction #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer x reader #smut #lucifer morningstar smut #reader #fic #reader fic

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

Note

“What’s wrong?” + “Don’t push me away” CatRaf 😘😘😘

Hello Jo! Please enjoy this little scene of comfort for the chefs (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Cat wasn’t always the quietest when it came to walking through the woodlands, she’d like to think her legs would have been able to memorize where the noisiest parts were by now, no such luck though as she made her way through the dark. The small blessings came in that she wasn’t in her daytime dress, the night allowed her to wear converse, jeans, printed t-shirt, and a knit sweater to stave off the chill of the night, that she pulled closer as she neared the ladder. She steadied her breath shifting the backpack to ease the weight on her shoulders, tugging on the rope ladder, it stayed put as she smiled. Climbing always was the scariest for her, it was unsteady and she always feared falling alerting the wrong person that may have been hiding or passing through, but it was the safest option, that’s what Raf had told her at least.

She hoisted herself up the metal landing wrapping around the tree, pulling up the ladder behind her, setting it on the ledge quietly. Cat walked around towards the south end of the ledge, pushing through the branches finding Raf already sitting in the small clearing, back against the trunk. “Hey stranger,” Cat whispered, shrugging the backpack off, he turned to her smile on his face, making some more room for her next to him, “You weren’t waiting for a long time were you?”

Raf shook his head, “Would it really matter if I was? You still showed up,” she sat next to him, thankful for the dark hiding the blush in her cheeks. He reached for the bag, “What did you bring us tonight, Conejito?”

“Some pasta,” she helped him in unpacking their late night dinner, “Used your pesto recipe, never really had it much before you made it for me.”

He took a bite, laughing, “You did not use my version.”

“Okay so I tweaked it, sue me,” she rolled her eyes laughing, “I had a vision of something a little more citrus-y to match with the chicken.” She watched him take another bite, “But since we’re on the subject, what do you think of my bastardization of your pesto?”

He looked down to her eyes, “I never said it was a bastardization.”

“You don’t have to,” she pointed to him with her fork, “I know you’re thinking it. Friends tell each other the honest truth, Raf.”

“That’s very true,” he nodded, “It’s not bad, could use some improvements but not bad.”

“So I win this point,” Cat threw her fist in the air above her, “Yes!”

Raf brought her hand back down laughing, “More like half a point.”

Cat’s jaw dropped, “That’s not fair. I always give you a full point, since when did we start doing partial points?”

“Since it was my recipe that was the base,” he moved to pull out the wireless headphones along with the CD player, “Make something of your own creation and then it's a full point.”

She rolled her eyes as she took one of the ear buds, “Most recipes start with the same base ingredients so what’s so bad about putting a spin on yours.” Raf looked away from her, looking through their music selection, “It’s not like you’d have enough for a legal case anyway. It’d be like Queen verses Vanilla Ice.”

He gave a snort, “Someone’s been talking to their lawyer husband,” he settled on a classical music mix, “You okay with this tonight?”

She gave a shrug, “It’s your night to pick,” Cat met his eyes, seeing his smile wasn’t reaching them the same way it normally did, “I brought dessert too for us.”

Raf got the music playing, “Now that sounds perfect. What did you make tonight,” he settled himself back in his spot, earbud in place.

“Cobbler,” she pulled out the tupperware, “Well okay it was strawberry pie but I uh forgot somehow to put the bottom layer of crust.”

“You didn’t make enough for two circles, again,” he gave her a bright smile, laughing as she nudged his shoulder, “No judgement here.”

Cat took another bite, “That’s a lie. You are always judging my cooking. But it’s okay because I judge yours and it's all fair.”

“That’s very true, Cat,” she looked up at Raf, his hair creating shadows on his face, “Still can’t believe you figured out how to get these to work with the cd player.”

Cat gave him a small shrug, He hardly ever uses my name, “Bluetooth works with bluetooth you know.” They ate in silence for a while, Cat noticing his fingers not moving in time with the beat. Cat placed her pasta down, “Raf,” she waited for him to look at her before continuing, “you don’t seem like yourself tonight.”

His smile returned to his face, “Just a little tired,” he chuckled, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Raf,” she pleaded, “I know you well enough to tell when something’s up.” She turned to face him, “You know I care about you,” she inhaled grabbing his hand, “so you know if something’s wrong you can tell me right?”

He placed his hand over hers, “I know. I know I can Conejito, but I’m fine really.”

Cat looked into his eyes, seeing the sadness there she always saw in herself and Wes, eyes that said you hated or disliked yourself in some way. She moved herself closer to him, fingers interlacing with his, “What’s wrong, Rafael? I know the look in your eyes, something happened.” She ran through a list of anything he could have been a part of in the week they had last seen each other, it was harder to do given how secretive Jacob could be and how much quieter Raf’s plans were compared to Wes’. He didn’t say anything, just sat there next to her, she wrapped her arms around him resting her head on his shoulder.

He patted her arm, “I think I’m ready for some dessert now,” he reached over her easily to the “pie” taking a few bites. He smiled turning to face her as soft piano music played in their ears, “Despite it being not its intended form it’s really delicious, Conejito.” Cat gave a small smile, heart racing as his lips became dangerously close to hers. In any other moment she’d want nothing more than for him to kiss her, or she break that gap herself. Tonight though there was something wrong and she wanted to take care of him first and foremost.

“Thank you,” Catlina started to rub circles around his back looking up at the moon, the song starting to change. She only needed to hear the first few notes to know that it was Debussy, which seemed fitting considering how they sat here at night under a full moon.

Raf stood, pulling her arms away from his body, extending his hand out to her, “Care to dance a little, Catlina?” His smile was so bright and reassuring, she took his hand with little hesitation, maybe she could catch him off guard. He spun her easily into his arms, swaying to the music, keeping them from the edge with grace. He hummed to the tune his smile never leaving him, how she wanted so badly to match him in his smile. Enjoy and savor this moment with him, how close their bodies were and how it seemed that things were starting to change between them, surely, the possibility that he started to look at her as more than his friend. Her body burned while her heart warned against acting on it, calling to the pain that he seemed to be hiding from her.

If only she could just figure out what it was that was wrong, what happened to bring about the subtle hints of pain. She knew most of his drive to succeed and do what he could came from a place that feared failure, feared being a disappointment, not living up to the expectations that were thrusted upon him that he seemed to meet with such ease. Considering all that went on in the Whitetails there had to be some relation between the two. “Raf,” she said softly, “something bad happened in the mountains didn’t it?”

He gave a slight scoff, “Always something bad with Jacob up there.”

She shook her head, “More than that.” He stopped their dance looking down on her, “Did a mission go wrong?”

“Conejito,” he cupped her burning cheeks, “I know how you like to worry, like to think I’m like Wes, but I’m not. I’m fine, really I am.”

“You’re not above feeling hurt, sad, or in pain,” she countered, “At the end of the day you’re human, just like me and Wes, and it’s okay to rely on us for the bad moments.”

“I don’t need to. I know how to take care of myself,” he kissed the top of her head, “I appreciate your concern though, Cat.”

“Please tell me what happened,” she asked, “I promise I leave it be once you answer me that.”

He let out a slow breath, eyes searching her face, “Just what always tends to happen in wars. People go out and don’t always make it back.”

Her eyes widened slightly, “I’m so sorry Raf,” she ran her fingers through his hair down his jawline, “That’s not nothing, no matter how much it seems to happen here. It’s still losing people.” She watched as his shoulders slumped down, exhaling. “Let’s sit down and you can talk about it with me?”

He shook his head, “No, it’s okay really.”

“Rafael, I can see it's weighing you down,” she looked down to his hands, her thumbs running over the top of them, “Please, just this once,” she looked up to him, “let me help you carry this.” He started to shake his head at her freeing his hands from hers, “Raf, don’t push me away, please. I love you and care about you,” he turned to sit back down, “You didn’t want me to push you away, so please don’t start making the same mistakes as me.”

Cat joined him once he sat down, “I know you can’t understand though,” he argued, bringing a knee to his chest.

“You’ll never know unless you try,” she assured him, “You were out trying to take down a smaller outpost, someone there had information or supplies you needed right?”

He nodded, looking straight ahead to the night sky, “Yeah, should have been easy.” She latched onto his arm, grabbing his hand giving a light squeeze, “Then that song, that damn song started to play.” He let out a sigh, “I had someone that left Jacob months ago, thought they were going to be okay, the smaller ones never have it playing or anything to play it and then Lance’s tricks….,” his words trailed off, but it was enough for her to figure out the ending.

“Raf, there was nothing you could have done,” Cat noticed the slight clench in his jaw, “No one knows how deep his conditioning goes and even then it differs from every single person. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Tell that to his wife,” he muttered, “Or to the person he killed, try explaining that it wasn’t my fault to their partner. No one else is going to see it that way. It was my plan, my responsibility to bring them home and I didn’t.” Cat listened intently waiting for a break to say something, “People count on me, Cat, I can’t keep failing them like this.”

“You’re not failing them,” she started, “People know the risk that comes with being in the line of fire and they know that not everything is going to go to plan. Things happen and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“It could have been prevented if I hadn’t brought him along,” he gave a small shrug, “Or just listened to Tammy in the first place, never tried to help lost causes.”

“That’s exactly why you should keep doing what you’re doing,” Cat moved to face him head on kneeling between his legs, “You have a belief that they can be saved, that they are worth saving because no matter what people are capable of change.” She placed her hand over the left side of his chest feeling the scarring underneath his shirt, “You know because you’ve seen it before, people that are said to be lost causes are the ones that need you most. The people Jacob has, the way his methods dig their claws into people’s minds it's-it's impossible to not have a few failures, ones that are not your fault. If anyone is at fault here it’s Jacob, it's his methods that are causing this.”

“That’s part of the problem, I should know better by now, but I keep doing it,” he argued, “I keep getting people out just to send them back into a losing battle. That’s not fair to them and I’m to blame for that.”

“Raf, I know you. I know that you would never force a person to fight if they didn’t want to,” she took a deep breath, “This isn’t the first mission you’ve done that’s gone awry and if people thought so little of you they wouldn’t still choose to follow you. They follow you because you persevere, you never leave a person behind if you can help it, you have heart, you care, and most importantly, you don’t put yourself above them. You’re not just ordering them around, telling them what to do from afar, you’re out in the trenches with them, fighting by their side, you’re a leader and being a leader comes with its failures.” She sat back grabbing hold of his hand tracing patterns on the back of it, “I know you don’t want to hear that but you need to know that. ‘Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts’ and that’s what people look to, that’s what matters the most.”

“That doesn’t help get rid of the feelings that come along with it,” he said softly looking away from her.

“Then mourn,” she said simply, “Mourn, feel sad, angry, grieve, just be human and then once you do that you get back up and keep going. You continuing the fight and not giving up gives them peace and meaning to their deaths. No one is asking you to never feel when something like this happens, only that you don’t let it sit in your heart to a point that you start acting in extremes.” She turned his face towards her, “You being able to feel and seeing everyone as people and not a means to an end, it makes you better than him and that’s what you have to hold onto in these times. Your humanity.”

Raf looked at her a moment more before encircling his arms around her, Cat wrapping her arms around him tightly, stroking the back of his head as he buried his head in her shoulder. He didn’t cry or even say much of anything as he held her, her heart falling for him as she tried to find the right words to say, nothing seeming to fit other than the music playing in the background. Raf’s hands clutched onto her one last time before he released her, resting his forehead against hers, “Thank you,” he whispered, “It really means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Cat said breathless, her heart fluttering, “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what, Rafael.” Her breath hitched as his hand moved up to push some of her hair back behind her ear, how wrong it felt to expect his lips to meet hers in that moment. Did his heart beat as fast as hers was right this moment? Was this really all one sided? Was she okay with this being the way it was? All questions for another time, not right now though. Not as he pulled away taking a deep breath.

His smile returned, not as big as he normally wore but still there, “That line you said about success not being final,” she nodded, “Did you come up with that all your own?”

She laughed as she found her place again next to him once more, pushing all her other feelings towards him away, “Nah. I’m not that smart,” she took a bite of the dessert, “Winston Churchill said that, or at least according to the internet.”

“Of course he did,” Raf moved to switch out the CD, “Clever work though in your placement of it.” He pulled out a soundtrack, “Shall we listen to some of your favorites while we enjoy the rest of the night? When do you have to be back?”

She gave a shrug, “Could stay out all night if you want, no one ever thinks to look for me,” her head starting to move to the sounds of a guitar playing, “Besides, day off tomorrow so I normally sleep in. What about you? How long do you have?”

“Same as you,” he turned to his own smaller bag, “Which works out cause I have a book of poems here that I’ve been wanting to show you actually, Conejito.” She looked over to it, “I know it's in Spanish but I can teach you some more if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Cat smiled up at Raf, pressing herself closer to him, “very much so.”

#x: top chefs #brains and disaster #i actually really love this like :')

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rotten-games · 4 years

Note

would you mind posting the visual descriptions of the ROs ? i'd like it for future reference!! also i love the demo ALSO i love childhood friend arke thank you for my life sweet author

I don’t mind at all, I’ve been meaning to redo the ROs descriptions for a while now so this just got my ass into gear. I’m glad you like it!

Ardwen: Ardwen isa lithe high elf, with long platinum blond hair that almost appears to glow inlow light. He could be described as pretty, with a slender frame and manicurednails, but it’s often better not to trust the man at face value. He has buckteeth and some freckling across his nose, his ears almost looking too big for histhin face.

Arke: Arke is awell-muscled young human man with burn scars that cover almost half of hisbody. His eyes are an unnatural gold, something that has unnerved countlessover the years, that give him an almost feral look. His brown hair is messy andlong, his face covered with some stubble. He has countless other scars thatcover his chest, though there almost always seem to be scabs on his arms.

Bex: Bex is a largehalf-orc, as most half-orcs tend to be, but he is probably a bit smaller thanaverage. The tusks that jut out from his mouth are quite thick and large, hisbody comprised of muscle and fat that is common amongst his people. His earsare quite pointed, perhaps alluding to an elven parentage and his eyes are awild yellow. His face is covered with a bushy beard, his hair long but kept outof his face. His nose appears to have been broken one too many times, and he hasbeen branded with the mark of a criminal on his neck, something he tries tohide.

Calyssa: With themuscles of someone who has spent her life training and riding, Calyssa is knownas a monster on the battlefield for a reason. Her curly brown hair was shavedshort but is now growing in, her eyes narrow and dark. What scars she has seemto be paid no mind. She wears an ornamental dagger on her hip, a memento fromher late wife.

Druvel: Druvel istall, and strong, though more graceful than a typical soldier. His black hairis tied into a long braid he wraps around his shoulders and his eyes are a verydeep purple that almost appear black. Like all infernals, his mouth is full of razor-sharpteeth, retractable claws coloured black and a pair of horns that curl atop hishead, though his resemble that of a ram. His tail drags behind him as he walks.He has many tattoos down his back and chest, often marked by scarring. Perhapsthe most prominent is a jagged scar that is cut across his jugular.

Emil: Emil is asmall human man with a face covered in freckles and neat ginger hair. His eyesare green and though once he may have had little to no muscle, he has put onsome weight over the years spent as a mercenary. There is a large scar runningdown the side of his face that looks to be from some kind of wild animalattack.

Ettia: Ettia is tallwith little musculature, her body more suited to the pursuits of magic thananything else. Her blonde hair is thick, usually tied into a braid thatcascades down her back, and her eyes are a pale blue that never quite appear tobe looking straight at you. Her back is covered in whip lashes, raised scarringfrom a past she seems detached from when asked about.

Gwyn: Like his sister,Gwyn is tall and blond, with the typical appearance of a wood elf, though hishair is cut short and his blue eyes are perhaps a bit deeper than hers. He hasan average amount of musculature, probably lither than built like a brick houseand more suited to stealth and strategy than frontal assaults. There’s somethingfaraway about his gaze at all times, like he isn’t quite there.

Herron: Herron isof average height for a human, with messy ruddy brown hair pulled back into anequally as messy low ponytail. He wears a pair of broken spectacles, which do nothingto hide the dark bags under his eyes. His robes never seem to quite, his face always covered in stubble that he gave upshaving long ago.

Keller: Tall andmuscled, Keller is the very model of an Atmari leader with mastery over her weaponof choice and her people’s healing magics. Her hair is almost always tied back behindher head so it doesn’t get in the way, revealing her brown eyes and the tattoosthat cover one side of her face. The tattoos extend down over her back, as ifher skin is a canvas.

Korrin: Korrin isthin, almost to the point of looking unhealthy, their body all skin and boneseven standing taller than most half-elves. Their black hair hangs over theirshoulders and their milky eyes are unseeing. Golden piercings cover their face,fangs quite obvious in their mouth. They are a half elf, just what their non-elfhalf is, is unknown.

Lokeira: Lithe andsmall, Lokeira prides himself on his ability to blend into the background, ofgoing unnoticed in a crowd, which is quite hard for an infernal to do in aplace like Hadaria. His skin is mottled with scales, a long, thin, tailextending and dragging on the ground. He has a pair of fangs jutting up out ofhis mouth much like orcs do, his eyes bright red that appear to glow in thedark. His hair is silver and long, always either tucked up into a loose tail orleft hanging over his shoulders, his horns curling over the back of his headare a deep red colour.

Necrolym: Ofaverage height, Necrolym is well-muscled and proud human man. His body is litteredwith small scars, his hands calloused from years of use, though most notably hehas a nick in his right brow from an old wound. His eyes are a grey-blue, hishair a shaggy and messy dirty-blond. He has a mole underneath his left eye.

Nox: A tiny womanstanding at 4’0”, Nox is made of mostly of the muscle and fat of a gladiator.Her body is covered in scars that she doesn’t bother to hide, her body markedwith the usual dwarven patterns of bioluminescent skin that might have lit herway in the dark tunnels her ancestors built. Her hair is black, thick, andwild, but tamed into a short style with an undercut, her chin lightly stubbled.Her eyes are bright yellow.

Qora: Qora issmall and compact, with strong arms and an impassive face. She could never passfor human—her ears are too long and her hair is too short—but she’s neverparticularly wanted to. Her eyes are a dark green, her hair a dull brown, andall her clothing seems absolutely suited to blending in with her surroundings.Due to recent events, she wears an eyepatch over her left eye, which is mutilatedbeyond repair.

Severa: Severa is madeof hard angles and muscle, standing at around 5’4” but not allowing it to makeher seem small. Her shoulders are broad and, being a half-elf, her ears areslightly pointed, but she could pass easily as human if she so wished. Her hairis dark and long, typically pulled into a loose bun atop her head, but she cannever be bothered to brush it as she probably should. Dark brown, almost black,eyes are framed by an equally as angular face marred by scarring.

Spotter: Short andthin, Spotter is comprised of skin and bone and not much else. Their entirebody is covered in freckles, eyes green and curious, while on their head sits amessy bed of curly red hair that never agrees to be tamed. Their clothes areshabby, always having holes or burn marks in them, and they never seem to bewithout their fair share of bumps and scars.

#ROs #Emil is a manlet confirmed #im just gonna put thishere but Druvel was once an actor #going from being an exotic dancer and actor to joining a cult to then being a pirate #wild life #ratellini

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 3 years

Text

Everything We Didn’t Know

Niall starts to think about his future with Hannah after going on his first date with her.

Based off the song ‘Black and White’ by Niall Horan.

MASTERLIST

OC Used: Hannah

Word Count: 2,371

~~~

That first night we were standing at your door

Fumbling for your keys, then I kissed you

Clear, happy laughter surrounded me as Hannah and I walked together up the sidewalk to her house. She smiled over at me through her laughter, hazel eyes glittering in the light of the pale full moon that bathed us in its pearly rays.

Reaching Hannah's door, we paused on her doorstep as she fumbled with her keys. As I gazed upon her radiant features, words formed but got tangled up before I could even speak them.

Hannah finally sorted out her keys and inserted one into her lock. But before she could turn it, my hand was on hers, stopping her from doing so.

"Niall?" Hannah asked in a soft, confused voice as she looked over at me through the curtain of her brunette hair.

Quickly, before I lost my newfound courage, I leaned in and kissed her. Nothing over the top, just a swift press of my lips to her ruby ones.

Ask me if I want to come inside

'Cause we didn't want to end the night

Then you took my hand, and I followed you

As I drew back, Hannah let out a breathy laugh, a shy smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she avoided my gaze, unlocking her door. "Um, do you want to come inside for a while before you head home?" She asked quietly.

I nodded, fumbling over my words. How was it that I could speak eloquently in front of thousands of people, but when I was with Hannah, I couldn't string two words together. "Y-Yeah. Sure." I stuttered, making Hannah smother a laugh behind her hand.

I wasn't ready for this night to end quite yet. It had been the best of my entire life, this first date with a girl I called my best friend, yet loved like she was meant to be mine.

Hannah slipped her hand into mine, interlacing our fingers together and squeezing gently before walking through the door, me following behind.

Yeah, I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a star lit night

In all your gorgeous colours

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

See you standing in your dress

Swear in front of all our friends

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

Hannah left me to find my own way through her house that I knew like my own from all the times I had been here. As she went to the kitchen to grab us a drink, I strolled down the wooden floor of the hallway to the living room.

There was a small, yet comfortable leather sofa on one wall, with a pair of armchairs opposite it. On the third wall, there was a dark fireplace waiting for a fire to be coaxed to life within its hearth. A mantel sat above this, decorated with picture frames holding snapshots of Hannah's life; her memories.

Walking closer, I noticed a new photo had been added to the cluster. Unlike the others, it was in black and white, which made me curious. Picking it up and looking closer, I took in a quick breath as I recognized the moment framed within.

It was of Hannah and I lying out in a meadow on her Aunt's farm, looking up at the stars twinkling in the night sky. Her younger brother Daniel had taken this photo without us being aware of his presence.

Although, Hannah might have known he was there. That night I had been blind to anything other than the beautiful woman sitting beside me in the cool meadow grass, pointing out all the different constellations and trying to catch fireflies as they flitted about.

Replacing the frame to its spot on the mantel, I closed my eyes and took a silent oath to love Hannah for the rest of her life. That was the least she deserved.

Opening my eyes, I took one more look at the photo. As I did, a sudden vision flashed through my mind.

Hannah was standing across from me, dressed in a gorgeous white gown. Her hands were held within mine as I stared into her stunning hazel eyes. We had an audience of all our friends and family, watching as we swore to love only each other as long we lived.

Taking a deep breath, I blinked away the tears forming in my blue eyes, gazing into Hannah's smiling face. "I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Now, we're sitting here in your living room

Telling stories while we share a drink or two

And there's a vision I've been holding in my mind

We're 65 and you ask "When did I first know?" I always knew

The vision was suddenly broken as Hannah walked into the room, holding two mugs that contained a steaming, amber liquid. "Sorry I took so long, I thought tea would taste good." She said apologetically, offering me one of the mugs.

I took it, breathing in the steam and smiling at her. "No worries, Hannah. It smells good. What is it?" I asked, before taking a slow sip of the piping hot liquid, grimacing as it burned my tongue.

Hannah giggled at my expression, cradling her mug between her hands. "Earl Grey. Do you like that?" She asked, and I nodded.

"Absolutely. I'm good with any tea, Love." I said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs, watching as Hannah settled herself in the other, closing her eyes as she took in a deep breath of the steam rising from her white mug with the pink band at the top.

Then she opened her hazel eyes and her gaze flickered over to look into mine. A little smile decorated her gorgeous face, and if I hadn't already known that I loved her, I would have said that this moment showed me that.

Instantly, I saw us forty years in the future, sitting together on a porch somewhere, watching the sun set. Hannah turned to look at me, her face boasting numerous laugh lines and wrinkles. She was frailer now, we both were. But I couldn't care less; she was still my Hannah even as her body grew older.

"Niall, when did you know that I was the one?" She asked in a soft voice, her hazel eyes gazing up at me.

I took a deep breath, looking out at the sunset a little longer before turning to gaze at her. Strands of snow-white hair were falling across her face and I stretched out a slightly shaky hand to brush them back behind her ears.

A cheeky smirk grew on my face as I did so. "Beautiful, I always knew."

Yeah, I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a star lit night

In all your gorgeous colours

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

See you standing in your dress

Swear in front of all our friends

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

Returning to the present, I sipped on my cooling tea, watching Hannah as she told me about an incident that happened during one of her classes at beautician school. It involved something about a cat and mascara.

As she told me how some of the seniors had decided to apply their skills to the cat instead of human models, the story punctuated by her laughs, I took a mental picture of us together, turning it black and white and settling it next to the photo of us out in the starry meadow.

Hannah and I smiled as we watched her little nephew, Zeke, walk down the aisle, a purple velvet pillow in his arms. On the pillow rested two little bands, one gold and the other silver.

Finally, he reached the altar where Hannah and I stood, and we both took a ring, turning back towards the pastor.

Hannah went first, pledging to be faithful to me all our lives, both through sickness and health, life and death. Then she gently slid the golden band onto my finger, blinking back the tears welling in her eyes as she did so. Her voice was choked up as she spoke, "Niall, I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life."

I want the world to witness

When we finally say I do

We were curled up together on the couch, watching the news. Hannah had her head resting on my shoulder, her breathing slow and gentle. I was about ready to join her in sleep when something on the TV caught my eye.

The news anchor had begun a clip of our wedding and was speaking. "...and all of us here at CKI want to wish this happy new couple the best following their gorgeous wedding yesterday afternoon. If the new Mr. and Mrs. Niall Horan are watching this from wherever they are honeymooning, we extend our congratulations!"

I turned the TV off and smiled, looking down at my beautiful new wife as she slumbered peacefully.

It's the way you love

I gotta give it back to you

Tears streamed down Hannah's face as she looked at me, trembling. "Niall, why do you love me?" She asked, brow furrowed in confusion. "I mean, I'm not famous, I can't sing like you, and I'm certainly not as beautiful as some of those other girls." She said, and I rushed to console her.

"Nyah, sweetheart," I soothed, trying frantically to think of how to explain my answer to her question. "This might sound a bit strange to you, but I love you because of how you love me. You love me so completely, so selflessly, I just can't help but give love back to you. You're all I'll ever need, Love."

I can't promise picket fences

Or sunny afternoons

I looked over at the angelic figure beside me, brunette hair shining in the golden light of the sun. Shoving a hand in my pocket, I fingered the tiny black box stowed within.

Now was the time, everything was perfect. We were walking together in Hannah's Aunt's meadow, and all I had to do was ask this beautiful woman four words. But those four words would change my life.

Taking a deep breath, I sank down on one knee, pulling out the box and opening it up as Hannah turned around to say something to me. But as she caught sight of me on one knee, whatever she was going to say died on her lips.

"Oh, Niall..." She gasped, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Hannah Grace ben Tarben, I can't promise you picket fences or sunny afternoons, or the sun or the stars, but I can promise you that I will love you for the rest of my life, that nobody else will ever steal me away from you. Will you marry me?" I asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.

"Yes." Hannah breathed, and a grin leapt onto my face as I stood up, sliding the ring onto her finger. Then I took the chance to just pause and look down at her.

Vaguely, in the far future, I could see her standing in the doorway of a little house somewhere, a baby balanced on her hip as she welcomed me home from work. A smile crept across my face at the vision. Someday that would happen in some form. Someday...

But, at night when I close my eyes

I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a star lit night

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love ya

I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a star lit night

In all your gorgeous colours

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

All too soon, the night had to end, and I left Hannah's house, going back to mine.

Lying on my back in bed, I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. But all I could see was Hannah and I framed in a black and white photo, smiles frozen on our faces as we danced in the moonlight. A scene from the past this time.

There would never be another person like Hannah; I could never love anybody but her, I had sworn that in my mind tonight.

See you standing in your dress

Swear in front of all our friends

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

And when the day came--and I knew it would--I would wait for her at the end of an aisle and watch her walk down it in a beautiful white dress, a beaming smile on her face.

Together, we would vow, in front of all our family and friends that there would never be another. That forever it would only be us two.

I knew exactly what I would say to her; what I would promise for the rest of my life, and I said it aloud to the dark room.

"I promise that there will never be another, Hannah. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Hannah smiled at me, wiping away tears. "And I promise that till the end of my days, that I will love you, Niall." She said, voice husky with unshed tears.

The pastor smiled, nodding to me. "With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I smiled, taking Hannah in my arms and gently brushing away the tears streaming down her cheeks with my thumb. "You heard the man. We're stuck together till death do us part, 'Nyah." I whispered, making her laugh.

"I'm okay with that, Nialler." She whispered back, settling the last of my fears into its grave. Even with everything we didn't know yet, we would make it. We had sworn that we would.

#Niall horan #niall horan x oc #niall x oc #niall #one direction #one direction oc #1D #modern #fluff #sweet niall #fanfic #fanfiction

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moonlightstars16 · 4 years

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Chapter 13 ~ Two Doors Open, One Shut

AN: Hey so I know I put out a schedule not too long ago. However I’m loosing inspiration(s) for this story and yes I will finish it. But I might just do it when I can. I’ll try to stick to the schedule.

The rain from the outside continue to pour down. Tapping the 'glass' on the window. The time was about midnight, as the clock struck and chimes echoed all over the place. The fireplace was barely holding onto it's light; as the tiny sounds of cracking wood revealed the small ember inside. However the candelabra's illuminated the area where two people were sitting near the warmth of the fire. Smiling and well deep into a good book.

Steven found himself clinging to Connie's every word. Not just because the story was well written, but for the gentle voice that spoke the words. It was unique to say the least. Being soft one minute and the next doing a crazy tone for every character. He found it to be quite enjoyable. Which was odd because he hadn't found any interest of stories being told to him like this before. At least not in many years.

"And this concludes chapter five." Connie spoke putting a bookmark on the page and closing it as a yawn escaped her lips.

"So we are stopping there?"

"Oh? Does his highness want more?" Her teasing tone made him roll his eyes.

"Well things did end when it was just getting good. Everything seemed so dull at first."

"A good build up and backstory is perfect for any story and it's characters!" She scoffed putting the book back on the small table beside her.

"Not if it takes three of those chapters to get there."

"With certain books I agree. But this sets everything up so well and leaves even more details in mystery! Besides I like the friendship between our two main leads. But it takes time for them to get there."

They both sighed out in exasperation. Obviously neither of them will agree fully to one side. But that didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things. Connie was proud of him for at least giving this a chance. Though she doubted her own vision and thought it to be an hallucination, she saw the twinkle in his eyes. Something she only ever seen only once before.

"You're smiling?"

"Oh" Lifting up her hand she braised passed her lips and cheek. Sure enough they were pointed upwards, exactly like a smile. "I suppose I am."

"Am I to suppose you've find it pleasurable reading out loud to me?" A malicious look in his eyes (playfully so).

"I-...I wouldn't say pleasurable... I guess I would say...perhaps it was...nice. Yes it was very nice to do something like this."

" 'Nice', hm... Well I shall take that as a compliment. After all you wanted me here to see if this helps me reconnect to my humanity. Or is it because you actually like spending time with me?"

"You know it might be both." The words slipped so casually in the conversation that she covered her mouth quickly while looking away. This wasn't going to pass by him so easily. Her words took him aback as silence fell while he registered the meaning. A smirk appeared across his face as he took the opportunity to tease her so.

"Do my ears deceive me? Or that's your way of telling me you like me."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Oh that's not what I heard. Plus you also stated that our time together was nice. Am I wrong?"

"No, but I...ugh!" She buried her face in her hands as a roaring fit of laughter emerged from within briefly before fading away.

"Oh Connie what am I going to do with you?" Standing up he extended his hand with hers. Waiting as she slowly accepted it. Feeling something inside her stir as her hand touched his. Though separated by a piece of leather fabric, the warmth from inside radiated off him. With a pull, slightly more forceful than normal, he pulled her up as she stepped closer to him to keep her steady. The boots she wore almost tripped her up. The mid-sized skirt tied to her by a corset and off the shoulder blouse, swayed gently in the brisk breeze that appeared when she stood up.

His eyes found hers as he looked into the beautiful doe-like eyes. One of her most unique features to her beauty. The tiny locks framed her face so elegantly. Even if to some it was all messed up and not so neat. His hand still clinging to her own as they did nothing else but gaze into one another's eyes.

The loud crack from the logs in the fireplace snapped them out of it. Both clearing their throats, hands still intertwined as he began to walk away, leading her out the door. Her pace matched his to the point they were side by side as they stepped through the hallways and up staircase's to her room.

"I shall expect you with Pearl tomorrow morning. Since you need all the information you can get." Connie nodded her head, slipping her hand away from his and opening the door and stepping inside. Pausing to turn back around as her curious nature took hold. Well more needing confirmation as of late.

"How long till the project is underway?"

"Only nine months."

"I-....I never realized how long it's been...only three months since I-...." Sighing, her hand slid slightly down the edge of the door.

"Humanity will survive... Rest well Connie." With that he turned away, returning to his own chambers as she watched him walk down the hall and disappear. The sincere gentle tone she heard filled her with warmth inside. Closing the door she leaned her back against it. Placing one hand over her middle and the other right above her heart. Closing her eyes as she breathed in and out.

"You too Steven."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The castle's midnight screeching came from one hidden area deep down below. The sound echoed through the walls just barely. It was similar to a ghost and so the residence inside dubbed these hours, the haunting. At least those who understood the concept of souls and spirits. Connie was laying in bed when it began, her thoughts of the previous few hours invaded her mind. The ghostly wales brought her back to the present moment. Glancing out the window she caught a glimpse of the Zoo. Briefly wondering if the sound originated from there. However the noises faded and she slipped back into her dreams.

Steven was sitting by the fireplace with his hands folded. Ignoring the world around him other than the flames that seemed to dance in his presence. He too thought about the hours prior with her. How natural it all came to be. The comfort of just being around her and the satisfaction of listening to the story she spoke out loud. Not realizing it, a smile graced his lips as a longing gaze began to form.

'See? What did I tell you.'

'She only read a book.'

'And you listened to her every word'

'It was a good story.'

'Then why is your heart pounding every time you think of her or the mention of the name...Connie?"

'I-....'

His other half was right. Clutching his chest he felt it. The pounding of his heart. A look of realization about what was happening took over. Eyes widened as his hand went to his mask and gulped. It was hopeless to dream of such things like this.

'Keep allowing her to be in your heart. You'll see-'

'Shut-up'

Steven told her before about who he truly was. She has seen it himself...

'Why is she willing to help me? Why hasn't she given up yet?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another slash across the skin. Another scream. Another victim. Topaz had brought a new human from the zoo into the torture chamber. Ruby held the scared and confused specimen down while Aquamarine used a syringe full of sedatives to paralyze the next test subject. Getting annoyed by how much it squirmed as it seemed to her eyes Ruby wasn't doing the job very well. Finally after she hit the human's head with her wand and they stopped resisting, finally able to inject the elixir of sorts into the blood stream.

"Okay, let's inform Spinel that this one is ready for the torment."

"What does this sedative do?" Ruby asked chaining up the human by the wrists and ankles. Aquamarine looked into the empty syringe which held just a drop of it's contents from before.

"It's suppose to be all that we've tried so far."

"You mean immobility, unable to speak, and the memory loss?"

"Precisely, however the heightened senses of feeling pain is new. If this is a success, then everything will soon be ready for our final phase in the plan."

"Well we certainly won't know until I give this a test run." Spinel walked into the dimly lit cell from the shadows. A cloak wrapped around her shoulders, inside her whip, a sharp blade, even darts just for fun. Behind her was a dozen more cells filled with other test subjects. Some in 'better' shape than others, some worse.

She needed to find the perfect torture technique. One that will make a certain hybrid very impressed. Enough to have him draw blood on his own volition. To have him become the beast he was before. Unleashing all his destructive powers. Only she would have complete control over him. They would rule together and soon she would be the only one holding all the power in her hands. He needed to only be reminded of what he is.

A monster.

"Leave me." Spinel commanded pointing towards the cell door. Both gems complied without hesitation. Turning her attention back on her victim as she shut her eyes and laughed inwardly. Shoulders moving slightly as she took off her cloak. Pulling out the small dagger with one hand, the other with a whip. Advancing towards the human with it's back turned to herself. Slipping the sharp metal between the back and the belt. With a flick of her wrist she snapped it apart.

The blue vest now hanging open enough for her to lift it up with the blade. Tearing it apart from the body. Only the white cloth pieces remain. That she left alone, for blood that was so contrasting in color would surely grasp the attention. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the bare skin. So smooth with veins protruding from underneath. Tempting her with the promise of blood just a deep scratch away. Her vision became clouded with the promise of blood. Her eyes narrowing as she licked her lips.

It began centuries ago. Pink became Rose Quartz. The Diamonds had dismissed her entirely about earth an it's beauty. White 'punished' her by manipulating the form Pink held against her and began to cause her pain. The cries from it all rivaled Blue's power as she begged and pleaded for her to stop. Apologizing for her actions and formed back into a much submissive state.

Spinel had watched it all along with Pearl. Something inside her snapped as she tried to stop all this. However Peal held a firm grim on her, almost to the point where she could poof out of her form. Glancing up she saw the pain through her eyes she held. It was becoming more and more clearer that Pearl had deep, hidden feelings for Pink.

But to outsiders, they were blind to it all. Moment's like this made her ache in pain and anguish, wanting to help. Spinel knew that very well. However she knew that it had to be this way. She had to wait and watch. Not only for her survival, but for keeping Pink safe from any further torment.

Spinel watched in confusion as her Diamond cried out in pain. For the first time seeing her so weak, pitiful and defenseless. Whatever this was, she didn't like it coming from her. So when Pink bursted through the walls to meet them, having the appearance of Rose Quartz fully, she hugged her tight in her arms. They were best friends after all and nothing would change that. Rose smiled and gently embraced her with a hug in return.

A year after the rebellion and themselves hidden away on earth, Spinel felt the distance between her and Rose. From time to time they would 'play' together, but it felt more like a chore, a check on a list instead of something really meaningful. Spending less and less time together as Rose hung out with the human, Greg, more and more than herself or even Pearl.

One day while walking on the cliffs overlooking the sea, she found Pearl sitting on a small boulder, watching the sun set. She joined her without a word spoken. Both shared a similar feeling of being forgotten. Spinel glanced down and saw Pearl still holding onto the human brush Rose found long ago. Then into her eyes as she saw a certain wall forming around her. Closing off any emotions that she felt for Rose. Perhaps maybe entirely.

"She soon won't exist."

"What do you mean? You're not going to poof her are you?!"

"What- No! I would never Spinel! I meant-" A gasp escaped her suddenly, an expression of worry took over for just a brief moment. Regaining her calm and orderly composure she looked at her with a sympathy that almost looked fake. Almost. "She didn't tell you, didn't she?" Her tone more factual than a question.

"Pearl, what's going to happen with Rose?"

"Rose is...going to have a baby. I don't-... The best way I can describe it is that she will give up her physical form and pass her gem to her half human child."

"Half human?" Spinel looked down with a puzzling look before continuing. "That Greg Universe is involved somehow?" Anger rose within her voice.

"Yes"

"And you're just going to let this happen?!"

"It's what she wants. I...can't stand in the way of her happiness. According to human physiology since she has human organs and such formed within, she has about six more months-"

"I can't believe this!" With that she ran off to find her. Ignoring Pearl calling out her name. Anger rose inside her. If she had any blood, it would be boiling by now. Tears mixed with hatred, sadness and frustration overflowed her. Something inside her was changing and she didn't even do anything to stop it. 'She told Pearl and not me... She made her choice without consulting me?! Her best friend?! I thought... I thought we had a chance to reconnect....'

Finding the temple she broke through the door. Not even bothering to notice that Garnet and Amethyst were around. With her gem she opened up the door to her room and rushed inside. Finding Rose's room in an instant with her sitting on the clouds. Hands over her pronounced mid section right above her gem and sighed.

"How could you?!" Rose turned immediately to see an upset gem with tears over her cheeks. Eyes widening in realization as a pained expression appeared on her face. Walking forward she knelt down and sighed.

"I'm so sorry Spinel. I didn't mean to keep any of this secret from you. But it is my fault I didn't tell you sooner." No matter how angry she felt, all her emotions poured out ash she wrapped her noodle-like arms around her giant friend and cried into her shoulder. Feeling Her hand upon her back as she soothed with her with a soft lullaby. One that she had sung to her whenever the day wasn't so fun. And today of all days was one of them. Whatever was inside of Spinel, calmed down....for the time.

Hours had passed and they talked about everything that was going to happen. How things were going to change but her love for them all will remain. So when the day finally had come, she sang the lullaby to her one more time. Easing her into the next chapter of their story. With a soft 'I love you' the bright light came into the room and faded into a baby's cry.

Spinel soon had a new best friend to play with and talk too. Someone she could be herself with. They soon became the best of friends, watching over each other, being almost joined at the hip together. Sometimes, Spinel found herself wondering if this was someone knew or just Rose reformed. whatever the case she felt happy.

Until ten years had passed when everything changed once more. It all seemed like a blur to her memory. The ships blocking the clouds view, a burst of light as they all poofed away. Waking up she found herself in a holding cell. A large Jasper guard stood in place. Watching them all as they reformed one by one. Moments later, even before she could say anything to them, a huge blue hand picked her up away from them all.

The Diamonds gave her the ultimate punishment as they threw her into a zoo. A human zoo. One they had created ever since the gem war in hopes that Pink would return to them. Now a symbol of what her rebellion had created. Seeing that Pink was now the half human boy, they thought it would be best to separate them for awhile. The others were held in a cell. Greg was also with Spinel in the zoo like herself, trapped. Pearl was put in a solitary confinement for Pearls like herself. To reform and be 'better' Pearl servants than before.

Spinel wondered why she was put here with the other humans. But her wondering didn't last long as a few saw her as an instant threat. Acting like animals while others stayed hidden away from her. They feared and hated her for being a gem. Greg tried his best to help keep her safe, but even he suffered greatly at the loss of his son taken away from him. The promise he made Rose was broken. Spinel hid away from it all. Only finding tree's to conceal herself and the branches to use a a defense.

It was brutal. Whenever they found her, they would beat her to the point of poofing. Thankfully they were not intelligent enough to know that shattering was murder. So she reformed over and over as they repeated the process. Spinel thought Steven would come to rescue her. To save them all like he did with Lapis from Jasper. But he never came.

The feeling of abandonment flowed through her once more. Anger rised inside her deeply, something was changing from within and she welcomed it with open arms. If Pink had only stayed like herself, she would've saved them all from this. She wouldn't have had them all captured and locked away. They could be hiding from the Diamonds if she didn't run away and give up existing. Her powers would've save them all, just like before. They could've lived happily ever after. But that didn't exist. Not anymore.

'It's her fault.... It's Her Fault.... IT'S HER FAULT!!!'

Her mind screamed over and over. Finally it was her snapping point. No longer wanting to hide, she began fighting the animalistic enemies within her prison walls. At one point, while fighting she stabbed a human in the shoulder with the sharp point of her branch. Watching as he fell over and began to reveal a red liquid trickling from the cut she made. Something about it unlocked a blood lust inside. It reminded her of the pain Pink went through, the cried of torment from the memory to the sounds she heard now became music to her ears.

With a laughter so maniacal and sadistic, she began to do more. Have more cuts, see them bleed. Listen to the sounds of pain and agony as she stabbed, hit and murdered every human in that fight. Soon the rest became even more fearful of her. Those who tried to poof her now, didn't get a chance to even breath their last word.

Upon seeing the bodies covered in blood she smiled and laughed and laughed louder and louder. A bright light overtook her as she transformed into her new form. A black dress with pointed shoulders and ripped up hems, black boots instead of clown shoes. Hair in an upwards, messy twin tails like horns. Her tears formed black lines like masquera on human women running down the cheeks. The heart -shaped gem, turned upside down as her eyes were more blood-red.

She soon began to kill just for the pure enjoyment. Nothing would stand in her way. Anyone trying to defy her would be long gone. However this wasn't the only thing she found fascination in. Hiding in secret for her next victim, she heard sounds of what seemed like a mixture of pain and pleasure. Finding the source, she peaked through the bushes and eyes went wide. The two humans were moving on top of each other. Their clothing pushed to the side as their lower halves connected in a way that was quite astounding.

Spinel only heard about this once from oh so long ago from Rose. Apparently what she did with Greg to make their child. However instead of getting angry from it, she decided to understand it more. The entire event stirred something within her. So she watched and listened. Gathering up all the information she could.

A year had passed and Spinel was growing tired of just watching and causing bloodshed and fear upon others. But what she never had imagined was being placed by Steven's side once more. It was a way for him to be 'tortured' to bring back Rose's form. During which she saw a beastly side of him she never could see before. It was a glorious site.

One she needed to see once more.

With one final gash to the human's side she pulled back with what appeared to be heavy breathing. Seeing that she went a bit to overboard and attacked so much that the spine was shown and the subject was dead. Shaking her head she dropped her weapons and stood up straighter.

Removing the blood from her form as she sang a simple lullaby and wrapped the cloak around her once more. A song she heard Steven compose one evening. One that stuck with her ever since she heard the haunting melody. Waking away from the cell as Jasper waited for her outside with her arms folded and back against the cold wall, like his demeanor. Spinel's voice echoing through the walls.

'Your eyes see but my shadow My heart is overflowing There's so much you could come to know You're content not knowing Tenderly You could see My soul'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another successful day of the Zooman Rehabilitation project. Pearl decided to make an appearance this time around to help things really become more organized. It seemed a bit odd but intriguing to see Bismuth trying hard not to blush. Connie noticed her emotions instantly and smiled to herself about it.

Once all was said and done, Pearl went to go with Steven for a chat with Blue Diamond on the Diamond line. The others went back to their own duties. Connie placed a hand on Bismuth's shoulder with a smile and a whisper.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Gesturing to Pearl the rainbow haired gem's blush became bigger and bigger.

"I-I don't-"

"Save it. I know what I saw. Why haven't you said anything to her?"

"It's not that easy Connie." Bismuth sighed before walking to a stack of books to put back on the shelves. "There are many times I could've said what I wanted to say. But I blew it. Now it's too late."

"What do you mean?" Connie asked grabbing a few books from the stack and helping her out.

"Long ago, before Steven was born, I saw Pearl going up to the cliffs above the ocean. Watching as she sat for what seemed like forever. In solitude. I knew she was thinking about Rose and her time spent with Greg. How distant she had become. I knew it broke her heart to have her relationship so apart in that moment." Connie remembered her training with Pearl when she asked about Steven. How she could stay at his side no matter what evil he done. The look of sorrow and rage from within as tears brimmed her eyes. She was still hurting from loosing Rose not just physically, but emotionally.

"What do you mean all the time's you could've said something?"

"Well one evening as the sun was setting, I was walking up the cliffs to talk to her and finally say something. But I heard her scream Spinel's name as the little gem ran right past me. Pearl reached out for her when she saw me walking in her direction. Awkwardly so I continued and sat by her. I asked her what had happened and she told me everything. I saw her holding an item that Rose gave her long ago. She was clutching to it so tightly, I knew I couldn't say what I was feeling. Not then especially."

"She hasn't let go, hasn't she?" Connie stated more like a fact than a question as Bismuth nodded.

"I did the best thing I could do. I just sat with her in silence. At least this way, she would know I'm here for her. That's the best thing I can do. Just be there whenever she needs a friend."

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hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

Maybe This Summer, Chapter 4

Summary: Katniss Everdeen needed a vacation. On a whim, she reserved three months at Panem Resorts in North Carolina. She expected to spend her time recovering from the recent death of her sister, exploring the nearby nature reserve, and reminiscing about happier times. What she didn’t foresee was bumping into Peeta Mellark, one of Panem’s most valued employees, during his early morning run. Neither did she think she’d grow to admire him when she’d hated him from first sight, but his killer smile and gorgeous blue eyes had a way of breaking down the walls she’d built around her heart. Maybe this summer she’ll finally get what she’s always deserved. Benefiting @fandomtrumpshate for @ldyglfr62. AO3.

Author: @hutchhitched

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Beta/Graphics: @xerxia31

The story will post on Tuesday mornings at 11:00 am CDT.

____________

The Plant Book

Katniss woke the next morning with a massive groan. She hurt all over, both from drinking way too much over an extended period of time and a little bit too much sun the day before.

“You are not that young anymore, lady,” she scolded herself and rolled to her left. She grunted when a streak of light slashed across her eyes. She should have closed the blinds before going to bed last night. Instead, she’d been too excited by Peeta’s offer to help her with the plant book to think about much else. She’d fallen into bed with a huge smile on her face and absolutely nothing else gracing her small frame.

A rapid knock forced her out of bed long before she wanted to rise. She grabbed her robe from the chair where she’d thrown it the night before and flung open the door. A redhead with a smattering of freckles on his cheeks stood on her porch, flushing and shifting from side to side.

“Katniss Everdeen?”

“Yes.”

“My name’s Darius, ma’am, and I have your morning basket.”

“Morning basket?”

“Yes. It has all your pastries, breads, and other breakfast goodies inside. Most are still warm.”

“Oh, thank you…”

“Darius. Yes, ma’am.”

“Darius?” Katniss couldn’t help but grin as she realized why that name sounded familiar. This must be the young thing Jo had snagged for her annual conquest. He was good-looking and earnest, and Katniss could certainly understand the appeal. He looked like he’d do anything for her if she only asked.

“That’s right, ma’am. Enjoy!”

“Thanks!” she called to his retreating back. He wasn’t in any mood to stick around if the speed of his exit was any indication. With a puzzled grin, she glanced inside the basket and found a note along with a variety dozen of baked items.

Thought you could use these this morning after the day you had yesterday.

“Thanks, Jo,” she murmured and tossed it on the table. She started the coffee machine and poked through the basket to see what kind of treats she’d received. A breakfast of caffeine and carbohydrates fortified her, and she spent the rest of the morning going over several articles in a biology journal on the back deck. The view of the sand on her private beach and the sound of blue water lapping lightly against the shore calmed her. The soft rustle of leaves in the breeze completed the trifecta of everything she loved in nature.

She was looking forward to working with Peeta that afternoon. Despite the tension of their first meeting, Katniss had to admit that the young man was kind, considerate, and thoughtful. His apology demonstrated his integrity. There was something about him that appealed to her, and she wanted to discover a little bit more about what it was that spoke to her.

Eager to get to work, Katniss fixed a quick snack for lunch and then spent the early afternoon preparing and organizing her samples and jotting down notes. Then she checked her appearance in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She changed from the robe she’d been wearing to a pair of khaki shorts and t-shirt. Unsatisfied, she then switched to a sundress. She didn’t allow herself to analyze her actions or the ball of apprehension in her stomach. Instead, she worked to convince herself that the plant book was the only thing on her mind.

“He’s just being helpful,” she insisted as she wrung her hands. “I’m just accepting help from someone with a service to provide.”

Sure. That’s what he’s doing.

Katniss startled at her sister’s voice in her head. “Be quiet, Prim.”

You don’t mean that.

“No, I don’t,” Katniss admitted. “I miss you. We’d have so much fun if you were here with me this summer.”

I think maybe I’d put a damper on your style. It’s not very sexy having a younger sibling hanging around when you’re trying to get it on with a hunky stud.

“You did not just say ‘hunky stud.’ Prim, that’s terrible,” Katniss laughed softly.

What else should I call them? I didn’t ever date, remember? Too busy going to school and then being sick and dying. Some of us didn’t have men falling all over us our whole lives.

“I think you’re confusing the two of us, Little Duck. Men always fawned over you. You just had no idea.”

I had an idea. I was just too busy watching you wander through life ambivalent about how you enticed the opposite sex. You have no idea the effect you have.

Katniss snorted. “Stop.”

It’s time to stop running, Big Sister. You deserve to be happy.

“I don’t.”

Then maybe it’s time you got something you don’t deserve at all.

“Maybe,” Katniss whispered into the sudden silence. With a sad smile, she registered the empty room. Prim wasn’t really there. She was talking to a ghost. As a scientist, she didn’t believe in communication with spirits or telepathy or whatever the word was for connecting with those in another realm—if there even was one of those. But sometimes… So often, she wished her sister were really there, in any form that allowed them to stay connected.

A knock sounded outside, and she glanced that way. In her melancholy state, she’d almost forgotten that she’d made plans to spend time with a live person, one of human flesh and bones instead of a voice in her head.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. Not with him anyway,” she mumbled and tossed her head. Plastering a smile on her face, she crossed to the door and opened it.

____________

Peeta shifted a box of art supplies into his left arm and rapped on the door of Cabin 12. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him last night to offer Katniss his help, but he’d spent the better part of the day regretting his proposal. He hadn’t slept well, mostly because every time he closed his eyes, an image of her body in that bikini flashed in his mind.

His hands itched when he thought about the way her skin would feel under his palms, and he didn’t need that distraction if he was going to be spending hours alone with her in a cabin. One that had a bed. A bed that she’d filled only slightly when he tucked her under the blankets in nothing but a robe she’d removed as soon as she was covered. It had taken every speck of control he had to pick her discarded robe from the floor, drape it over a chair, and leave the cabin when what he’d wanted to do was climb into bed with her.

“Keep it in your pants, man.”

The door swung open, and the smile on her face faltered slightly. She looked fragile and tired, and he had a sudden urge to brush the loose lock of hair behind her ear. When she motioned him inside, he took care to step past her without touching her in case his body reacted to her without his permission.

“Thanks for coming,” she offered as a greeting, and he had to force himself not to let his mind wander to innuendo.

“Happy to help. Where would you like to work?”

She motioned to the kitchen where piles of samples and several notebooks littered the countertop. “I thought maybe we could use the table. We’ll have easy access to the plants and everything else we need that way, and the light is pretty good here. I assume that’s important for drawing?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said kindly and dropped his supplies on the table. She was being careful with him, and he didn’t want to startle her. She reminded him of a deer in the woods—alert and ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She had no reason to fear him. He had no intentions other than drawing some pretty pictures for her. It was clear she didn’t want to get too close, and he didn’t plan on pushing the issue.

“I’m not sure how this works,” she admitted as she crossed the room. Her movement effectively placed the table between them, and he realized he was going to have to do some damage control in order to put her at ease. She needed to trust him if this project was going to happen.

“Why don’t you give me a little more information about what you’d like to do, and we can see where the afternoon takes us.”

He noticed the subtle shift in her confidence as she crossed to the countertop and began explaining her vision. Her voice deepened and grew stronger as she described the categories and uses of each grouping of plants, the tension in her shoulders eased, and her hands arched into graceful positions that highlighted her femininity.

When it was clear she felt in control, he joined her and leaned on his elbows. Listening to her continued explanations, he enjoyed the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and the clean scent of her skin when he leaned toward her. There was no hint of heavy perfume. Today, she smelled of fresh air and soap instead of sunscreen and alcohol as she had due to her afternoon with Johanna. At one point, he pointed to a specific stack of leaves, and her hand brushed his forearm when she answered his question. After almost an hour, she seemed completely in control, so he stopped her.

“I think I have a good idea of your vision,” he said. “Why don’t we start with wildflowers today? I’ll just sit here, and you…” He held out the chair next to where he planned to sit. When she slid into it, he suppressed a sigh of relief and joined her at the table.

____________

Finnick slid his lips from his fiancée’s cheek to her neck. She giggled when he nibbled and then bit her gently.

“Finn, stop,” she laughed and slapped his hands away from her skirt. Insistent, he cupped her behind and hitched her leg over his hip. “Finnick, we’re too exposed. Stop…”

“You don’t want me to stop,” he grunted and pushed her backward against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree.

Annie whimpered against him, and he had every intention of burying himself in her when a sultry voice from behind them purred, “I always love the entertainment opportunities at Panem. I didn’t know sex shows were on the schedule this year.”

Clove and Cato emerged from a pocket of trees just on the other side of the clearing, and Finnick shielded Annie as she scrambled to straighten herself. He tugged his shirt lower to hide his arousal, but he could feel Clove’s eyes burning through the fabric. He felt absolutely violated by the heat of her gaze.

Cato laughed and tugged Clove against him. “How about we make one of our own?” he suggested and made a vulgar gesture that infuriated Finnick. “I’ve always wanted to be a porn star, and you’ve got the best tits.”

Clove grinned up at his face and pressed herself against him so tightly, there wasn’t room for anything but the tiniest sliver of air. She flashed a triumphant smile at the couple and tugged Cato further into the woods. It wasn’t long before sounds that were decidedly not natural echoed from where they’d gone.

“Cato’s such a sick fuck,” Finnick hissed and turned to check on Annie. “Are you okay, sweetheart? I’m so sorry.”

Annie’s green eyes welled with tears. Her red hair tumbled over her trembling shoulders, and she shook as his arms closed around her. He knew she was more embarrassed than anything, but it hurt him deeply to think about the woman he loved in any type of pain. He vowed by the end of the summer to make Cato pay.

Several minutes later, Annie seemed under control, and Cato and Clove had either finished or moved further away and could no longer be heard. He tucked his arm around her and started to move but froze as he recognized the sound of someone else tromping toward them.

“What the hell? Is this some sort of damn frolic nobody told me about?” Finnick cursed under his breath and ducked behind the tree to hide.

“You know I can see you, Finn,” Peeta called across the cove. “What are you doing out here? You weren’t— Oh, God. I’ll leave you alone.”

Disgusted, Finnick answered, “It wasn’t us, you moron. I’m not that much of an exhibitionist. Well, not with Annie, anyway. Maybe by myself.”

“You can stop talking now,” Annie grumbled and waved to her friend. “What are you doing out here, Peeta? I thought you were off this evening.”

“I was,” he confirmed and stopped next to them. “I was helping out in Cabin 12.”

“Oh?”

“Drawing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Finn didn’t tell you?”

“Believe it or not, lover boy, Annie and I have plenty to talk about when we’re together that has absolutely nothing to do with you and your pathetic dearth of eligible women,” Finnick teased. “I have a lot more game than talking about another man when I’m alone with my woman.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about your expertise with women. Can you help me, oh wise one?”

“You know, if you two are done posturing and giving each other shit, I’d kind of like to know what Peeta was doing holed up in Cabin 12 with Katniss Everdeen,” Annie snapped. “Sometimes, testosterone is exhausting.”

The two men chuckled in appreciation at Annie’s vehemence. Normally quiet and gracious to a fault, she could also roar like a cornered lioness guarding her young. For some reason, her interest in Katniss and her long-time friendship with Peeta created a fierce protectiveness in her that aroused quite a bit of passion.

“Easy there, Red Riding Hood.” When Annie grinned at the nickname he’d given her when they’d first met because of her seeming innocence under Finnick’s wolfish gaze, Peeta explained. “I went by to see Ms. Everdeen yesterday. Took your advice. She wasn’t there when I arrived, so I waited for a while. Apparently, our favorite cougar got a hold of her yesterday, and Katniss—I mean, Ms. Everdeen, was a little tipsy when she returned to her cabin.”

“Johanna Mason? Katniss Everdeen and Johanna Mason are friends?” Annie asked, incredulously. Johanna had been visiting Panem during the summers since all of them had been working at the resort, and she was hardly Annie’s favorite person. While Annie was cautious and friendly, Jo was brash and uncouth. Katniss seemed much more the former than the latter during each interaction the two had together.

“I don’t exactly think they’re friends,” Peeta explained. “I think Jo recognized another wounded soul when she saw one, and she latched onto Ms. Everdeen.”

Finnick laughed and shook his head. “Peet, I think you’ve moved past pretending you’re not attracted to Cabin 12. We get it. You’re way better than the rest of us and all above those pesky ethical issues, but just call her Katniss. We’re not going to judge you for it. Are we, Annie?”

“Judgment free zone,” she agreed. “So, what happened?”

“Katniss fell into my arms.”

“Literally fell?”

“Well… I caught her when she tripped on the stairs. I helped her inside, and I apologized for being a dick the other day.”

“And tell her what she was wearing,” Finnick chuckled.

Annie gasped, and her eyes widened. “What was she wearing?”

“That’s not important,” he snapped, and Annie giggled at his obvious discomfort. “Anyway, she wants to make a children’s book about leaves and nature and other shit. I offered to draw the plants for her. I’m not sure why. It just kind of came out, and she got so excited about it that I didn’t know how to take it back once it was out there.”

“Well, that’s…that’s really good,” she said encouragingly, “but why are you out so late? What time did you go to her cabin?”

Peeta stammered for a few seconds, and Finnick and Annie exchanged pointed looks. Finally, he admitted, “Around 4:30.”

“You were there for seven hours?” Finnick blurted. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m sure, Finn,” Peeta barked. “I was working the entire time.”

“Sex is a lot of work!”

“Finnick, leave him alone,” Annie urged and turned to Peeta. “This is good, Peet. This is something really productive for each of you to use to fill your downtime. You’re such a good artist, too. As good of an artist as you are a baker. How did she like your breakfast basket, by the way? That was kind of you to send her one this morning.”

“How did you know about that?” he grumbled and glanced skyward. “I should have known you’d hear about it.”

“I had to arrange the delivery,” she protested with a grin.

Peeta shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “She didn’t say a word about it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, “but she did have the note tucked into a pile of important papers.”

Finnick hooted and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s got to count for something.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

Annie suppressed an excited squeal and answered, “A lot can happen in a summer.”

“It sure can,” Finnick crowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peet, I have a gorgeous woman I want to romance. Can we get some privacy?”

With a roll of his eyes, Peeta left the engaged couple alone and headed back to the barracks. It was a long time before Finnick returned.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #maybe this summer #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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maruzzewrites · 4 years

Note

I like your yandere writings. Can I have #50 with Bruno?

50. “I want to tell you I love you until mythroat bleeds.”

Content warnings: yandere content, obsessive behavior, mindbreak, manipulation, angst, emotional abuse (I guess you can consider it that).

From the day you discovered your parents’ debtswith Passione, your life couldn’t fit even the tiniest ounce of joy or rest.The anxiety nagging you, the fear biting fiercely at your mind, it kept youawake at night and tired during the day, until the burden of taking care of anentire family while repairing the damage they left you was taking its toll onyou. When you looked yourself over the mirror, at night, while in the bathroom,you couldn’t even begin to understand the changes you went through while yourmind was hazy from stress.

You abandoned any pretense or desire to keep asocial life; your days were filled with hours of work, between your normal joband the little tasks Passione gave you to reduce the debt. At the end of eachmonth, shady individuals would come collect the fees, leaving you gritting yourteeth through a day of malnutrition to keep food on the table for your parents.When you laid down on your bed, the acid in your stomach threatening to corrodeyour entire body, you contemplated fleeing until your ability to think wouldfalter and deteriorate for the exhaustion and the hunger.

Your situation was obviously evident to externaleyes, but no one would help you out of your slum or offered a shoulder to leanon, a temporary rest for your troubles. That was, until a man came into yourlife like a spring breeze, shining bright with his compassion. His kind eyestook you in, while you were waiting to hear about your job for his team,assigned to you for that day. He rested his kind hands on your shoulders,guiding you on a road you didn’t have the mental strength to remember.

“You can’t work like that.” His gentle voicereached your ears, but you didn’t listen. You wanted to get your task andreturn home, your legs weak after days of sleepless nights and increasingwork hours, stumbling after the quick steps of the man holding you up. You wereforced to sit down, and you woke up from your trance only when a plate of foodwas served to you, warm and inviting. You didn’t wait for your rational brainto resonate with you, gulping down whatever was in front of your face withoutconsideration for manners or health. Your stomach twisted with the suddenfullness, and you shivered at the happiness flowing in your body like a welcomewave.

“I’m glad you feel better,” you didn’t utter aword to express your mood, but the man in front of you could observe your blissin the way your eyes lighten up and your cheek turned red when you consideredyour poor conduct, earning yourself a tender chuckle. He extended his hand totake yours, caressing your fingers gently with overwhelming care. You melted atthe touch, the starvation you accumulated with imposed isolationism making you seekhis skin when he motioned to remove his hands. You didn’t notice the pull ofhis lips when you did so, too occupied with keeping your fingers intertwined.“You don’t have to strain yourself like that.”

He leaned against the table, with reserved friendliness,to ask you about your worries. With your hands trembling, you raised your eyesfrom his hand to his face; kind, compassionate, beautiful. An angel sent to youto soothe your pain, and your suffering, with steady arms to enclose you in asecure embrace. Your drained mind didn’t register any kind of danger, yourstory spilling from your lips as if it was a chant you memorized. You didn’tnotice him inching closer to you, one hand holding yours while the other wasalready resting on your shoulders, his arm draped over your back. His voice wasreassuring when he spoke again, after your venting, “You must be in so muchpain. It must be awful.”

The intimacy of his thumb caressing the back ofyour hand was lost on you as you clinged to his affection, to his attention,after months of loneliness and stress. You didn’t remember how many timesyou’ve already worked for this man in front of you, as he watched yourmechanical movements the first time you came around to deliver something forhis team. You were weary, unfocused, yet efficient; the load on your shouldersdidn’t allow you to live with dignity and without alienation. He felt pity growinside of him at the sight, but limited himself to a thank-you and an offer ofcoffee.

The second time you knocked on his door, youlooked even more worn out, trembling without cold under the rags you didn’tmanage to clean properly. You asked about your task, and he tilted his head atyour condition. He asked what was wrong, what could keep you in that situation;you mechanically replied. Debt, from your parents. They were senile, couldn’tpay it off. You wanted to help. His heart throbbed in his chest, and he tookyou in again, with new eyes. The sheer devotion and care you held in your heart,they sung praises of you, and your appearance disappeared behind the softnessof your being. Bruno felt something twist, mutate inside of him as you idlystared at him, awaiting his orders; his heart has been changed long time ago,his love was warped by his experiences and his ideals, and your memory, hisidea of you, found itself choked by the coils of his piety.

But you weren’t broken enough, he couldn’t buildyou up if you didn’t crumble completely. You would shine so bright once cleanedup, your generous soul blooming under the gentle care of his love, adoration, reverence.He smiled brightly at you, your body pushing itself against him to bask in hiswarmth, the heat of another human being. His words trembled in his throat,after months of waiting to get out, “I can help you.”

You raised your eyes, and he pushed aside thethought of wanting to see them wet. You watched his face for the first time thatday, truly observing the tender smile and patient gaze he was casting on you. Ifit was before everything else, if you were the same person with lucidity and anormal life like long ago, you would have noticed that the way he was holdingyou was hiding too much expectation, his fingers tense against your skin as he tempted,silently, a positive response from you. You made your eyes wander over hisface, to find a clue, a hint of mockery you couldn’t find. Your mouth felt dry,but you couldn’t understand why.

“I don’t,” with a small voice, high-pitched andweak, you started to spoke. You were interrupted by your own mind, thinkingover what you wanted to say with the last of your mental energy. You scrambledfor something, something meaningful and polite, a refusal of some sort. Hisface stayed the same during your silence, like you brain couldn’t register themovements and couldn’t update your vision. Angelic, benevolent, his smile wascatching you and dragging you closer and closer to rest your aching soul.Despite the tremor, you eventually found your voice again, “I don’t deserve it.”

His hands grasped you tightly, as he containedhis breath before he could suck in some air. His smile grew larger, ear to ear,almost sinister. You didn’t notice it behind the shining light he wasemanating, like a glowing halo. His words left his lips and caressed the airwith grace, fondness, “You do. I will make you deserve it,” his fingertipsmoved just slightly, the ache in his bones to hold you close and shatter youeven more before recomposing you as his perfect match, his perfect love. Hekept his distance, and spoke softly, “I will love you when you won’t accept it.Until it hurts.” His touch wasn’t bruising, but it felt heavy with thedeclaration, “I want to tell you I love you until my throat bleeds.”

You choked on your breath, and inched closer tohim. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, a voice was pleading you to think itover, to really ponder on his words. On how you didn’t know this man, yet thefeeling of his eyes was so familiar and warm. However, your mind was tired andrestless at the same time, you wanted nothing more to slump into his arms and breakdown completely, allow yourself to surrender to the weight on your back. Heheard Bruno’s sharp gasp when you rested your forehead on his shoulder, withouta word and without a tear, but his arms grasped your back eagerly as he praisedand cooed at you, letting you fall apart slowly.

#if you depend on me #you can't run away #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #bruno bucciarati #bruno x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #mmmh bruno feels like the type to twist you around until you are as he wants you but in a way y'know #Anonymous

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avaxjames · 4 years

Text

changed

When: September 5th Where: The Royal Palace {Ian’s room} Who: Ava James and @octavianvallas Notes: Octavian finally turns Ava into a vampire

Ava: To say she was nervous was...an understatement. But the last few weeks with Ian had been wonderful. A vacation that was something out of a dream, getting to spend time with him...almost as equals instead of a slave and her master. It was nice. And hopefully, it'd remain that way for a long, long time to come. She was still a bit worried about losing her place in his life--as his pet, as the one who took care of him day in and day out, but she had to trust him and take his word for it that he wouldn't let that happen. Sure he couldn't feed on her anymore for sustenance but....other than that, everything should stay the same, right? That's what she had to keep telling herself as she finished up her last real meal, the servants in the kitchen pretty much making her everything, and with a full belly and nervous butterflies fluttering through her, she walked back into Octavian's room, giving him a nervous little smile as she walked over to where he was seated at his desk, poured over papers as he had been since they'd gotten back.

Octavian As much as he hated work, Octavian had been stuck in his office basically since he came back. He wasn’t even available to attend his own event, too concerned with fixing everything that Kanopia had burnt down in his absence. He thought he could trust Kanopia to at least maintain the kingdom while on her power trip, but apparently that was too much. He hadn’t even noticed what time it was when the door suddenly open and Ava entered. He didn’t acknowledge her, knowing she would make herself comfortable regardless. After finishing up his sentence, he finally looked away from the papers and up at his pet, a charming smile on his face despite his unkempt appearance. He had neglected his usual routine in favour of being more comfortable as it worked. “Is it time already?” he asked, pushing his chair out and patting his lap so that she could take a seat on it. He pressed a kiss to his temple before pressing a button on his phone and telling the doctors to start preparing in his room. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Ava: Ava had braided her hair back from her face, wore a simple little white cotton gown and she kept toying with her collar, thumbing over it, wanting to keep it on for long after this. Her hand only dropped from her neck as she came over to where Ian was and her fingers instead moved to his hair, running her fingers through his curls as she gave him a smile. "If you're ready?" She moved to sit on his lap, knowing he could hear the nervous flutter of her heart as she leaned against him. "..Will it hurt?" she asked softly, biting her lip. "How um...how long does it usually take?" She hadn't thought of the finer details til now.

Octavian Octavian didn’t even bother to warn her, instead, he simply picked her up and carried her out of his office. “It will feel slightly uncomfortable for a few hours. I’ve been told it feels like having a bad fever,” he explained. “But it’ll be the last fever you’ll ever have,” he reassured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It might take all night so I want you to try to fall asleep, okay? Don’t worry about anything else.” By the time they arrived in his bedroom, the doctors were in place and ready. “Only a hundred years ago, this process was much more gruesome and unpleasant, but blood transfusions are far more efficient these days.” He placed Ava gently on the bed and took a seat beside her before gesturing for the doctors to start. The needle was first inserted into his artery before they moved on to Ava’s. He held her hand tightly in his own. “Relax,” he ordered.

Ava: Ava let out a surprised noise as he lifted her and brought her to his room. Her heart skipped again when she saw doctors there, saw syringes and IV's and she swallowed, biting her lip. "A fever.." she mumbled, nodding jerkily before she let out a nervous little laugh, "You really think I'll be able to sleep?" she countered, raising a brow at him. When he mentioned years ago...admittedly it's how she expected it to be. She thought he'd bite her, or just force her to feed from him. Not something so...simple. Efficient. She watched them slip the needle into Octavian's arm after she was laid down and as he gripped her hand she laced her fingers through his, biting her lip as she extended out her other arm for the doctor to prep. "Promise me again that..my spot in your life won't really change? I..--that I'll still belong to you?" That she wouldn't be cast off in a couple months and left on her own for....years. Centuries.

Octavian Octavian chuckled at her words. It was definitely a bit too late for regrets and second-guessing now. The King had become much too fond of the idea of Ava being a vampire. It would make things easier. “If I was going to cast you away, I would not go through all this trouble.” He cupped her cheek and met her eyes. “You’re mine and you will stay that way.” His eyes flickered down to her collar. “And that is staying on.” He got himself comfortable, wrapping his arms around her shoulder so she could lean into him. The doctors waited for his nod to turn the machine on and blood was soon drawn out of his body and traveling to hers. “You can all leave now,” he ordered, dismissing the other people in the room once everything was set. Octavian was comfortable like this and wanted Ava to relax instead of focusing on all the people watching.

Ava "I know.." she mumbled quietly, but she still couldn't help her nerves, her fear of the unknown. But she trusted him, she loved him. So...she had to take his word for it. She met his eyes as he cupped her cheeks, looking up at him and giving a little smile as he motioned to her collar, "Okay." When he settled down in the bed and wrapped his arm around her she immediately cuddled in against him, knowing there would be no way she'd relax, no way to stop her heart from pounding (especially surrounded by strangers), so instead she just tried to focus on him, shuffling enough to press her ear over his heart, its beat strong and steady. "How will you know? ...Once it's..done?"

Octavian Octavian didn’t really know how to answer her question. “I know when you tell me you feel it. Your senses will change, your body will grow stronger... you will know.” Octavian’s knowledge only really came in afterwards. He could tell her all she wanted to know about being a vampire but he knew nothing of being a human. This transition was in between and only knowable to those who went through it. The machine continued to beep beside them as more of his blood was drawn. He could feel his arm beginning to tighten up a bit and he knew that he had given her enough blood. Still, he didn’t want to risk it so he waited, content to run his fingers through her hair. “We’ll always be connected from now on, Ava.” After a few more minutes, he pulled out the needles and readjusted them both so they could get more comfortable.

“Try to sleep now,” he ordered, placing a kiss against the crown of her head.

Ava Ava bit her lip, thinking about it before she finally nodded, figuring that was as good an answer as she was going to get- especially since she already felt a little....off. A little warmer. "And you're not gonna regret it right? Being stuck with me for..at least a couple years?" she asked, trying to crack a joke and smile, to relieve some of her own stress. She shifted a bit against him, nuzzling in more as she tried not to focus on the constant beep of the machine beside her, how Ian's blood was transfusing into her in time with the way his fingers moved through her hair. She stayed quiet until he leaned over to turn off the machine, swallowing as he carefully pulled the needle out her arm. "Easier said than done, Your Majesty."

Octavian Octavian chuckled. He couldn’t blame her for not being able to. It was a lot to process and there had to be some level of excitement to it too. “Would you like me to make you?” he offered, his eyes blackening. He had never used his powers on her before (since he didn’t need to) but he figured this would be for a good cause—to get her through the first few uncomfortable hours. “You’ll fall asleep and wake up in the morning as a vampire. Or we can do something else to distract you.” Regardless, there was definitely no going back now.

Ava Ava swallowed as she saw his eyes go black, thought about his offer. "Have you...ever done that to me before?" she wondered aloud before shaking her head. "Not yet..please. Just--give me a few more minutes?" for all intents and purposes, it was the end of her life after all, she didn't want to fall asleep just yet. Instead she took in a long, deep breath, committing everything she could to memory. No longer strung up to wires, Ava shifted onto her side and curled up against him, draping her arm over him. "What was life like before..everything? A hundred years ago." she figured maybe just talking about random things would help relax her more, maybe lull her off. "Or...a thousand years ago. You were around then, right?"

Octavian Octavian shook his head before a small smile graced his lips. “I’ve never had to. You’re my good girl.” Whether it was fear, her internal need to please, or love, Ava had always been well-behaved and rarely had to be asked twice to do something. He doubted that would change even after her transition. At her question, Octavian’s eyes went to the ceiling, feeling a bit further away. “It was.. not much different from now.” The centuries blurred together for him and after the first ten, they were even less distinguishable. “I remember the thrill of hunting... There was need to keep things secret so we had to be careful and it was fun because of it. Vampires were a myth that parents would tell their children.” He sighed. “Instead of ruling over infrastructure and everything else that comes from running a kingdom, Kanopia and I would just have to rule over the vampires. Our primary duty was to resolve conflicts between our kind or handle those that broke the laws.” Ruling used to be fun because the humans could worry about their own issues. Now Ian had to manage everything.

Ava Honestly, Ava felt a little relieved that not only had he never done it, but he never felt the need to. It was just another bit of proof that he trusted her—and it was another thing to helped her breathe more easily, to feel a little less nervous. She noticed a little change in him then, how he looked away, got a bit…distant in his gaze, his voice. She licked over her lips, quiet, patiently waiting til he spoke. The idea of vampires not being in charge…of being hidden off, not in power was..odd for her. It’s all she’s ever known after all. She’d heard stories of course, passed down from her parents, from others she’d met in her life, but she figured the tone and the stories were different from humans to vampires.

“Hunting…humans?” she figured it went without saying but.. still. “There’s some vampires who don’t feed directly from people though, right? Would that…--could I…maybe do that?” She didn’t want to slip up, hurt someone…kill someone.. “What kinds of laws do you…--would I have?” it’d be a whole new way of life after all. His voice was still wistful though and she tilted her head to lean her chin on his chest, knowing her face was already a bit pink as she felt more and more warmth spreading through her, not uncomfortable yet but….definitely there. “Have you ever thought about abdicating? Just…up and leaving? You seemed to like the beach on vacation…I’m sure you could find some nice secluded one to hide away at.”

Octavian “There has not been a day that has gone by in the past few decades that I have not thought about abdicating, angel,” Octavian confessed, hoping she understood that this conversation, especially, had to remain private. He didn’t want anyone knowing how much he absolutely was ready to give up the crown and take a step back. In a way, it was a weakness and one that others might exploit. “It would be easy enough for me to disappear. No one would be able to stop me.” Even Kanopia couldn’t if he planned things well enough. Nevertheless, he never got that far. “It is not an option though. Not as long as people are still relying on me. You’ve seen what happens when I leave the Queen in charge.” Octavian had barely had any leisure time since he returned. Hoping to take the conversation away from something so personal, the King considered her question from before. “Some vampires don’t feed directly from humans,” he confirmed, “but I don’t think you will be one of them.” He didn’t want to disappoint her but it would be difficult for an ex-human to survive on a purely packaged blood diet. “The vampires who do that have trained themselves to resist feeding off of humans and are able to control themselves. If you don’t feed from the vein, you may never learn how to control yourself,” he explained. He chuckled, “I imagine it’s like being fed frozen meals all the time and then being presented with something freshly prepared.” The temptation would be too strong. “If you’ve only fed from bags and you’re exposed to any human bleeding, you may end up doing more harm in the long run.”

Ava Ava was more than a little surprised by his response, but she knew better than to say it aloud when they weren’t alone. The king wanting to give up and leave? The anarchy and the unrest would be astronomical. “Would it be selfish of me to say that I’d at least try and stop you?” She asked with a little smile, trying to lighten the mood he’d gotten in. Her smile soon fell though as he spoke about how she’d be as a vampire, how she’d feed and she swallowed, looking away as she frowned, “I don’t want to hurt anyone..”

Octavian While Octavian understood Ava’s fear of hurting people—knowing that she was far too kind to be a vampire—there was really nothing that could be done about it. It was how their species worked. “Humans are prey to us, Ava,” he started, looking down at her and hoping she would understand. “A vampire’s existence will cause pain to humans in some way. Especially with the social structure that has been set up.” He had made it himself and Ava was ascending to a different level of it. “You will be more than what you once were, naturally and legally.” His hand went to her collar, thumbing it between his fingers. “While you will remain my pet, you will no longer be a slave, and no one can treat you as such. You will have different rights and humans will be expected to treat you with respect.” He was confident power wouldn’t get to Ava’s head, but that could change after a few centuries, if not decades.September 5, 2020

Ava “I know..” Ava murmured, licking her lips. “At the very least I just...don’t want to kill anybody, if I can avoid it.” Was that too much to ask for? To not want to end someone’s life even if she had to feed from them to live her own? Surely there could be some kind of compromise..even for someone new to it like her.. “Will others be able to tell that I used to be human? Princess Kate told me once that you and your family already smell different from other vampires since you’re pureblooded..will that affect me too?” She wondered softly, honestly just wanting to keep talking and not sleep just yet even as she felt more and more heat beginning to creep through her body. She looked down at her collar as he touched it and spoke and she licked over her lips. “A vampire in a collar won’t..make people look at me weird? If they can smell I’m not a human?”

Octavian “Yes, you will smell a bit different. All vampires do. A person’s scent is almost as unique as appearance, except it’s easier to mask without too much hassle.” For a pureblood like him, he could easily tell the differences between people and even receive a certain level of information about their lifestyle from it. “It will take you some time to master your senses, but it will come,” he reassured. With him as her teacher, he had no doubt she would learn even quicker. “No one will bat an eye at you wearing a collar, Ava. A collar is a symbol of ownership rather than status, especially on a vampire. You are mine. It doesn’t mean you’re a slave, just that you belong to me. No one will question it. It will protect you the same way it did while you were human.” He pulled her closer and nuzzled his nose against her hair. “Tomorrow will be an exhausting day so I want you to try to sleep.” With everything new that she would be feeling, she needed as much rest now as she could get.

Ava Ava nodded, wondering if her scent would at all be similar to his if it would be his blood flowing through her veins for the rest of her life. It was an overwhelming but..nice thought, one that, when coupled by his assurances again about her collar, helped her relax more. "I belong to you." she echoed in agreement, voice softer. The heat she was feeling within herself coupled with the rhythmic beating of Octavian's heart under her ear was starting to lull her off more and she let out a breath, taking one last look around his room before she closed her eyes, mumbling a soft I love you before finally forcing herself to just...stop thinking and finally fall asleep. It was once she did that things got worse. Her temperature spiked more and more, her body flushing and dotting with sweat as her heart raced.

Her face was pinched and she let out little noises in her sleep as she panted softly, squirming around in her sleep as it got worse and worse. It lasted pretty much all night until the sun began to peak up over the horizon, just barely beginning to illuminate in the room. Ava's face scrunched and her eyelids fluttering a bit, barely opening before quickly squeezing shut with an exhausted groan. "I...--Ian.."

Octavian Octavian waited until Ava’s breath evened out and she fell asleep before letting himself do the same. He peeled himself away from her, knowing that his added body heat would only make things more uncomfortable, but he remained close. His sleep was light and every time she made a noise, he woke up to check up on her. Her body was incredibly warm as she went through the transformation but nothing seemed out of the ordinary so he let himself relax again. The process continued until she finally called his name, prompting him to open his eyes once again to meet hers. The moment he saw her, her eyes glowed at him, signaling that the transformation was complete. Her scent had changed too, the mix of his own blood settling in and changing her entire biological structure. “Ava,” Octavian greeted, a little smile on his face as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked, cupping her cheek. She wasn’t as warm anymore and the redness in her face had faded. Her body was adapting and repairing itself, reforming her into something better.

Ava Ava felt like she'd run a marathon despite having slept for hours. She felt tired. A little weak. Hungry. She hesitantly peeked her eyes opened again, her eyes watering from the brightness in the room--and why was it so loud? It was like she could hear her pulse and his in her ears. Along with the loud whir of the air conditioning, birds sounding like they were chirping inches away and not far outside the windows. A moment later though, through slitted eyes she could see Octavian there, his scent barreling into her. Warm. A little overwhelming. Safe. "I-I..." she swallowed, wincing at the dryness in her throat. She felt a bit tacky, sweat dried on her body now that her temperature was getting back to normal but her heart still felt like it was racing. "I don't know."

Octavian That was a fair answer. From what he remembered, the first thing to do was feed. Her eyes were still glowing and it would be long before her fangs made an appearance. It would take some time for her to control little things like that but it wouldn’t take too long with his guidance hopefully. “You’re going to need to feed,” he stated, bringing his wrist to his mouth so he could draw blood from it. She would need to feed from a human eventually, but he wanted to make sure that she at least had some blood beforehand. “Blood from a pureblood can give vampires a certain... high. It should relax you a bit,” he explained. He got up and offered her his bleeding wrist, watching her carefully as he did. With her being new, he wanted her feeding at a spot that was easier to control in case things got out of hand. Not that Ava could do much damage to him, but he knew that she would freak out much more if she thought that she hurt him. “After this, we will get you a bag and start off slow.”

Ava It took a few more blinks, her eyes squinting before finally adjusting to the brightness in the room. It wasn't even dawn yet, so how bright would the daytime be... That train of thought paused though once he mentioned feeding. Her eyes zeroed in on him before moving to his wrist and the scent of it hit her like a truck. She practically salivated, feeling like she hadn't eaten in days and she only resisted a second before finally leaning her head forward and parting her lips to take it into her mouth. She'd fed from Ian countless times, but it was nothing like this. Like a sweet wine, intoxicating, and unconsciously her hand came up, gripping tight at the back of his arm to pull it closer, to drink more. Even before changing he always smelled good to her. Clean, musky, a scent she quickly equated to all the best things in her life, and now it was tenfold. She couldn't get enough of it--of any of it. So much so that a needy little moan bubbled out of her as she drank harder, barely even registering his words as a little dribble of blood trailing crimson out the side of her mouth and down her neck, her entire being too focused on the task at hand.

Octavian Ian let Ava feed, watching her carefully as she did. She was hungry and he knew that he would have to do much more to quench her thirst. He pulled her towards him so that she was laying against him and ran his hand through her hair. “Good girl,” he praised, pressing little kisses against her head. Ava was far too kind and he didn’t want her to feel anything but good about the fact she was feeding. This was natural—something good. Octavian continued to hold her for the next few moments, letting her enjoy herself for as long as he could before she was beginning to take too much. “Ava, stop,” he ordered, wanting to test her willpower on something less dangerous. He didn’t expect her to really listen, far too consumed by her lust for more, but there was a slight possibility that he would be able to get through to her, especially with how strong their connection had now become.

Ava Conflicted was….a good word for how Ava was feeling. Octavian’s blood was sweeter than anything she’d ever had, delicious, like she just couldn’t get enough. But it was…blood. This ravenous feeling was unlike anything she’d felt before and honestly, it kind of scared her a bit. She didn’t like feeling like she was out of control of her own body… But then..Ian was there. And instead of telling her off for it, he was praising her for it, pulling her closer and kissing her head, surrounding herself with him, making that conflicted feeling multiply. She hadn’t really heard his voice up until now, but this time when he spoke it was commanding, authoritative, and the insatiable hunger she felt deep inside herself was now at war with the bone-deep desire she had to obey him, to please her Master. And that feeling was just as overwhelmingly new. As a human, she already felt unwavering loyalty to the king, but now it was…different. Stronger. More than just a mental thing but physical. She felt a tug in herself to listen to him—and those two feelings inside herself were now at war: wanting to feed and wanting to obey.

Ava whimpered, loudly, her fingernails gripping at Ian’s arm hard enough that they pierced into his skin as she tried to use the hold to ground her, tugging his wrist a bit away from mouth and causing more to spill down her neck as she looked up at him- bright red eyes a mix of scared and pleading.

Octavian Octavian recognizes the struggle in Ava’s eyes and patiently waited to see what would win over. Obeying him and feeding were both powerful parts of her nature and he was curious to see which side would win in the struggle. He wouldn’t blame her for not obeying but that concern was for naught when he felt her fangs leave his skin. Her grip on his arm was tight, her reluctance palpable, but she stopped and that was all that mattered. He ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her as he showered her with praise. “Good girl,” he repeated over and over again, his tone as soft as if he were hushing a small child.

She had done well, even if she didn’t think she had. He reached down and wiped the blood off her chin, pressing his thumb against her lips to give her one last lick before pulling his arm back. It had healed already and all that was left was a quickly drying layer of blood. Once she seemed to have calmed down, he reached over for the phone and ordered for human blood to be brought to him. With her restraint so weak, it was best to keep her fully fed at all times. “Are you feeling better now, Ava?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face. There was no hint of upset or trepidation, just a loving pride at her success. “Do you want to rest some more?”

Ava The hand that wasn’t gripped into Ian’s wrist was trembling beside her, fingers twitching a bit, a tell that she was in an internal battle with herself, hunger and obedience fighting inside her. She whined as he pulled his arm away but she didn’t tug back, relenting to him. Even as he praised her though, she felt pressure building behind her eyes, tears flossing over her vision. She didn’t like being so out of control. Ava sniffled softly as he wiped her clean, blood-tinged tongue swiping out to lick over his thumb. She shifted then, pressing more into him, twisting in a way that her nose was pressed to his chest, trying to let his scent fill her senses and try to calm herself. Her heart was still racing though, everything still feeling overwhelming.

After a few minutes she heard him speak and she hesitantly looked up at him. “I....I’m hungry still..” she said it tentatively, almost like she was ashamed after having drank from him. “And it’s bright...And loud outside.” She wondered how long it’d take to get used to all her senses being so heightened. She curled her legs up under herself, practically balling herself up against him, feeling safer as long as she was surrounded by him.

Octavian“It’s okay,” Octavian reassured, hoping that his words would sink in. She had nothing to be ashamed of and it hurt him to see her so scared of herself. He predicted that this would happen but it didn’t make it any less unpleasant. “You will be okay.” He held her impossibly closer and pressed kisses against her head. “You will get used to it all. For now, just focus on me,” he ordered. Her senses were overwhelming her and Octavian needed to remind her to focus—to block everything else out before it drove her mad. “Just focus on me.” No sooner had he said those words was there a knock on the door. He allowed the person to enter and they carried in a large bottle of blood. It was human so it was going to be completely different from his own and he made sure that it was freshly taken from the people who had been made to offer it. He couldn’t get a live person for Ava to feed from yet, but this was the next best thing. He grabbed the bottle and offered it to Ava. “Drink and keep drinking until you’re no longer hungry. If you need more, tell me.” He paused, tipping her chin upward to meet his eyes. “You are more dangerous hungry, Ava. Do not let this guilt consume you or you will cause more harm.”

Ava It's okay. She kept repeating those words over and over in her head, trying to get her thoughts in order. It helped, having him say the same out loud, having him holding onto her. Just focus on me. She repeated that too, forcing herself to obey. She focused on his heart under her ear, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with his soft breaths, letting those noises drown out everything else. She focused on his arms around her, his scent strong in every inhale, and with her eyes closed...she finally felt some of the tenseness loosen out of her body. She kept her eyes closed even as the door opened, another's strong scent filling the air and she just pressed her face more into Octavian's chest. Focus on me. She couldn't help but wonder though: if just one person's scent was strong to her..how would she feel in a crowd? The thought made her head spin again. "H....How long will I feel like this.." she mumbled it more t herself than anything, wondering how long she'd have to go feeling like everything was so much.

Her eyes opened as he brought the bottle to her, eyes red still, not completely focused. She was hungry, a little noise grumbling in the back of her throat a mix of a growl and a whimper. Human blood. Even before, she'd drank from Ian a few times, was getting used to it. But this was....different. She hesitated as he made her look up, meeting his eyes. "Y-Yes Master." Ava's fingers were a bit shaky as she reached out, wrapping her smaller hand against his on the bottle as she brought it up- and the moment the warm liquid hit her tongue, the noise she made was louder, this time more definitely a growl. She tugged the bottle closer and practically chugged on it, almost like it was going to be taken away. She didn't even care as some again dripped down her chin and neck, her hunger finally being sated for real and in the end she drank the entire bottle, head tipped back against his chest as she fed.

Octavian Octavian continued to watch as Ava consumed the contents of the bottle, the hunger and desperation in her eyes reminiscent of a starving and wild dog. His puppy had grown and he needed to train her once again. He waited for her to finish before yanking the bottle away from her tight grip, passing it on to the guard. “Get me another,” he ordered, not completely convinced and wanting to be absolutely sure that she was done feeding. It would relax her and help her focus. He could only teach her how to tune everything out when her hunting instincts weren’t engaged. A starving and scared animal notices everything around them. “We will spend the rest of the day here, learning how to control your senses,” he declared, wiping away the blood that had trailed down her chin with his thumb. He licked it clean himself, a little smirk on his lips. “Why don’t we start with the easiest?” He grabbed her chin softly with his thumb and pulled her in for a kiss—a proper one. A small growl ignited in his throat, his eyes black the next time he pulled back. Octavian was always domineering but now he wanted to play with her newly born instincts—curious to see how she would react. By the end of the day, he was certain she would be quite versed in her sense of touch.

#para #para: all #para: octavian #c: octavian #discord

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

Text

Preferred Pastimes

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x May Carleton Fandom: Peaky Blinders Word Count: 3822 Rating: E/NSFW

“Right,” Tommy says, leaning away from the paddock. “That’s enough of horses.”

May crosses her arms and approaches him with a smirk.

“But that’s why you’re here, Mr. Shelby.” It’s sly, how she articulates his name, aware of Micky and other watchful members of her staff. Truthfully, the address is not for their benefit, but for how Tommy raises his eyebrow at her. She runs a hand over the lip of the enclosure, glancing sideways at the lovely dove-coloured horse beyond. “To assess the progress of Grace’s Secret.”

He looks downwards, swift as a fallen drop of rain, and she knows she’s taken the wrong tack. The name he’s bestowed to his racer seems determined to weigh more than the animal itself.

“Do you have another plan for today then?” May pushes on, doing her best to stand firm, not flap and flutter vulnerably like ribbon in the breeze. The breeze is the name, Grace’s Secret―a name with a power she can’t yet chart, but can sense the size of, relative to herself. She must try to let it remain unmeasured.

Tommy has to lift his head to lift his eyes, otherwise they’re blocked by his brim. The anticipation of his stare makes her heart pound.

“Yes,” he says, eyes clearer than any of the crystal in any of her cabinets.

May takes a calculated step towards him and lowers her voice when she replies.

“I might not have to give instructions for fire-lighting at this time of day, but it will still look suspicious for you and I to re-enter the house and sequester ourselves in my bedroom, alone.”

He gives her a genuine smile for that.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“No?”

“No.” After a thoughtful pause, “Later, maybe.”

“So, for now, you don’t want to fuck me, just do business?” she asks lightly. “Isn’t that precisely what I said to you at the Garrison, after which you proceeded to disbelieve me?”

“I was right to disbelieve you,” Tommy accuses, pointing a playful finger at her before tucking her arm up under his and guiding her away from Grace’s Secret. “And mind your bloody language. The ears on these horses are very expensive.”

“Not to mention the training,” May reminds him wryly. She kicks her feet forward in a neat march that has her long skirt straining at the shin.

He scratches his forehead.

“You couldn’t imagine the bills for such a thing. Some of these trainers will take the shirt off your back.”

His warning makes her laugh and hold tightly to his arm, feeling his curious and approving gaze on the side of her face. When they’ve escaped the musk of the stables and their environs, Tommy is faithful to his word, not straying towards the house.

“How often do you drive one of your cars, Mrs. Carleton? Not very, eh?”

He’s up to some mischief, ready with an answer that’s an unimportant presumption―Tommy’s plan will flow forth from his words and the crunch of his shoes on the gravel without May’s response, she can tell. It’s a bit thrilling to be swept up in his sudden ambition for the afternoon. Propelled along on his arm, taking flight does not seem impossible.

“I have a driver, but I do ride in them, you know,” she reminds him when they stop in front of his own automobile.

“One like this though?” He unlatches the door and swings the solid thing wide for her, exposing the taut seat. “There’s nothing like being inside, I promise you.”

Tommy’s eyes are devilish and smug, full of dares and promises. May grips the door, the soft tan leather of her glove just shy of his bare hand, and holds her body straight.

“Should I inquire about your intentions?”

“If you like.”

She wonders how far ahead his mind has travelled. Can he, even now, see them kissing? Does he fiddle with the fastening on her low boots, the way she did this morning? Are her cries for him already in his ears?

“Ought I to get my hat?” is what May asks, stepping up and sliding onto the seat.

“How about you don’t leave my sight and I swear not to make too much of a mess of your hair.”

His swift grin is awfully criminal as he thumps her door closed and circles the front of the car with his hands in his coat pockets, elbows out.

“I thought our schedule was business-only,” she observes once Tommy’s behind the wheel.

He hums, steering for the road.

“I very specifically did not answer that question,” he points out and, no, May supposes he didn’t. She didn’t notice at the time, caught up in the electrification of asking if he wanted to fuck.

Touching the back of her fingers to her mouth as her face pinks, she studies him. The figure he cuts in his coat and his cap and his car. He’s hard to read. It occurs to May that this man endures many attempts at being read, a consequence of his work.

“You might have at least let me get a ride in first,” she berates him, now that he’s got his way. “Shown you how your very expensive horse takes direction. Doesn’t that interest you at all?”

Her gaze shoots to the wheel when Tommy’s fingers rub tenderly, contemplatively over its curve. His stare is resolutely forward.

“To see you ride? I’d rather see you ridden.”

Is it so shocking, these words from a gangster? May doesn’t know what he is, not really, down in the meat of him. She wishes he’d speak like a gangster, he obliges. He uses a drive as a pretense to fuck her, she gets in the car.

“Careful,” she warns, rising above her deepening blush. “You didn’t buy me in an auction.”

“I should get you in the bargain after the way you drove the price up on my horse.” A fleeting furrow of his brow. “Is that what you rich people do for fun?”

“No,” May corrects, watching Tommy extract a cigarette and perch it on his lower lip, “I believe the preferred pastime is luring the object of one’s desire away from their home in the middle of the day for a tryst.”

“The object of my desire,” he repeats at a murmur that bounces his unlit cigarette. Louder, “So why isn’t it you driving me out for a fuck? Inducting me into the ways of the rich?”

“Your vehicle was nearest.”

And she demurely arranges her hair. Tommy turns his head slightly to watch her, eyes remaining on her hand as it falls back to her lap. As his gaze lingers, so does it snap ahead again a moment later.

“Maybe you could reach my matches for me.”

“Much more difficult to extricate than your cigarettes, I’m sure,” she teases.

“They’re down in my pocket and in all the time it might take to feel around for them… well, I’d hate to wreck this car over a box of matches.”

“And us in it.”

“And us in it,” he agrees with a single nod.

May extends her hand halfway towards him.

“I’m to ‘feel around’?”

“Yep.”

It almost makes her laugh, the way he keeps the road alone in his sights. She would swear that she feels in the air how strongly he craves to keep track of her hand. May kills his suspense by folding back his unbuttoned coat and wiggling her hand into his pants pocket. Tommy clears his throat and doesn’t turn his head.

It’s narrow going with him seated like this, very little extra space for her fingers to roam in their searching, but he doesn’t rush her; with his thigh on the other side of his pocket and her glove, there’s no question why.

“I can’t find them,” May states.

“Try from the outside,” Tommy suggests, ever so helpfully.

She withdraws her hand and places it over the site it lately occupied. With her eyes alone, she can see there’s nothing waiting to be mined from his pocket, but she’ll play his game, running her gloved palm downwards until the pleats in the wool smooth out.

He clears his throat once more.

“Perhaps farther in.”

“What unusually shaped pockets you must have.”

“That’s what you get in a suit cut by the Birmingham Chinese.”

It sounds like the beginning of a children’s fairy tale, May thinks, in spite of Tommy’s matter-of-fact manner. How easy he makes it to recall his Gypsy heritage by tantalizing her with quotidian legends. How difficult to know when he is joking.

“Hmm,” she says, and as she abruptly rakes her gloved fingers back up his thigh, Tommy’s leg jumps. “Steady, boy,” May soothes. They both know what the tone of a human voice reserved for horses sounds like.

It does not have a calming effect on this beast.

“The matches, May,” he urges her gruffly.

The colour high on his cheeks, just beneath the punishing blue of the eyes, reminds her of the pink light of sunset hitting her house’s upper panes.

“Take care with your tone,” she counsels, feeling the friction of his trouser leg beneath her glove, rounding to still on his inner thigh. “I am not your employee.”

“And I’m not your fucking broken stallion.”

Tommy grasps May’s hand and hitches it up to rest on his crotch.

“Find anything?” he demands.

She’s too shocked for a moment to make a reply. He’s firming up. May swings an appraising gaze to the side of his face. Wild, this man thinks he is. It’s more than possible. But she will not let him throw her.

“You’re going to be quite disappointed. Not a single match. I’ve searched and searched,” she avows, squeezing until Tommy grunts in crude pleasure.

“I put them in me coat. Just remembered.”

He removes one hand from the wheel and reaches between his coat and his jacket, matchbook visible as it retreats.

“For the sake of you not wrecking the car,” May says, presenting her free hand palm-up. Tommy drops the matches into it and says nothing as she lights his cigarette at last.

When he’s exhaling velvet curls, he says, “You might as well hold onto those for me,” pointing a languid finger at the matchbook wrapped up in her clasp on the seat between them.

“You’re confident, then, that you’ll be able to devise another charade for the drive back?”

“As my brother so often puts it, I’m Tommy fucking Shelby.” He taps the ash away into the wind. “As far as I know, I can do just about anything.”

May’s a fool, already certain of the depth of her belief in him and that this can only ever end in her foolishness being exposed in some way. It won’t be a surprise and he likely won’t notice when it happens because men never do. Stables, cars, boots with maddening laces―none of these are things that prevent women from suffering the disillusioning conclusions to their infatuations. Women are the flame and the moth and wealth is the dust on their wings.

Stroking as the world goes by the window, May almost feels it’s her driving the car. Her suppressed laugh sails over somebody’s field. It’s quieter than the soft scrunch of leather around her fingers as they flex to make Tommy’s hips shift searchingly and his breath change―shivering and smoky like a cracked chimney.

He jerks the automobile to the side of the road, creating an impolite lurch. He’s sliding out from under her hand and the steering wheel before May can properly chastise this changeable amateur gentleman. Her heart pounds like a racehorse’s, her fingers bearing down on his little matchbook, and the way Tommy swings her door wide is like the gate she’s meant to spring from to go barrelling down the track, around and around, to lameness or glory. But she has more composure than that.

May tosses the man’s matches to the seat and steps from the car while he holds the door. Tommy could’ve offered his hand, but it’s better, for a moment, that they don’t touch. Too worked up, the both of them.

She strides to the center of the country road―a lane, really―and hears him shut the door. Looking around reveals how dark it is back on her estate. Flightless, despite its many wings. Eventually, May turns back to Tommy. His hands are deep in his trouser pockets and his waning cigarette dangles. He provides a hundred thousand reasons to watch his mouth.

Eyeing him as he remains standing next to her door (as if he’ll presently have to assist another lady), May rounds to the stripe of grass between the wheels and a shallow ditch. The width is no more than two feet. Tommy might have pulled farther off the road, but with no other cars in sight, it’s true that there wasn’t a need.

He’s followed her.

“Take off your gloves.”

May turns, chin up and defiant.

“My gloves? Why?”

“Because you’re going to want to put them in your mouth.” Tommy waves his cigarette to indicate the landscape. “Lot of low, flat land around here. Barely a copse of trees in the last two miles.” He brings it back to his lips and inhales. “Sound carries.”

And she can imagine it doing just as he says, exactly the way the wind carries the smoke away when he speaks.

The handsome dark hang of his coat obscures any view of his risen cock. It doesn’t matter though―Tommy’s need is apparent in his very fingertips, flicking the end of his cigarette into the ditch. Nothing frivolous for this gangster. May comprehends that he requires a dalliance with her as much as he requires that his horse be trained for Epsom, or that his car be fueled, his cigarette lit. Everything always moving him forward to bear down on his goal. All the gears turning.

Instead of removing her gloves, she takes hold of the open folds of his coat. Tommy allows her this and licks his lower lip before rubbing his thumb across her chin.

“Your makeup,” he says, voice full of grit from his last suck of smoke. “It’s purple, like a bruise.”

He means her lipstick, of course, as it’s May’s mouth he has his gaze fixed on. She stays quiet and breathes the sharp air quickly through her nose.

“Reminds me of something healing. As though the hurt has already passed.”

This is unusually profound of him and gives her the sense of seeing suddenly through a window you believed to be a mirror. A depth May nearly trips and falls into. Like this damned ditch behind them.

“Tommy,” she presses, and this time he steps close to her body, removing his hand from her face to allow their mouths to connect, lock.

May slots her hands inside his coat, holding his waist below the straps of his holster. Of course, Thomas Shelby is armed. He uses her less aggressive grasp to his advantage, forcing her abruptly back against the car, lips parting hungrily as though he will consume her. She unbuttons her coat swiftly while they toss steamy exhalations back and forth. And then the heat of their bodies collides, some lost, but more created all the time―his clever fingers brushing her coat down from her neck and shoulders, hers clutching the waist of his pants, dropping to his cock.

Tommy strips the outer layer from her, harsher than she imagines he would skin a buck, and stuffs the coat through the car window. May’s hands move to his jaw because there’s no question he’ll want to handle the lower business himself. His fingers graze hers as they pass. Unfastening his trousers, he closes his eyes and she is overwhelmed by the tension in his neck. On her. On her is where it will be released.

His strong hands fumble for her hips, bunching her skirt as he turns her to face the car. May’s dizzy, hot and cold, still wearing her gloves. It’s unclear how serious Tommy’s command for their removal was until she places her palms on the side of the car and he reaches to tug at a glove with one hand, the other now on the skin of her bare thigh, skirt gathered high.

“I’m not putting those in my mouth,” May says forcefully, assisting Tommy in striping them from her fingers.

“Better give them to me then.”

His suggestion is a murky breath low on the back of her neck. She feels his lips touch down fleetingly as he collects the gloves from her and, presumably, stores them away in his coat pocket.

May has a glance over her shoulder.

“You aren’t keeping them.”

A surprising smile makes Tommy youthful. He stamps it onto her mouth.

“No, Mrs. Carleton. I wouldn’t dare.”

“Now I really don’t believe you,” she pants as his fingertips navigate the line of her garter belt’s strap like he’s walking a cliff’s edge.

Unexpectedly, he grabs meaty hold of her backside. May never believed his mania for a fuck in the countryside would permit a state of complete undress, but the fact of him sliding down her knickers to the lowest latitude her gartered stockings will allow is still and again shocking. Tommy winds his grip idly up her inner thigh. When his other arm comes around her, May grasps it and belts it to her waist for the stability to stave off her own hysteria, rising as he nears the hot place at her center.

Tommy’s nose squashes against her neck and his fingertips run against her, faster as the wetness grows. Since their first meeting, he’s shown May a restlessness she certainly hadn’t known before. She wishes she could pace, pour a cup of tea she won’t drink, something to ease the insensibility of his unhurried caresses. He strokes briskly to the front of her and she shudders.

She’s going to protest when he pries his arm from her grip, but he smoothes his hand down her other arm instead―the full length―until his naked hand rests over hers, braced on the car. May does something vulgar. She reaches down and raises the front of her skirt, keeping it out of Tommy’s way. It’s agreeable to him; his motions become less exploratory, more purposeful. Her hips are jerking and she’s making small, animal cries as he rubs fiercely, tucking his groin against her rear. With his arm looped in an unyielding band around her hip, Tommy drags his freed cock up and down. Her eyes squeeze shut. She pictures his hips rocking doggedly, fine trousers around his ankles on the grass. The pleasure prickles all over her body.

Tommy’s finger, just one, dips more boldly to ring her canal from the inside. So many delicate tasks it has surely accomplished (placing each cigarette between his lips like an artist places a stroke on a canvas). So many brutal ones (slicing to bring eternal darkness to the eyes of the enemies of the Peaky Blinders). Legs quaking, May cries out and buries her mouth and nose in his sleeve. Her muffled sounds crescendo and her hips fit naturally back into his―this is the moment Tommy Shelby chooses to mount her.

The hand greedily cupping and smearing her want falls mere inches to smartly tap the flesh of her inner thigh, widening May’s stance as Tommy hunches and probes. Smoggy gasps in her ear. Robust woolen sleeve on her face. And then, he’s pressing inside and her eyes fly open. It’s outlandish and thrilling, out here in the open, between the gangster and his automobile. He sinks deeper and deeper―or is it higher and higher?―easing up into her. The metal of his car is cold to the touch; Tommy’s fingers are turning white where they grasp between hers.

He fills May fully just the once to start, yet insistently enough to stir the beginnings of a worry that his slow thrust will not desist until he’s lifted her feet off the ground. Madman. She does gasp when he’s fitted himself perfectly inside her (her knees wobble, but the soles of her boots remain on the grass), she has to because it feels as though all of that pressure needs a release valve.

The exhale from Tommy’s lips is rich and rough and sinful and May swoons a little from that, a little from the internal caress, as he withdraws. Like all returns made by the Peaky Blinders, the one where Tommy thrusts back inside her is volatile in arrival and pace. She bites his sleeve and finds the texture ghastly between her teeth, so she yelps into the fabric instead.

“Told you,” he grunts, sliding out and in again as her body jerks, trying to find a pattern in his unpredictable movements. “Should’ve kept the gloves.”

“One of many differences between myself and your horse,” May gasps, “is that I will not tolerate leather in my mouth. Not to bite down on in pain. Not to―unnh!” Tommy scoops his hips and she drops her weight instinctively in pursuit of the feeling. “Not to temper my voice in any circumstance.”

And then May curses ferociously, fingers twisting in her skirt, feeling as though everything, a world’s worth of pleasure, is simultaneously entering and seeping from her.

“What will you tolerate in your mouth, eh?”

His lips smile against her ear. His fingers rub at her unrelentingly. May squeezes her eyes closed as she is tossed between his kindness and his cruelty. Her body knows when to surrender to this puzzle of Thomas Shelby where her mind does not; there’s kick in her hips as she rides him to bliss. Like hell has he been the one riding her.

The end is as violent as smashed glass, wretched as heartache. Also, wonderful. She collapses a little and uses it as a sly method of wiping the tear that runs from the corner of her eye onto Tommy’s sleeve. Who knows how much of her lately-praised plum lipstick is on his coat, her chin, etcetera. He leaves off stroking her with his fingers (thank goodness―May’s aflame there more than anyplace else) to press his palm somewhat tenderly to her abdomen, his hips heaving their last. This touch inspires a horrid flash of an impossible future in which she is pregnant with his child, horrid only in the fact of glimpsing it, the brutality of that false divination. Oh, this will never be a tame man. Nor will she be under his special protection while he remains wild.

Tommy drags himself from her in every way. May hitches and tugs and smoothes and wipes and turns. There are his blue eyes. Her hands are numb, her insides are still in rippling throes. This is what they have: his matches in the palm of her hand, her refusal of a fire in the guest wing.

And horses.

#my writing #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #may carleton #tommy x may #tommy shelby x may carleton #tommy shelby smut #oops I fandom hopped

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alannah-corvaine · 5 years

Text

alannah; neverending survey

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Alannah Ailíse Caireann Corvaine Outway

NICKNAME: Little Bird (Faron only)

AGE: almost 23

BIRTHDAY: 10/16

ETHNIC GROUP: Midlander Hyur

NATIONALITY: Thanalanian

LANGUAGE/S: Common, a hodgepodge of things she's picked up from books

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Demisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married (verse dependent)

HOME TOWN / AREA: Drybone, Eastern Thanalan

CURRENT HOME: The Grey Fleet, Lower LaNoscea

PROFESSION: Professional White Mage™, Healer, Purifier

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Rich, dark brown with white streaks extending from her roots (magical scars)

EYES: Sea Green

FACE: Slightly angular, but still has baby fat

LIPS: Full, pouty, usually covered in neutral tone gloss

COMPLEXION: Sickly pale

BLEMISHES: Birthmark under her left eye, constant red splotchy patches due to allergies

SCARS: The white in her hair, a mark between her shoulderblades where she was kicked by an aldgoat as a child

TATTOOS: Flowery vines crawling up the left side of her ribcage (permanent), stabilizing arcanima symbols all over her arms (temporary, reapplied daily)

HEIGHT: 5′2″

WEIGHT: 135 ponze

BUILD: Petite

FEATURES: Extremely striking eyes, more girlish than womanly facial structure

ALLERGIES: Severe pollen and pet allergies, mildly allergic to some foods and perfumes

USUAL HAIR STYLE: Worn long, down to her hips. Either in a sidebraid, high ponytail with various small braids, or loose

USUAL FACE LOOK : Lost in thought

USUAL CLOTHING: Loose, flowing, bohemian style. Lots of white, lots of bangles, delicate necklaces and rings. Sometimes hair ornaments. Barefoot or sandals, doesn't believe in socks. While "working" she prefers trenchcoats open at the waist, shorts, and knee-high boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Failure, guns, the excited laugh her daughter makes when she's found something "interesting"

ASPIRATION/S: To be a powerful mage, fix her borked aether, and to be a better mother to her daughter than Christaine was to her

POSITIVE TRAITS: Insatiably curious, focused, dedicated, protective, kind, funny, generous

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Emotionally distant, petty, wrathful, impulsive, reckless, gets lost in her own head and forgets to come back out

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic

SOUL TYPE/S: Artisan

ANIMALS: --

VICE HABIT/S: Swearing, letting her temper get the best of her, alcohol (very rarely, because it ends badly)

FAITH: Hail Hydra Hydaelyn

GHOSTS?: ...verse dependent (lol)

AFTERLIFE?: Not so much an afterlife as much as being recycled by the Lifestream.

REINCARNATION?: Yes

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: I mean...she might be a bit of an ecoterrorist?

EDUCATION LEVEL: Self taught through an ungodly amount of reading

FAMILY.

FATHER : Aedan Corvaine

MOTHER : Christaine Harlow Corvaine (deceased)

SIBLINGS : Faron, Ean, Davon, Brennan

EXTENDED FAMILY: Nine Outway (husband), Aislinn Outway (daughter), Moira Corvaine (aunt), Fayre Harlow (maternal grandmother), Fasshon Fuqushon (step-grandfather), Veronique Corvaine (sister-in-law), Isobel Corvaine (niece), Octavia Outway (sister-in-law)

NAME MEANING/S: You know, I spent hours looking up names with fitting means for Alannah’s family members way back when, but I am absolutely too lazy to go find them again

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Technical studies on the properties and workings of aether, historical volumes, adventure and fantasy stories, and sometimes a romance novel

DEITY: Hail Hydra Hydaelyn

HOLIDAY: Starlight

MONTH: July

SEASON: Summer

PLACE: La Noscea

WEATHER: Snow

SOUND / S: The almost electric hum of magic, the sound that Nine makes when she scratches his head

SCENT / S: White musk, fresh bread baking, old books, lemongrass

TASTE / S: Wine, dandelion tea, almond cream croissants

FEEL / S: Being magically powerful, sleeping on fresh sheets, wearing her husband’s shirts, snuggling with her daughter

ANIMAL / S: Fish, since they’re the only thing that doesn’t maker her sneeze

NUMBER: 9 (lol)

COLORS: White, black, any pastel or sherbet colors

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Retaining large amounts of information. magical aptitude (even if she has to fight her unstable aether for it), large scale destruction, cooking exactly one meal, tripping on flat surfaces, the ability to braid anything

BAD AT: Wielding any kind of melee weapon, seeing without her glasses, remembering where she put her glasses, keeping up a conversation without getting lost in her thoughts, public speaking, remembering to drink her tea before it gets cold

TURN ONS: Patience, humor, calloused hands, empathy, confidence, kindness

TURN OFFS: Arrogance, cruelty, smarminess, apathy, insensitivity

HOBBIES: Researching, reading, sketching, playing the harp, traveling/seeing new places, teaching her daughter how to human, using her husband as a nap pillow

TROPES: (oh god there are so many, these are just a few) Caged Bird Metaphor, Grass is Greener, Kitsch Collection, Misery Builds Character, Now Let Me Carry You, #1 Dime, Wake-up Call, Grew a Spine, Rage Breaking Point, Big Screwed Up Family, Black Sheep

QUOTES : “my bitterness was sometimes rest and sometimes ecstacy grace or rage, always the two opposites ready to annihilate each other and to rise from the ruins of the vanquished.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : Listen, I shamelessly love YA dystopian fiction, so it would be something in that vein, where Alannah is OP as fuck running around and blowing shit up as the young heroine main focus. Also there’s all of the romance tropes (sandwiched between developmental angst, of course), because I like them, and nobody’s allowed to bitch about it.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : It would be scored by a collaboration of Two Steps From Hell, Hans Zimmer, Jeremy Soule, and Zack Hemsey, and my ears would orgasm.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : I don’t like doing the whole “my character is just me or an extension of me” thing, it just never feels right. I also can’t just look at the avatar I’m using and see nothing but pixels and just “play the game.” She has to have a personality, a backstory, a reason for what she’s doing. Also it’s a great creative outlet for me because I love coming up with stories in my head as I go. And thus Alannah was born from the soup of inspiration made up of many various characters I’ve loved over the years.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : She was supposed to be something new, a kind of character that I’ve never written before. All of my female characters end up badass, overpowered, and full of personal angst, because that’s just my thing. And yeah, Alannah’s reached that point, but the point is I tried.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : I feel like I can never get her voice right, she always just ends up sounding like me.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : The longer she’s around, the more of my traits she absorbs by osmosis. At this point she shares like 80% of my personality and traits and is completely unrecognizable from my original concept for her.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : I am a generous god.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 : My favorite thing to explore, if it isn’t grossly obvious, is her different relationships with each of her siblings, probably because I have none.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9 : Mostly music and books, sometimes games. I have so many AUs for Alannah. Actually writing things, however, is another matter entirely.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?

A10 : I had it done by the end of the work day after working on it between things I had to do, but then SOMEBODY tumblr drafts had to blow it up so I had to start over from the halfway point. I am not amused.

tagged by: @resistance-ranger [thankyou♥]

tagging: @keeperprinceling @menphinasbow @keeperofthelilacs @fheythfully @manawalls @khaamara @ahlis-xiv @aethernoise @castthemintotheabyss @alphiinaud @chysgoda @dragons-bones @astrophoros-ffxiv @loslorien @nuclearanomaly @zunshtral @card-and-flame @carmen-ffxiv @arabeka-ffxiv @voidwife @crowsaerie-rp @apassingshadow @violet-warder @hydrangea-fields @areniaagn @autumnslance @keltgeim @holyja @unmend @pulse-oflife

#LETS TRY THIS AGAIN #now that my rage has finally calmed #about alannah #character profile #long post #pls forgive me if you didnt wanna be tagged

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