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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Midnight Masquerade

Todoroki Shouto & Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 8.6k

[ ✘ (nsfw 18+) ]

themes : DUBCON, YANDERE. MFM threesome, vampire!todoroki, vampire!shinsou, spanking, praise kink??... double penetration, blood play (hello they’re vampires)

bio : You attend a masquerade ball in hopes of finding a bachelor on Halloween night… only to get much more than you originally bargained for.

author’s note : This fic was inspired by one of my fav movies when I was younger! Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman (2004), in which Dracula hosts an exquisite masquerade ball, full of masked vampires.

side note : Happy Halloween!! I didn’t have time to edit/beta this fic, so it may be a little choppy/rough.. but I’m about to leave for my Halloween party and I wanted to get this out on time so!! please try to enjoy, and I apologize if this is not up to my usual standards. <3

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈ou received an invitation to a Halloween party… and that was about all the information you had to go off of. What awaited you at this gathering, you had absolutely no idea. The envelope had simply arrived on your doorstep at the beginning of the month, no messenger in sight.

This invitation, scrawled in perfect calligraphy and sealed with the kiss of a stamp upon wax, proved to be even more puzzling when you attempted to uncover its origin. And while you had asked around to anyone you could possibly think of— your friends, family, neighbors, hell, even your mailman— you found no one who could give you any answers. It seemed that you, for some reason, had been issued this invitation, when no one in your primary social network else had.

What was even more peculiar, was that a gown and a pair of heels had arrived two weeks later, in all senses more luxurious than you had ever seen, and tailored to your exact size and measurements. Just from lifting it out of the box, you could tell it was expensive. And as if that hadn’t been enough of a gift, a necklace and earrings that dazzled nearly enough to blind you arrived just a few days following the dress. Finally a last package arrived a few days before the party, containing an intricately-painted mask that tied the whole outfit together. Each of the gifts had a card laid across the top of the tissue-enfolded contents, signed off from your inviter and now confirmed “secret admirer, S.H.”

The enigma of it all perplexed you. You liked to tell yourself that a smart girl like you would never go to such an event, considering you had no clue who had sent you the invitation, let alone such extravagant gifts. You told yourself that you had no obligation to go, that it would be ill-advised to show up without any further information than the address, date, and time.

But someone had clearly gone to great lengths to impress you, and you couldn’t just ignore that. Curiosity burned bright inside you when raked your brain for potential inviters, and as you came to more and more dead ends, your intrigue grew with every second the event stayed on your mind.

You spent every day leading up to the party thinking about it, flipping back and forth as to if you were going to attend or not. Even on the night of, you spent a ridiculous amount of time switching between deciding on going or staying home, taking short bursts of either frantically getting yourself ready, or sitting down and scrutinizing the situation.

You ended up arriving at the address scrawled at the bottom of the mysterious invitation an hour late.

Although you had planned to just hail a cab thanks to your indecision, you were surprised to find a sleek, black Rolls Royce waiting for you at the entrance to your building. The driver, donned in a crisp black and white tux, sported an elegant mask across his face, and wordlessly opened the door for you, bowing and gesturing for you to enter. After a moment of hesitance, you decided it would probably be best to just get into the car— whoever had requested your presence had already gone to such lengths as to cloth and bejewel you— it only made sense for you to arrive in a vehicle that screamed as much wealth as did your outfit.

What you had not expected was to find the location of the event to be a rather estately manor at the border of the city. The driveway twisted through an ominous wood to reach the massive home, and rather nastily-spiked wrought-iron fences guarded the border of the property, looming metal casting eerie shadows against the overcast evening sky. You found yourself wondering briefly what exact purpose the metal lattice served— both sides adorned with rough silver spikes. Traditionally gates were meant to keep things from getting in… it was peculiar to you that they were double-sided.

It was certainly curious, but your eyes were quickly torn from the gates as the car ventured closer to the maleficent abode, your heartbeat beginning to pick up as you came nearer to the grand entrance. There was a gorgeous fountain laid between two sets of curved stone staircases, both leading up to the tall, mahogany doors at the dead center of the manor. The car came to a stop just before the fountain, and you spent the small moment your driver took crossing over to your side and opening your door in breathless anticipation.

The cool, dry October air felt heavenly against your exposed shoulders, the tops of your breasts just peeking out of the neck of the beautiful, sleek gown you’d been sent. The autumn chill did wonders to calm the thumping of your nervous heart, and as you climbed the stairs, your fingers trailing along the cold balustrade, you took a deep breath. When you chanced a look back toward the car, you found it had already disappeared, and a pang of uncertainty rang through you once more. Yes, this was definitely uncharastically brash of you— you still had no idea who could possibly be the one to invite you to such a prestigious soiree— and yet, you found your nerves crackling with excitement, barely able to contain your jittery disposition.

Two more men, also hidden beneath tuxedos and blank masks, bowed as they pulled the heavy wooden doors apart, revealing the bustling affair that lay inside. You were shocked to find so many bodies within just the first glance of the interior— it was a magnificent foyer that was ten times larger than the tiny apartment you had become so accustomed to, a sea of masked party-goers that ebbed and flowed with the live, string-quartet on the stage in the far corner of the room. Countless couples waltzed and spun across the middle of the room underneath humongous crystal chandeliers, all glittering and shining with the low lighting of a thousand candles, by far more fire hazards than you’d ever seen. It was quite a culture shock to you— you had never before been invited into the fruits of such luxury, this level of wealth as mysterious to you as the cryptic sender of your invitation, S.H.

And though this was your first time indulging in the pleasures of such extravagance, you looked like you belonged. You were sure that the outfit this mystery persona had given you to wear tonight was worth far more than the rent you constantly worried about making, and so you fit in quite seamlessly with the crowd of silk-enveloped, gem-encrusted faces, perhaps even going so far as to stand out. The soft silk of your pashmina tickled against your arms as it sat snug around your lower back, curled around your elbows and seams brushing against your hips. The thick necklace— more of a collar, really— sat heavy against your chest, each diamond shining brightly, leading to a large teardrop-shaped pendant of brilliant amethyst that hung perfectly in the middle of your chest. The ornate mask you’d been given concealed the top half of your face, bright ruby gems adorning along your eyes and matching your dress’ deep rouge to an impossibly perfect degree. Initially upon receiving such gifts you were suspicious of their authenticity, but standing now before such a display of affluence, you were certain they were real. The jewels and fine linens gave you a false sense of confidence, and after a moment of absorbing your astounding surroundings, you tentatively began to make your way into the party.

For a while you wandered around by your lonesome, but you didn’t really mind the solitude. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you admired each symbol of wealth you came across. The grand room was decorated with no expenses in mind— rich velvet curtains hung across the walls, tied back with gold corded tassels to allow the cold moon’s luminescence to shine down into the hall. Massive oil portraits lined the walls, each frame depicting a different person of undoubtable esteem, each in their own respect poised yet handsome as the last.

Your eyes wandered to the last two photos on the wall, both of them shockingly attractive in their own ways. One had wild, violet locks and a sultry smirk, the others’ hair split down the middle with tousled red and white, mouth set in an indifferent line. What stood out most to you was the emotion conveyed in both their eyes— it was cold and callous, sending shivers down your spine.

As you turned away from the portraits, you were met with a server, who offered you the silver platter he was carrying as he bowed. Tiny steak tartares, garnished with a red wine sauce and a sprig of herbs; the sight made your mouth water and you thanked him as you took one with the classy little fork he handed to you. Just as you turned your attention back to the portraits before you, you jumped at the discovery of a figure standing beside you.

He was tall, your head coming just above his shoulder, even in your four inch heels. He donned a crisp tuxedo of his own, but his bowtie was left undone, strips of fabric hanging loosely around his neck. Though there was a mask covering his face as well, you instantly recognized the purple flumes of hair, your surprise evident as you let out a small gasp. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes set on the frames above your line of sight, but he then began to speak, his deliciously deep voice taking you again by surprise. “Rather rare,” he spoke, quiet yet clear, eyes still scrutinizing the art before the pair of you.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked for clarity, wondering when exactly this man had appeared, and why you had not noticed such a captivating presence by your side.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his gaze to you, lazy violet eyes inspecting your figure without much attempt at concealing his blatant inspection. You bristled at his audacity, but soon found yourself relaxing as your own eyes wandered the length of his lithe, cut figure. It wasn’t your fault, you reasoned— you had just been admiring this man in his photo and now he appeared before you, looking even more delectable in person.

“The hors d'oeuvres,” he explained, eyes dropping to the forgotten disc of tender meat perched at the end of your fork. He let his gaze wander across your chest before he met your stare again, that same smirk coming to rest on his supple lips. “And such beauty as yours, of course. It’s unparalleled, Miss…?” he trailed off, angling his head to the side as he awaited your response.

You thanked him and told him your name, watching as his smirk only seemed to grow, something mischievous shimmering in those enticing amethyst orbs of his. He leaned forward and ducked into a slight bow, long fingers taking your free hand hostage as he brushed his lips against your knuckles.

“Shinsou will do, for now. Delighted to be acquainted,” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your hand drop and a brief silence fall on the pair of you.

Your eyes wandered to the portrait, then back to your new acquaintance. “That’s you, right?” You inquired, looking up at him through your mask. His bored eyes pierced yours as you met his gaze, and you felt heat accumulate in your cheeks. “What incredible artwork, I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s posed for an oil painting— was it hard to sit still while it was being made?”

“Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip of the hammered-metal chalice in his large, gloved hand. “The fruits of life sweeten with patience, anyway.”

You wondered briefly if it was his first time posing for this kind of painting. Never had you met anyone who would want— or could afford, really— to commission such a painstakingly realistic portrait of themselves. How much it cost, you could not fathom, and did not care to discover. “So this is your party, then?” You continued after he made no further attempt at conversation.

He nodded, that smirk curling the corner of his mouth again. “You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?” He remarked, sipping again from his cup. His words were rather rude, and you frowned before you shrugged them off, dismissing them in an instant. You weren’t really surprised by his smug comment, though your displeasure must have been visible because he immediately steered the conversation in another direction. “Are you enjoying yourself? May I get you a drink, my honored guest?”

It was a little off to you how his demeanor changed just like that, a flip of the switch, really— but you were thirsty, and you were curious to see what kind of expensive refreshments were available, so you found yourself nodding with a small smile of gratitude on your lips. He mirrored your smile before he mumbled something about returning soon, his figure swallowed up in the sea of masked faces.

Finding yourself alone once again, you went back to inspecting the portraits, happily humming to yourself as you enjoyed your hors d'oeuvre. You looked around the party, searching for that same waiter, wanting to grab a few more of those delicious bites while you had the chance.

It was then that you met a distinct set of eyes across the room, a white mask with delicate swirls decorating his handsome face. However much the mask concealed his face, there was no doubting that he was the other man from the portrait behind you— his hair was a stark giveaway— half of it scarlet and hanging loosely atop his brow, the other half a shocking shade of white, pushed back to give him a devilishly intimidating aura. Your throat tightened up as he began to make his way toward you, slowly but surely closing the distance between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if either of these men were the one who sent you your invitation— if one of them was to thank for showering you with such extravagance, for allowing you to dip your toes in the enticing pool of luxury. But you were not allowed to ponder the thought, for in no time at all the man in question stepped before you.

Without even a single thought, your body automatically shifted into a curtsey, and you blinked in surprise as he bowed his greeting in return. He didn’t give you a second to question it, lithe, gloved fingers taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips were cold to the touch, and your hand trembled slightly as he let go.

“Todoroki Shouto,” he introduced himself, his smooth, deep voice resonating through your body. Something about him made you feel incredibly hot, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It was strange how much he seemed to affect you— almost supernatural. At your stunned silence, he smirked ever so slightly, shifting his head to look down at your shorter figure. “Your name, love? It would be rude of me to refer to you as the most alluring woman in the room the whole night, no?”

Flustered you were caught off guard, you quickly told him your name, adding on it was a pleasure to meet him.

“Y/N, hm? A beautiful name. It suits a woman as breathtaking as you.” He continued, and you could see how satisfied he was by your bashful reaction. “I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled hesitantly at the man before you, unsure how to respond to his blatant flirting. With the momentary lull in your conversation, you looked over your shoulder to eye the painting once again. Todoroki watched your curious gaze like a hawk, unbeknownst to you. When you looked back to him, you smiled as you pointed your thumb over your shoulder. “Is that—”

“Would you like to dance?” He interrupted, folding your smaller hand in his and taking a step backwards into the dancefloor.

Panic coursed through you— you didn’t know how to dance, or at least, you didn’t think your ballroom skills would be nearly as good as his and everyone else’s here. Yet somehow when you opened your mouth to politely decline, instead came out, “I would be honored.”

With wide eyes you were guided into the center of the room, his other gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist. Your hands found their own way into position, one on his shoulder, and the other wrapped tight around his as he began to steer you around the room. You were shocked to find yourself matching each of his steps, your feet moving in perfect harmony with his. But when you looked into his eyes, a trickle of horror ran down your spine.

He was looking directly at you, two-toned eyes boring into yours with unbridled desire, and some other emotion mixing in to create a frightful end result that could only be described as hunger. Yes, there was no mistaking it— that was hunger in his eyes— for what, you did not know, but somehow your body was aware that whatever it was, you were in for quite the night.

“The dress looks simply appetizing on you, love,” he whispered in your ear, chilling the blood in your veins just like that. “Were you surprised to find it fit like a glove? You look so angelic when you sleep… I hated to disturb you, but it was gratifying to know how much you enjoyed my touch...” His lips brushed against your dangling earrings, and a shiver ran through your body as he inhaled across the skin of your neck.

“Y-You—” you stuttered, eyes widening with realization. Had he— had he taken your measurements? He’d snuck into your bedroom? When? Why? You didn’t even know this man— why would he have taken such an interest in you, how did he know where you lived, and why— why was your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of him seeing you in your sluttly little pyjamas? You knew there was something off about this, but never could you imagine this would be the turn of events tonight. You were terrified, and yet ashamedly, a small part of you was pleased to know a handsome and powerful man as himself had gone to such lengths to woo you. There was no denying it… even though your stomach was tied into knots and fear sat like a stone in your belly, a white-hot, irrefutable desire had sparked to life between your legs.

“Not just me...” he murmured, the tip of his nose dragging against your temple before he dipped you down towards the tiled floor right in tune with the crescendo of the music, your back bending in his grip. Now upside-down, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Shinsou staring the pair of you down from across the room, that same smirk on his lips as he raised his chalice in contempt. “You’ve met Hitoshi, correct?”

You were only spared a moment to piece it all together, that tight feeling in your stomach only twisting further. S.H… it wasn’t the name of one suitor, but two— Shouto and Hitoshi. Two rich and powerful men that both tricked you into coming to their home, and you had fallen for it— practically serving yourself to them on a silver platter. You were no better than a damn steak tartare! You wanted to face-palm, to smack yourself for being so naive, but you found that your body was not your own; you couldn’t control yourself, couldn’t even speak, and all you could do was continue to dance with the horribly attractive man whose trap you had strolled right into.

Had they drugged you? Was it that accursed steak tartare? But then, wouldn’t you have passed out, or your limbs stopped working? How were you not missing a single step with Todoroki right now, spinning when he led you to spin, and willingly stepping into him when he pulled you back into his embrace.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Your voice was shaking, even though your body moved more confidently than ever as the pair of you strode across the marble floor. “How is this happening?” You added, feeling quite small as the target of not one, but two predatory gazes.

Todoroki took his time to answer you, wordlessly twirling you in his arms as the music then came to a stop, a new melody beginning just as the previous one faded out. “Whatever we want, I suppose,” he answered, his gloved fingers traveling up your back to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his chilling gaze. “But don’t worry, love… I don’t think you’re going to hate it all that much.”

— - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

It was only an hour later that you were being led to the other side of the mansion— away from the music and festivities, and away from the false sense of protection the crowd provided. Todoroki walked in front of you, and Shinsou’s hand rested casually on your hip as he walked beside you. Your palms were lined in a thin coating of sweat, your growing fear causing your pulse to skyrocket. You knew that you were about to understand why they had fooled you into coming here, and though you had pondered what terrible fate they had chosen for you for the past hour, your mind was completely blank. You could only watch as your feet moved one in front of the other, your body once again under their spell.

Whatever it was that they were doing, they somehow had complete control over you, and they had forced your body to dance with the both of them for the entire time you’d been there so far. It had created some fake relief as whatever it was they had planned was pushed off for the time being, but you couldn’t indulge such relief, and your nerves were more heightened than ever. You reached your breaking point when you entered a dimly-lit bedroom, and the door closed behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Please,” you pleaded, your body moving to stand in the middle of the room, right before the four-poster, canopy-laden bed. “Just tell me what’s happening, I can’t move a single muscle…”

Shinsou frowned, gloved hand coming up to discard his mask. Your breath caught in your throat— God, even if he was your captor, you couldn’t deny he was handsome. He slowly approached you, fingertips tracing along your jaw before removing your mask as well. He sucked in a small breath of air, violet eyes dark with a foreign sentiment. “Relax, baby… We’re just gonna make you feel good. We’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long now…” His eyes dropped to analyze your lips, entranced by their color and plushness.

“But… Why can’t I move?” you reiterated, and your eyes widened as Todoroki’s presence noticeably pressed up against your behind. The feeling of his body against yours sent your heart hammering, and you swallowed as you considered your options here— there was really only one means of escape and that had to start with you tricking them into freeing you from their spell. Licking your dry lips, you meekly added, “What if I… wanted to make you feel good, too?”

“Fucking Christ,” said Shinsou, who took a step backward, his palm coming to run across his face momentarily. He seemed on edge, anticipation distinctly painted across his rugged features.

Meanwhile Todoroki took his time to answer, considering your choice of words thoughtfully. “We have a lot planned for you… but we need to re-energize before we can do anything, love,” he replied simply, his voice low in your ear. He pulled off his gloves, cold fingers catching on your jaw as he turned your face to meet his. You whimpered as he leaned into you, and before you could make a single word, his lips claimed yours, cutting off any chance at a rebuttal.

You didn’t want to admit how good his mouth felt on yours, but you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that burst into your stomach as he kissed you— they were not the result of any foreign spell. Shinsou groaned as he watched Todoroki’s tongue slip into your mouth, actions getting more fervent as the dual-colored man’s fingers slipped around your head, cradling your face against his. His lips attacked yours, slotting against them and tongue wandering between the gaps. You gasped when something sharp pricked your bottom lip, automatically pulling back, your hand coming up to touch your lip.

Bright red stained your fingertip, and you looked between the evidence of your injury and the cause of the wound, eyes widening as you took in how dark Todoroki’s eyes had become, canines elongating into sharp fangs. Bewildered, you stayed frozen to the spot, unable to do anything yet again as his hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your finger. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the digit made heat flare in your core, even as terror began to pump through your veins. His other hand gripped your hip roughly, pulling your body flush unto his.

The desire to scream out in fear came quickly, but you found no sound came out of you when your mouth opened. Your head still turned to Todoroki, you didn’t anticipate Shinsou coming up in front of you, only noticing the other man when his tongue stroked across the tender skin on your neck. Your body stiffened as the wet muscle slid along your throat, your eyes wide and petrified.

“There you go, just relax...” Todoroki groaned, leaning in to suck on your broken lip, his tongue petting over the fresh wound gently. It stung, but at the same time it felt very intimate— something you had never done before that had that heat building in the pit of your stomach.

A set of fangs pricked your neck, Shinsou’s lips fluttering up toward your jaw. You loathed how soft they felt, a distinct contrast to the sharpened enamels that suddenly descended into your flesh. You cried out, unprepared for the searing pain that shot through your body. Your skin felt like it was throbbing, sizzling from the unwelcome heat and pain mixing together.

“Shhh, love,” Todoroki cooed, laying a gentle kiss on your open mouth. “It won’t hurt for long…” He continued to suckle on your lip, beautiful eyes staring deeply into yours as he cradled your face. The thin ring of iris around his blown pupils shone brightly in the low light of the flickering candles, brilliant aqua and stormy gray contrasting, mesmerizing you and momentarily taking you away from the pain of the fangs lodged in your throat.

Shinsou was moaning against your neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took his fill from your bloodstream. His hands were gripping your waist tightly, fingers wandering up your back to curl your body closer to his embrace. You were so out of it, so lost in the taller man’s gaze, that you almost didn’t register the growing hardness pressing into your inner thigh. Shinsou was gently rutting against your leg, pressing his crotch onto you as he held your limp body with surprising care.

The sharp pain of his fangs in your neck had transformed into a dull throb, your body slowly numbing to his bite. It wasn’t long before Shinsou drew back, tongue roving over the flesh puncture marks that laid on your throat. His tongue hurt at first, but the second and third swipe of the strong, wet muscle felt increasingly good, and you hated how your thighs twitched together at the feeling. Apparently the two of them knew you would be experiencing this effect, for they both started to move you backwards, wandering closer to the bed.

You could hear Todoroki get onto the mattress before the pair of them maneuvered your body to join his, lifting you up and setting you down onto the plush comforter before him. His hands slid to your front, down your stomach and perched on your hips, pushing them back so your ass met his crotch. Your eyes went wide as you felt Todoroki’s erection poke into your ass, and Shinsou chuckled darkly as he, too, crawled onto the bed.

Although you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out, and the purple-haired vampire before you winked as the smirk on his lips only grew. There was still a trickle of your blood tainting the skin on his chin, and his fangs poked out as he grinned at you.

“You missed some,” Todoroki stated, voice a bit rougher than it had been downstairs. Your head turned to look at him, but you found his gaze was not focused on you— he was looking straight at Shinsou, eyes darkening and teeth elongating into points.

“Saved it for you, have a taste,” Shinsou replied nonchalantly, scooting closer to you. The space between the two men’s mouths closed and you gasped as you watched their lips collide, a moan tumbling out of the man supporting your back. That horrible heat burst between your legs, your mouth watering as you saw Todoroki’s tongue slips into Shinsou’s mouth, their fangs clicking as they brushed together.

Shinsou chuckled as he pulled back, Todoroki’s tongue wandering down to trace the line of your blood that streaked down his chin. Shinsou looked at you as he grinned, clearly happy that their kiss had such an effect on you. “You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, and you whimpered as heat burst in your cheeks.

It was shameful how much this was turning you on— a monster straight out of a fairytale was here in front of you, feeding off of you, able to end your life he re really wanted to in probably just one swift bite— and yet your pussy was drooling all over your panties for him, an uncomfortable dampness collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t stop your hips from wiggling, but as you moved back from Shinsou, you pressed up against Todoroki, who let out a throaty groan. The swell of your backside pushed against his hard cock just right, and you gasped as his hands suddenly jumped to the hem of your dress, pulling it to rest at the tops of your thighs. Your pussy twitched as the cool air rushed across your sticky panties, and you mewled as one hand drifted up to squeeze your breast, the other slapping gently over your panty-covered clit.

Shinsou’s hands glided down your waist, large palms running over your hips before he grabbed your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress as he fell to his knees. Kneeling between your legs, he chucked again as he inspected the wet patch on darkening the front of your underwear. His thumb met your slit and he traced it up and down a few times, grin splitting his smirk as you unintentionally let out a moan.

It was then that Todoroki’s fangs sliced into the unmarked flesh on the other side of your neck. You cried out, the pain just as stringing and intense as Shinsou’s bite had delivered. But you weren’t left to focus on it long— Shinsou pulled your underwear to the side and dipped a thumb into your soaking folds, rubbing up the length of your slit once again. The direct contact made your toes curl, your slick folds parting with ease as the ample evidence of your arousal allowed his finger to glide through without catch. He hummed as he rubbed his thumb against your clit a few times, violet eyes flicking up to see your eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks, Todoroki’s lips latched to your throat as he took his fill from your sweet bloodstream.

Todoroki’s fingers curled into the top of your dress, and he pulled it down to reveal your tits to the cool air, your nipples instantly perking up and standing at attention. The red and white haired man moaned as he sucked on your throat, his forefinger and thumbs capturing each nipple and twisting the sensitive buds.

“Fuck!” you whined, immediately embarrassed that you hadn’t been able to hold the expletive in. But neither of the men seemed to share your sentiment, the pair of them moaning softly in response to your noise of pleasure as if encouraging you to let out even more.

Shinsou smiled as he pinched the sides of your panties, yanking the material down your thighs and off your ankles before separating your legs and inserting himself between them. He gave you no warning as his tongue suddenly licked a flat stripe up your slit, rolling around your clit perfectly at the end of his journey. Your legs tensed as they closed around his head, a hot puff of air escaping you as Todoroki finally pulled off of your neck with a broken gasp. His breathing was ragged as his tongue lashed over the fresh marks, the repeated action having the same, dizzying sensation that Shinsou had elicited. Then Shinsou’s tongue was wiggling across your clit, alternating between sucking on the sensitive pearl and lavishing it in vicious swipes of his strong, wet tongue.

Meanwhile Todoroki was ripping off his clothes, revealing his broad, sturdy chest in all its glory before he yanked at the zipper on your spine, sliding your dress over your shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Your bra was next, leaving you in just your sparkly heels and your glimmering gems.

You could feel both pairs of eyes inspecting your naked body, Todorki’s hands returning to tweak at your nipples while Shinsou thrusted his tongue inside your quivering hole. He moaned as his tongue probed at your insides, sending vibrations through your core and causing your legs to tighten around his head. Pleasure was coursing through you, overwhelming the urge to scream and run that had been all you could focus on just minutes ago. But your pussy was dripping for the both of them, and Shinsou was savoring every drop as he animatedly lapped at you— never before had anyone so enthusiastically eaten your cunt like this, and his zeal only made you leak onto his mouth even more.

You had been so focused on the man in between your legs that you only recognized Todoroki had fully unclothed himself when he moved backward, easing your head back so you lay flat on the mattress. Your pussy twitched violently on Shinsou’s tongue when you caught sight of Todoroki’s cock standing long and thick, tall against his carved abdomen, his expression dark as he shuffled forward.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he instructed and you obeyed immediately, as if you couldn’t follow his instruction any faster. Your eagerness made him smirk, and you made sure to keep eye contact as he rubbed the tip of his heavy cock against your sealed lips. But suddenly Shinsou started to attack your clit with new fervor, tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of you, and as soon as your mouth was open, Todoroki pushed forward, shoving his cock deep into your mouth. You choked at the sudden intrusion, but he only grabbed your throat with one hand and thrust into your mouth even rougher than before. He didn’t seem to care much about your comfort, your heartbeat skyrocketing as the need for oxygen started burning in your lungs.

Todoroki pulled his cock out just in time for you to gasp in a few breaths before he rammed his cock back inside, powerful thighs pinning your head to the mattress as he leaned forward with hands on either side of your waist and head hung while he uttered a quiet moan. “That’s right, love. Go ahead and suck my cock… I want to hear you choke on me, naughty little thing.”

A wanton moan slipped out of you, his cock filling your throat to the max, and his rough, determined thrusts causing your pussy to flood even more. Shinsou was still licking at your cunt purposefully, tongue sliding around your folds and over your clit as he sucked and flicked it to your liking. You started to become more vocal as pressure began to build in your stomach, your hips writhing wildly underneath his pinning grip as Todoroki used your mouth to his liking. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching, unaware of Shinsou slowly but steadily undressing himself while he suckled at your puffy folds.

Todoroki’s thrusts became slower but deeper suddenly, and you swirled your tongue around his swollen tip when his hips receded. You were caught off guard when Shinsou’s lips left your cunt and instead his teeth sunk into the soft skin on your thigh, taking another sampling from your veins. This time, the initial pain was much duller, and it quickly faded into something concerningly pleasurable. There must have been some higher-level effect at play here— there was no way that such gleaming fangs stabbing into you and feeding from you should feel that good. Yet it undoubtedly made your toes curl, bliss spreading through your body like wildfire through dry grass. It only increased when a long finger slipped inside of you, a second entering with ease as they began rubbing inside of you gently. You could feel Shinsou moan into your pillowy thigh, the noise only making your cunt itch for his attention again.

You let out a desolate whine when both of the men suddenly pulled away from you, your pussy hotter and wetter than ever, and your cheeks dribbling with your saliva as a result of Todoroki’s face-fucking. It was then that you realized Shinsou was naked, too, your mouth watering at his visage; his cock stood thicker and shorter than Todoroki’s, but both of them were punching well above average, muc to your delight.

Todoroki slipped off the mattress and Shinsou walked around the edge of the bed, the pair switching and settling in reverse positions. Shinsou stroked your cheek sweetly, capturing your attention as he smiled down at you. You craned your neck to press a kiss to the leaking tip of him, your tongue poking out to swipe the salty bead of pre-cum that lay there. Your eyes went wide when you felt the telltale smoothness of Todoroki’s cock splitting your slick-drenched folds, his hands settling on your hips before he grabbed them, rutting his own forward and causing his cock to push halfway into your tight hole. The stretch made the both of you gasp, your wet, little hole hugging his large cock snug as he began to move his hips.

Shinsou had enjoyed the intimate moment but found himself getting impatient, slapping his thick, oozing cockhead over your lips to grab your attention once again. You looked up at him with wide, starry eyes, your mouth opening for him to glide his cock into your mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixating on the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way his thick veins looked rolling against your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed in attempt to satiate him, but you instantly cried out when Todoroki’s hips slapped flush against yours, shoving his cock inside of your cunt entirely.

The impossible fullness that bloomed in your stomach was delectable, and Todoroki began to thrust into your slippery cunt at a reliable, hard pace. He let out a guttural groan as he watched his cock disappear into your slick folds, the heat of your pussy overwhelming him. He lifted both your legs over his shoulders, making sure to grab one of your ankles and pulling it upright so your leg was fully extended. Then, his fangs broke the smooth skin on your calf and you whimpered at the feeling. It felt so good to have him suck on your skin— to feel your blood flowing out of your body and into his eager mouth. It was sick, but you couldn’t think about it at the moment— couldn’t find any fault with the two monsters that were taking you to cloud nine.

“Fuck, just like that,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes flicking up to watch a rivulet of your blood strike down your outstretched leg. When he looked back down towards you, your eyes were closed and your brow scrunched, an indication of the pleasure that was ebbing through your body thanks to the cadenced swing of Todoroki’s hips. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” Shinsou praised as he threw back his head, his fingers carding through your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

Just as the three of you seemed to find a rhythm, Todoroki pulled out abruptly, making your mouth part in a whine, Shinsou’s thick member springing out of your wet cavern and into the cool, still air. The purple-haired man hissed in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked to the other man to scold him, but quickly his irritation melted as he watched Todoroki flip you so your stomach lay flat on the sheets. Then, he hiked your ass into the air, your body moving along with him with such cooperation that the pair of them shared a look, haughty smirks stretching on both their lips. It was their secret that they had stopped using their mind control on you, and it seemed you were the only one that continued, blissfully unaware. Perhaps you didn’t even realize… perhaps you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter, really— Todoroki lined himself up with your dripping cunt, taking no pause this time as his cock speared inside you once again. You moaned as you reeled forward, your fingers gripping into the duvet harshly as your body tightened up from the delicious intrusion. His long, thick cock felt like magic inside of you, each thrust brushing a soft spot nestled deep inside of you and stimulating you further.

Shinsou jerked himself off lazily as he watched your facial expressions, trapping his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he registered the erotic ecstasy painted across your beautiful features. After a minute of allowing you to focus his accomplice’s hard cock, he pressed the tip of his own to your lips. You immediately opened your mouth, taking the flushed member between your lips with restless reception, tongue rolling around the swollen head. Shinsou sighed, half-lidded lavender irises watching you begin to eagerly bob up and down his length. He thumbed over a drop of blood that had rolled down your throat, catching Todoroki’s eye and offering his finger to the other man, who happily took the digit into his mouth and sucked, tongue soaking up your life essence as his hand wrapped around Shinsou’s wrist to steady himself. They both chuckled as you moaned loudly, Todoroki’s free hand clapping across your ass cheek and causing your cunt to clench down on his cock.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing your flesh and shaking it, watching your ass jiggle before striking you again, a few smacks in succession. You could only gag and moan in reply, Shinsou’s cock thrusting into the back of your throat. The purple-eyed vampire gripped your chin with his calloused, cold hand, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your face. Suddenly Todoroki spat onto your behind, his saliva wetting your puckered hole before he shoved his thumb inside of your ass, the unexpected stretch sending fresh bliss through your body as his cock dragged against it through your walls. Tears were beading on your lashes, the combination of the lack of oxygen, the attack of your g-spot from Todoroki’s cock, and the sharp pain of his hand across your ass all sending you hurtling towards your high.

With a shriek you came on his cock, your cunt wringing snug around the heavy member that just kept pistoning into you, angling your hips so the head pounding into that sensitive, spongy spot again and again. Todoroki groaned, taking his finger out and both his hands now squeezing at your hips as he continued to fuck you, offering a few more slaps to your ass as you trembled in ecstasy. While your head was still filled with the euphoric fog of your climax, Shinsou pulled out of your mouth, nodding to Todoroki, who wordlessly understood. The mismatched vampire hooked his arms around your knees, heaving you up against his chest and spreading your legs far apart enough for Shinsou to slide between them.

You were still catching your breath as Shinsou reached for Todoroki’s cock, slotting his thighs between the other man’s and positioning his length so that his slick-covered head rested right at your asshole. You gasped, your arm bending to dig your nails into Todoroki’s shoulder as you looked behind at him, catching his lustful gaze down at you. Shinsou then began to sloppily kiss your throat, his cock rubbing against your glazed, ravaged opening as his hands ran across the curve of your ass, landing on Todoroki’s waist behind your hips. The both of them entered you at the same time, your vision dotting with white spots as the stretch from both sides took your breath away. They both managed to slip inside, fully seating you onto their laps as you trembled, your stiff nipples brushing against Shinsou’s toned chest.

Todoroki nibbled at your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, filling your ass with each thrust and stimulating you as he rubbed himself against Shinsou’s cock through your walls. “So tight, love…,” he murmured in your ear, the prick of his sharp fangs on your cartilage sending shivers down your spine. His tongue wandered out and he traced the tip of it against the column of your throat, brushing over the leaking puncture wounds that laid there. “So sweet… can’t help myself,” his words turned into a savage moan as he sunk his fangs into your skin, the pain washing away abruptly as Shinsou, too, started to push his hips into yours.

Shinsou groaned, one hand coming to caress your chin as he claimed your lips with his own. His tongue entered your mouth and wrestled with yours as his tempo began to pick up, his cock stretching your cunt wide and sending waves of pleasure through your core. When he pulled back, you were both panting, your breasts heaving with the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It was then that Todoroki pulled away from your neck, gasping in a breath of air as his fangs glistened scarlet. Shinsou took one look at him and crushed his mouth to his, your holes clenching around their lengths as you watched your blood be exchanged between their ravenous tongues. The pair of them were moaning, and so were you— unable to keep the noises of pure pleasure inside as you watched them make out.

Your blood was dripping down Todoroki’s chin, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing his jaw, ripping his lips away from Shinsou’s and instead placing your mouth on his. He growled in approval against your lips, his tongue battling yours as he sought to dominate you, the distinct flavor of iron filling your mouth as you tasted your own blood. Shinsou took the opportunity to sink his cuspids into the other side of your throat again, and your jaw fell in response, Todoroki’s tongue seizing control of yours immediately as he grasped the upper hand. Both of them were full-on fucking you now, your holes warm and wet, quivering around their thick cocks as the brought you closer and closer to your high yet again.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skins filled the air in the room, the music of the party drowned and far away as the three of you were otherwise occupied. Before you knew it, you were clenching on them again, your body seizing as your orgasm ripped through you, all the air in your lungs vacuumed out of you and your toes curling into the air. Your fingers fisted Shinsou’s wild violet locks, your nails digging into Todoroki’s jaw as you tumbled through the throes of your climax, euphoria rushing through your bloodstream and straight into Shinsou’s awaiting mouth.

The sweet taste of your oxytocin, your drug-like ecstasy, sent him straight into his own orgasm, his hips pushing flush against yours as he roared and his cock spurted thick white ribbons deep into your womb, his seed pouring into you and filling you to the brim. His chiseled body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you, his fingers bruising your skin while he gasped and moaned. Your holes clenched as you milked his cock, and suddenly Todoroki, too, groaned loudly behind you. His hands squeezed your flesh as his cock spurted hot cum inside of you, his abdomen flush against your ass as he crushed your body to his front.

The three of you sat there on the bed, your bodies covered in sweat and remnants of your blood, breathless and still as you came back down to earth. Shinsou’s lips trailed along your neck, Todoroki’s fingertips sliding across your skin with gentle care as they pulled out of you. Their seed dribbled down your thighs as they maneuvered your boneless body back onto the pillows, your eyes fluttering closed from the pure exhaustion and the lack of blood in your veins. Each of them laid back on either side of you, their cold hands wandering over your skin and causing goosebumps to rise, their eyes roaming your body in pure adoration.

“You did so well, baby,” Shinsou murmured into your hair, pressing his face close to yours as he sighed and inhaled the sweet scent lingering from the blood on your skin.

“So well-behaved for us,” Todoroki added, wrapping an arm around your middle as he, too, nestled closer to your limp body. “Go to sleep, love… you deserve some rest.”

You hummed at their praise, tired butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of your stomach. Your head was fuzzier than ever, bliss weighing heavy in your bones as your breathing steadied. Filled with post-orgasmic content, the idea of fleeing that seemed so wonderful just an hour ago now sounded distasteful, your body comfortable lying on the silken sheets, pressed between your two lovers. As you faded into a blissful sleep, you could hear the pair talking lowly, making plans to keep you here with them in hushed voices.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

so sorry if that was rushed at the end!! hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!! be safe out there <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto smut #shinsou hitoshi smut #shinso hitoshi smut #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #shinsou hitoshi fic #shinso hitoshi fic #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #tw: dubcon #tw: yandere #my fics

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hello-robin-goodfellow · 4 years

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My Sugestions of Seven Feel Good Movies

1º The Castle of Cagliostro.

The first animated long feature film of Hayao Miyazaki. Combining exciting action, energetical phisical comedy and bittersweet fairy tale romance with a likable and charismatic cast of characters, it shows how promising Miyazaki and his team were to the world of animation, and tells a story that combines several genres of fiction i really, really envyyyyy not have writen!

2º O Auto da Compadecida (2001).

O Auto da Compadecida (also known, among English viewers, as A Dog's Will) is a 1999 brazilian movie, based on a play of the same name by Ariano Suassuna. The story takes place the in impoverished, dry deserted region of Northeast Brazil and follows two friends trying to get by using their wits and silver tongue: the lively Jack (played by Matheus Nachtergaele) and the cowardly Chicó (played by Selton Mello). The two men work as assistants to the local baker and get wrapped up in several misadventures, including: tricking a priest to deliver the last rites to a dog as part of its will, trying to marry a landowner's daughter or risk loosing a lump of flesh as the price and an fatal encounter with a bloodthirsty bandit. That last misadventure lands Jack on a trial ministered by the Devil, Jesus and the Virgin Mary. The movie is ostensibly a comedy, and it was also released as a 4-part minisseries for TV.

I was born in Pernambuco, the state in wich the play that served as a base for the filme was first performed, and were it was the concentration of the artistic and literary Armorial Movement, of wich this story is one of the representants. It is one of the movies i watch and rewatch the most, i laugh of the same jokes over and over, and quote a lot of the lines. It was one of the first examples of archetypical character writing and social denounce comedy, tackling dark subject matters like death, that i came contact with, influencing the kind of writing i want to make. And i personally saw the original author of the play, Ariano Suassuna, do public speaking, when i was fifteen years old :)!

3º The Incredible Army of Brancaleone (1966).

L'Armata Brancaleone, known to the english-speakers as The Incredible Army of Brancaleone and For Love and Gold is an Italian comedy movie released in 1966, written by the duo Age & Scarpelli and directed by Mario Monicelli, featuring Vittorio Gassman in the main role. It was entered into the 1966 Cannes Film Festival. The film is set in the tragically realistic Italy during the Middle Ages. After mugging a valiant but wounded German Knight, some raiders find out that he was going to inherit the fief of Aurocastro. The bandits manage to persuade the fallen knight Brancaleone of Norcia to go to the fief in lieu of the German Knight and take possession of it, sharing the goods with the others, of course. So the Ragtag Bunch of Misfits (or Armata Brancaleone) start its long journey towards the fief, meeting up with various characters on their way, including a princess, a fanatical priest who want to force them to join the crusade, a fallen byzantine prince and many others.

This and Roberto Benigni’s Life is Beautyfull were my first contact with Italian Cinema. At first, The Incredible Army of Brancaleone scared me away as a child, because, as part of presenting a image of the Middle Ages more distant of fairy tales, it opened with a very gory scene of pillage, where a man have his arm cutted. But then, a few years later (when i was eight to nine years old), i gave it a second chance, watching it from beggining to end. And, oh my stars, is just so colorful (so much so that Brancaleone’s horse, Aquilante, is somehow yellow), and funny. Brancaleone (who aparently was inspired on Don Quixote) and his man are some of the most likable morans ever putted on screen. For me, this movie is proof that you still can present a grimm dark world balanced with an idealist, tough not very competent, group of likable characters, thus avoiding coming out as cynical and/or gratuitous darkness induced apathy, making a more profound point about society and human contradictions.

4º Amélie (2005).

This movie follows the story of Amélie Poulain, a lonely young parisian waitress with simple pleasures, as she decides to become a sort of guardian angel to those around her: reuniting a stranger with a box of his childhood treasures, gently prompting her retired father to follow his dreams of world travel, matchmaking café regulars, playing practical jokes on a greengrocer who's being cruel to his assistant, writing love letters to a woman whose husband left her, etc. During her adventures, she meets an odd young man called Nino, who we quickly realize is her soulmate — but she is too shy to make direct contact. She must find the courage to fix her own life as she's been fixing those of others.

How to start guching about this movie? The work with the green and red colors are a wonder to the eyes, we want to hear over and over again the memorable soundtrack, the inteligent script managed to make everyday life into a great adventure, the theme of sex receives a funny, yet natural, treatment, and i came to consider Audrey Tautou one of my favorite actressess for her performance as Amélie Poulain, a character whose curiosity, imagination, shiness, loneliness and buried sadness is very relatable.

5º Chicken Run (2000).

A ginger chicken named "Ginger" is the ringleader in the attempts of the chickens to escape from Mr. and Mrs. Tweedy's Chicken Farm, a prison where any chicken who fails to lay eggs risks being beheaded and cooked for dinner. Ginger is at her wits' end trying to talk the others into any new escape attempts, (all of which fail and earn her a trip to solitary confinement in a coal bunker). Then a rooster named Rocky, who can apparently fly, falls from the sky and agrees to teach the chickens how to fly like him, in return for Ginger keeping mum on his presence. However Mrs. Tweedy, tiring of the low profits selling eggs brings her, decides to convert her business into chicken pot pies. Needless to say, things get drastic in a hurry and Ginger must get the whole coop into the air before they all become mincemeat.

This movie was my first contact with british animation, and one of my first memories of stop motion animation. And, ho boy, that animation still aged so well. My favorite scene is of the first flying trainging. Mrs. Tweedy is a very intimidating villain, Ginger is a brave and intelligent leader i would follow, the military style rooster Fowler is hilarious, Babs is adorkable with her needles and I AM MAC, THE NERDY CHICKEN! And plus: the soundtrack, oh, the soundtrack. Just, amazing.

6º The Ray Harryhausen Sinbad Movie Trilogy (1958, 1974, 1977).

Speaking of stop-motion animation, i decided to honour with a spot here the three movies staring the legendary Arabian Nights sailor Sinbad, The SEventh Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1974) and Sinbad and The Eye of The Tiger (1977), with storyboards and monster animation made by the team of master of stop-motion himself, Ray Harrihausen. Taking the viewer into aventures to save a princess and a prince from malefic and spels and searching for the pieces of a map to the fountain of youth, this movies present us with a rich fantasy world influenced by the Arabian Nights and the Greek Mithology, two of my personal favorites pantheons of fantastic mithologies. The second one of the trilogie, 1974′s The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, is probably the best crafted, specially with his variety of animated creatures and the writing of his main villain, the wizard Koura, played by Tom Baker. But i highly recomend all three for a great ride into the evolution of Harryhausen’s stop motion animation and storytelling.

7º The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie (2004).

One world: nostalgia.

This movie is the best episode, and the finally of the series. Period.

I wannabe best friends with Princess Mindy. And i want a Goofy Goober Icecream.

‘I’m a Goofy Goober. Yeah! You are a Goofy Goober. Yeah! We are Goofy Goober. Yeah! Goofy, Goofy, Goofy Goober, yeah’!

I TAG: @giuliettaluce, @princesssarisa, @anne-white-star, @thedyingtimelady, @witches-ofcolor, @jasminesa73, @tipsywench

#tag yourself #tags #asks #ask

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

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Storytime!

Sanders Sides Canon Divergence AU - fluff/angst - hurt/comfort - some intrigue - actually has a plot (side eyes my other fics) - largely Virgil centric - it’s about growth i guess idk

Words: 4,035 Warnings: Big-ass spiders, zombie mentions, death mentions, gore mentions. Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, Remus, Janus Universe: Storytime! Genre: Half-Fluff, Half-Idoicy

Chapter 27: In Which There are Even Bigger Spiders Than Beeps

Virgil is doing good but everyone else has some questions and nobody has answers

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

Virgil didn’t realize the meeting was today, so he was thankful for Roman’s note. Time must have gotten away from him. He was so focused on Thomas's schedule he had kind of forgotten his own. It was one thing to skip breakfast and another thing entirely to skip a meeting he agreed to. The last few times he skipped were kind of eventful for him so the other sides would freak out for sure. Luckily, Virgil had already started his ‘Patton’ story the other day, and while he was still delirious from Deceit’s room, he could conceivably pull off not killing or maiming anyone by the end. It was much easier to convince himself it would all be okay right now, and he knew that feeling would fade the longer he sat in his room.

Pat liked stories that were sentimental or sweet, which Virgil probably couldn’t come up with no matter how much of Deceit’s influence helped him. But he also likes animal stories, especially talking animals. Finding inspiration in his lack of ability had worked out before, so the story was about a little boy who couldn’t stop having nightmares. It was all he could think about in the day and he couldn’t sleep at night. The little boy tossed a coin in a fountain and wished for good sleep. So a magic psychic bat came that night and granted his wish for just one night of pleasant dreams so he could be upbeat for his little sister’s birthday party.

That was another thing he could relate to, but he really doubted Pat could figure out this one. Virgil’s magic bat was a golden snake with venom that hid his fears from himself so his friends could like him more. That was a stretch unless Logan had somehow figured out what was going on and told Pat. But Deceit would have told him if that had happened, so there was no point in worrying about that. Realizing he didn’t have to worry was a bizarre sensation for Virgil. He was so damn grateful for his magic psychic bat.

Virgil finished up the story with a little time to spare. He’d love to go waste time with one of the sides, but it still seemed like a bad idea. He could maybe make a new friend, though. He could feel the overcharged feeling in his veins that let him know he had enough anxious energy to burn. One who could protect his room and alert him when someone entered since Virgil was out so often. Something bigger that could defend his room and the other spiders. Virgil got up from the couch and stretched out. He reached up and stroked Beatrice, who was still sitting in his hair.

“How about a little brother, Beatrice? A really big little brother?” Virgil asked affectionately. She stomped angrily on his head and said something unsavory. “Beeps, I’m not replacing you,” Virgil rolled his eyes. He reached up and gently stroked her again. “I’d be more willing to take you out of the room more if there was someone else here helping you and to protect you. Your smaller siblings can’t help like that,” Virgil offered. Beatrice conceded grumpily.

Virgil cracked his knuckles and stepped into the middle of his room. A giant huntsman spider seemed appropriate. Nearly a foot of very leggy spider should keep anybody back, and the legs would be easier on Virgil to make than the big body of a goliath birdeater. Virgil focused as hard as he could and held his hand out, palm down. One this big might hurt, so he braced himself. There was a sharp pain in his palm as he focused on creating one. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and just tried to focus on not messing up. When the sharp feeling finally subsided, Virgil peeked slightly at his hand. A big boy with much larger fangs than he intended was crawling from his palm to the top of his fingertips. He was roughly double the size of Beatrice and mostly black instead of mostly purple like her.

“What would you like to be called?” He asked gently and reached his other hand over to feel its long delicate legs. “Voltaire? I love it. Voltaire, you’re the new room guard. You need to keep all your siblings safe while I’m out,” He said gently. Voltaire rubbed its forelegs together in acceptance and climbed up onto his shoulder. Virgil walked over to the staircase and laid down upside down, holding himself up with webbing. “So tell me what fears you’ve got,” He asked the new spider as it crawled down his arm.

Chatting with Voltaire was nice. His fears were pretty weak, but he was big and scary, so he was perfect to deter other sides without actually hurting them. Much. Plus, he was very gallant, determined which made fun to talk to. Virgil has successfully passed the last of the time without feeling too lonely while chatting with Volt and Beeps on the stairs. Other than being pretty low on energy from making Voltaire and D’s room, he felt good about going to storytime tonight. He was looking forward to laying back and reading some stories that felt wrong. It was going to be unnerving in a fun way, which should be enjoyable instead of horrible. And that sounded nice.

—

Virgil’s legs were over Patton’s lap and he was propped up on the couch arm reading the stories lazily. It had been pretty non-eventful when it was just Virgil and Logan in the living room, even though they were alone for a couple of minutes before Pat and Ro showed up just barely on time again. Logan seemed too distracted to talk, which he was thankful for. Remus’s story yelled at you if you didn’t read it first, so he had started with that one today, just like everyone else had given in to do.

Remus’s story felt profoundly wrong for him, so he must have been listening in after he left last time. His protagonist didn’t die or kill anyone directly. In fact, the entire story was about avoiding action by doing other things. A funny side to pick. The protagonist partied all night and cleaned his bathroom during the peak of the zombie apocalypse. There was a literal zombie apocalypse, but he wanted cookies, so he went to the store and dodged everything. He worked at the lab making the cure and couldn’t be bothered to get up when the zombies raided it and just read comics in the security office. What an icon.

Virgil laughed so hard he choked at the end. Patton reached out to make sure he was okay, but Virgil just chuckled and nodded while he caught his breath. Patton gave him a breezy smile and went back to reading himself, his arms holding the papers resting on his legs. Virgil dropped his hand to the floor out of Pat’s view and flipped Remus off affectionately. Remus smiled a big toothy smile of what seemed to be vindication and also gave Virgil the bird. It tweeted, which got confused looks from Roman, who checked around for a source. Remus and Virgil quickly went back to ‘innocently’ reading and Roman gave up and went back to reading when he saw nothing unusual.

Pat’s was next, which was the ‘Virgil’ story. Patton didn’t have much dramatic irony Virgil usually had, but it was still a negative story with a bleak-ish ending. A group of teens who were camping got lost in the woods while partying. A ‘being punished for breaking the rules’ kind of theme. It would have been a great set-up for a slasher. Maybe Remus could add on to the end for Virgil and they could have a laugh about that later with Deceit. Those kinds of movies were Deceit’s guilty pleasure to watch. Patton unknowingly writing half of one might make his day.

Roman’s ‘Logan’ story was amazing. It was fantastically gay and dry as heck. It was the most scathing thing he could have done without directly insulting Logan. College professors grading things in the coffee shop go out, but they’re both teaching med students so they didn’t ‘hold hands’, they ‘interlocked digits’. Roman must have abused a thesaurus and fell down a biology Wikipedia hole to write this. Nothing big even happened in the story other than the original gay confusion. Roman’s intent was clearly to blast Logan instead of producing an amazing story for the ages, and he mcfreakin’ succeeded.

Logan’s ‘Roman’-style was funny for all the wrong reasons. It followed a dragon, but the dragon’s hoard was books instead of gold. The Dragon liked to make puzzles for adventurers to get lost in when trying to come to defeat him. The story was just the Dragon reading books and frying adventurer’s brains until the one who finally makes it through changes his mind because of the Dragon’s sound logic. Virgil choked on a laugh again when the adventurer conceded to the Dragon’s superior stance. Logan took that wish-fulfillment part of fantasy themes and ran with it.

Remus had looked at him quizzically while he caught his breath again. Virgil figured he wanted to know why he laughed and showed him the navy blue font and pointed to the last paragraph. Remus switched packets and flipped pages to the last paragraph to see for himself. He broke out in a mad giggle fit, which earned some serious glares and shushing from Roman. Logan looked incredibly confused, but wouldn’t dare talk during his own rules about quiet reading time. Which was also amusing in a strange way.

Virgil was in a great mood after laughing at the ridiculousness of these stories and placed his packets on the floor, sitting up to cuddle against the extra-warm Patton while he waited out the reading time for everyone else. Patton was surprised when Virgil wrapped his arm around him but sighed contentedly as Virgil dropped his head on Patton’s shoulder. Remus grunted at Virgil, but Virgil just rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘later’ at him. He wasn’t entirely sure what the duke wanted, but it wasn’t the time. Virgil closed his eyes and appreciated the warm heart, letting himself drift a little while he waited out the rest of the reading time.

—

Virgil woke up sometime later to the TV playing The Office quietly, still entangled around Patton. Patton smiled and reached up to stroke his hair when he shifted. He looked around and saw all the other sides had left. He blinked the rest of the sleep from his eyes and yawned, stretching out his arms.

“Hey, sleepyhead! You fell asleep while waiting for us to finish,” Patton said gently.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Pat. Did I miss the discussion?” Virgil asked sleepily and rubbed his eyes.

“Remus was pretty freaked out about the idea of waking you up, and that spooked Ro, so we decided to postpone it,” Patton responded lightly, clearly trying to sound soothing. Virgil appreciated it, honestly. It was much easier not to freak out over delaying them while everybody was so busy. Virgil released Patton and stood up to stretch his legs, followed by Patton who must have been stuck under him for a while based on the time.

“I’m sorry I had you pinned for that long, pop,” Virgil said and rubbed the back of his head with embarrassment.

“It was a nice cuddle, bud, don’t worry!” Patton said cheerily as he stretched out his arms. “I’ll text the others and see if they still want to do discussion today,” Virgil nodded and yawned, wrapping his arms back around Patton as Pat pulled out his phone. Patton shifted to let Virgil hug him from behind while he texted.

“Ah, the cuddle monster has returned to the living!” Roman declared as he rose up a few moments later.

“You guys didn’t have to reschedule for me,” Virgil mumbled quietly into Patton’s back.

“Well, it’s not much of a discussion without you kiddo,” Patton said softly and held Virgil’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve never seen Remus act like that in my life, I wasn’t taking the chance. It may be the only thing in the Thomas-sphere he takes seriously. He kept hissing at us to shut up and then left,” Roman explained. Virgil chuckled into Patton’s back. It was nice to have the tables turned for once. Virgil was the one scared of Remus most of the time. Logan rose as well.

“It’s nice to hear you laugh so much these days, kiddo,” Patton commented as Virgil settled down and twisted around to give Virgil a hug.

“Yes, what elements did you find amusing this evening, Virgil? I was curious about what diverted you and Remus. The stories didn’t include your shared sense of dark humor,” Logan asked as he sat back down on the couch.

“Oh, man, if I knew I was going to get grilled I would have basted myself first,” Virgil rolled his eyes backed up into the couch, taking Patton down with him. Patton giggled as he stumbled down on top of Virgil.

“That’s some… vivid imagery, Virgil,” Roman said, sounding a little confused. Patton laid on Virgil this time, seeing as Virgil wouldn’t let him go, though Virgil let him sit up on the couch. Roman and Logan sat in their regular spots.

“Remus’s story was full of cynical humor, Lo. It was completely defeatist and relatable. I mean the world is ending, but where can I get some iced coffee? Peak mood,” Virgil supplied finally. Logan looked extremely confused for a moment. Maybe the slang did it? Logan shook it off quickly.

“I was not aware that being a defeatist could be humorous. I will take note. Remus also chose to write differently from his regular ramblings this week. He left before we had planned to try each other’s reoccurring themes last week. It was an oddly coincidental timing on his part,” Logan said. Virgil was pretty certain Remus was listening in through Roman, but he wasn’t sure if the others knew the creativity twins were linked to each other, so changing the subject seemed safer than possibly dropping a bomb that Roman possibly didn’t want to share. Remus ‘over-share’ Sanders wasn’t here to drop it for him, anyway.

“Ro’s story was hilarious, too,” Virgil said with a grin and a quick thumbs-up of appreciation, which he dropped lazily back around Patton after a moment and pulled himself a little closer to Patton’s warmth.

“Thank you, Virgil, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Roman replied with a flourish and smiled back.

“What was funny about it? It was a cute romance with lots of big words,” Patton asked. Virgil ruffled Patton’s hair.

“It wasn’t about the contents of the story, Pat, it was about what the writing said,” Virgil said lazily. Logan bristled.

“Was there a theme that I potentially missed?” Logan asked and picked up his notes, scanning them quickly.

“Perhaps this is one of those rare things that is over your head,” Roman said sarcastically with a chuckle and waved Logan off.

“I refuse to believe that. Please explain to me what I’m missing,” Logan insisted, still scanning his notes,

“Roman was roasting you without roasting you,” Virgil supplied flippantly.

“Virgil, please do not include me in your strange grilling metaphor, it does not help elucidate me in the slightest,” Logan said shortly and put his notes down to glare at them.

“Over his head,” Roman said with a bemused laugh, and Virgil joined him. Logan groaned in frustration.

“It would not be if you simply explained it to me,” Logan grunted and crossed his arms. Roman just laughed again, which caused Logan to huff. Virgil shifted closer to Patton. He couldn’t get much closer at this angle, so just slid down behind Patton before he became a human feather boa. Patton yelped as Virgil slipped down, but he scooted forward to make space for Virgil who was now wrapped around his back. He was so warm. Virgil’s eyes fluttered for a moment.

“Are you tired again, kiddo?” Patton asked and ruffled Virgil’s hair. Virgil grumbled slightly and lazily fixed his bangs.

“You’re just so toasty,” Virgil mumbled into Patton’s side.

“Sorry, it always slips out at least a little,” Patton apologized meekly.

“No, it’s the best, never turn it off,” Virgil whined and squeezed Patton as close as he could.

“Patton, trade with me before Virgil falls asleep again,” Roman requested, getting up and rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“No, don’t take my space heater!” Virgil whined and grasped onto Patton, refusing to let go.

“We’re not done talking, yet, bud, we haven’t even gotten to your story yet!” Patton said as he got up, trying to pry himself from Virgil. Virgil groaned and released him, seizing Roman as he sat down where Patton was. Roman chuckled as Virgil gripped on. Roman wasn’t warming like Pat, but Ro gave off a light charged feeling which woke him up. Pretty sneaky, sis.

“What’s there to talk about? Mine wasn’t funny like you guys’,” Virgil groaned and nestled into Roman’s side. Even if there was a nap conspiracy, at least Virgil got nice contact. Roman giggled a little when Virgil accidentally tickled him. Then Virgil tickled him on purpose and Roman smacked him upside the head.

“Roman, don’t hit Virgil,” Patton chided him.

“He tickled me!” Roman objected.

“We are extremely off subject,” Logan groaned.

“I didn’t get the funny memo, I was just trying to figure out what I could do that Patton would like,” Virgil grumbled, rubbing his head, eying Roman suspiciously for another attack.

“I did like it, kiddo! It was so sweet that he just wanted to make his sister happy,” Patton said with a shimmering look in his eye.

“Oh, I didn’t think I could do sweet. Neat,” Virgil commented blithely and settled back down. “I think Pat did a ‘me’ story pretty well, though maybe more toned down,” Virgil added. Sort of like he wished he could be. Virgil hid his face in Roman’s side and frowned. Roman ruffled his hair lightly and Virgil grumbled.

“I think it missed that fatal element, though. Pat implied the ranger would find those kids even though they wandered into the woods drunk in the daytime,” Roman supplied. “After most of Virgil’s stories, it was pretty heavily implied they didn’t make it,”

“I tried to leave it a little vague,” Patton muttered.

“You did, Patton. Just because one character mentioned it doesn’t mean we can assume it was to happen,” Logan reassured him and held out his hand, motioning to calm down. “Virgil, was there a reason you pointed out the final paragraph of my story to the duke?” Logan asked shortly and looked pointedly at Virgil.

“Yes. And I’m afraid it’s also over your head, Logan,” Virgil supplied a little bitterly.

“That’s what you guys were laughing at? Logan’s little fantasy projecting? I thought it was some dark joke I didn’t get,” Roman said, sounding disbelieving.

“I would like to be included on this ‘great in-joke’ you two seem to have,” Logan said sourly.

“Lo, buddy, you wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” Virgil groaned.

“I would like you to try regardless of your assumptions,” Logan stated plainly, tapping his foot.

“It’s your praise kink!” Remus popped up, laughing wildly. Logan jumped up in surprise and stumbled back into the couch. Patton squeaked and Roman stiffened. “It’s been later, Vi-vi, come on!” Remus whined. Virgil groaned in exasperation.

“We’re in the middle of the discussion! You know, the ones you usually skip while you’re off gallivanting in the mind palace stabbing stuff?” Virgil said slackened from behind Roman.

“And it’s boring!” Remus groaned.

“Fine. I know we didn’t get to everything, but I’m going to go deal with this giant brat if we’re good here? He might blow us up or something if I don’t,” Virgil stated with a little grumble. He was having an agreeable time making fun of Logan with Roman and wasn’t ready to stop yet, but he was going to see Remus, anyway. “Does anybody object to that?”

“Blow you up? Virgey, I would never,” Remus said, sounding fake aghast, holding his hand to his chest and fanning himself with the other. “Teeny-Tiny exploding unicorns all over the room, maybe,” He added with a sinister smirk and showed how small with his fingers, followed by spirit finger mock-explosions. Virgil grunted and pulled himself out from behind Roman.

“Anybody? Bueller?” Virgil asked again. They all looked kind of shocked, but there was no response. The duke did have that effect on them, sometimes. “Cool, I guess,” Virgil shrugged and pushed himself off the couch, reaching on the floor for his copies of his stories. “Hey, remember Pat’s story?” Virgil asked.

“Nobody died! Who cares!” Remus groaned, flailing his arms like limp noodles.

“Exactly,” Virgil nodded at him and grabbed his arm. Remus’s eyes widened and a manic grin split out as they sank to the edge of the mind palace. Virgil created a simple room for them to work in with a big soft rug and a couch. “Okay, we’ve got less than two hours and maybe 30 minutes in one of our rooms, so we got to make it count. It’s the perfect setup for a slasher, right?”

“It is!” Remus cackled. “From grandpa? Who knew!” Remus wiggled his eyebrows and grinned in delight.

“Let’s upgrade it, then,” Virgil said, sitting down on the couch and summoning a laptop. He pressed Patton’s story on to the laptop screen and it loaded into the computer and Virgil passed it over to Remus who plopped on the couch next to him.

“I will do nothing without at least as much contact as you gave my brother,” Remus said firmly, taking the laptop but holding it off from his lap.

“You fucking dork,” Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned against Remus, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Thanks for smelling only mildly terrible,” Virgil added after a quick whiff of the air. It was vinegary and sharp, but less poop or puke smell. Not as great as strawberries but, good smells were probably a rare choice for him.

“It’s only fun if you need a shower afterword!” Remus sang and placed the laptop in his lap and started writing.

“The redhead chick has to die first, she kissed that dude remember? Slasher rule,” Virgil said while Remus began writing.

“That fuckhole who bought the wine coolers is next,” Remus said. “I’m gonna shove the empties into his intestines!” He cackled.

“God, sick,” Virgil wrinkled his nose in distaste but chuckled, anyway.

—

“D!” Virgil called out as he rose into Deceit’s room later that night. “I’ve got the coolest thing for you,” Virgil said excitedly.

“Virgil, what in the world were you thinking?” Deceit demanded, sounding annoyed.

“That you’d like it, come on, read it!” Virgil said, shoving the final story that Virgil and Remus managed to type out before the voices in the mind palace started up again or they started trying to kill each other in one of their rooms. It was quick and slapshot, but it would be funny and gruesome, nonetheless.

“Virgil, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Deceit groaned.

“And I’m talking about this slasher that Patton wrote half of,” Virgil said, tapping the paper and twisting around the back of Deceit and giving him a hug, nuzzling his neck.

“You can’t be serious,” Deceit said, looking down at the paper.

“Dead serious. Like the teens in the woods,” Virgil chuckled. That definitely got Deceit’s attention. Virgil pulled Deceit to the bed. He had already started reading as he sat down. Virgil wrapped his arms around Deceit’s waist again and nestled his face in the crook of Deceit’s neck from behind, watching him read. Deceit absentmindedly ran a hand through Virgil’s hair while he read. Virgil sighed in with contentment and closed his eyes. He hoped D would like it. He had fun writing it with Remus, at least.

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littledarlinwrites · 5 years

Text

Sugar

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4692

Author's Note: This was a request from @lilyrose3 based on the song Sugar by Maroon 5, I hope you love it dear! (Also, you may have inspired me to write more Maroon 5 song fics in the future because they are a guilty pleasure, especially their songs Sunday Morning, Harder to Breathe, and Wait, and a ton more but those three in particular.) Also, thank you @shield-agent78 for beta reading this for me, you’re an angel.

Summary: Bucky just got back from a mission and needs some love but has to attend a party to spruce up the Avenger’s image instead. The reader makes it difficult for him to accomplish this task.

Warnings: Pining if that’s a warning, a bit of insecurity (seriously like a line or two, maybe three for both characters combined, nothing specific), and smut at the end.

The last thing Bucky wanted to do was attend one of Tony’s parties, but attendance was mandatory in order to spruce up the Avengers image to society. Tonight the Avengers would schmooze with CEO’s and different politicians of the area that would donate money that the city would eventually need the next time something invaded. Bucky just wanted to stay in his room cuddled up next to you while half-watching movies you both had seen dozens of times before and exchanging lazy kisses. He was just in one of those moods where he just wanted your love, sweet and tender. Especially considering that the last mission hadn’t gone the way they planned. He need a little sympathy, he was beginning to get stuck in his own head and was over analyzing every move that he had made on the mission and was getting a bit insecure which ripped open a wound of insecurities that had only begun to heal with your help. Worst of all, he hadn’t even woken up next to you this morning. He had opened his eyes and saw a note where your head should be. See you beside the fountain, Sugar Plum. It read in your unique handwriting. The nickname only you called him in private after hearing the story of how Steve found him after he was buying plums, bringing warmth to his heart and was his small comfort he would get until he saw you at the party.

You had woken up in Bucky’s arms this morning and you did not want to move. You knew his last mission hadn’t gone well and he had only returned late the night before. You wanted to lay in bed with him and comfort him like you usually would until you absolutely had to get up and get ready, but you convinced yourself the surprise you had planned out would be worth it. Besides, you knew Natasha was no above dragging you out of bed and she would absolutely do so within the next fifteen minutes if you didn’t meet her in your room as planned. You slowly maneuvered your way out of Bucky’s warm embrace. Pulling the note out of the bedside table, you placed it where your head was laying moments before and made your way out of the shared bedroom.

You walked into Natasha’s room and the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the room. Her bathroom door was slightly ajar with steam still wafting out of the room. You walked over to her dresser where two cups of coffee sat. You grabbed the mug you always used and held the warm drink up to your face before breathing in its delicious aroma. The smell alone waking you up.

“I figured you might need that after waiting up for Barnes last night. So, what were you thinking about doing for your hair?” Natasha says as she walks out of the bathroom towel drying her hair.

“I was thinking about doing a sort of pin-up girl look, but a little more toned down since we’re going fancy tonight. Side part with curls? Something simple because I have a black birdcage veil.”

“You know you’re going to put Barnes through the worst torture he’s probably ever endured when he sees you tonight right?”

“What can I say, it makes killer foreplay.” You retort back, making Nat snort into her mug as she was taking a drink, nearly choking her.

“My god, warn a woman next time,” She replies chuckling. You give her a sly smile in return. Before setting your mug down and heading into her bathroom to take over her shower.

Natasha took the opportunity while you were in the shower to start getting herself ready. As you turned off the shower you heard her music softly playing. You wrap a towel around your body before you started towel drying your hair and walking into her room.

“So did Bruce ever work up the nerve to ask you to attend the party with him tonight?”

“He almost did, but Tony dragged him away to their lab.” She says with an eye roll. “So I left him a note on his suit that said the only thing his suit is missing is a redhead in a green dress.”

“Subtle.” I snark back.

“I’m done with subtle, and hopefully I won’t be wearing that green dress for very long tonight.”

“‘Tasha!” I bark out with a chuckle. “And you think I’m incorrigible.” Natasha simply smirks at me in the mirror while she adds some finishing touches to her hair.

“Alright woman, you’re turn.” I walk over to the chair she had been sitting in and take my spot. Natasha brings out the curling iron and starts to section off my hair. It’s silent for a bit, but not awkwardly so.

“Thank you for helping me get ready for tonight ‘Tasha. I’d be out of mind without you right now. I can’t believe after how long Bucky and I have been dating that I still get nervous. Not that the dress leaves much to the imagination. I guess I’m just feeling a little insecure, and I want to thank you for just being amazing and putting up with my shit.”

“Well, you put up with my shit too, and as for feeling insecure, even I feel that way from time to time. Also, I have seen you in that dress and you’re going to abso-freaking-lutely take Barnes’ breath away when he sees you in it, along with every other guy in the room I might add. Besides, we both know that you would have given yourself second-degree burns if I had left you to your own devices with a curling iron. I still don’t understand how you’re so graceful out in the field, but an absolute mess otherwise.” Natasha chuckles before finishing up your hair and giving you a smile in the mirror before announcing that you were finished and could check it out. What you saw had you shocked. Your hair had never cooperated with you trying to tame it, but Natasha had done it with ease.

“Alright, time for your makeup. I was thinking a smokey eye, with a bold red lip to match your dress. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect.” You sat as still as you could and followed Natasha’s instructions as she told you to open and close your eyes or tilt your head a certain way. When she was done she was wearing a smirk.

“Alright, you’re all done, go finish getting dressed while I do my own makeup.” You couldn’t help but enthusiastically wrap your arms around her in gratitude while whispering a ‘thank you’ into her shoulder. You released her and made your way to her closet for your dress. You laid the dress out on the bed, shoes on the floor, and made your way to the bathroom for perfume and deodorant. You slipped on the burgundy silk with black lace lingerie set that you had bought specifically for the dress before making your way out of the bathroom once again.

“Woman, if Bruce and Barnes weren’t in the picture, even I would have you bent over my bed right now. I hope you aren’t too attached to that set because I’m pretty sure Barnes is going to rip it off.” Natasha’s words have you blushing. You can only hope that that was Bucky’s reaction when he sees it later. Although you were getting rather attached to this set because of how good the color looked against your skin. You slipped on the red dress which hugged every inch of your body from your shoulders to your knees, and from your knees, it simply flowed to the floor. The website had called it a Gilda gown. It had a plunging v-neck and the straps on the shoulders had flatbows, and the dress was made of luxuriously soft velvet. You paired the dress with three-quarter length black leather gloves. Finally, you slipped on your black ankle ribbon lace-up stiletto heels. You walk up to Natasha’s full-length mirror and begin inspecting yourself for anything out of place. You try not to stare too long to avoid any insecure thoughts from slipping into your mind and when you turn around Natasha’s jaw is on the floor.

“C’mon ‘Tasha! Stop staring and get your dress on so we can get them off faster.” You demand of her playfully. You both start cackling and promptly stop when you feel tears coming to your eyes. Natasha’s makeup was more natural, pale pink eyeshadow with a matte lipstick just a shade darker than her natural lip color. Natasha slipped off her robe and exposed the black lingerie set she was going to wear underneath the dress, much more modern than the set you were wearing and left little to the imagination. You helped her into her evergreen lace dress. It had cap sleeves, a thigh-high slit, and it was adorned with rhinestones that sparkled in the light. She paired it with a pair of glitter embellished, d'Orsay shaped upper pointed heels.

“Well, I think we are both dressed to kill and the party has just started. Ready to head out, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Bucky had spent the day reading a book he had seen your nose buried in recently. His already thin patience was withering away every second. All he wanted was his arms around you, and the smell of your shampoo that still clung to your soft tresses that you always said were unmanageable but that he found perfect. He wanted the sweet taste of your lips on his.

He didn’t want to deal with people, especially people he didn’t know. He felt weak without you. His only consolation was that he wouldn’t have to endure tonight alone. Bucky knew that once he had you by his side he wouldn’t feel as insecure as he did right now. The looks that people gave him, either because of his past or his arm, wouldn’t even register because he would be too busy staring at you.

He looked at the clock for what seemed like the millionth time today and decided that he could finally start getting ready. Finally, he headed to the bathroom you two shared to kill a bit of time knowing he would rush getting dressed. During the shower he couldn’t help but smell the shampoo that you always used, it was like a balm to senses momentarily, and then like a tidal wave he missed you all the more. He quickly finished his shower before hopping out and drying off.

The only hint he had as to what you were wearing was the tie you had left out for him. Red velvet. After years of living under HYDRA’s control, you always did little things for him that were a bit extra that involved his senses. For his birthday you had gotten him a set of silk sheets, a luxury he had never experienced, but the first night you two had spent in bed he reveled in the feel of the sheets against his bare skin. You had told him that after decades of hard and cold he deserved something soft, or in this case silky, and warm. He had quirked an eyebrow at you since the sheets were typically cool. You giggled, and he swears his heart stopped, and you said you were more than happy to provide the warmth in that equation in particular. Even though he was the furnace in the relationship.

He pulled out his black dress pants, dress shirt, and velvet jacket. He pulled on each article of clothing with his back to the full-length mirror. He was still getting used to the slim fit of suits, something he thinks he’ll never get used to and thankfully doesn’t have to wear often. He doesn’t turn around until he has to pull his hair back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He’s definitely not as confident as he used to be back in the 30’s, but he will admit that he didn’t clean up too badly.

“Buck, I need your help!” Came Steve’s panicked voice through his bedroom door after a series of knocks.

“What’s the matter punk?” Bucky replies back as he makes his way to the door before opening it to reveal a panicked Steve on the verge of sweating and a bowtie hanging undone around his neck.

“I can’t get this stupid bowtie right and I’m supposed to meet Sharon down there any minute.” With an eye roll and a smirk, Bucky pulls his friend into his room and starts to twist the once hopeless piece of fabric into a presentable bowtie.

“You know, you always were hopeless when it came to these things.”

“Yeah, I guess there are some things even super soldier serum can’t change,” Steve replies with a chuckle. Adjusting the bowtie after he’s finished tying it, Bucky claps him on the shoulder.

“Alright punk, get to your date so I can go find mine.”

“Thanks, jerk, I owe ya one.”

Bucky follows Steve out the door, shutting it behind him. Finally, on his way to see you and wrap you in his arms.

You made your way down to the party. Stopping at the balcony that was overlooking all the guests. You looked towards the fountain to see if Bucky was already there, but the area around the fountain was surprisingly bare. A little let down that you didn’t see him yet which meant that you would have to wait that much longer for his arms to be around you, you slowly made your way down the stairs to join the other guests. When you reached the bottom a waiter had appeared and offered you a glass of champagne which you graciously accepted.

Gliding across the room with very few interruptions it didn’t take long until you were beside the fountain. The music from the live band had you tapping your foot and you were surprisingly tuned out to your surroundings lost in your own mind. IT wasn’t until you felt a hand at your elbow that you noticed someone beside you.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Uhm, thank you,” you said a bit awkwardly before taking a sip from your glass. Not recognizing the man in front of you. He was tall, black hair, warm brown eyes, and to most women probably considered quite handsome, but he wasn’t Bucky.

“Would you mind accompanying me for a dance? Please?” He flashed a smile at you that would probably have most girls swooning. You looked around the room hoping to spot Bucky so you could have a reason to turn the man down, but you still didn’t see him in the sea of people. The man was still smiling at you waiting for an answer.

“Uh, sure.” You finally replied, hoping that Bucky would finally be here by the time the dance was over. The man took your glass from your hand and sat it on the edge of the fountain before replacing it with his hand and lead you onto the dance floor. Luckily the song wasn’t hard to dance to, but it was a tad on the slow side which led the man to pull you a bit closer than you wanted to be. His cologne causing you to wrinkle your nose.

“So what’s a stunning woman like you doing here alone?” The man asked about halfway through the song. Your stomach dropped as you knew where his questioning was heading and you didn’t know if he would be the type to take your answer gracefully or not.

“She’s not. Mind if I cut in?” Came Bucky’s short reply. Seeing the guys hands on you, let alone so low on your back had him seeing red. If he wasn’t likely to be some CEO or politician he probably would have physically pulled the guy off of you. The guy promptly removed his hands from you and went looking for some other girl to dance with. If looks could kill then the look from Bucky’s eyes would have caused the guy to spontaneously combust. You stepped forward and straightened Bucky’s tie, causing his eyes to drop down to you. A smirk was playing on your lips when you heard his sharp intake of breath when he finally got a good look at you. The subtle nod to the pin-up girl look you attempted did not go unnoticed by him. He actually had to close his eyes and take a deep breath in order to calm himself down. He put his hands on your waist before lowering his lips to your ear.

“Sugar, are you trying to torture me?” His voice down an octave from its usual timbre. His breath hitting the shell of your ear causing a shiver to roll down your spine. When his face was back in your line of sight you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently, your hands resting on his biceps.

“If you think this is torture, then just wait until you see what I have on underneath. Even Natasha thought it looked good.” Bucky couldn’t help the growl that erupted at the back of his throat. Not only at the thought of what you could possibly be wearing beneath his dress that he was convinced was designed solely for his torment, but for the fact that Natasha had seen and appreciated you in various states of undress. He knew that you would never cheat, but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be jealous that Natasha had seen what was his.

You felt his hands go from your waist to your hips before tightening their hold. At this rate, you weren’t sure that Bucky would last an hour into the party, let alone the next five minutes. You heard another slow song playing and leaned into Bucky, your breast pressed against his chest and you pushed yourself onto the balls of your feet to try and reach his ear.

“You owe me a dance, Sugar Plum.” You backed up just enough so you could look up at him through your lashes. You could tell that Bucky was struggling to restrain himself. If he had it his way, he’d lift you onto his shoulder and wouldn’t put you back down until he reached his bed where he could have his way with you. However, he knew that he needed to stay for at least an hour per Stark’s request before he could dip out.

“Let’s dance, Doll.” He said in a sultry voice that had you squeezing your thighs together. Bucky put his metal hand on your waist before moving it to your lower back and pulling you close to him. His flesh hand held yours before guiding it to his shoulder and letting his fingers dance across your soft skin down your arm, following the curve of your velvet draped waist and joining his metal hand on your lower back. His fingers drew patterns on your lower back as you two swayed from side to side. He rested his forehead against yours staring into your eyes. No matter how long you two had been together, he couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten with you. You still amazed him with not only your beauty but your unwavering kindness. One song faded into the next, and then another after that. Both of you just enjoying the closeness of the other before you interrupted his train of thought.

“How long does a girl have to wait for you to lay some sugar on her?” You said barely above a whisper, a coy smile adorning your luscious red lips.

“You? Never.” Bucky replied before crashing his lips to yours. He desperately tried to keep the kiss ‘PG’ as you would say, but he couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth before biting it just enough for you to gasp which allowed him to let his tongue fight yours for dominance. Before he knew it, his hand was in your hair and he heard someone clearing their throat beside him. Bucky was shameless in the moment and would have continued on if you hadn’t been so startled that you pulled away from him. He looked over to see a disappointed Tony Stark.

“If you two are going to play tonsil hockey then please take it to your room. We’re supposed to be cleaning up our image, not giving the press the impression that we’re corrupting the youth.” Tony said with a nod to May and Peter Parker who stood across the room. With heat flooding your face, all you could seem to manage was a nod of your head before tugging on Bucky’s hand. You two scattered from the room like teenagers to the elevator. You couldn’t help but giggle when you found yourselves alone in the hallway to your rooms. Bucky looked at you adoringly before backing you into a wall and kissing you thoroughly once again. His kissed your lips until you both needed air and then moved to your jaw, to that spot by your ear, and then down your neck.

“B-bucky, bed-room. Please?” You pant out, the last word coming out in nearly a whine. As much as Bucky wanted to continue kissing you right where you two were, he heeded your request. As soon as the bedroom door closed Bucky had you against it. His hands roamed freely across your body. Bucky groped your breasts first, your exposed cleavage had been teasing him to touch them all night, the soft skin beneath his calloused fingers causing you to moan and him to smile. Bucky pushed the straps down on your dress as far as they would go his mouth working its way down from your lips to the peak of your breast. The other being worked over with his metal fingers. You were already panting and his hot mouth and cold fingers caused a loud moan to escape you.

“Bucky, need you, please.” You were practically begging as you weaved your fingers from one hand into his hair and the other to squeeze his arm. He moved his flesh hand to the back of your dress while he continued his ministrations on your breasts. Finding the zipper he pulled it down agonizingly slow. He released your nipple from his mouth with a pop.

“Strip for me Sugar,” Bucky said, his voice rough. Bucky began taking off his jacket before he noticed that his words hadn’t even registered in your bliss-filled haze. He stepped forward and lifted your chin with his flesh hand and looked you in the eye as he had your attention.

“I wasn’t asking.” His voice as smooth as the velvet on your body, his command now registering. Keeping your eyes locked with his you slowly pulled the dress down your body. You noticed his eyes bulging at your choice of lingerie and the groan that exploded from the back of his throat left you smiling coyly at him.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Doll. And I’m gonna love it even more on the floor.” He says as he takes a step towards you before picking you up by the back of your thighs and carrying you over to the bed. He laid you down on the bed with a knee between your legs. His hands making quick work of your bra before flinging it across the room.

“I need your loving, and I need it now, Sugar,” Bucky says between kisses against your skin.

“I just wanna be deep in your love, James, please.” Bucky is right above where you need him most, looking up at you with lust blown eyes through his lashes. You swear the image could cause you to wreck your panties then and there if you didn’t know what else his mouth could do already.

“One more thing before we get started, baby.” Bucky tells you, his voice dripping with sin. He pulls the tie loose from around his neck and starts to unbutton his shirt before tossing it across the room. “C’mere, Doll.” He asks with each end of the tie in his hands. You sit forward and he wraps the tie around your head as a blindfold. Bucky still can’t believe how much you trust him in moments like these, and it turns him on more than he’d like to admit. When the makeshift blindfold is securely tied around your head he guides you by the shoulders back down to the bed.

Bucky begins to slowly pull your panties down your smooth legs. Your panties end up somewhere across the room with your bra. He starts kissing you slowly from your ankle up your leg, his fingertips grazing your legs along the way. When Bucky reaches the apex of your thighs he hesitates, causing you to let out a whine in desperation.

“Please, Bucky please!” That’s all it takes before he lowers his mouth to the set of lips between your hips. Your legs are draped over his shoulders but he uses his hands to hold down your hips in a nearly bruising grip. Your hand find purchase in his brown locks, you can’t help but tug him against you. The ministrations of his mouth are causing you to see stars. You're a writhing moaning mess beneath him, his moans against your clit causing your walls to clench around nothing.

“B-bucky. N-need you in-side me.” You pant out desperately.

“You want it, don’t you Doll,” Bucky smirks as he moves to removes his pants, releasing his aching member.

“Yes, baby, please. Need you so bad it hurts.”

“I got you, Doll,” Bucky whispers against your lips as he lines himself up to your entrance. Rubbing his tip teasingly against your folds. Your hips grind against him in need of friction. Bucky places a hand on your hip to keep you still. He brings his lips down to yours and as he does he slowly enters you. Knowing no matter how many times he’s made love to you that you always need a moment to adjust to his size.

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you his hips still. Your breaths mix together in pants before you urge him to move. Bucky starts off slow, every thrust measured and calculated. Soon he’s thrusting faster as your hand is pulling his hair and the other leaving angry red trails down his back. Bucky’s metal arm is beside your head keeping himself propped up as he begins to thrust vigorously inside of you and the other finds its way to your neck putting just the slightest bit of pressure just how you liked. It took a long time for him to reach this level of trust, not only with you but with himself that he wouldn’t hurt you. Eventually, that hand moved down to where you two were joined, reaching that nub that was aching for his touch. Bucky began rubbing circles against.

“Can’t believe your mine,” Bucky says before letting out a loud moan. “Mmm, my girl. Right, Doll? Need you to say it.” his raspy voice and words cause you to moan.

“All yours, Bucky. I’m your girl.” You feel your orgasm building, Bucky’s frantic thrusts a telltale sign that he’s close too.

“So close, Doll. Need you-need you to cum on my cock, Sugar.” And at that, your walls clench down on Bucky and you spiral into white-hot bliss, Bucky following behind you. Your names on each other's lips. Bucky rides out your highs before stilling inside of you. The only sound in the room is of both of you panting for air. Bucky pulls the tie away from your eyes, tossing it carelessly.

“I love you, Sugar,” Bucky whispers as he looks deep into your eyes.

“I love you too, Sugar Plum.” You reply, kissing his nose before he rolls over onto his back with you locked on his arms. It wasn’t exactly how he planned on spending his first day back from his mission, but he definitely wasn’t complaining anymore.

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lee-jinkis-ponytail · 4 years

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Meet the Players of Haunts & Hellhounds: Laurie Prescott

Laurie - 20 - Party Role: Mage (Offense)

Laurie’s used to making the rules as the designated Dungeon Crawlers’ Union GM. But in the game of Haunts & Hellhounds, Grimm Morreaux is in charge. And according to his rules, someone must play the role of the Final Girl...

Read on for H&H stats, current status, backstory, and fears.

SPOILER WARNING: If you have not finished the most recent chapter of Haunts & Hellhounds over on Wattpad, and you wish to avoid spoilers (including whether the character has survived thus far), DO NOT read past this break.

The most recent chapter is: Chapter 7. *New chapters every Friday at 4PM EST!* :)

Haunt & Hellhound Level & Trope: LVL3 Final Girl

EXP: 500

Student Background: Sophomore, Digital Media Art Major with a Minor in Studio Art

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Defense Stat: 19

HP Maximum: 34 Current HP: 34

SP Maximum: 23 Current SP: 23

MP: 30 Current MP: 30 Spell Attack Bonus: +2 Death Saves: -Successes: ( ) ( ) ( ) -Failures: ( ) ( ) ( ) Hit Dice: 2d10 (unarmed) or 2d12 (armed)

Proficiency Bonus: +2

Attributes (* = proficient): (1) Strength*: 12 (+1) (2) Dexterity*: 17 (+3) (3) Constitution*: 18 (+4) (4) Knowledge*: 15 (+2) (5) Serenity*: 14 (+2) (6) Charisma*: 11 (+0)

Skills (* = proficient): (1) Acrobatics* (Dex)(+5) (2) Alchemy & Chemistry (Kno)(+2) (3) Animal Handling* (Cha)(+2) (4) Arcana & Witchcraft* (Ser)(+4) (5) Athletics* (Str)(+3) (6) Crafting (Dex)(+4) (7) Deception* (Cha)(+2) (8) History & Lore (Kno)(+2) (9) Insight (Kno)(+2) (10) Intimidation & Distraction* (Cha)(+2) (11) Investigation (Kno)(+2) (12) Perception (Ser)(+2) (13) Persuasion* (Cha)(+2) (14) Religion & Occultism (Kno)(+2) (15) Sanity* (Ser)(+4) (16) Sleight of Hand (Dex)(+3) (17) Stealth* (Dex)(+7) (18) Survival* (Kno)(+4) (19) Technology (Kno)(+2)

Extra Proficiences: (1) All Weapons: The innovative Final Girl is proficient in all ranged and melee weapons. If she is armed in battle, she rolls a d12 as her hit die instead of a d10, like the Jock. (2) Luck of the Roll: The Final Girl rolls every single check and death saving throw at an advantage. (3) English: This character speaks English. (4) Latin: This character speaks Latin. (5) Art: As a DMA major with a minor in Studio Art, Laurie has a knack for creativity. She gains an additional +1 to her crafting ability. Abilities: (1) Hide & Seek Champion: As the Final Girl, Laurie gains an additional +2 to her stealth skill, on top of her proficiency and dexterity bonuses. (2) Pep Talker: Once per battle, the Final Girl may lend 5 points of inspiration to any companion who is in dire straits. (3) Dark Blast: (Purchased from Damon) The player sends a ball of dark energy at their opponent, dealing 1d10 damage. Cost: 4MP

Inventory: -2 pockets (cell phone, healing potion) -Backpack ($10 cash, debit card, student ID, 2 granola bars, H&H player’s handbook) -1-handed weapon: golf club -Other hand: Flashlight

Appearance: -Blue eyes -Long, straight, dirty-blonde hair, worn in a Dutch braid -About 5′8″ -Lanky, tall -No piercings or tattoos -Only mascara, lightly penciled in eyebrows, and some powdered concealer -Wearing a mid-thigh-length skirt, off-the-shoulder t-shirt, and Gladiator sandals

Backstory & Personality: Valedictorian at a prestigious private high school, everyone was surprised when Laurie chose to become a DMA major in college. With grades like hers, they were all so sure she would become a doctor. But video games have always been her guilty pleasure, and she desperately wants to make her own. Since starting college, video games have consumed her entire identity. If she isn’t playing them or designing them, she’s drawing concept art and character sketches. She’s determined to create a AAA title someday, and she feels as though she has something to prove to her family members, who don’t seem to understand why she chose this career path and even tried dissuading her from it. Failure isn’t an option. When a fellow Studio Art classmate, Tatiana Davis, suggested they start a tabletop RPG stream together, Laurie jumped right on the opportunity, seeing it as a rich fountain of inspiration for her own video game creations. Unfortunately, they couldn’t find a faculty member to sponsor the stream as a student club and the school wouldn’t grant them permission to use the computer lab for a non-school related stream, so the four adventurers had to buy their own tech and stream from their respective dorms and apartments. Laurie offered to be the team’s GM, and the rest is Dungeon Crawlers’ Union history. She’s known for being a bit of a harsh, controlling GM who bristles whenever her players go off the beaten path. The way she sees it, it was mostly her own brainpower that went into the creation of the DCU; no one else offered to build the dungeons and organize the stream, and so she should get full creative control. Hell, she even helped all three of the other members pay for their webcams and microphones. She worries as a result that her fellow streamers don’t really like her. And honestly, she wouldn’t blame them if they hated her. She knows she’s a control freak. She’s tried relaxing her tight grip on life, but when she does that, it feels like her world is spiraling. She likes plans and hates uncertainty, determined to conquer the unknown before it overwhelms her. Laurie didn’t ask to be the Final Girl when all the Haunts & Hellhounds shit started. She doesn’t even feel like she’s cut out for the part; sure she’s smart, but she’s sort of a one-trick pony. No one else seemed to want the role though. And according to Grimm Morreaux’s rules, there has to be one Final Girl in every group of survivors. So now Laurie’s swapping the GM guidebook out for a handful of dice. And though playing as the Final Girl pretty much guarantees her survival, Laurie doesn’t want to watch her DCU team die. If she had it her way, they’d all make it out alive. Unfortunately, this is one campaign she can’t control.

Favorite Horror Movie: Until Dawn -- “I mean, it’s a video game, but it basically counts as a movie, right?” Horror Movie She Will absolutely NEVER Watch Because It Is Just Too Spooky: Stay Alive -- “I like my video games to be pleasant escapes from reality, not life-or-death, thank you very much.”

#writeblr #horror #wip #writer #haunts and hellhounds #laurie prescott #oc #original character

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loveisah-maze · 6 years

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Made For Loving You

Prompt: You are to marry Jin, but when he gets sick you lose him too soon. You experience unbearable heartbreak but he gives you an unexpected journey in his passing. (Jin Oneshot)

Disclaimer: Contains mentions of sickness, death, sadness, depression. It’s very sad, but gets you right in the feels.

A/N: I’ve been severely depressed especially recently, so this is a product of my way of coping. I hope you enjoy, because I cried so much while writing this. I was inspired by the song “Clouds” by Before You Exit. They wrote it about my favorite youtuber Christina Grimmie, but I also love Me Before You so I put some ideas from that.

Italics is song lyrics from the song, Bold italics is Jin’s voice.

Word Count: 2118

A heartache is a lot like a great big orchestra. At times, it is quiet and allows you to focus until the violins would play, therefore making you sad. Then at other times it would rise to a crescendo and the anger would burst from your heart like lion roar of anguish. Right now, there was a flute playing and you remembered him with fondness, that was rare though because every day the heartache of him being gone left a hollow hole in your life.

You have become a silhouette, as if you walked from a photo with a cloud of melancholy following you everywhere. The ache of missing the love of your life comes and goes, always returning in quiet moments. You see him in everything, everywhere. The kitchen had become a place of heaviness because of the sweet memories it held. The kitchen table where you both watched each other enjoy each other’s food, held nothing but fleeting happiness.

When your eyes open, a tear trickles your already stained cheeks. The space where he usually lies has been empty for the past week and the pit that you’ve been laying in seems to get bigger. “I love you Kim Seokjin.” You whisper. The heaviness clouding your mind as well as your limbs. When the words would not come, the tears did. The numbness of your loss had passed, and the pain seemed to overtake you even in the light of day.

The room was filled with memories that you had yet to box up and move on from, but today there was no moving on. Cold hands that were usually warmed by Jin’s were gripping the empty space next to you as the sobs racked your body over and over. There is a part of you that can’t believe he won’t be coming around the corner to pull a joke or make you smile by being goofy.

Please just tell you’re alright?

Are you way up in the sky?

Desperation filled your heart as you dearly wished to hear his voice again, you wanted to hear him laugh despite always making fun of him about it. Though he knew it was one of things you loved about him. The tears continued to burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down your face. The muscles of your chin tremble like a small child and you look towards the window—maybe some light will soothe you. Maybe Jin will see you.

Laughing, smiling, looking down

Saying, one day we’ll meet in the clouds

The raw feeling inside takes over but despite the exhaustion, you are drawn to the box of pictures you and Jin put together. The two of you organized a tradition where whenever something eventful happened you add something to the box. Whether it be a picture or a token, or a movie stub. Opening the box, you see a familiar picture of the two of you at a park on one of your spontaneous dates. Jin’s expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, his eyes crinkled mischievously as if he knew something you didn’t. Despite smiling solemnly, a sob racks through you as the memory tickles you. The memory was so fresh, before he had gotten sick so he was still himself, jokes and everything.

Flashback

It had been a stressful day at work where nothing sounded better than laying down in bed and cuddling Jin while watching your favorite movies. So, when you slammed the door the shock on Jin’s face was evident when you saw him but he knew. He tried pulling so many jokes and celebrated after getting one smile out of you. “Come on, I want to take you somewhere.” He told you but you shook your head not wanting to do anything.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Jin had said, making you cave in. Jin drove you to a park, a place where you two had actually had your first date. Looking over at Jin he seemed, calm? Like he knew what he was doing and you were just clueless.

“Jin, why are we here?” you asked, trying not to complain because you believed he was trying to do something nice. Jin just smiled, “Here, let’s sit down on this bench and you tell me everything that happened today.” Jin said, guiding you to an empty bench where you began releasing your frustrations from work. Nothing phased him, because he never once tore his eyes from you, listening to you with both ears like he always did.

Finally, you felt better; the release allowing you to relax. “You know I love you Y/N?” Jin reminded you, not that you needed it because you knew how much you loved each other. “I love you more than my dad jokes.” He said, eyes crinkling as a smile crossed his face making you follow suit.

“I love you more than cereal.” You told him, your hand on your heart to sound more genuine but you both started laughing.

“Let’s take a picture jagi.” Pulling out his phone, you leaned on him, you head on his shoulder as you showed your teeth for the picture. Click. Jin looked at the picture and smiled at it, “This will be a good picture to remember.” He said mostly to himself. It wasn’t until he looked at you, his eyes glassy when he started telling you what was on his mind.

“I want us to be together forever, jagi. You are my person.” His voice swaying with emotion as he leaned down on one knee causing you to gasp. “I love you so much, will you marry me?” he asked, the question swarming you with emotions as you nodded you head.

“Yes!” you gleefully agreed, tears of happiness falling down your red cheeks. Jin smiled as he pulled out the box from his pocket and tentatively slipped on the ring. It was gorgeous, and exactly your style. The style you had wanted was different from everyone else’s and Jin made sure you got it. Jin sat down next to you, squeezing you tight before he pulled away giving you a passionate, salty kiss.

Now

You sank to your knees as the sorrow became too deep to handle. The sun still shone in the sky, but not for him, the birds that sang for him now sung for you; to you there was no more laughter without him, no reason to smile. For some reason Jin had looked past your guarded wall and saw something worth knowing, he saw something you could become with him. However, with him gone you didn’t know who you were or who you could become because he had enraptured your heart so much. Your now swelling, but still tear filled eyes glance and see Jin’s favorite denim jacket but you struggle to make it to the chair it hangs on.

This jacket was one of your favorites on him because of how they accentuated his shoulders but also looked good on him with any outfit combo. Sniffles filled the air as you put your shaky arms through his big sleeves. The jacket is way too big on you, but you don’t care and pull it tighter, smelling a lingering hint of his cologne you bought him. Grief engulfs you like an ocean.

The grief surged with every breath, never sufficiently soothing your heart or the eyes that continued filling with tears.

You put your hands in his pockets in an attempt to warm your freezing hands but instead feel an envelope. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion you take it out only to see it addressed to you in Jin’s delicate handwriting. Thoughts of what could be inside, what words he left unspoken take over your mind as you hurry in opening it. There is a handwritten letter by him at least two pages long, and your eyes tear up, your mind races.

Dear Y/N..

It has been really hard to smile for you, to comfort you in this time of sickness. I can only wish that someday you’ll be able to move past me, and find happiness for yourself.

I want you to know that knowing you, loving you has been the greatest pleasure of my life. When I saw you—I saw your past circumstances, how they defined you, and how scarred your heart was from them. My wish then was to get to know you, the real you and I was so thrilled when you finally agreed. Y/N, you are the strongest, most empathetic person I know. You take care of others before taking care of yourself which is why I made it my goal to take care of you.

I want you to be happy. I want someone else to know the warmth of your smile, to feel the way I did when I was in your presence. I want you to try to open up, be vulnerable with people, there is strength in that. I want you to remember how much I love you, every single detail I will dearly miss. From the way you set your empty coffee cup next to the sink rather than inside to the way to reference every animal you see as your ‘babies’.

I’m trying so hard to be strong for you baby but it’s getting harder to feel myself. I’m so sorry I won’t be taking care of you from now on.

However, knowing what kind of person you are I came up with a list of things for you to do in my stead since I was never able to do them. You know the random hundred dollars that always disappeared every week? It was for your spontaneous bucket list trip. I hope that when you experience these things that you feel invigorated, and adventurous to try to start a new life.

The beginning of the bucket list is the stuff I have already accomplished. I trust that you will finish this bucket list because of how much it means to me.

Bucket List:

1. Fall in love with a girl who completes you.

2. Stop being so afraid and live.

3. Take a picture with the Hollywood sign

4. Make a wish at the Trevi Fountain in Rome

5. Go on an African safari

6. Sleep under the Northern Lights

7. Ride on an Elephant

8. Go to a local pub in a foreign country.

9. Write a book

10. Send a message in a bottle

11. Go into an airport and buy tickets for a random flight.

12. Volunteer for something of good cause

13. Learn a new language

14. Learn to love again

15. Start a Family

16. Watch my kids grow up

Jagi, I also added some things because I believe if you set your heart and mind to it, you will accomplish it. Please think of me often Y/N, I know it’ll be hard experiencing these things without someone to share it with at first. You should always smile in life jagi, please be happy. I love you so much, that’s such a nice thing to say. I know you love me too.

With undying love,

Your fiancé Kim Seokjin, (worldwide handsome)

Hysterical sobs filled the room as you gingerly held the letter to your chest. “I love you,” you trembled over and over, thinking that maybe Jin would hear you. It was like every atom of her screaming in unison, you were traumatized to continue life without the one person who sought you out. Even though you had tried to push him away, he had been so persistent to be in your life.

I love you Kim Seokjin, your heart shouted out.

I love you too Y/N

You glance up in alarm, wondering if perhaps what you imagined was real after all but it wasn’t. Shoulders defeated, you folded the letter carefully and set it in the box along with your pictures, tokens, and movie tickets you both acquired. Emotional pain leaves invisible scars, yet they can be traced by the gentlest touches. Nobody wants to hurt, yet nobody gets a free pass from hurting either. Feeling a tad stronger than before, you wipe the wetness from your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Your brain feels naked, like a bird in icy chaos, a blizzard that is. However, like that bird you see a light on the hill, that light has a home, a warm fire, some food, and a new beginning. For once since Jin has died, you feel hopeful but unprepared for what’s to come. You’re fearful that you won’t be able to move on.

Be brave, Y/N. You can.

If Jin believes I can, I believe it too.

#kim seokjin #bts #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts v #bts jungkook #bts jhope #bts rm #bts jimin #bts suga #bts jin #loveisah-maze

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setepenre-set · 6 years

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Gravitational Equations For Falling (chapter 6)

How Megamind falls in love with Roxanne Ritchi.

pre-movie, canon-compliant, T rating

AO3 | FFN

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

The ball is in full swing; all of the guests are in the main ballroom of Metrocity’s City Hall, talking and laughing and drinking champagne.

Megamind, by contrast, is hiding in a rather cramped janitorial closet.

There’s really nothing quite so sad, Megamind thinks, as music from another room, a room full of people enjoying themselves at a party that you haven’t been invited to.

He makes a face and checks his watch again. Minion and the brainbots should all be in position; he won’t have to wait much longer in this singularly depressing closet.

(he knows how to dance; not just ordinary dancing, but real dancing, ballroom dancing; he’s watched enough old movies to know all the steps, has gone through them by himself, and even if he hasn’t ever actually danced with a partner, he’s pretty sure he’d be able to—)

Ridiculous sentimentality. He’s a supervillain; he’s not—not Cinderella, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t want to join this ball; he should want to ruin it, to smash it, and he does, of course he does, yes, obviously, but—

(always been jealous of me, Megamind remembers Wayne saying)

Megamind scowls at the closet door.

Megamind’s always been jealous of me, Wayne had said, dismissive and easy, as if that accounted for everything, and Megamind can’t imagine even trying to explain—what could he say?

‘he tortured me for years when we were growing up’?

‘going to school each day felt like going to war’?

‘sometimes I’d hope to die in my sleep so I wouldn’t have to go to school the next day’?

That’s not a villainous origin story; that’s just—pathetic.

And the thought of telling—

(her)

—of telling anyone the real reason he dislikes Metro Man gives Megamind a hot, sick kind of feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he’s swallowed poison, makes him want to curl into himself and hide in the dark.

Knowing they all think he’s just childishly jealous of Metro Man is bad enough, feels like a stone in his chest, but that’s all right; it is; he can live with that,

Besides, it’s not as if it’s exactly untrue, now is it, Megamind? Haven’t you always envied Wayne his human appearance? his unquestioned acceptance in society? his ability to be good and to do good; the way he can so easily make people like him?

That horrible hot-and-cold feeling that washed through you when you watched that interview he gave with Miss Ritchi; the sickening twist in your chest when you saw those articles about them dating—if that’s not envy, then what is it?

Megamind glares even harder at the closet door.

Fucking of course it’s envy.

Not that Miss Ritchi dating Wayne precludes Megamind continuing to kidnap her—on the contrary; he now has the perfect reason to continue!

And he very definitely does want to continue; not only has Miss Ritchi already been a positive influence on Metro Man, inspiring him to gain better control over his eye lasers, but also—she’s fun.

Megamind hadn’t realized how very little joy his life had contained until he met Miss Ritchi and suddenly he was having fun.

She’s much more challenging than Metro Man—a statement which Megamind is sure would sound ridiculous if he tried to explain it to anyone else. After all, Metro Man is, thus far, invincible, and Megamind is yet to win a single fight against him.

But Megamind’s battles with Metro Man are really just a matter of trial and error tests searching for any possible weakness, and of aiming Metro Man’s heroics at suitable targets—parts of the city that can use a little destruction, doomsday devices that can be harmlessly destroyed, Megamind, et-cet-era.

Not at all the same kind of intellectual challenge that Miss Ritchi, with her clever mind and her sharp tongue and her maddening lack of fear, offers.

So really, Megamind should be happy that the hero has won her over, that she and Metro Man are dating now! It makes everything so much easier!

But it’s just—

Well.

Miss Ritchi, wanting to make a name for herself in Metrocity, hadn’t tried to gain Metro Man’s approval, but had, instead, chosen to attract Megamind’s attention.

It had been—flattering and—and nice, really, thinking that just for once, just for this one person, he was more important than Metro Man.

Megamind’s lips twist bitterly.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

In the distant ballroom, the orchestra continues to play and Megamind rubs a hand over his face, realizing a moment too late that—ah, fuck, has he screwed up his eyeliner? Shit—

He looks around the closet for anything with a reflective surface that he could possibly use as a mirror. Finding nothing, he’s forced to take the de-gun from his holster and try to angle it so that he can see his reflection in the glass barrel of it.

Metro Man may have won over Miss Ritchi, but Megamind is damned if he’s going to be shown up completely, and he is doubly damned if he’s going to do this evil plot with smudged eyeliner.

Megamind, regarding his reflection critically, decides, with a sigh of relief that his eyeliner hasn’t smeared. Using the waterproof kind for this particular plot was definitely the right choice. He holsters the gun again, careful not to ruin the lines of his costume.

Minion had been very excited to create a suitably fancy outfit for Megamind to wear during this evil plan, and Megamind is really quite pleased with how it turned out. The black suit, complete with black tie, is as formal and well-tailored as any worn by the guests in the ballroom, although there are spikes on the shoulders of his coat, holding his long black cape in place, the trousers are close-fitted enough to allow him to wear his holster, and the high, flared collars of the shirt, waistcoat, and coat give the whole ensemble a pleasingly elegant, almost regency-era effect.

Through the closet door, he hears the music change and wonders if Miss Ritchi is dancing with Metro Man.

Megamind makes a face. If he has to listen to one more song—

An explosion in the distance makes him jump. The orchestra music falters discordantly into silence.

Megamind grins to himself.

Excellent! The first contingent of brainbots has detonated the bomb he planted for Metro Man’s distraction!

Megamind has always hated that particular public statue near the fountain; not only is it aesthetically distasteful; it was made to commemorate one of the city’s more unpleasant—but rich—historical figures. And, most conveniently, it’s located distant enough from the City Hall building that, with Metro Man lured away to it’s explosion, Megamind will have time to make his entrance here.

He rolls his shoulders, nerves and excitement beginning to twist pleasurably in his stomach. Almost time, now…

The single lightbulb in the little closet abruptly flickers out.

Ah! Minion has successfully taken control of the building’s power!

Megamind bounces a few times on his toes, rolls his shoulders, getting mentally prepared, then pulls on his night vision goggles.

Showtime!

The crowd in the ballroom is confused and agitated, but not in an outright panic; as Megamind makes his way through it, he hears several people speculating that the explosion they heard must have damaged the power lines.

He reaches the stage with the orchestra and hops up on it; the orchestra members, seen through his night vision goggles, are still seated, speaking amongst themselves. Megamind moves to stand a little apart from them, then pulls off his goggles.

In the darkness, he reaches for his watch and presses the button that will send a signal to Minion that he’s in position.

The power comes on, but the bright lights in the ballroom do not. Instead, in the darkness, music begins. Not the music of the orchestra, this time, but the recorded music that Megamind chose especially for this evil plot.

Under cover of the music and darkness, Megamind quickly dehydrates the goggles and shoves the cube in his pocket, then replaces his gun in its holster.

A low red light begins to illuminate the ballroom and, at the same time, smoke begins to roll over the floor, curling around the members of the crowd. The red light tints the smoke red, makes it look like blood in water, billowing and unfurling.

Oh, that is an excellent effect; breaking in last night to slip the red gels into the lights and set up the smoke machines was definitely worth the effort. In the dim illumination, Megamind can see that the crowd is growing steadily more agitated.

The music continues to rise: the backbeat of drums, the electric keyboard in the background giving it a frenetic, floating quality, and the smooth simplicity of the electric guitar—the song’s slower and more slick than the music Megamind normally favors, but the low red lights and the smoke turn the song’s smooth sensuality into something much more sinister, giving it an edge of menace.

A spotlight hits Megamind, perfectly on cue, lighting him up just as the lyrics begin, and a collective gasp, interspersed with a few screams, goes through the room, nearly drowning out the words of the song.

I heat up; I can’t cool down You got me spinning ‘round and ‘round

Megamind throws his arms wide.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he says. “I’m so pleased you could all join me here tonight!”

He looks out at the crowd, scanning the faces rapidly, searching for—

There she is.

Miss Ritchi, standing near the front of the crowd, wearing a red gown, looks back at him, and Megamind’s heartbeat kicks into a faster tempo.

(perfect; perfect; this is going to be perfect; he won’t allow it to be anything else)

‘Round and ‘round and ‘round it goes Where it stops, nobody knows

“Welcome,” he says, smiling and showing his teeth, “to the show of your lives.” He lets his smile widen. “The last show of your lives—unless you all do exactly as I tell you.”

The agitation of the crowd increases, but Miss Ritchi doesn’t look afraid. Without breaking eye contact with him, she tilts her chin up.

“And why should we do anything you say, Megamind?” she says, voice ringing out above the noise of the crowd.

Another gasp, almost as shocked as the one that greeted Megamind’s appearance, ripples through the crowd, and Megamind barely restrains himself from clapping in glee.

“Ah, Miss Ritchi!” he says. “I was just going to ask for a volunteer from the crowd; so obliging of you to offer!”

Every time you call my name I heat up like a burning flame

From the corner of his eyes, Megamind sees the members of the crowd nearest to Miss Ritchi draw away from her fearfully, but most of his attention is focused on her.

“Why don’t you join me,” he says, “on the stage?”

Miss Ritchi’s lips part, color flying to her cheeks, a look somewhere between outrage and incredulous amusement on her face.

“Wh—no!” she says.

Megamind arches an eyebrow.

“No?” he says. “Not even if I say the magic word?”

“Ha!” she says. “As if you’ve ever said please in your life, Megamind!”

Megamind smiles at her, and then he lifts his hand, a deliberate, theatrical move, timed with the music that’s still playing in the background.

“Please,” he says.

And he snaps his fingers.

The overhead sprinklers turn on at the click of his fingers and just as the chorus kicks in—

Abra-abracadabra I wanna reach out and grab ya

—and all of the brainbots that he and Minion meticulously dehydrated and hid around the room earlier burst into being, apparently from thin air. As the bots rise up into the air, their excited bowging mingling with the shrieks of the crowd, Megamind throws his arms wide and his head back and laughs.

Abra-abracadabra Abracadabra

“Didn’t I tell you all that you were in for a show?” he cries, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd. The sprinklers, having served their purpose, turn off again. “Oh, but what is a magician without his lovely assistant? And what better paragon of beauty could Metrocity offer than Metro Man’s paramour? Miss Ritchi…? Or do my brainbots need to do some more…convincing?”

He pauses expectantly, looking at her. The crowd has drawn together, away from the brainbots that have taken up their posts all along all of the walls, and they all look at her as well.

Miss Ritchi glares up at Megamind, and for a thrilling moment, he thinks she might actually call his bluff and refuse again, in which case he doesn’t know what he’ll do—

But then her gaze flicks around to the people watching the two of them, to the brainbots hovering threateningly along the perimeter of the room. Megamind can almost see the thoughts flickering through her mind.

These people are convinced that Megamind is capable of following through with the worst of his threats, and even if Miss Ritchi isn’t—

They’ll never forgive her if she refuses. Never.

But if she agrees—

Oh, if she agrees? They’re going to love her.

Miss Ritchi’s eyes meet his again, and her chin goes up.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll play along.”

She lifts the skirt of her wet dress a few inches and walks towards the stage, head up, steps slow and dignified.

Megamind bites his lip against a grin and moves to the steps that lead up to the stage and holds out a hand to her.

To his utter shock, she actually takes it and allows him to help her up the stairs. Megamind is so taken aback that, when she gets to the top of the stage, it takes him a long moment to remember to let go of her hand.

They’re very close, much closer than Megamind anticipated; he hadn’t thought she’d actually take his hand and let him help her, had thought she’d slap it away or turn up her nose or say something cutting, and he’d planned out several very clever things to say in turn, but right now he can’t think of any of them, and they wouldn’t work now anyway—

Miss Ritchi’s hair is wet, clinging in damp strands to her jaw and brow, and as he watches, a droplet of water slides down the curve of her cheek.

Megamind drops her hand and takes a step back from her, turns quickly to the crowd once more.

“Let’s have some applause for Miss Ritchi!” he says, the uncertainty and confusion he still feels lending an edge to his voice.

The people in the crowd must hear it, because they comply, clapping.

Miss Ritchi glances sharply at him; he sees it from the corner of his eyes, but he’s careful not to look at her. She’s already got him off-balance; he can’t afford another clash with her until he’s managed to pull himself together a bit.

Instead, and as the people applaud, he gestures to the nearest brainbot, who bobs in the air in acknowledgement before swiveling their eyestalk to look at the other bots. They bowg sharply, and at this signal, several of the bots separate from the others and fly towards the stage.

Minion really is doing very well with the technical cues tonight, Megamind thinks, as the music unobtrusively fades away under the cover of the applause; all that extra time spent rehearsing is certainly paying off.

Megamind waves an imperious hand at the crowd, and the people obediently stop applauding.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “I promised you a show, didn’t I? Let’s begin.”

He looks over at the bots hovering above the stage with him.

“Now,” he says.

At the command, the onstage bots immediately begin to—

Someone in the audience gives a shriek of horrified shock and Megamind smiles to himself.

Yes, to the audience it no doubt looks as if the bots are disassembling themselves. Really, of course, they’re just removing the completely non-functional extra prosthetics and assorted metal bits that Megamind attached to them for tonight’s show. And once the bots have finished removing the pieces…

“Yes,” he says, “as you can see, my cyborg helpers are busily engaged in constructing the contraption for tonight’s climactic conclusion! Can you guess what it is, Miss Ritchi?”

He looks over at her again; she’s watching the brainbots work, an expression of keen interest on her face, but she looks back at him when he says her name.

“Well, since I see you’ve decided to go full-out with the stage magic this time, Megamind,” she says, raising her voice to match his, so that her words carry throughout the ballroom, “I’m going to guess…sawing the lady in half?”

He grins at her.

“Absolutely correct, Miss Ritchi!” he says. “And I’m sure you can guess who the unlucky lady is. Speaking of which—wrists out, Miss Ritchi.”

Again there’s a moment in which she doesn’t obey and he thinks perhaps she’ll refuse. But instead she gives a little huff of annoyance and holds her wrists out to him.

Megamind’s grin widens. Oh, this is going splendidly! He reaches for the knot of the necktie he’s wearing, tugs it loose, and takes off the tie. Miss Ritchi’s eyes widen a little as he does, and she takes a quick breath—nervous about being tied up? He wouldn’t have guessed so, but then, she’s never been conscious before while he’s been tying her up.

Watching her face, he reaches out and secures the tie around her wrists, tight enough to keep her from freeing herself but loose enough that she won’t be uncomfortable—really, the bindings aren’t for any practical purpose; this is just about the show. Maybe Miss Ritchi realizes this, because she glances down at her wrists when he’s done, then raises her eyes to his and arches an eyebrow.

Megamind turns away and steps back from her again, spinning quickly to make his cape flare. He smiles at the audience and spreads his arms.

“For my next trick—disappearances!”

He waves a hand at another of the bots, and it moves forward with several of its brethren. This group isn’t wearing any extra prosthetics; instead, they each carry a black bag.

“My bots will be going around, making a collection,” he says, letting his hand rest oh-so-casually on the handle of his de-gun. “Wallets and jewelry, which of course includes watches, cufflinks, and tie pins. Hand them over to the brainbots.”

Miss Ritchi makes a quiet noise; he turns to look at her and sees her twist her mouth as if she’s tasted something bitter.

“Robbery?” she says. “Really?”

Megamind narrows his eyes at her, more nettled than he’d like to admit by her expression and tone.

“Let’s call it charity,” he says. “That is, after all, what we’re all here for tonight, isn’t it?”

Miss Ritchi presses her lips together.

“There’s a bit of a difference” she says, “between the Open Hand Foundation collecting donations for the Metro City Children’s Home and you stealing people’s jewelry!”

“Is there?” Megamind asks. He moves towards her, slow, menacing steps, then begins to circle her. “And what if I promise to donate seventeen percent of my ill-gotten gains from tonight to the Metrocity Children’s Home?”

“Seventeen percent?” Miss Ritchi says, turning her head to look at him.

“Hmm, yes; perhaps you’re right,” Megamind says, “It isn’t a very high percentage, is it? Still—” he flashes a thin, hard smile at her. “—I’ve never claimed to be anything but evil. So I’ll be having the jewelry.”

Miss Ritchi shoots him a glare.

“Fine,” she says, and raises her bound hands.

She tugs the pearl stud earrings—the only jewelry she’s wearing—from her ears and holds them out to him.

Megamind, startled, merely looks at her.

He—well, he hadn’t actually meant for her to give him her jewelry. The rest of the people here, yes, but—

“For charity,” she says sarcastically.

When he doesn’t take the pearls from her, she makes a noise of impatience and drops them. Megamind reaches out and catches them before they can fall.

Miss Ritchi looks at him, scorn in her eyes and in the proud arch of her neck.

Megamind closes his fingers over the pearl earrings and turns away from her.

(it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter, her looking at him like that. it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t care.)

“Ah! It appears the brainbots have completed the construction of the mechanism!” he says, and jerks his head in Miss Ritchi’s direction.

The bots on the stage fly towards her and herd her towards the deathtrap.

It is—necessarily—a very simple trap, constructed of what metal pieces he could attach to the bots: a very narrow metal table with manacles for Miss Ritchi’s ankles and a hook for her tied hands, and a large circular saw, made of the detachable upper fins from the brainbots all fitted cunningly together, set on a metal stand.

The brainbots secure Miss Ritchi in place and a murmur of horror sweeps through the crowd of people. Megamind glances over at the sound.

Ah, good; it appears as if the bots doing the jewelry and wallets collection have finished. One bot catches his eye and moves its metal hands in a quick series of motions: the signal, radioed to them by Minion, that Metro Man has finally finished with the decoys, and is on his way back to the courthouse.

Megamind slips the earrings into his pocket and steps up to the deathtrap.

“For my final trick!” he cries, and spins the crank on the saw backwards, winding it.

He lets it go.

The saw whirrs to life with a loud buzzing, spinning swiftly, only a foot from Miss Ritchi’s midsection. Someone in the crowd screams and Megamind reaches into his other pocket, stepping back from the deathtrap.

An electric guitar chord rips through the ballroom; the last of Minion’s sound cues, and Megamind throws the smoke bomb on the stage down by his feet and draws his de-gun in the puff of smoke.

The brainbots throw their smoke bombs, too, and in the resulting smoke and chaos, no one really notice when Megamind shoots out one of the nearest ballroom windows. As soon as the glass breaks and he reholsters the gun, the bots scoop him up, flying in a swarm through the broken window and out into the night.

The reports of the incident, which appear on every Metrocity news channel and in each newspaper and magazine, are quite satisfactory. No actual video footage, more’s the pity—Megamind, of course, has the recordings from the brainbots, but it had been necessary to avoid broadcasting during the evil plot, so he’s the only one who does have the footage.

Several enterprising members of the press did take photograph during the robbery, though, and the ones the newspapers and magazines choose to run are all fairly good. There’s one in particular which he very much likes, a photograph of the stage, the brainbots swirling around himself and Miss Ritchi. He’s in the middle of turning, his cape flared and one hand outflank in a theatrical gesture, his other resting on the de-gun at his hip. Miss Ritchi is standing beside him, her hands bound, the black of his tie stark against the red of her dress, her head turned just slightly as she looks at him, the strong line of her jaw displayed perfectly.

Miss Ritchi herself gives a report after Metro Man frees her from the deathtrap in which Megamind left her. Megamind, safely at home in the lair with Minion and the brainbots, watches it. She summarizes the circumstances of the hostage taking and robbery with her usual incisive accuracy.

She’s—less scathing about Megamind himself than he expects, especially considering her the disapproval she so blatantly demonstrated during the proceedings.

“Simple robbery seems a little out of character for Metro City’s self-proclaimed supervillain,” she says, and tilts her head. “One has to wonder if maybe it wasn’t quite so simple after all.”

The words that run along the bottom of the screen during her report read:

Roxanne Ritchi, KCMP investigative reporter.

She smiles at Metro Man when he gives his little speech about his part in her rescue.

Megamind, her pearl earrings held loosely in his hand, feels a strange sort of sharp pain in his chest, as if he’s swallowed a piece of broken glass.

Well done, Miss Ritchi, he thinks.

***

Three months later, KCMP investigative reporter Roxanne Ritchi breaks her first real story.

“Scandal at the Open Hand Charitable Foundation! Evidence has come to light of widespread financial mismanagement by the foundation’s board of directors. Embezzlement? Or merely incompetence? That remains to be seen, but it seems that, of all the funds collected by the Open Hand Foundation in the last year, only seventeen percent actually made its way to the intended recipients. Where did the rest of the money go? This reporter has...”

…to be continued.

Thank you for all of the reblogs and comments!

And thank you for all of the well wishes for me and the cat. Her Majesty actually wasn’t quite as over her illness as we thought; she got sick again. But I have a new medication I’ve been giving her, and she seems to be improving—hopefully for real, this time!

The song Megamind uses during his evil plot in this chapter is Abracadabra, by the Steve Miller Band.

I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter!

#megamind #megamind/roxanne #gravitational equations for falling #fanfiction #pre-canon

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owlespresso · 6 years

Text

Azura | Love Headcanons

Tip Jar Rest of the headcanons under the cut.

Will start dancing/humming while doing chores. She’ll bounce/twirl a bit on her feet while folding laundry and she’ll be overjoyed if you join her. These tiny, domestic moments make life worth it.

Azura hogs the duvet. She doesn’t realize this unless you tell her. If you tell her, she’ll make a sufficient effort to try and remedy it by getting more blankets or cuddling so close to you that the blanket doesn’t get yanked off of you when she drags it closer.

Cries at sappy novels and movies. She cries at emotional scenes in movies or at the slightest note of sadness, especially when those scenes have to do with strife in a family. She gets embarrassed when she does this and will try to hide her face/turn away from you. If she’s more comfortable with you, then she’ll hide her face in your shoulder. She always makes sure to have tissues with her whenever you two watch a movie, just in case.

Enjoys holding hands and being close to you in public. She enjoys subtle PDA. Light kisses on the cheek and temple, your arm around her shoulders, etc. She doesn’t like making out in public, though.

There aren’t arguments between the two of you that often. At times, she pushes herself too far so you might have to scold her about that. But she often yields and tries to remedy the problem you’re arguing about instead of continuing to quarrel. There isn’t much that genuinely gets her frustrated.

Has never had a pet, but she would love a dog. Most people wouldn’t think this, but she’s a sucker for cute animals.

Loves going on dates to “pretty” places, like flower gardens or quiet cafes. She can appreciate subtle, but elegant decor. She also enjoys places where there are fountains/other water-related things. But she doesn’t mind going anywhere with you, really. She isn’t big on clubs or other energetic places, and she also isn’t a fan of casinos. But she can bear going as long as you’re with her.

Brings injured, stray animals to the vet whenever she comes across them. She’s incredibly empathetic towards all forms of life and will give you puppy dog eyes if you object to bringing an animal home. She knows that you can’t have a ton of pets, but she wants to help any animal that she can.

Good with money. She’s always been a royal but she makes sure to learn how to spend/save, anyways. She buys you gifts for surprisingly low prices and is unafraid to haggle as she grows older and bolder.

Will be overjoyed if you attend her performances. Seeing your face out in the crowd motivates her to do the best she can.

Often writes songs that are inspired by you or her relationship with you. Besides that, she’s pretty private about your relationship. She doesn’t like making details of her private life public. But she’s not afraid to hold your hand in public.

Family dramas and afternoon soap operas are her guilty pleasure.

#azura #fe14 #fefates #fire emblem if #fire emblem fates #aqua #azura fire emblem #my writing #oz write #headcanons #Headcanon #fe14 headcanons

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ulfwolf · 4 years

Text

Cocooned — Musing 31

Cocooned by dry warm inside air Beyond the panes wet snow is falling

The room I now find myself in has a large bay window hanging three stories above the street. The room and its window are in a yellow-bricked three-story apartment building on Main Street with shops on the first floor with their large, lit display windows, and apartments on the second and third floors. I’ve sat down at the clean and empty desk and I look out and down at the snow falling. Snow in the air. Large flakes. They turn to sleet on the ground. Darkness has already arrived. It is winter after all and this is Sweden. Store fronts and car headlights reflect in the watery sidewalk and street. This room, this window, this snow, this city, this desk constitute the last in my long line of beginnings, the current one. The one I’m in. I am tasting this new, fresh now. This starting over. This rewind, press play. The new life ahead.

This freshly minted beginning.

For I have just arrived. As I entered the room, I placed my duffle bag and my briefcase on the made bed. It is very well-made this bed, hospital-well. It speaks well-made volumes about the land lady. After a few moments of looking around for I don’t know what, I moved my briefcase—the one I just bought with my next to last money, from the bed to the clean and empty desk by the bay window. I opened the case and took out my expensive fountain pen—the one I bought with my very last money, the truer to write (or so I told myself at the time). I pulled out and sat down on the heavy wooden chair with its hard seat and harder still back (uncomfortable is the word) and I placed my elbows on the clean (shiningly clean) desk surface, closed my eyes and looked for the momentous part of the moment, looked hard and long to capture the essence of this moment, to fill myself and overflow with this moment, to fully possess and be possessed by this moment, this brand new very important new-beginning moment.

My life has just undergone another sea change, the last in a string of them, but sea nonetheless. I have left Stockholm behind. Yes, I’m running away, but that’s not the point I’m making here.

Besides, as always, I run away with the noblest of intentions.

And as a result, here I am, sea changed. I sit in this moment on this hard, yes truly uncomfortable chair. The air in this dark, sterile room is very dry with the central heating set to what must be far too high and I realize I will have trouble sleeping in this room. I like cold rooms for sleep. Here, I will suffocate dryly. I really should have noticed this before I decided to rent this room, but be that as it may.

For here I am, in this sea of change, filled with this momentous new beginning, and what feeling I cannot find in the moment itself I (and I’m so very good at this), what cannot be found I will manufacture with my feeling pump, now set to momentous new moment. I pump hard and I urge myself to feel this moment, to really feel it, so big, so powerful, so irrevocable, so utterly sea-change.

And here it comes: I think I can feel the moment rising to fill me. Here, where I sit on the hard chair by the desk, pen in hand, yes, I feel it come on. I open the briefcase, find and retrieve paper. I place a shallow stack (four, perhaps five sheets at most) of paper on the hard, shining desk top, just paper and a hand holding a pen, both poised to capture and eternalize this very moment.

I bring my pen to touch the paper. It is very smooth, this paper, hardly any resistance at all to this also smooth golden tip of a pen. Still, the pen leaves a blue trace on the paper as the first word forms and I as I feel others form behind it. My words, eager to escape. I smell the paper, I smell the ink, I smell my words. In this very moment. We, my pen and I, write something poetic.

I hear the cars outside and below, muffled by the falling snow.

I hear other city sounds. This city is new to me. These sounds are new to me. The air in this room is new to me and seems drier by the minute. I feel the air make its way in trough my nostrils. Rather, I feel my nostrils, dry and contracted, barely letting it through. I make an effort to forget them, air and nostrils both.

Listen.

I cast about for meaning again, in these new sounds, in this new air, in this new smell, and now I find that I hold myself to mean everything, that all meaning is me—yes, very poetic: pen and paper agree.

And so I trace ever-new words on this paper in front of me. I spend this ink to prove my poethood. I draw and draw these urging words and know that I am poet. I am poet, therefore I am. I write words on paper, I see them leave my pen, it is I doing this, therefore I am, I am poet.

There is a whole family living somewhere in this apartment, but I don’t hear anyone else. Just the dry air squeezing itself in through my nostrils and the muffled sounds of new and foreign city outside. It must be a pretty big apartment for me not to hear anyone else stir or move about or flush a toilet or something. The room is clinically clean. Sterile. It is impersonal. It is mine, though, and I have just left Stockholm for this—acting on one of my many, many un-reflected-upon, un-thought-through impulses.

I impulse, therefore I am.

I write some more words. These are important words, poet words. Ink words carved out of dry air, wrestled down onto dry paper.

Then I leave for a movie.

I slept twice (unrestfully) in that room and visited it perhaps five times. Seems it’s always snowing when I’m in that room, as if I’m only there one prolonged once, looking out through this bay window one prolonged once and wondering what will happen next.

A day later I meet Marie and everything takes a new turn. A sea-er sea-change. I spend all my time with her now, then move in with her and tell my landlady I no longer need the room. This is the second and last time I meet this woman. Nice enough, she is, if a little surprised. I settle with her, take my bag and head out the door. My briefcase is already at Marie’s.

Which is where I met Baudelaire. Literally yes, literally no. They were his eyes, red globes in darkness, suspended first above me, descending then upon my eyes in a perfect fit. They glowed as they slowly fell through the still, dark air like pools, like lenses, like portals upon his world, and when they touched, his eyes and mine, and became the same eyes, yes, I knew that I knew.

He has stayed with me, has Baudelaire. As a symbol, if nothing else. As an excuse, if nothing else. For what are these little strings of words I jot down on scraps and sheets and in little books so black and conspicuous in my hand as I let inspiration have its way with me.

They’re not poems, they’re not. They’re not prose, they’re not. They’re, what did he call them? prose poems. And if he got away with that, so, I am sure, will I. And that is why I decided to go to France, become a poet. May have to learn French, though.

Tried to do that. Did not succeed.

But he’s still with me, Baudelaire and his eyes. It happened, this mystical experience, this union of eyes, and no one can take that away from me, although they could and did for Hemingway. Stole his memories.

Sitting there though, in that dry, warm, sterile room looking out that bay window at the snowy winter’s night, did I reflect at all on why I would want to know Pi to the 200th decimal?

No, I did not. Then it was all about the moment. I was that moment, only that moment.

I’ve seen truth since, of course. I wanted to impress, that’s all. Pi to the 200th decimal to impress my father or some girl. To impress my mother or some girl. To harvest approval. And in those days, approval was my only currency. I needed to hear back from others how alive I was. How deep I was. How Baudelaire I was. How poet I was.

There was no me there without this approval, for I was only such me as others would grant. Very empty. Very in need. Very needing that pump I carried around. My feeling-pump.

And sitting there, looking out into the falling snow, lit from below by head lights and store fronts, arriving out of a black above first into a faint glow (more like a mood than a presence), then into a lit amorphous thing, then into flakes, thousands of them, large ones, into snow, falling, falling, did I reflect upon stealing?

My father called me tjuv. That word is Swedish for thief. Tjuv. Not a pretty word, not a pretty thing. Though well-deserved. Very. For all my life I had been a thief. A petty thief.

Life as a petty child thief is a long string of related, familiar emotions.

First, there’s the thrill of opportunity.

Then, there’s the rush of theft.

Then, there’s the pleasure of candy bought with the loot. Almost pre-sex sex-like.

Followed soon by the fear of discovery, a fear as palpable as certainty.

Followed by the emotionless denial of knowing anything about the missing money. Nothing, no sir. And had my eyes turned any bluer, any larger or any more innocent they would have had to nail me to a cross.

Followed by the apathy of the inevitable confession. The humiliation of capture.

Followed (sometimes) by the pain of the hard hand on buttocks.

Followed by the propitiatory apology: I will never, ever do it again. No, no, no, never.

Followed by the relief that this was now all over. Clean again. Nothing to hide. Nothing to feel guilty about. Breathing, in the company of free beings.

Until, of course, the new thrill of opportunity.

All arranged in tidy sequences of a more or less constant ache which knew for a fact that it was me they discussed downstairs. Which knew I caused them pain.

Then one day, I was fourteen years old, I up and changed. Just stopped stealing. Tjuv no more. Go figure.

No. Nothing like that. Looking out the bay window and then down upon ink and paper and expensive fountain pen in hand there was only the moment. Everywhere in deepening snow, in cars starting and stopping, and the hour getting on, there was me and my moment.

Then I went to the pictures.

And sitting there, striving for the far reaches of every corner of the moment, did I think at all in this direction, of today, the then future? Was this now, this moment, even conceivable then? I think not.

Rimbaud was dead at thirty-seven. Baudelaire at forty-six. Age is not a thing to ponder for this boy by the bay window. There is only that very moment, those words onto that paper, that dry air which I knew I would have trouble sleeping in.

Now, more than half a life lived later, I’m still sitting at a desk of sorts. Not a pen in hand but a little keyboard. I touch type and do it well—my words hit the screen as I think them. So far from dark, snowy, Swedish February night.

Nonetheless me.

I live in a cabin. I have lived on a boat. I have lived marriage—make that marriages. I have lived business. I have lived corporate America. I have lived music. I have lived books. I have lived New York. I have lived Los Angeles. It is now for me to extract myself from all this lived and share it.

I shall grow gaunt and gray, mysterious and sinewy, distant and present, looking out bay windows at falling snow. I shall share, shall become the sharing that is its own reward. And I shall escape, finally, this prison, this string of bay windows.

And looking out I see I can live no other way. I will work my body into song, laugh in the face of God, and deliver the earth.

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

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dalyunministry · 4 years

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TOPIC: HOW TO OVERCOME THE WORLD

By. Sister. Savita Manwani

💥

Let us Pray: Lord we thank you for the very breath of life and this precious opportunity to share your living word. I pray Lord, that you guide us and teach us to hear your voice so that we may be the doers of your word and not just hearers. Glory and honor be to your Holy name. Amen.

TOPIC: HOW TO OVERCOME THE WORLD

The world represents everything that displeases God, opposes His teaching, and is under Satan’s dominion. (1 John 5:19).

Many philosophies, ideas and doctrines distort or degrade Christ and His sacrifice on the cross of Calvary. These offer a salvation not found in the Word of God, and are all manifestations of the world.

The Apostle John points out 3 aspects that mark the love of this world: The desires of the flesh, the desires of the eyes and the pride of life. John 2:15- 17 says “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life is not of the Father but is of the world. And the world is passing away, and the lust of it, but he who does the will of God abides forever.

¶ Lust of the flesh:

These are those desires that are in us by nature and impel us to do the wrong things. They incite us, even from childhood, to yield to what the flesh desires. They can be described as the satisfaction, passion or enjoyment that is felt by doing wrong things. In doing these things, we give room to sin in our lives.

Galatians 5:17 says, “For the flesh lusts against the Spirit and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, so that you do not do the things that you wish.” This shows the conflict found in every Christian life. The flesh wants one thing while the spirit wants another. That is why it is important to nourish our spiritual man.

Galatians 5:19 - 21 gives us a long list of the sins of the flesh. These include sexual sins, sins involving pagan religions such as witchcraft or idolatry and other sins relating to temperament and character. The fruit of the Spirit is everything that is opposite to the flesh.

• In relation to God: love, joy and peace

• In relation to others: patience, kindness and goodness

• In relation to ourselves: faith, kindness and self-control

Our goal should be that our spirit wins the battle against the flesh.>If we want to conquer the desires of the flesh, we have to pay special attention to our spirit. We must feed it and care for it in such a way that in the face of temptation, the spirit prevails.

¶ Lust of the Eyes:

The eyes can be a fountain of life, purity and inspiration, or they can be an instrument of evil, perversion, and bad desires. Dr. W. E Vine describes them as being, “the principal avenue to temptation. “The desires of the eyes” can be described as perversions, bad intentions and selfish delights that include not only the sight, but also the mind and imagination. The Bible teaches in 2 Peter 2:14 “having eyes full of adultery and that cannot cease to sin, …” And in Matthew 5:27 – 29; “You have heard

that it was said to those of old, “You shall not commit adultery. But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

The word “look” refers to the desires of the eyes, a look laden with lust, which wakens impure images and desires in our minds.

Someone once said, “the first look isn’t sinful but the second look is.” This second look aims to satisfy the mind's own desires.

Beacon's commentary says that this type of lust is “the tendency to be captivated by the exterior appearance of things without looking into its real worth.” The lust of the eyes include not only sight but also the mind and imagination. They seek to satisfy themselves through pornography or unedifying books, magazines or movies. They create an addiction that can only be quenched by giving in to the pleasures of the flesh. Generally, these desires are fed by thoughts convincing us that sin is something pleasant, pleasurable and desirable.

We justify the sinful thought as being acceptable as something harmless and insignificant. And since we haven’t actually done anything we are convinced it is not sin.

What's more, it keeps us from seeing the consequences that our behavior may bring to our lives and to those that we love.

When the mind delights itself with memories of past sexual experience, drunkenness, parties, or gambling. The enemy shows you the fun you experienced, the pleasures you felt, and how wonderful it would be to experience them again. These memories are accompanied by thoughts like, “there’s nothing wrong with that,” or, “everyone is doing it”, or, “I can’t become a fanatic.” The mind does not concentrate on the consequences that will come sooner or later, but on the desire and pleasures it wants to feel again. The influence the lust of the eye has on us is acute. They manipulate our mind and cause us to forget what Christ did for us.

That is why it is good to follow the Apostle Paul's counsel, when he exhorts us to walk in the Spirit and do not satisfy the desires of the flesh.

¶ Pride of life: This refers to the belief that the reason for life is found in the worldly appearance and worth of things, and not in how God values them. Pride is the illusion that leads people into superficiality, inflates their egos, and makes them believe that their worth is based on position, money and friends.

These vanities turn into strongholds for people who open the door to them. Vanities lead them to believe that their own ability has given them positions of importance with their peers. For this reason, some people climb over others in life, violating biblical principles and the will of God. Behind their appearances they hide their insecurity.

An example of this is when you spend more than you earn and live in debt even though it steals your peace. You don't change because you want to pretend that you are rich. You buy designer clothes, expensive mobile phone or hang out at the most popular places. You have been led to think these things win people’s respect.

God wants us to be prosperous. When we love Him, He lifts us to a better position. God, not His blessings, gives us our value.

¶ How the world affects me: The young person's world is not a secret to anyone. It is one that offers parties, vices, sinful passions and a worthless and empty life. The media, radio press and television, along with society push us towards this type of lifestyle. They trick us into believing that to have fun you must become part of their activities. If we refuse, we are labelled as boring and bitter people. These words boring and bitter are the most commonly used words by non-Christians to pressure the believer into doing what they want or say. The world may affect me when I give into its ways. It affects me when I take part in its dirty jokes and perverted comments or accept its invitation to drink and party. It affects me when these activities stop being fun and become addictive when I end up caught in circumstances that I want to be free from but cannot.

For example, an ungodly relationship ends in frustration and deception; an excess of alcohol produces sicknesses such as cirrhosis and venereal diseases are a result of a degenerate and promiscuous life.

The life the world offers us is a mirror that makes us believe that it is true and fulfilling. However, it doesn't let us see the deception and true consequences of its ways. Jesus does not want to remove us from the world he wants us to shine and be a light wherever we are. Jesus said: “I do not pray that you should take them out of the world but that you should keep them from the evil one” John 17:15

¶ How to face the world now that I am Christian?

A. Not participating in what the world has to offer.

Ephesians 5:11 says, “And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness but rather expose them”. Right from the start you need to learn how to be radical in dealing with sin. Don't ever cloud the real issues. For example, if they offer you a drink, don't lie by saying, “No thank you, I am on medication and drinking could be harmful.” That is not true. You are not on medication. It is rather a matter of faith, but you are too embarrassed to tell the truth.

B. Be radical in your stand as a Christian.

Job 22:28 says, “You will also declare a thing. And it will be established for you; so light will shine on your ways”. Decide beforehand what things you are not going to yield to. For example, decide not to go to parties with nonbelievers or social events where drinking and other vices are predominant. By deciding ahead of time you will avoid facing temptation and prevent yourself from falling into sin. The main thing is to decide, “No matter what happens, I will not leave the path that I have chosen.” This is determination. When I do my part, God does His. He brings His light to reveal what we should say or do.

C. Avoid spending too much time with unbelievers.

They will constantly encourage you to do wrong, inciting you to turn back.

D. Look for friends that share the same purpose and goals.

Spend time with those people who challenge you and strengthen your relationship with God.

E. Strengthen your relationship with God.

Spend time with Him daily in prayer and live in such a way that you will not leave His side. When you are facing situations that you are uncertain and doubtful about, it will help to ask yourself, “What would Jesus do if He were in my place?. I will no longer talk much with you for the ruler of this world is coming and he has nothing in me. John 14:30

Allow me to end here. May God bless you all.

Let us Pray: Heavenly Father, we thank you for speaking to us today. Lord, I pray that you empower us with your spirit and enable us also to feed our spirit being so that we will be able to overcome the flesh and the world in Jesus Name. Amen.

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2020laxteentour · 4 years

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Day Three (Volunteering in Nipsey Hussle’s community @Crenshaw&Slausson)

The adventure today in California was amazing. Cleaning around Nipsey Hustle’s store and memorials made me feel good on the inside because he was doing good things before he died and he has a legacy now. It was no reason he should’ve passed. That was the highlight of my day. -Jordan B.

The highlight of today was our volunteer activity in Crenshaw. I am not new to community service but I believe this is the first that I have seen people’s faces light up with such joy for doing something great for the community. I had listened to Nipsey’s music and never realized who he was until my flight landed the very same day he was killed. The volunteer site was a complete surprise to me but I am glad that I was able to be a part of it. I also enjoyed the rest of the day, especially Venice Beach. It’s one of my favorites here in California, but of course I still have so much more to explore. The sunset was beautiful and the mountains always enhance the scenery. The most important thing about today was spending the last few hours with everyone and enjoying each other’s presence. I am so glad I was able to be a part of this experience and WeCCAAN is truly like a family to me. -Kristen L.

I really like Nipsey Square and I liked how when we were cleaning up people thanked us for cleaning up the streets because no one would. Cal Tech looks big and there's a lot of nerds. The art district is so cool and fun. Venice beach was not as packed as the good places and other things but I really liked it there was a lot of seaweed which I did not like. I liked coming to California and putting my feet in the Pacific Ocean. -Jamil B.

Volunteering in South central LA, very, very rewarding. The locals were appreciative and kind as we picked up trash and contributed to their community. So blessed to be a part of this tour. I pray everyone have the spirit of service. Venice beach. Beautiful. Awesome experience, to see everyone enjoying themselves. Living free and vicariously. CALI owes me nothing !!!! Thanks a Bunch. -Toquetta C.

The third day on our service learning trip! We started with a early morning to kick off the day and see what LA had to offer us. First stop, was our Community Service Activity. I was able to see the Murals around Crenshaw and helped the community around them by cleaning up the trash and litter that defiled the neighborhood. During this experience I was overwhelmed by the amount of trash that filled the streets and attention that wasn’t given to places like Crenshaw. Unlike how upper scale areas of LA are given proper treatment and care because they are seen as better than other parts of the city. We then went to see the LA Art Pavilion. The buildings there were tremendous, they were complex and modern in a way that complimented the theme of the area which was art. To finish it off we viewed the sunset at Venice Beach, the way the sun rolled over the nearby mountains made it a pleasurable view. -Marcus R.

The adventure today in California was amazing. Cleaning around Nipsey Hustle’s store and memorials made was a great experience and it made me feel like I was showing a good sign of respect by picking up trash around his memorial. Also the beach was relieving and fun and I would really would like to come back. -Iterrius J.

Cleaning up the trash around the businesses was interesting in both the types of trash and the varied reactions local residents had to seeing us out there. I loved the architecture of Cal Tech and there was a fountain that recycled water from the air units that I thought was pretty cool. Venice Beach was absolutely beautiful and the food was great I even got to try an elite which was better than I thought it would be. I was SO tired getting back though and I still didn't get much sleep before writing this but I had fun for the most part. -Essence H.

It was an honor to serve the Inglewood community today as we cleaned the area and paid homage to Nipsey Hussle. It was inspiring to see the different college campuses back set with looming mountains, stoic and poised. Finally it was rejuvenating wading in the brisk salt water at Venice Beach. Many of us reflected on loved ones who have since passed on and we wrote a collective tribute to them in the sand as the sun spewed warm colors across the shimmering ocean. All is well. -Giovan B.

Today was very fun and amusing. Cleaning up Nispey’s memorial made me feel really good on the inside because I knew I was contributing to a community outside of mine. Afterwards going to the beach was really cool, being able to see the sun set on the Pacific when I’m used to the Atlantic. Other than freezing, today was amazing. -Bascia P.

A very exciting day starting with the cleaning up of Nipsey Hussle neighborhood. The neighbors were very appreciative to see the group cleaning up the streets. On to the campus of CalTech, such a lovely campus. Venice Beach as very relaxing so many shops and restaurant to choice from. The afternoon ended with the entire group watching the sunset such a beautiful view. -Pamela G.

The day was filled with learning about the different culture dynamics of the cities. Pasadena was peaceful, the air was clear and it didn't possess that LA vibe to me, it was more family. The Art District was beautiful, the architectural designs of the buildings were astonishing, even though we couldn't go into the buildings just the works on the streets spoke volumes. Venice Beach was O-MAZING......it was so much to do there, the food was plentiful, and they didn't lack entertainment or shopping. To me Venice Beach is the place to be if you want to get a mix of what California is like. Today was filled with culture. -Patrice C.

Today I learned the significance of giving back to a community. We went through and instead of just viewing the area, we picked up whatever trash and loiter there was. -Noah W.

Such an indescribable feeling. Helping to uplift the community of the late GREAT Nipsey Hussle is something I will remember for the rest of my life. Explaining to Jamil what Nipsey did for his community and how he wanted to help. He was more than just a rapper. He cared about where he lived. It was an honor to help. To not just be a tourist but to volunteer here has been such a blessing. Dipped my feet in the Atlantic on the Miami tour... dipped my feet in the Pacific on the California tour. WeCCAAN and we did! I also learned there are 3 types of columns... the more decorative and ornate, the more important the building. -TeShania B.

Bitter sweet since it's our last full day here in the Pacific side of the country. The BEST day by far for me was today, we served a great community...the Nipsy Hussle community, it was super rewarding; businesses around and community members appreciated us cleaning the areas, love to see their smiles and gratitude. During the afternoon we watched the sunset and felt the cool breeze while reflecting on how not only did we "see and serve" but we did it during a pandemic. California was beyond my expectations, great vibe, tons of culture and the most amazing weather. Thank you Dr. Mike for this great tour and experience. -Rania A.

SECOND VISIT--AUGUST 21ST-23RD (Volunteering on Skid Row)

Today was a full day of experiencing LA and I love it! First and foremost, I’ve never heard of Skid Row being real, I always thought it was something just on movies and tv shows. I’m glad I was able to experience the environment and was able to help clean what they call home. Later we visited the Marathon Store as it was gated but to also see how much the neighborhood love Nipsey Hussle also known as “Neighborhood Nip.” One of my small highlights of the trip was visiting Watts Towers... I’m a big fan of architecture and I was just amazed of how he was able to design his pieces with glass bottles, glass plates and etc. I remember learning about Watts Towers in art history in high school but was very thankful to see it in person. Biggest highlight was visiting Venice Beach and being able to explore different cultures through food or clothing. This was the first time also being by the Pacific Ocean. Ending my night visiting Hollywood was very interesting and entertaining, I brought plenty of souvenirs to keep this trip in memory. -Joy F. (PART II)

Two things stuck with me all day ...learning that Vietnam wasn’t a war (like we were taught in school) but a conflict due to not wanting to admit defeat & seeing that Skid Row wasn’t what I thought it was. My kid brother has a video game that depicts that Skid Row was all about gangs. Being that I’m from a small town and live in the next city over, homelessness isn’t an issue ...or if it is, it isn’t big. To see that there is literally a street full of what would be considered homeless people was eye opening. I couldn’t even say they were homeless because honestly they made what they had their home, with most caring for their tents as they would if they were in houses. I’ve always done community clean up & other service events with my church but this was a different experience. Being able to view the murals of Nipsey Hussle and Kobe Bryant was pretty cool. I wasn’t a big fan of neither but both have so much respect in their respective cities that I think “how can you dislike them?”. I also got to try birria tacos and consomé for the first time. Very satisfying. Literally went back for more. Hollywood at night was colorful but I enjoyed it during the day more. I’m making it my business to visit LA again on my own. Although today was pretty much nonstop, I enjoyed it all. This experience was a good one overall ...my first tour with WeCCAAN & my first time in LA. Thanks for the experience. -Markesia B. (PART II)

Good morning Vietnam . A saying that I have heard over the years in various setting but truly never really know the meaning, and sadly I never asked the meaning. That all changed today. This morning while meeting for our morning huddle to head to our community service event for the day, one of the other service volunteers asked what the statement meant and I was so enlightened when Dr. Mike has a very in-depth history on the Vietnam conflict which then surprisingly turned into a conversation about Marcus Garvey. Skid Row. A location I only heard of before but could have never imagined all that I saw. A neighborhood of people who are less fortunate. The streets were lined with homes created with tarps, tents and or whatever they could find to have a covering at night or during the day while they rest. Some of the neighbors were even out sweeping their spaces up and trying to organize the little they had. It broke my heart to see that but it also showed me that even in poverty they were trying to do the best they could. That let me know I should never make excuses for anything I’m going through to be the end all but to try to make the best out of it. -Sha’Bria J. (PART II)

Venice Beach was so beautiful. I enjoyed seeing the various art forms being displayed out there. Everyone was so free and didn’t mind being expressive and it was just a dope vibe. Coming from Daytona I was sure I had seen the most beautiful sunsets ever, but today I learned otherwise. The sunset fell right on top of the mountain point so gracefully. It was so refreshing to see to just sit in silence and enjoy that moment. It created a moment to be mindful and a chance to breathe. Another amazing day! -Sierra W. (PART II)

Today was a very moving day for me. The things that are portrayed in media and on TV for the California lifestyle and entertainment are usually positive and full of happiness. However, no continent, country, city or town has the perfect environment and/or standard of living. The haves and the have nots co-exist as one unit. In all my years of living so far, I have not seen one without the other. The most interesting part of today was the morning time in which I learned Ho Chi Minh, the Prime Minister of Vietnam at the time of the Vietnam Conflict, had been inspired and influenced by a black person during his younger years. Today’s experience was a true reminder that although I may not have what others have, I still need to be grateful for what I do have as there are others who unfortunately, are way worse off than I. -Kristen L. (PART II)

We started the day with some volunteer work over in Skid Row in L.A. Just looking around and observing the conditions that people live in, even in the darkest of times, people still try to take care of their own as well as those around them. When i thought about L.A. before, it was about the shining lights but I never realized how close a place like Skid Row could exist to a place like downtown L.A. after the volunteer work we went down to the community that Nipsey Hustle was working on. There were many beautiful pieces of artwork and murals dedicated to his work and dedication. Afterward we went down to venice beach. I took the time to reflect on what I saw in L.A. This city has two sides to it and most people only know of the famous and fortunate side of it. If more awareness and time could be put into the more poverty stricken side of L.A., then the conditions that people live in could be improved. -Javon B. (PART II)

Today as we walked around Skid Row, it angered me. I felt like it was so disgusting to have such a place almost down the street from where the Lakers play. On the other side, it was interesting to see the community that the people who lived there had with each other. Society would tell you that such a place would be cold and void of life but as we walked through a cleaned up, there was music and smiles and for a split second I almost forgot where we were as we talked to some of the people who lived there. Seeing the Kobe and Nipsey murals also showed me how much pride the city has for its greats. Even as we entered Crenshaw and got further away from DTLA, I still saw mini Nipsey murals and rest in peace sign aways for the Bryants. -Kasamba A. (PART II)

THIRD VISIT--DECEMBER 27TH-29TH (Volunteering on Skid Row)

Today, I had the opportunity to volunteer at Skid Row. Once I stepped out the van, I felt an immense amount of compassion for every one who called this street home. I immediately reflected on their life situation and wanted to do more, give more. I realized there’s so much more work to do for the homeless community of L.A. A few miles away, we visited Pasadena, CA and saw the Rose Bowl stadium where history was made. The homes, condos, and mansions were beautiful while also inspiring. I thought it was my goal to become successful & live in L.A. but now I’ve reached higher to live in the quiet neighborhood of Pasadena. The inner city of L.A. made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Something I’m not used to being raised in Atlanta. It gave me a different perspective of what black Californians may go through rich or poor. -Shauna J. (Part III)

Today journey was an exciting one for sure. Helping clean up garbage made me feel good because I’ve never gave back to a community like that and it was a great experience. After that Venice beach gave me an exhilarating experience because the whole place was lit up with life, from the boardwalk to the canals. Then later on we went on to roscoes chicken and waffles which was really a delicacy. -Qadir C. (Part III)

This morning began with the volunteer clean up project on Skid Row. To be given the opportunity to actually walk down skid row again is a very touching experience. Seeing the people living conditions makes me realize how fortunate and blessed I am. The houses in Pasenda near the Rose Bowl are nice and very expensive . Venice Beach this time around I felt more relaxing. I enjoyed tacos and tostada at The Original Teddy’s Red Tacos which a real treat. The stroll down Hollywood Boulevard and Rodeo Drive is always exciting. Rodeo drive Christmas decoration is so beautiful the time of year. The night ended with chicken from Rosco Chicken and waffles was great. -Pamela G. (Part III)

I had wonderful time at Venice beach. The highlight of my trip was Venice canals. It’s interesting how it’s actually a community of people that actually live there on the banks of the canal. The homes were of various architecture from modern to Bungalow to retro style homes with beautifully vivid colors and artsy landscape designs. I also really felt at home in Pasadena. The park at the rose bowl was comforting with the view of the mountains surrounding the area. It was awesome. -Dameon C. (Part III)

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bloody-hands-pure-hearts1329 · 7 years

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You cant break the broken ones

Hey sweets okay thats my first Joker x OC fic well to be honest my first Joker fic ever XD I was inspired by so much people and things while writing this chapter but a special thanks for inspiring me to my favorite joker fic writer @lovermrjoker

Please enjoy^^

Chapter 1

"SAY IT SAY IT IN MY FACE YOU DONT LOVE ME!" my boyfriend screams at me make all in this restaurant look at me. "Yes I dont love you" I tell him he looks at me. "I KNEW IT THEN WHY! WHY DID YOU STAYED WITH ME!" he screams even more pissed. "BECAUSE I TRIED TO GIVE HUMINTY A NEW CHANCE! I THOUGHT I COULD OPEN MY HEART FOR YOU AND NOT ALL ARE BASTARDS! BUT I WAS WRONG! I HATE YOU ALL AND I WANT YOU ALL TO BURN!" I scream back at him while throwing the candle on my table to the side it hits the curtains and they start to burn. I hear people scream while I say there staring at the fire before I grab my bag and leave the restaurant leaving him, my last hope in humanity.

Only I dont understand the tears that flow down my cheeks, was I cryin because I lost him or because I lost hope in all humans once and forever?

I kept on walking as suddenly paper fly down around me I looked up and catched one. Some rich man was looking for a driver at least I would be back in my element. Because of him I didnt drive at all to not make him look bad. He was an awfull driver.

"Mister J.?" I read confused and pulled my phone out to call the number and made up meeting for tomorrow.

The next day

I take a taxi to the gigantic mansion of this rich guy Mister J. After a hour driving in silence I finally reach my goal and leave the taxi I look around staring at the mansion I walked over to the interphone.

"Hello I am Ella we talked on the phone I am here for the job" I said with a fake smile I look at the big iron gates with a J in them as they open and walk down road past a big waterspout fountain with a weird looking mermaid statue with a smile up to her ear on her face while water flow out of the bottle she held in her hands. My eyes land on the amazing car purple not really my colour bit dam it looked fine I walked over to it leaning forward to look inside. "At least he seems to have good taste“ I whisper and hear the gates opening again. I see four man walking in four looking like drivers in the movies suit and cap. The others are looked like punks.

"What do we have here?“ one of them asks me walking closer to me.

"I am the new driver of mister J“ I tell them while caressing the car.

"I dont think so miss“ one of the suit men says trying to be polite.

"Mister J wants you to show him your driving skillz“ explains a tall oaf holding out the key I walk with swaying hips past the idiots and take the key from.

"I hope he has guarantee on this car“

I opened the door and get in caressing softly the steering wheel before I start the Vaydor G35 Lamborghini. Smirking I turn on the radio and start driving this hot baby boy. I remember the time as I drove races and let the motor growl before race past them driving fast rounds around the vila passing the pool and some guards in suit. Is scream in happiness loud laughing. I drive back to the man drifting on the place on two wheels.

„YEAHHH!“ I scream loud before driving backwards and back up to them making them run before drift the boy back on its place. "Next!“ I say while throwing my key over to one of the punks walking past them to gates. I stop as they suddenly close on me. I turn slowly around as I hear a loud laughing and clapping.

"Haha what a show!“ I stare in shock at the JOKER one of the most feared criminals of the city. How stupid could I be to not realize that Mr J. stays for the Joker.

I stand there letting them come he stops and walks around me like a predator watching his prey.

"You are Ella Smith right?“ he ask me, I nod while not letting him out of my gaze. He gets closer to close so I put my gun under his chin to hold him off me but he only laughs.

"How funny that you think its a good idea to put one of my friends against me“ he laughs loud and I push him off me.

"I will shoot!“ I threat him and he laughs louder.

"Do it!“ he orders me still laughing like the mad man he is. I shake looking at him before I shot me bullet leaves a red mark on his cheek.

"The next will hit!“ I tell him trying to sound threating and determinded but his laughing iritates me more and more. So much that I notized to late how close he came and let him take the gun out of my hands.

"I know you have the potential but…I dont like being shoot“ he whispers in my ear before I feel something hard against my head, pain strikes through my body as I fall down slowly all becomes black the last I see and hear is his face and his loud laugh.

Cold wetness hits my face makes me ripping my eyes open breathing heavy.

"Rise up and shine babydoll" he tells me and turns light on blinding me with it. I groan close my eyes trying to get used to this bright light. I shiver over it the water flowing down in little streams over my body clad only in my black bra with red roses and my red lace panties.

"KASIOL LET ME GO!" I scream in anger at him making him laugh loud at me.

"Hahaha thats not really nice baby" he told me and walks over to my side leaning over me.

"Paschol won!" I tell him looking deadly at him while pulling at the leather straps who held me down on the iron table. He sniffs me like an animal before I feel something on cold and sharp pressed gently against my lips.

"You ruined my face bad girl thats why I will ruin yours" he whispers in my ear before he pulls back and cuts in to my cheek. Licking the blood of the knife before leaning down to lick over the the cut. I press my teeth together to hold back a scream.

"Hmm sweet like candy" he groans and moves his knife deeper down my neck collarbone stopping above my breasts.

"Hehe perfect place to make you scream for me dont you think so?" he asked with sick wide smirk on his face. I wiggle against the straps.

"HOLD STILL!" he orders me with a dangerous low voice. I stop only because I am surprised from it.

He laughs more and bite my lip hard as he cuts deep in to my skin and flesh. Not wanting to give him the pleasure of hearing me scream. It made him angry and he cuts more, carving something in to my body. I bite harder feel how my teeth pierce the sensitive skin of my lip and I feel the red flowing down my chin.

The Jokers stops to lick it of me almost purring in satisfaction because of the taste. I hold back a growl as his tongue finds its way up to my lips. I my eyes look at him disgust but I open my mouth and let his tongue in to bite him hard and rip a little piece out of it.

He screams and backs away from me I have the feeling to throw up any second as I taste the metalic warmth of his life juices and the piece of his tongue between my teeth.

The green haired bastard laughs looking at me I spit all in to his face this pissed him off and he slaps me hard putting his knife tip close to my eyes. I dont move one muscle my hands cleching to fists my eyes showing him not what he awaited to see in them.

"No fear?" he asks me disappionted this makes me look smirking at him.

"Fear? I am not afraid to die why should I? I died a year ago" I tell him chuckling, he laughs with me and wipes his blood of his face smearing it over my right breasts down to my stomach above the hem of my underwear.

Then he turns his back on me I wiggle more bucking against the straps but have no chance to get free.

He turns quick around and grabs my nose make me breath through my mouth and pressing something inside make me bite on a gagging ball quick tying tight to me.

"Much better" he laughs and leans beside the carving biting brutally in to my flesh ripping a piece out and eating it with a sick laugh.

Thankfully the gag muffled my screams in pain over his actions, I growl at him as presses his finger in to the fresh wound and draws a heart around my belly button with it. I groan more as presses his finger again in the wound and paints my lips with it.

"Almost perfect" he whispers I look deadly in to his gorgeous blue orbs.

Such a sick bastard dont deserve eyes like this!

I think and follow him with my eyes as he walks back to his tools, the mad man searched for something.

His ringing phone stops him, he growls and pulls up talking with some of his henchmen about something.

"If you need to do something do it yourself!" he says and before he ends the call looking back at me.

He walks over to me pressing his finger in the wound while licking my earlobe.

"Daddy needs to go for a little while babydoll but no worry we will have much more fun later" he whispers in my ear before he pulls back licking his finger clean from my blood.

I groan as he turns the light off and sigh in relieve as I hear the heavy iron door close behind him.

#joker fanfiction #joker x ella #joker x oc #chapter 1 #blood and gore warning #violence warning #nudity #blood kink #thank you for inspering me @lovermrjoker #and many more #gif not mine found goggle search

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believingispowerfulmagic · 7 years

Text

Spooky OQ: Breaking the Curse

5. Curse

Inspired by the movie “Penelope” starring Christina Ricci and James McAvoy

Regina Mills looked at herself in the mirror, sighing. She wore a white strapless ballgown with flower appliques at the waist. The dress was cinched tight to “accentuate” her “assets,” per mother, and made it difficult to breathe or move. Her dark hair had been straightened and twisted to be pinned against her head. The veil was then pinned inside the twist, allowing the lace to flow over her hair and down her back. With light makeup, Regina was every inch the spring socialite bride.

Well, except for the pig’s nose she had possessed since birth thanks to a curse laid on her family centuries earlier. The only way to break it was for one of her own kind—a blue blood of noble descent, the elite of society—to marry her. So she was about to walk down the aisle to James Spencer, whose family had blue blood about as old as Regina’s. It was to be a grand union of two established houses and everyone was excited for the wedding.

They didn’t care that her groom couldn’t bear the sight of her. Or that he had vilified her in the press, calling her a monster and suggesting that scientists experiment on her. James had campaigned against her since he first laid eyes on her, running from the house in disgust. The only reason he was marrying her now was because his campaign had backfired. Regina had been embraced by the people, becoming a beloved celebrity. The Spencers face a hostile public and so George had ordered his son to fix. James proposed and Regina accepted after her parents convinced her he was her only chance to break the curse.

Yet she couldn’t help but think of another blood blue, one with kind blue eyes and thick dark blond hair. Unlike other men of their station who remained clean-shaven, his chin and cheeks were covered with scruff he liked to rub as he joked about wanting to look dangerous. Regina thought he looked sexy but she never told him in the hours they spent talking, where they discussed everything under the sun. She felt she could tell him anything as he never made her feel like her opinion wasn’t valid or that she was stupid for her beliefs. He did challenge her, made her see things in different ways and she did the same for him. They matched each other in intelligence, creativity and sass and made her feel alive in ways she hadn’t before.

When he spoke of the world she hadn’t seen because her parents kept her hidden due to her nose, she could almost picture it. He had promised to show it to her and she had believed him, falling hard for him. She had worked up the courage to show herself to him and unlike other suitors, Richard Lyons didn’t recoil from her. He had stared at her with awe and for the first time in her life, Regina had felt beautiful.

But then he had turned around, leaving her with only a weak “I can’t give you what you want” explanation and broken heart. Her last memory of him was watching as he paused at the door, looking at her with pain and regret. “Don’t let them keep you imprisoned here, Regine. There’s a wide world out there and you deserve to see it.”

Then he was gone.

Regina took his advice though. She realized that if Richard Lyons couldn’t free her of the curse, no one would and so it was time to start living. After her parents had gone to bed, she packed a suitcase, grabbed her father’s credit card and left to experience the world. It had been a crazy ride that involved her revealing her full face but it had been worth it. She had gotten a job she loved in a bakery—baking had been one of the few pleasures she had in her house—and found good friends in bails bond person Emma Swan and pub owner Killian Jones. Regina went to street festivals, got drunk, sang karaoke, went to the movies and even to a burlesque show. She felt as alive as she had when she was with Richard.

Could she now give it up for married life with James? Would everything get better once the curse was broken? She doubted they would learn to love each other and she feared she would be stuck in an unhappy marriage, trapped by how scandalous divorce still was amongst their kind.

“Regina? Sweetheart, are you ready?” her father’s soft voice interrupted her doubts. She turned around to find him standing in the doorway in his tux, looking concerned.

For a moment, she wanted to tell him that she had changed her mind and didn’t want to marry James. That she was fine living the rest of her life with her pig’s nose if it meant she didn’t have to wake up beside a man who thought she should be killed. Yet she knew that it wasn’t just her life affected by her nose—her parents had retreated from society after her birth to avoid any uncomfortable questions. This was a chance at a normal life for all of them and she couldn’t let it pass by.

Regina took her father’s arm. “Yes, I am.”

They stepped out of the house and walked down the marble stairs that led to her family’s prized gardens. Several rows of white chairs were set up and each one occupied by members of society’s upper crust. Regina had fought hard to get Emma and Killian invited and she couldn’t even spot them in this crowd.

A white runner lay between the two groups of chairs and led to the dais set up in front of the grand fountain in the center of the gardens. James waited there with the justice of the peace, looking like he was waiting for a root canal rather than marriage. He scowled as everyone rose, watching her come down the aisle on her father’s arm.

She squeezed Daddy’s arm and he slowed down, looking at her. “Is everything alright?”

“My groom hates me,” she said. “Look at him.”

He glanced up, grimacing slightly. “He doesn’t hate you, sweetheart. He hates your nose.”

Regina sighed. She had always heard that growing up—“You’re beautiful, it’s your nose that’s not,” “You can’t go outside with your nose,” “Once your nose goes away, everything will be better.” It was always her nose that kept her from perfection and happiness.

“I promise you,” Daddy continued, “everything will get better once you’re married.”

‘No, it won’t.” Regina gasped when she heard the familiar hoarse, accented voice. She slowly turned around, finding Richard standing right behind her. He frowned as he said: “James Spencer is a monster who doesn’t deserve her.”

Mother came storming up the aisle, her purple skirts swishing with every determined step. “You have no right to be here,” she told him.

“I couldn’t let you marry Regina off to that bastard,” he said, glaring at James. “She deserves so much better.”

“Like who? You?” Regina asked, the pain of his rejection filling her chest yet mingling with the hope that he had come back for her.

Mother shook her head, grabbing Regina’s hands to force her to look at him. “You can’t trust him. He’s done nothing but lie to you since day one. His name is not Richard Lyons.”

“She’s right. It’s not,” he said, stepping forward and drawing Regina’s attention back to him. “My name is Robin Locksley and I’m not some lord. I’m just a washed-up musician with a gambling problem who accepted money to get a picture of some socialite. But I never lied to you about anything else.”

She felt like her world was shattering as she took in Rich…Robin’s contrite expression and appearance. He had always worn the same suit when he met her—blue jacket, blue pants, white shirt and a black tie. And it always seemed ill-fitting, which should’ve struck her as odd for someone in their station. A lord, or a future lord, would’ve made sure his suit was tailored to fit just right. Now, though, Robin wore a button-down shirt paired with jeans and a navy sports jacket. It all fit him perfectly and matched his personality better.

Regina shook her head. “I don’t understand. Who paid you to take a picture of me?”

“Take a wild guess,” he said, tone flat as his eyes once again focused on the man waiting behind her.

Anger filled Regina and she clutched her bouquet of white roses tighter as Robin nodded. “He wanted proof that you were a monster. But after our first meeting, I knew you were no such monster. I wanted to back out but the money would’ve paid off almost all my debts and I wanted an excuse to keep talking with you. I knew I would’ve been thrown out on my ass if you knew who I really was.”

“With good reason,” Mother confirmed, sniffing.

Robin reached for her free hand, taking it in his own. “I’m sorry I lied to you. And I’m sorry I hurt you. I gave you hope I shouldn’t have. When I finally saw you, I realized what was really at stake—your heart and your life—and I knew I had to walk away.”

She replayed that moment in her mind yet again—I can’t give you what you want—and the truth finally sunk in. “You couldn’t break the curse.”

“Right,” he said. “I left, threw the camera in a nearby pond and told James I was done. I then went and got a couple proper jobs, including giving some music lessons, and am slowly paying back my debts. You inspired me to be a better person, Regina Mills, and you deserve the whole world.”

“You gave that to me,” she said. “Your words and rejection finally gave me the push I needed to get out there. And I’ve had quite the adventure.”

He grinned, revealing the dimples she had fallen for so many months ago. “I know. I’ve been following along, proud of your every move. I almost went into the bakery where you work but I figured you didn’t want to see me.”

She would’ve loved to have seen him—either as Richard Lyons or Robin Locksley.

“Regina,” Mother hissed. “Everyone is waiting. Stop giving this liar anymore of your time.”

“He’s not a liar,” Regina replied, smiling at Robin. “Yes, he made a bad decision but I know in my heart he’s always been truthful to me about what really matters.”

He squeezed her hand. “You deserve to be happy, Regina, and you deserve to be loved. James won’t do that for you.”

“It doesn’t matter! She’ll at least be normal!” Mother shrieked. “Don’t you want to that, Regina?”

Regina let go of Robin’s hand, turning to face her mother. “I want to live my life, Mother. I want to work at the bakery, hang out at the bar with Emma and Killian, go where I want and do what I want.”

“But your nose!” Mother exclaimed.

“There is nothing wrong with my nose!” Regina yelled back. The truth had been slowly creeping up on her but realization had still hit her like a truck. When she had been away from her mother, she hadn’t noticed her nose at all. She looked at the mirror and saw herself. And herself looked perfectly fine.

Holding her head high, Regina stated: “I like myself the way I am.”

Thunder rattled the manor despite not a single cloud being in the sky. Guests cried out as a powerful gust of wind tore through the wedding, twirling Regina’s dress and veil around her. She struggled against it, feeling herself fall backwards as if falling down a whole. Regina let out a cry as the blankness surrounded her.

When she landed, she was kneeling on a black surface. It was black all around her, no matter which way she turned her body. She stopped, noticing a young girl now standing in front of her. The girl had long black hair in plaits and wore a bright pink party dress with white Mary Jane shoes. Big brown eyes stared at Regina, looking down past her pig nose. It was Regina when she was about five years old, when she wanted to know why she couldn’t go to the birthday party for Kathryn Midas like all the other children and was told it was because her nose made her too different.

Regina rose into a kneeling position, looking her younger self in the eyes. She then wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her close. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

She felt the girl disappear inside her as a bright light engulfed her. Her face felt warm, like the sun was beaming down on it. Regina closed her eyes, relishing the feeling.

“Regina?” Robin asked. She felt him shake her arm. “Regina, are you alright?”

Opening her eyes, all Regina could see was the white lace that made up her veil. She struggled to push it from her face, finally able to see Robin and the sun again when she did. His mouth fell open and surprise filled his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned by his reaction.

Emma had joined the group and she held out her compact. “See for yourself.”

Regina took it, opening it up so she could look at herself in the mirror. At first, she didn’t recognize the woman she saw. Her pig nose was gone, replaced by a normal looking one that resembled her mother’s and high cheek bones like the ones she saw on models in magazines. She touched her hand to her nose, feeling the rounded shape rather than the flatness of her snout before brushing her fingers along her cheeks.

She had broken the curse.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “I thought I had to marry a blue blood to break the curse.”

“The curse said you had to be accepted by one of your own,” Daddy said.

It all made sense to Regina then. For people of their station, marriage was everything. They married to secure bloodlines, business, land, money, power…everything but love. Getting one of their own to marry her despite her nose would’ve appeared to have been the best way for her to be accepted but it never would’ve broken the curse. Whoever married her would’ve just done so for her fortune and lineage, not because he truly accepted her.

Anger then flared up as another truth revealed itself to her. She didn’t have to have the childhood she had. Her parents didn’t have to hide her away, keep her from all the other children and prevent anyone from seeing her. All they had to do was love her for who she was—pig’s nose and all. The curse could’ve been broken when she was barely an hour old but no, she hadn’t even been accepted by her own parents.

Mother still appeared to be struggling with what had happened but Regina could see guilt creeping into her father’s eyes, meaning he was realizing the same thing she had. That all he had to do was look past her nose rather than fixate, rather than always add the “except your nose” caveat to everything, and she would’ve been freed.

“Do you need a hand?” Robin asked softly, holding his out to her. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

She smiled at him. “What do you think?”

“You’ve always been beautiful to me,” he said. “Nothing’s changed.”

Regina wrapped her arms around him, kissing him. His hands were a warm weight on her waist, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. She had always wondered what it would be like to do this with him and she was pleased to know she had guessed right—he was an excellent kisser.

“Excuse me, you’re supposed to be marrying my son,” George Spencer said, breaking their kiss. Regina glanced over to see him standing there, red-faced.

She glanced up at Robin, who raised his eyebrow in response. With a big smile, Regina shook her head. “There will be no wedding today.”

“Regina, think of what you’re giving up,” Mother said, sounding absurd to her.

“I’m not giving up anything,” she replied, confused. “The only reason I was marrying James was to break the curse but I did that on my own. What else do I have to gain by going through with this?”

Her mother sputtered something about money and land and how this was the way things were always done. Regina shook her head. “Then maybe it’s time for a change. Maybe that’s why the witch really cursed us—to show us what acceptance and love really is. Even though my nose is gone, I still don’t belong here. These aren’t my kind. My kind are people like Emma and Killian and Granny and Robin. People who pursue their dreams and live.”

Mother started to reach out for her but Daddy stopped her. “Let her go, Cora. We’ve kept her from living her life long enough. It’s time for her to be free and to find her own happiness.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Regina said, stepping away to hug him.

He held her tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t just accept you for who you were, my darling daughter. I just hope you don’t cut us completely out of your life…”

She shook her head as she pulled away. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to call regularly and stop by for dinner. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” he replied. “And bring Robin…you know, if this works out. Which I have a feeling it will.”

Regina glanced over her shoulder, taking in the smiling man watching her. Love always seemed out of her reach and she had often sat in the park, watching older couples as they strolled happily down the paths and wishing she could have what they had. She wasn’t sure what the path before her would bring but she knew she was going to walk it with Robin by her side.

She stepped toward him, taking his hand. “I think I owe you a drink.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “Yes, you do.”

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #spookyoq

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hellomissmabel · 7 years

Text

Little Monster part 1

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual activity (NSFW) and accusations of abuse. Oh, and foul language. Skip the NSFW by skipping the cursive part! (that’s why it’s cursive too hehe)

Word count: 1.707

Summary: You’re an arts student on the verge of graduating when you get the verdict: either you do an extra year or you take one extra, mandatory course to salvage your reputation. You hold a grudge against history and would rather be fooling around with your boyfriend than sitting in a bleak auditorium listening to some old fart’s war stories. Turns out that fossil isn’t as old as you thought he’d be and soon you’re begging for taste of Professor Rogers, taking advantage of the high life.

A/N: As I’m finishing up on Manhattan Mistress, I’d like to pitch this little series based on the newly released photographs Chris Evans did for Vogue (and Esquire). They just screamed recently divorced college professor/high society beau/sugar daddy to me so here it is!

The day you first let your mind wander to impure thoughts about your professor is the first day you dropped your panties on the bathroom floor of the ladies’ toilet. He’s everything you never knew you wanted and everything you know you shouldn’t want. That time you caught him palming himself through his skin-tight jeans, moaning sinfully, moaning your name and cursing under his breath, it changed your entire view on him.

Hell, it’s not a secret Professor Rogers had been screwing around here and there with a couple of his female students. The guy is notorious for his sex drive. Nor will you ever forget that night you were studying late for finals and on your way back from the coffee machine to the library, walking past his office and hearing him obscenely fuck the brains out of an exchange student that you knew for a fact would be gone the next week. A proper fucking and no loose ends, that’s how he operates. He bent her over his desk, ripped her panties down her legs and slammed into her without a warning.

Rumour has it that he wasn’t always such a tease but that since his divorce he’s been rather indulgent with his status as high society’s most favourite beau and the sexual perks that come with it. Professor Rogers can be described in three words and three words only: filthy fucking rich, emphasis on fucking.

His head is between your legs faster than you can turn around, his fingers digging into your ass cheeks and parting them so his tongue can lick a broad stripe from your clit to your cunt. Your palms sting with the coldness radiating from the tiled wall, your entire nervous system focused on one thing, your professor eating you out from behind. And to think that just three months ago you were going to quit this course.

Three months ago

“I’m telling you, Clint, if I ever get the opportunity to weasel my way out of this God damn assignment, I will seize it with both hands,” you whine to your best friend, absentmindedly drawing circles onto the cover of your notepad while waiting for inspiration to hit you like a speed train. Since you started dating Bucky Barnes, senior and notorious bad boy, your grades plummeted dramatically causing you to retake most of your exams and eventually resulting in getting assigned to a shitload of mandatory coursework for one of your least favourite subjects: history. As an arts student, you’re obliged to follow course on the history of art such as film and photography. So what’s the downside of this class, you must be wondering?

Clint casually shrugs, pausing the music he was listening to and taking off his earplugs. “You know, if you weren’t so busy sucking off Barnes, you wouldn’t be in this position. But I get it,” he says looking at you from the corner of his eye, “Barnes takes care of you. He loves you. So why not spend all your time riding his cock?”

You gasp at Clint’s brash words, covering his mouth with your hand as he laughs heartily. “We’re in a freaking library, Clint!,” you whisper forcefully, trying not to gain any unwanted attention from the librarian who’s been eying the two of you for a while now, stalking you like a hawk and waiting for a reason to kick you out without further notice.

“Come on, Y/N, don’t act all innocent,” Clint nudges your shoulder, “You’ve been going at it as soon as he took you out dancing which was, if I remember it correctly, only your second date. I didn’t peg you as the kind of girl to put out on the second date.”

“That’s because you don’t know me that well, jerk,” you shoot back playfully with a wink. “Buck and I, we have our own thing.” You shrug and card your fingers through your hair. “I can see myself marrying him, you know.”

Clint turns his body, facing you with obvious interest. “Marriage? You still have one year to go, Y/N. and then you have to find a job and make money. I think marriage isn’t something you should be worrying about now. First you should get your education right and then you can make as many babies with Barnes as you’d like.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Clint!,” you exclaim in a fit of giggles, “You are insufferable. Marriage does not equal getting knocked up, you fool.”

“Ha! That wasn’t the case with…,” your best friend hesitates, debating the words swirling in his mind. “You know, Nat.”

Natasha. The name tastes both sweet and sour on the tip of your tongue. Natasha was Clint’s everything, his first and if it was up to him also his last love. But she got a better offer and took off with Bucky’s father, ultimately becoming your boyfriend’s step-mother. It’s an awkward situation to say the least, with Natasha scrutinising every aspect of your relationship with both your bestie and your bae. And on top of that, Natasha is pregnant with Bucky’s step-brother or step-sister, worsening the situation by tenfold.

You and Clint receive a couple dirty looks from the librarian and you know it’s time to clear out. Quickly grabbing your things and stuffing them in your bag, you grab Clint’s wrist and guide him to the inner courtyard, spotting an empty spot close by the fountain and out of earshot from the other students relaxing in the early spring sun.

“Clint, I gotta tell you something.”

He nods, setting his backpack down between his feet. “Shoot.”

You explain to him that you’ve found someone willing to study with you. Her name is Wanda and she seems like a nice girl. You’re meeting her for coffee after class. “She’s the professor’s assistant, hence my sudden interest in her. I have no clue who Rogers is but from what I’ve gathered so far, he seems like one tough asshole. Doesn’t hand out grades like Wilson did last year. I reckon an easy A will be hard to earn. I’m a fucking straight A student and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“And why is this of any particular interest to me?”

You sigh exasperatedly at his ignorance. “Do I really need to point it out to you?” You rub your temples and close your eyes as you continue speaking. “She’s got the hots for you!”

Clint’s expression changes from one of confusion to one of pleasure. “You want me to sleep with her, don’t you?”

You should feel at least a little bit bad, using Clint to help Wanda warm up to you just so you could pass a stupid course. Of course there’s more to it. “So, are you in or should I spill the beans to Sharon?”

“Don’t you dare.” Clint is glaring daggers at you and if looks could kill, you’d be roasted. “You do know that Sharon’s maiden name is Carter right? Then you should also know who she was married to.”

“Ah crap,” you mutter alongside a string of profanities. “She used to bang my new professor?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod of his head. “She used to be Sharon Rogers but bailed out on the marriage after her miscarriage. He didn’t take it so well but a little birdie told me that’s not the real reason their love shipwrecked.”

Intrigued, you inch closer to make sure you’re not mission a single detail of juicy gossip because God knows it’s all you live for these days. “Go on,” you encourage Clint who’s smiling smugly at the fact he knows something you don’t.

Beckoning you, he whispers lowly into your ear. “She used to be his assistant and when he tried to get rid of her, she threatened to tell the dean that he raped her. She even got pictures to prove it even though everybody knows she only took the job because she wanted to screw him. There’s also a little home movie or something on her cell phone that might be incriminating to Rogers. I’m telling you, that sex tape is the reason they tied the knot all of a sudden because let’s get real here, he can do so much better than Sharon.”

“Agreed. She’s got a stick up her ass that one.”

“Hey, I’m not finished yet,” Clint grins cheekily and you listen attentively. “According to my source who shall not be named,” he chuckles and even though you already know who his supplier of secrets is, you’re willing to give him this just to keep Clint happy. “So, they told me that the pregnancy wasn’t planned and he wanted her to get an abortion. She refused and ran to her sister’s house where she intended to stay until the baby was born. But you know, the guy’s got juice so she was forced to move back in and sit her days out in that golden cage he calls a house.”

The pieces of the puzzle are falling together right in front of you. “Fuck, Clint, are you freaking kidding me?”

“Oh no, Y/N, I’m most definitely not. He held her hostage and then kicked her out when she conveniently lost the baby.”

“That’s sick,” you confirm, obviously disgusted although you’re also mildly intrigued by the inner working of such a twisted mind. “I really don’t want to take this course, Clint,” you whine and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, tucking you reassuringly into his side.

“You’ll do fine. You’re gonna nail this shit.”

“I hate history,” you deadpan dryly. “And you know why.”

“Ok, well, you’re gonna have to pass regardless. Though you can’t keep hating history just because of him. But if you really cannot deal with this shit anymore, you can always drop out. You got Bucky and his daddy’s money to keep you warm and comfortable at night.”

“Hell no, Clint, I’m an independent woman and I’m going to get that freaking degree so I can at least do something with my life. I ain’t no man’s bitch.”

“That’s my girl, right there,” Clint chuckles proudly. “Now let’s get outta here, you have a lecture to attend and I have a girl to swoon.”

Part 2

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