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keenregine · 1 year ago

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That's why they call it the blues

Look who's on fire tonight. It's Ryan the temp who started the fire (The Office reference).

So yeah, Bath was just marvelous, I would definitely go back in there at any given time, or in summer perhaps. In August, I went to visit Spain, it's like my 2nd home now tbh and I feel like it. The weather is just perfect, no sort of unpredictability going on. The vibe is very European if-I-don't-you-I-don't-greet-you kind of way, and it's just what I’m looking for. I miss the transport most of all, the clean train stations, cheap fare and neat chairs. For the longest time I've been traveling back and fort, it didn't really come to my senses that I have the privilege to use the tax-free scheme whenever I shop for things. Why?! All those things I bought from long time ago could have been discounted ,although it only reduces like 4 to 6 euros (depending on the item really) but still, a bargain is a bargain. Bought my Mom a Longchamp bag, although she wouldn't notice the difference between a real one or fake, it's nice to feel that I've given her something a bit up her price range. I don't even have a Longchamp for myself, but just because I don't fancy the design that's all.

Do You Remember? 21st night of September? is lyrics to the song September by Earth, Wind and Fire. This time of the year is still summer. I went to Bournemouth, located within the southernmost part of the UK, so beaches. By far, I have gone to two other sea side places in the UK, and this is the most decent one I have ever seen. With it’s fine beige colored sand and less established rocks that you might step on, I came to realize maybe this is how Boracay looks like. Plenty of tourists scattered, half naked bodies soaking in the sun. I was not in the swimming mood at this point and nowhere my body is ready for that kind of activity. I used to be confident with my physique but since I stopped being physically active, my confident has also plummeted in such an alarming rate. I used to take tons of filtered selfies all the time, trying my best to look good, putting on so much makeup but all that’s gone now. I feel like it’s taking too much of my time instead of me doing. .well nothing. Lol. I’m more into reading books and watching shows, going to bookshops and museums, my life pretty much revolves on those things now. What I maintained through those years was my eating habit, it’s painful to talk about this and hella long so I’m not gonna dwell on that for now.

Going back to museums, my favorite kind of museums are those old houses converted to be exhibited. And in Bournemouth, it was my ultimate goal to visit this home museum called Russell-Cotes, situated on a cliff overlooking the beach. I could just imagine how it must’ve felt like living in this house many decades ago, hearing the soft waves, feeling the soft breeze upon your skin, ignore the fishy smell but I imagine otherwise it’s a peaceful quality kind of life up there. Loads of artworks are still hanging on the walls, statues of many kinds standing untouched, and furnitures in its original places like a person or a soul is just waiting for people to leave the house so he/she can finally lay down to rest for the night. Or maybe the characters in those paintings are those souls living in that same house somehow thankful that they’re not completely abandoned in such an extended time. I’d say I regret that it was already closing when I arrive in the museum, but the good things about this is there is less people, almost none actually. I took my sweet time as of there’s no time pressure although I can feel eyes towards me by the staff so that they could close the place early and have a good time in the pub. But too bad there’s this lady who showed up late. Sorry mates. Another museum very similar to this is the Sir John Soane’s in London but in a much city life sense as it its located in the center of London. And I appreciate that you can visit this for free, which you can’t expect from countryside museums but I don’t have a complain on this. The house of Sir John Soane stretches 3 house blocks, it looks all separate houses on the outside but open plan open the inside. I could also smell the moulds and oldness of the place which is a complete 3D experience, my favorite part in all this is the basements. Although there is no story to be told, I would create my own tales of secret mysteries hidden beneath those walls, unknown murders, abusive relatives, entrapped children seeking revenge. I don’t understand why it excites me thinking about these potential dark stories but when it comes to watching supernatural movies or tv shows I get hella scared. I guess my fear comes from what is being shown rather than my own imaginations.

The time has finally come when Alex got his citizenship from Spain. He would really much prefer go to where I am, than me going to him. But honestly, I really don’t mind which of the two, traveling soothes me and so does him. Hehe. Getting his most awaited Spanish passport was not the easiest and smoothest process he’d ever gone through. Although as a Filipino, Spain was generous enough to grant us the fastest pathway on attaining citizenship. For only two short years of being a lawful resident, a Filipino can be eligible to apply to be a Spaniard, fastest than any other countries not only in EU but in the world (333 years of gratitude?lol) and to think Spain is always in the top 5 most powerful passports, like do you still have the right to complain. After passing his interview and language test, he waited over a year that almost feels like a decade. Literally after getting his passport from the office, he packed his bags to go here in London for us to celebrate his birthday. We would still wish our predicament can be more of a permanent setting, of us living together but we’ll get there soon enough.

We went home to the Philippines in November, he met my parents and my older sister who also spend a holiday from the U.S. It was the most amazing time, the best birthday ever. Growing up, it was always me and my Mom, elementary to high school. My mom is not the most therapeutic/touchy/kissy/huggy type being that she is a teacher of elementary students. She would not inquire about my personal issues or my emotions. She would not ask how school was, or is there any hot gossip I want to share. Although I always wish back then that we could be more open towards each other, but we never were. I spend my childhood finding out things for myself by reading from books, hearing from my friends or watching from tv. I would never dare ask her anything because I know I will never get an answer, ironic if you think about it knowing she’s a teacher, all the more you would expect her to more explorative and seeking of her daughter’s affection, but then again it was never like that. I never hate her for how she took care of me, it was just her mere personality. But a lot of memories imprints on my mind, some of them good and some of them bad. And I still love her for that regardless. When it comes to boys showing me interest, she will never be welcoming about the idea. She would not tell me why, but will just be avoidant or hateful about it. Like a parasite needs to be terminated, I know it’s for a good a reason, but I believe a child deserves all the explanations growing up especially at this age and especially given that I’m a girl. I guess it was such a relief for her that I didn’t get pregnant and started drinking at a very young age. I learned much of this from my friends, even the simple manners that I see from them whenever I visit their home, how I guessed a parent should be towards their child, I sometimes get jealous. I’m getting off track. I will dedicate an entire entry on this lengthy mother-daughter (including my dad) relationship narrative in the future, I think I might cry when that time comes. Sooo, coming home was such a great time. We were together the entire stay, we planned every place we went to. Baguio for the hundredth time for my parents and Cebu for the first time for all of us. I wish those time didn’t have to end. Because Alex’s main family is already in Madrid, they still manage to maintain their house neighboring my home town in Laguna, so we visited that. We we’re not really too close back in high school, we would only hang out few times if I remember, I never seen that house where he grew up and it felt like I’m reliving my own childhood/teenage years back then. He also have extended family in Pangasinan where all her aunt and uncles live. We get to ride a scooter around town, now this is the ultimate throwback experience. Back in high school, scooters are quite the ‘thing’, I know the idea is shallow, but if you have this as a guy it’s same like having a car so 'chick magnet'. Lol. I remember going with Alex in few occasions but as I said nothing special going on, just two plain friends hanging out. Riding the scooter in present time with him felt like were back as teenagers, but now a complete item. Laughing like children, rolling like thunder under the covers. Thank you Elton John. Our vacation was only 3 weeks short, but it was the best time everrr. I don’t know how to emphasize more in this.

But do you also believe that in series of happiness there's also sadness waiting to emerge?

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myfriendpokey · 2 years ago

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personal aesthetics

i'm often afraid to look directly at what i want, in case it scatters and disappears, maybe that's cowardly, i don't know. but i've always felt like, to get what you want through intelligence or hard work or talent is to diminish that thing somehow, to turn it into another empty token of the will. and that the only way things come with their original charge of desire intact is as a miracle, as specifically the one thing that we didn't dare to think about, didn't dare wish for.

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so you can spend your time vamping, drawing circles around the magic incantation. and these circles can be interesting enough in themselves. you try something or find something once, and it works so you do it again, again and again, until it becomes a stock phrase, a familiar presence in the bag of tricks. and maybe over time it changes, maybe it becomes one of those things that passes far enough through familiarity that it becomes strange to us again, we pause and feel confused at how well our own hands seem to know these contours, maybe they start to wear away, or maybe we start to wear away ourselves, we have to do things differently, not being able to rely upon the old sharpness. so they develop their own histories. but it's a false history unless we somehow view it in tandem with that of their counterparts, the non-tools - whatever it was that couldn't be added to the bag, whatever we couldn't bring ourselves to try to fake.

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i feel averse to art that has no dead parts, no listlessnesses, no flubs - "nothing but the best". as if meaning and value were so rare that they could never be left to chance. a paranoia that diminishes the thing it's trying to celebrate, converting it to yet another luxury good to be stockpiled by those of means or exquisite sensitivity. i think the only thing you can do when you run across the good is to let it go again. i think whatever you risk losing in doing so is balanced out by the beauty of the notion that there's always more to find.

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i like lucidity in art because it's an acknowledgement of its own limits - a lucidity that means marking the points where lucidity itself can only stop talking and start to gesture.

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art as a lucky dip bag that holds equal chance of turning out to contain a plastic whistle, two lollipops, a magic ring or somebody's hand.

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i like irony because it's a way of holding two ideas at once. imagine i'm sad, so sad, so forlorn, so overcome with weighty despair that all i can do is throw up into a trash can. now imagine a member of janitorial staff finding it the next day and going what the fuck? by putting these things together with different levels of emphasis you can have as comic or as tragicomic an effect as you could like - or if you like you can hold them both at a remove, emphasising the broad scope of your own vision. but the kind of irony i am interested in is whatever could hold both these things in suspense - each one chafing against the other, holding off on final meaning as if waiting for the scales to tip, like a make-your-own-allegory kit where the final part rolled under the couch.

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sometimes i think about the old idea that wanting anything is folly, is childish, that as soon as you get it you'll just want something else. and there's something to this, but i hate that smug moralism, that defensive incuriosity, and i feel drawn to people brave enough to continue wanting even knowing how futile it might be. so maybe the value in chasing something is in getting to want something else, layer after layer of discarded promise building up, becoming stranger, less straightforward, the path of your desire getting cluttered with your own debris, having to wind, become sidetracked - like the snake from "snake", growing longer as it eats apples(?) in the void, forever surprising its own body at odd angles, circling its own old movements. is this what william blake meant by "if a fool would persist in his knowledge he would become wise"?? see how long you can avoid self knowledge while eating fruit. eve simulator 2000.

in magic wand there's a part where you find the magic wand, this thinly sketched signpost for alterity, desire, and it makes a weird noise and then the world is changed, in a way it's hard to read as good or bad. certainly more cluttered - the plains outside are now covered in debris, gigantic heads and hands, pictures of the demiurge. there doesn't seem like much to choose from between these places, so maybe the only thing you've gained is to have seen them both, the old and new, and have the old slide a little further into memory, the secret alchemical medium that can absorb all contradictions.

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i always feel like to represent something is to travesty it, to turn it into an icon of the unliving - that to put whatever you most cherish, love or friendship or whatever, into a work of art is like putting it inside the mouth of a corpse. if these have value it's as human things while art draws its lustre from being inhuman. that being said… there's something moving about the frozen and unproblematized emblems of pleasure that bob around the screen in a videogame, the hearts and blue skies, candy worlds and golden bells. they become moving because nobody believes in them anymore, because there's no insistence that these things might actually represent the good - they're harmless tokens, light as air. in the very indifference with which they seem to regard how near or far they might be from actual happiness there's something tensionless and dreamy, forgetful and beautiful. we might suspect that a secret substitution's taken place.

#lucky bag

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thessalian · 2 years ago

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Please say more things about the dragon design if you have thoughts because I have been WAITING for someone else to geek out over them with

Please remember that you asked for this. And there will probably be more later - for space reasons, if nothing else. Please keep in mind that I was the one who spent most of the Game of Thrones series ranting that Daenerys was the mother of wyverns rather than the mother of dragons because two legs plus wings is WYVERN, godsdamnit. Let’s just say I have a Biology A-level and a healthy interest in cryptozoology.

Okay. So. Body habitus, colouration, horn shape / placement, wing shape etc on the Chroma Conclave, and why it all works, in my opinion,

Vorgual - did you notice that the tips of his wings were more sharply pointed than the others' wings? I looked up arctic birds, just out of curiosity, and a lot of arctic birds have similarly sharp angles to their wings. It honestly makes sense when you're living in someplace with occasionally very sharp and harsh winds; you want enough wingspan not only to catch the wind when you want it, but to not have to tilt the wing too far in order to avoid windshear dragging at your speed or worse, damaging your feathers (or wing membranes, in this case). Not to mention that more points of attachment to the body means there's less effort expended to keep the wings close to the body in windy conditions. I bet Vorugal could do one hell of a death-from-above swallow-dive, and the expanded length of wings means that he could make like someone wearing a wingsuit - shut the wings entirely and do a controlled plummet, then open everything up and slow or stop the fall exactly where he wants. The other reason it’s good to have a wingsuit-like wing build in the kinds of arctic climes a white dragon would generally pick is because their lairs are generally going to be in caves carved in icy cliffside. You’re going to want something that lets you glide as much as possible in an ice canyon, to take advantage of the updrafts that ensue in that kind of terrain and to fold in close to the body while going through a particularly narrow area, counting on momentum to get you through it with as little potential tearing of the wing membrane as possible. In fact, Vorugal’s wings were the most intact of the bunch - no edge-tears, no little holes, nothing. There were marks on the wings that looked like holes, but no; in fact, they were less light-permeable than the wing membranes themselves. Given the care they took with the designs, I don’t think they’d make a mistake like that, so those dark patches would be part of camouflage markings. Because according to the Monster Manual, ancient whites latch onto walls and ceilings (also like a bat, which makes the wing shape make even more sense), so blunt horns that look like craggy bits of ice and wings that give the appearance of rocks scattered on a whitish surface (suggesting ice or snow) makes even more sense. Imagine Vorugal wrapped up in his wings like a bat, clinging to the ceiling of his lair. He’d look like a very large icicle in anything but very direct light - which you’re not going to get when lair actions include dense fog. So Vorugal’s design is basically perfect.

Raishan - snake parallels aside, consider the membranous crests that aren’t just at the head and down the neck, but also along the tail near where it meets the body. Greens traditionally hide their lairs in vegetation, or in or around water - behind waterfalls, caverns you can only get to by diving in a stream, something like that. That makes the additional cresting on Raishan’s body serve as either additional camouflage (with the right vegetation, green semi-opaque membranous tissue looks like just more leaf) or an aid to swimming (like fins). She clearly has control over their movement, so either works. It’s a far cry from the Monster Manual talking about that single crest on the neck up to the head, but it works a lot better because it’s got some evolutionary benefits. Honestly, so does the narrower body; after all, if you live in an area with a lot of trees, having a narrower body makes it easier to move around in. I mean, consider Umbrasyl (who I’ll talk about in a minute); similar narrow build, and greens and blacks often compete for territory in marshy woodland areas. As for the head shape ... everything from eye position to the rounded snout says ‘pit viper’, which immediately makes a person think ‘poison’. Which is what you want to be thinking when looking at a green dragon. (Well, that and ‘RUN’.)

Umbrasyl - like I said, talking about him in a minute, and he’s also perfectly designed for the swamplands he would generally call home. The crest of spikes on his head that looks like it’s got thick cobweb or vegetative growth stretched between each spike, the various hooked spines along his body from nose to tail that could look like half-rotted limbs and branches, the extra bits of spine at the junction between tail and body up at the top that looks like it could theoretically open into some kind of fin ... Umbrasyl’s entire body was clearly designed to blend into a swamp setting. Also, unless I’m mistaken, the spots where wings meet body are narrower than the others; it looks like there’s more room for movement in the front legs without wings being in the way, which would make sense given that blacks get more use out of a dragon’s amphibious nature than any other colour. The wings would be too big to really help in a swimming situation that involved the equivalent of a bayou or billabong, but imagine Umbrasyl swimming like a crocodile - wings close to his body so that only the hooked bits at various wing joints and tips show, that spiked tail and body making him look like a few water-swollen fallen trees ... the fact that their regional effects include making the plantlife in the area particularly thick and twisty, which would block more light and make him fit in better with the local vegetation really works. Also, just from the standpoint of aesthetics, his acid gland is very prominently on his short-by-comparison-to-others neck in a way that suggests a bullfrog puffing its chest out, thus drawing us back to the swamp comparison.

Thordak - Thordak’s our grey area, but honestly, when you’ve got a heart crystal jammed into you, all bets are off, probably. His wings and body habitus are closer to the ‘average’ dragon than the others, but then again, when you’re bright red and live in volcanos for preference, you’re probably not going to bother with camouflage that much. Still, it’s obvious that Thordak isn’t what the design team would have designed for the ‘average’ dragon. Some parts are - the bits that didn’t need to change, like wide broad wings designed to catch thermal updrafts, a certain amount of ‘heat vent’ (which we know is the average because Vorugal has a similar ‘power vent’ for his ice breath and he doesn’t have a heart crystal stuck in him), and a tail that’s weighted like a mace. However, I think the most telling thing about Thordak, apart from the horns that do look like a crown or a ceremonial headdress of some kind, is the range of movement in his limbs. Specifically - to date, he’s the only one of the Chroma Conclave that’s gone bipedal without shapeshifting into something naturally bipedal. He’s got one forelimb braced on a section of slightly crumbly wall, but if he put his full weight on that, it’d just collapse. That and the position of the other limbs leads me to believe that it’s something he could do. Not for long, and not without the help of the horns and tail and wings all acting as counterbalance for each other, but he doesn’t just rear up on hind legs - his shoulders (for lack of a better term) go back, and while the hip alignment wouldn’t do well with walking any distance that way, it allows him to stand almost unaided. That’s a power play, and the exact kind of power play a red would make. So I’m not sure whether that’s something red dragons as designed by this animation team can all do or if it’s something the heart crystal gave Thordak (because that requires some serious skeletal realignment, honestly, or being double-jointed to ludicrous degrees), but either way, it shows the kind of individual Thordak is - he is going to lord it over everyone, even (hell, especially) his ‘fellows’ in the Conclave.

Summary: the design team thought hard about this. And they did magnificent work.

Yeah, there will probably be more, but you wanted thoughts on the dragon design and so now you have them. Thank you for encouraging me; I have the imposter syndrome where I worry everyone wants me to shut up, and I just love poking the Jenga Tower of Logic about stuff like this.

#tlovm season 2 #tlovm s2 #tlovm spoilers

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mellowswriting · 4 years ago

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I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must��ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

��Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #narcos

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing In The Dark

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,641 😌

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: BOP BOP BOP 💃 Here's a Lisa fic for you guys!!! This isn't the request I got for her, but recent events inspired me to write this one and I really hope you enjoy it. More content will be coming in the near future :) Thank you all for the continued support, and as always... ♡ Happy Reading ♡

Follow-Up Part: Worth It

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Tense isn't quite good enough of a word to describe how you've spent the past week and a half. For some reason unbeknownst to you, Lisa's been hostile and standoffish whenever you've tried to communicate, always giving you short answers and snide remarks instead of being mature and confronting you about whatever issue she has. So, of course, it's only natural for the bitterness to have rubbed off on you as well.

What's worse is that you're not even sure why you're fighting. Anytime you rack your brain for a reason to explain the anger, you come up with nothing.

"Are we still on for practice later?" You ask, picking up a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray that sets on the counter.

"I'll be there." She says simply, not even bothering to look up from the bowl of cereal she decided to grab. You clench your jaw and give a curt nod, determined to give her the same energy she's giving you.

Jisoo notices the air of aversion that's quickly taking over the room, so she speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I can't wait to meet more Blinks at our fansign later this week. Aren't you guys excited?" The mere thought of meeting your supporters makes the unnie unbelievably happy, and all the hard work seems worthwhile.

Despite herself, Lisa lightly grins and mutters a phrase of agreement around her mouthful of food.

"At least they know how to make conversation." You respond pettily, glancing across the counter at Lisa as you take a bite of your bacon.

"I know how, Y/N. I just lack the desire to do so," she shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the cold words that slip past her plump lips.

You click your tongue, now used to her behavior. Had this been one of her first times saying something like that, you probably would've been sadder than you currently are.

"Awww," you coo. "You come up with that one on the spot? You'll have to do better than that if you wanna hurt me." You lean against the marble countertop to whisper that last part, throwing a goodbye to Jisoo as you set off to your room to get ready for the day.

Later That Day -- 7:49 PM

The bright red numbers displayed above the elevator doors tick on, changing with each floor you put behind you. A heavy sigh bounces off the walls and you rub the back of your neck for comfort.

Why does Lisa have to be such a good dancer? The only reason you arranged this practice with her in the first place is to ensure that you know all the proper choreo for your upcoming Inkigayo performance. Your fans matter more to you than any disagreement you could be in, and you're determined to put on the best show possible for them. Lisa just so happens to be a critical factor in that process, unfortunately.

"Level 6," an automated voice announces before the sleek doors open, revealing a nearly uninhabited floor of practice rooms. They branch off on both sides of the long hallway that stretches out before you, and you get started on your journey down it. The only occupied studio sets at the end, emitting a soft glow through its translucent door as one of your song's choruses thumps through the speakers.

You don't bother to knock before walking in, far past keeping up with the niceties any longer. Lisa's eyes dart from the wall of mirrors that borders the front of the room to glance at you, momentarily stilling her movements.

"Don't let me stop you," you say, moving your hand in a "shoo-ing" motion at her until she picks back up with the song. You turn around to shut the door and take off your jacket, missing the way her eyes slowly rake over your body.

You join her in the middle of the room, making sure to stay far enough away so that neither of you accidently hit or bump into each other as you run through the songs. The next hour or so is spent doing just that, repeating the ones you have issues with until you're performing the moves expertly. Every approving nod and shout from Lisa works to boost your confidence, and you actually find it a bit easier to enjoy yourself in her presence again. The two of you trade jokes, and sometimes it seems as if the hostility is fading away.

"You did well with all the other songs, so let's practice the one where we have the male backup dancers. I'll fill in for them."

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Lisa dancing so sensually with you, but you quickly dismiss it and get into position.

"From the top?" You ask over your shoulder, feeling her eyes on you as she approaches.

"Of course." She says it like it's common sense.

The song starts up, and she sets her phone down on a nearby chair that she dragged closer earlier. She watches as you perform your solo moves, offering tweaks and scattered praises all the while. About midway through, the song shifts and she rolls her sleeves up in preparation.

You take a deep breath as she settles behind you, reaching an arm around your front to rest her fingertips on your jaw. When the next hit of the sensual bass vibrates across the practice room, she coaxes your head to the side, moving hers forward just enough to brush her lips against your neck.

You're aware of every twitch of her muscles, every breath she takes -- her body is flush up against yours, radiating that heat that you've missed so much. Her heart beats quickly like yours, and you can feel the way it pounds against your back.

Perhaps this is the moment you should step away; some distance is sure to clear the fog that settles over your brain, clouding your judgment more than ever. But she's holding you like she used to, and you can't muster up the energy to put an end to something that feels so good.

"Arms up," she coaches, lifting your hands above your head before trailing her fingers back down your arms, lower and lower until they skim over the warm skin of your abdomen. In one fell swoop, she tangles her thumb into one of the belt loops of your jeans and uses her other hand to assist you with the next move: a spin. Her hold is steady, and your hair cascades over your shoulders as you lean your head back, twirling effortlessly. Given that your eyes are closed, you fail to notice the way she traps her bottom lip in between her teeth, doing all she can to keep dancing and not kiss you. You feel her palm press to the small of your back as her arms tighten around your waist, allowing you to dip towards the ground without falling.

"Good, just like that." The praise is like music to your ears as she raises you back up, and she audibly swallows when she sees how mussed your clothes have become from dancing.

Turning your attention back to the front, you meet her gaze in the mirror; it's calculated and intimidating, but she looks aroused. You watch as her eyes scan over your body, lingering in the places that she's spent hours worshiping before. A smug smile tugs at your lips; despite being mad, her attraction to you is undeniable. With that in mind, you decide to tease her; in time with the music, you push your hips back.

"I think I still need help with this next part." You purr, lulling your head back to rest against her shoulder as you slowly drag your hands over your body. Lisa lets out a low moan when you arch your back, grinding your ass further into her while you innocently toy with the buttons of your shirt. Having her in such a state is great enough, but knowing that you're the reason she's so turned on is something else entirely.

"Y/N…" she warns, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress anymore noises that run the risk of selling her out.

"Lisa…" you tease back, playfully matching her tone as you watch her face scrunch up in response to the way you wind your body along to the music.

She turns you around, her grip on your hips tightening as she works hard to restrain herself. Your chest rises and falls with slightly hurried breaths, partially from the dancing you've been doing and partially from the effect she has on you. Keeping her hands from roaming is proving harder than she imagined it'd be, and her mind goes into overdrive to find a way to make sure things don't slip too far out of her control.

Her plans are stalled when you grab the material of her shirt in your fists, lightly yanking her forward by the collar of it until her lips ghost dangerously close to yours. You fake her out, only allowing them to brush against each other for a moment before you tilt your head and drop your mouth down to her neck.

As you begin to leave a light hickey on her pulse point, she somehow manages to come to her senses and knows what she has to do. It was a hard fought battle, though, and part of her still wants to relent and let you have your way with her.

She puts her hands on your shoulders and shoves you backwards, being careful not to push too hard. The look in her eye is predatory, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't thrill you.

With every advancing step she takes, slow and deliciously torturous in its nature, you take one backwards, only stopping when the cold surface of the mirror presses against your skin.

"You wanna know why I've been short with you?" Her darkening eyes scan down to your lips before coming back up to look into yours as she waits for your answer.

Why would she bring that up right now? The question sours your mood, effectively ruining the moment -- that's exactly what Lisa wanted (she's still bothered by whatever's been plaguing her lately, and as much as she wants you, she can't get over it yet).

"Yeah, because it's really unfair. I haven't done anything wrong." The anger and hurt you've been feeling for the past week returns now, bubbling up in your chest when the memories of some of her more harsh words replay in your mind. Your voice conveys the growing irritation you feel, but Lisa’s expression remains unreadable. The effects of your desire are beginning to border on frustration now, dancing on the line as they threaten to cross over it.

"I didn't particularly appreciate finding you at the studio with Jung-hoon when you were supposed to be with us."

A singular exhale leaves you, short and unbelieving as you roll your eyes.

"That's what this is about?" You scoff. "You know I was held back to record my part for the newest track; and besides, I wasn't even that late to dinner. The girls weren't mad, so why are you?" Your arms come up to cross over your chest defensively, and you narrow your eyes at her.

"You should know." She says it like it's the most obvious thing known to man.

"Well clearly I don't, Lisa, so why don't you enlighten me?"

"You're so oblivious," she bites back, rolling her eyes like you just had, "He's practically in love with you."

"What?"

"You heard me. He doesn't even try to hide it. Why else do you think he made sure to schedule you for the last slot of the day? He wanted to get you alone." Her tone is laced with bitterness, and a grimace crosses her face. Even the thought of him puts her off.

"So what if he did? I'd rather be talking to him than getting this shitty treatment from you."

"Is that so?" She challenges, pursing her lips with a tut as she tilts her head up.

"It sure is. You'd never know it, considering you seem to hate him so much, but he's actually pretty nice. He even bought me a tea when I complained about my throat being sore that night."

"He sounds like a winner," she says sarcastically, voice void of sincerity as it drips with contempt instead, "Why don't you go spend some time with him, then, if I'm just so horrible to be around?"

You shake your head as a humorless laugh slips past your lips. She's unbelievable. Before you can think of a good response, she continues her train of thought. "Maybe he'll bribe his way into your pants like he's been trying to for the past month. Tell me, Y/N, would he have to buy you dinner first? Or would another tea suffice?"

The second those words leave Lisa's lips, her chest tightens; she draws a breath in, keeping it held tightly in her lungs as guilt begins to course through her. She feels the aftershocks of her statement in the painful silence of the room, and she finds it nearly impossible to look you in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time.

Her words slowly sink in, rendering you momentarily speechless as you simply blink a few times. Your eyebrows sit higher up now, aiding your slack jaw in conveying the surprise you feel. You have to fight the urge to shove her; had you reverted back to being the less mature version of yourself from your teenage years, you would've done so in a heartbeat. But you're older now, and you realize your words and actions have consequences; clearly she hasn't learned that quite yet.

"Lisa, I'm gonna make this as simple as I can for you: if you ever say something like that to me again, we're going to have some real problems… You're such an asshole."

"I shouldn't have--"

"No, you shouldn't have. But you did. And I don't know what the hell has gotten into you lately, but it needs to stop."

"I'm sorry."

Her apology feels meaningless right now, and it falls on deaf ears. You don't allow yourself to believe she means it -- maybe she does, maybe she doesn't; regardless, she might try to sweet talk her way into forgiveness if you stay here right now, and you can't let that happen. "I don't think it's smart for me to be here -- not after that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me when you get back to the dorm later, either." The conversation sounds more formal than you're used to with Lisa, but it's fitting given everything that's happened. Her eyes remain trained on the floor as she nods sheepishly; she's ashamed of herself.

When you stride over to retrieve your coat from its resting spot, the sound of your shoes hitting the hardwood echo around the rehearsal room, serving as the only noise to cut through the tense silence. It's like a hot knife through butter, and Lisa feels her heart break a little more with each passing second. Your footfalls are a bit heavier than normal now, and you pop your knuckles out of habit to soothe yourself.

She stops herself from reaching out to you as you brush past her on your way to the door. Had things gone her way, none of this would've happened at all: she even planned to apologize and attempt to make things official with you tonight -- but life always seems to deny us of what we want most.

The handle's smooth surface rests in your palm as you linger in the doorway, keeping your back turned to her. You're not sure what you're even waiting for in the first place. When Lisa remains silent, unable to think of a fitting way to rectify the situation, you nod to yourself and slip out of the room.

The dancer releases a breath now that she's alone, and she runs her hands over her face. Her dislike for Jung-hoon was never meant to override her love for you, and it sure as hell wasn't meant to get in between the two of you. In some ways, Lisa's still that young girl she used to be when you first met as trainees: she still gets jealous and annoyed when she doesn't get what she wants, and although the years have made her far more mature than what she once was, old habits truly do die hard. She blames herself for hurting you, but she doesn't blame herself for disliking him. On one hand, you're completely innocent in the situation and undeserving of what she put you through -- she should have trusted you; but on the other, she can't help but be angry at him for trying to steal you away. You're hers, if only in her dreams, and he has no right to flirt with you like that.

So, with hundreds of thoughts swirling around in her mind, Lisa decides to do what she does best; for the next couple hours, she remains at the studio, releasing the pent up tension and frustration she's been holding in for so long.

~~~~

Back At The Blackpink Dorm

"Can today get any worse?" You groan loudly, tugging at your hair out of frustration. The worn pages of your song book flutter slightly as you push it off of your lap, sending it onto the bed with a soft thump. A couple minutes later you hear movement in the hallway, and you decide to investigate. Carefully, you feel your way through the dark and eventually reach your bedroom door, which you subsequently open.

"Help me look for some candles, please." Jisoo requests from the hallway, just a little ways away from you. A small flashlight is clutched in her hand, and its surprisingly bright beam does well in illuminating the shelves of the closet as she searches through it. You retrieve a spare light from her before making your way down the hall to search the bathroom.

"We probably won't have power until tomorrow night; maybe even later. The storm caused a blackout and parts of the grid are down right now. At least that's what management told me." She informs, raising her voice slightly so you can hear her well. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, considering a blanket of silence has fallen over the dorm; with no power, no appliances offer any background noise to drown out the jarring quietness.

Steady sheets of rain pound against the window of the bathroom, momentarily stealing your attention away from the task at hand. As inconvenient as storms of this caliber can be, it's hard not to be in awe of the power of mother nature; occasionally, bolts of lightning streak across the sky in various places, offering a peek at the angry clouds that loom overhead. It's almost like peering into another world: the vivid colors of the lightning contrast with the darkness of the sky, making it appear as a raging sea as the clouds trek across it in waves.

"I'm already cold." The distant sound of Jennie's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you release a sigh as you draw open more cabinets. She and Rosé are now seemingly out in the hallway, talking with Jisoo about the storm and how you're all going to deal with it. For a moment you wonder why Lisa hasn't joined them; perhaps she's asleep and didn't even notice the power go out.

Unbeknownst to you, the maknae hasn't done much of anything besides overthinking. Ever since she came home earlier, she's abided by your wishes: she kept quiet during dinner, and retreated to her room without so much as a word to you. It hasn't been easy by any means, and her heart has been aching to apologize to you -- she wants to make things right, but upsetting you further isn't a risk she's willing to take. So now, she lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listens to your other members talk out in the hall.

"I found these," you approach them, holding up a few medium sized candles that Rosé bought for when you guys need a spa day.

"Ah, not the good ones!" She whines, disappointed that the luxury items have to be wasted for such a lame purpose.

"We could always just sit in the dark," you remind her with a chuckle, quirking a small smile at how she's acting. She seems to forget that you guys are rich and completely capable of getting plenty more of them.

"No, I'll order more," she sighs, adding, "...just don't use all of them."

"Aye aye, captain," you salute, grinning wider when she lets out a soft laugh.

"Let's go set the stuff up in the living room," Jisoo says, slipping in between the two of you on her way. When you raise an eyebrow at the other girls, Jennie speaks up, "We might as well just hang out there. We can stay warmer that way and not die of boredom."

You cock your head to the side and nod after considering the offer, quickly deciding that you have nothing better to do anyway. "What about Lisa?" You ask, the waver in your voice going unnoticed by either of them. From inside her room, Lisa holds her breath, tensing up as she waits to hear their answer.

"I think she's sleeping, so we don't have to wake her up right now. She'll realize it's out eventually."

You seem to accept her answer, and Lisa relaxes into the cushions of her bed as she hears three sets of footsteps getting further and further away. There's no way she can face you yet -- she's still working on a good enough apology. Besides, pretending that everything's okay was hard enough at dinner -- the girls were growing suspicious, so it's only a matter of time before they ask about it. None of you like to see each other sad, but there really seems to be a soft spot in all of their hearts for you: they always try to keep you happy and protected in order to repay you for taking such good care of them. You may not be the oldest unnie, but you're dedicated to your members, and their loyalty isn't something to be taken lightly. That undisputed fact works to make Lisa even more nervous; she knows she's been bad to you, and the girls aren't afraid to give her a piece of their minds. Their combined disappointment is only rivaled by her own, and she knows she'll have to work hard to get things back to where they used to be with you.

~~~~~

As you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, you take in the sight of your reflection staring back at you. Bags rest underneath your eyes from what little sleep you've gotten so far, not quite dark enough to make you cringe but visible enough to show that things aren't going your way. You and the girls spent what was left of the evening chatting and playing board games to keep yourselves entertained, but eventually sleep became unavoidable and you retired to the large pillow fort that the 4 of you had constructed earlier. Without any power going to the dorm's heater, you've been forced to rely on extra blankets and each other's body heat to stay warm.

A glance at your watch lets you know that it's a little after 3AM now, and you can only hope to fall back asleep soon. Your mind is exhausted from all the thinking you've been doing -- the toll it's taking on you coming through as a physical pain, pulsing steadily to remind you of everything that's happened -- but somehow sleep doesn't seem to be attainable. Despite being so drained, your body and mind would rather stay at odds than just compromise and let you rest. It's like something is telling you to stay awake -- like some quiet voice with ulterior motives is calling on you to look beyond yourself and fight sleep. Whatever the reason may be, you're annoyed with it.

Frigid water meets your face, stealing the warmth away from your cheeks as it slides its way downward. You lean against the sink, sighing softly as your chilly fingers press into your temples and rub small circles into the skin there. The storm continues to rage on outside, drawing parallels to the war being waged in your heart. You're torn. Part of you is so overcome with the love you hold for Lisa that you just want to forget she even said anything at all -- you almost care more about having things go back to the way they once were than the fact that she's been breaking your heart more and more everyday. But another part of you is tired of her shit -- she shouldn't be able to get away with saying that to you, and you're strong enough to stay away from her until she steps up and makes things right. It's hard, no doubt, to keep your distance when she's the one person you want to be with most in this world, but you respect yourself enough to set a standard for what type of treatment you're willing to accept.

As if on cue, a loud burst of thunder roars out, quite literally shaking the house with how strong it is. You jump, feeling your blood run cold at the unexpected scare. A yelp from the living room can be heard, and you have to bite your lip to contain the snicker that threatens to escape; you love Jennie to death and hate to see her frightened, but sometimes it's funny. Comfort comes to the brunette in the form of soothing words groggily whispered by the other girls as they hold her close.

For what seems to be the millionth time tonight, Lisa crosses your mind; should you check on her? Despite what Jennie had suggested earlier, the maknae failed to leave her room at all. You wonder if she's cold; surely she is, considering she didn't have many blankets in her room to bury herself under. Worrying is apparently your strong suit, because the thought of her staying curled up in bed to grant your wishes, alone and shivering, saddens you beyond belief and convinces you to see how she's doing.

After drying your face and hands, you sneak back to the living room and grab the fluffiest blanket you can find. Your feet dodge the creaky spots in the floorboards, having already memorized them after years of tiptoeing to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning for snacks. Before long, you stand in front of her door and attempt to prepare yourself.

Lisa's eyes fly closed as she hears the door to her room being opened. The weathered metal hinges groan slightly with effort; over the years, it's been thrown open in times of excitement and subjected to it's fair share of slamming during arguments.

She does her best to play the part, but her act almost falters when she feels your soft hand brush her hair out of her face. The pad of your thumb strokes her cheek slowly, and she can practically feel all the emotion your gaze holds. Her eyes remain closed as you reach out to feel her arms, making sure they aren't frozen solid from being exposed to the chilly air. The fact that you still care enough to make sure she's comfortable makes her feel even more guilty, and her eyelashes have to work twice as hard to keep her tears from escaping. They dampen as the salty liquid builds up, serving as a dam that could break at any moment, but thankfully you don't notice. You splay the cover over her and tuck it slightly, leaving her plenty of room for movement -- you remember her telling you in passing that she doesn't like being tucked in completely because it makes her feel restricted.

Her breath hitches as your hands fiddle with the collar of her shirt, fixing the ruffled material so that it covers her better. The bed dips as you sit down next to her, letting your eyes trail over her body.

"How can you sleep right now?" You whisper out, thinking she's lightyears away in dreamland. A stray tear rolls down your cheek, but you're quick to wipe it away.

"You're so stupid Lisa," you breathe out, releasing your lip from between your teeth. "I can't believe you think I'd want to be with Jung-hoon and not you."

"But hey," you say with a bitter laugh, the sound almost inaudible in its softness, "I guess I'm the oblivious one, right?"

After spending a few more moments torturing yourself, you slowly stand up and return the blankets to the state they had been in before you sat down. Unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. You have no idea where the two of you will stand with one another when she wakes up, and you want to have this memory before you're forced to be at odds again.

As you push your tired body up, prepared to turn around and leave, you're instead met with her deep brown eyes peering up at you.

You freeze, feeling your muscles tense up as the tears in her eyes become more visible. Her features look even more beautiful now, somehow, in the pale moonlight that streams into the room. It's lustrous, seeming to sparkle as it casts down on her perfectly, kissing every inch of exposed skin that it can. She looks like a dream, and for a second you wonder if you're just imagining this. Her skin appears even softer than usual in the gentle glow of the room, but she looks as striking as ever with her defined collarbone and sharp jawline standing out. You feel her hand brush against your wrist, and you're reminded of all the times she would draw you in close and kiss you until you were breathless.

"How much of that did you hear?" You swallow, a slight nervousness taking over now as you run a hand through your hair.

"Enough," she utters simply, indulging herself in a few more seconds of the intimate staring contest you were in before breaking eye contact to sit up in bed. She leans back against the headboard and pulls her feet in some to give you plenty of room to sit. Selfishly, she wishes you'd sit right next to her again; she can't say she's surprised when you put a little space between the two of you though, opting to sit further down on the mattress.

Neither of you say anything for a little while, too busy trying to locate the right words and how to phrase them. The situation is delicate, and neither of you want to mess it up; Lisa's more afraid to speak than you are, but she eventually finds her voice.

"I know sorry doesn't cut it, nor does it solve anything. But I really am sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out how it did, and I haven't been treating you right for awhile now."

"You can say that again," you quip, nodding singularly.

She sighs, a bit discouraged by your demeanor but still just as determined.

"Seeing you with him just scared me, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but that's exactly what I was. When I saw the way he was looking at you and sitting so close… it just hurt. A lot. I like you more than I want to admit, and you're completely capable of pulling anyone you want. Especially a 2 like Jung-hoon."

You almost smile at that last part: even when apologizing, she can't help but clown on him.

"That was a fucked up thing to say, back at the studio. It made me feel cheap, Lisa, and I never thought you would be someone who'd make me feel like that. I don't care if it was in the heat of the moment or not -- it was uncalled for." It feels good to finally voice your feelings to her, and you don't waste time by skirting around them or softening the blow.

"You're right, and I wish you could understand how much I regret it. I wanted to run after you so bad… you have no idea. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth." She hangs her head now, feeling the shame rise in her at the thought of her past actions.

"You can dislike Jung-hoon as much as you want, but you're right about one thing: you have no right to be jealous. I refuse to be your reason for hating someone, especially when your logic is as flawed as it is."

She can sense that you have more to say, and she's more than willing to listen; so, she waits for you to continue.

"First of all, you and I aren't dating, Lisa. And even knowing that, you still didn't trust me, evidently. I don't owe you anymore of an explanation than the other girls, but I'll give it since you seem to want it so bad: we really did just work on the song. He was nice to me and treated me well, but he never overstepped or made me uncomfortable. Regardless of whether he likes me or not, he was kind; the same can't be said for you." Your voice is taut with the pain you've been through because of her, and the brutal honesty behind your words hangs heavy in the air.

"I deserve that one. But can you please try to see it from my point of view? When you're in love with someone, it's easy to get jealous," your heart pounds harder at her use of that four letter word, but you don't let it show, "...especially when the other person isn't even yours to begin with. At least that's how it works for me. I feel like I have to work extra hard to keep your focus on me, because I'm afraid anyone can come by and take you away. You have no obligation to even be with me."

"I may not have an obligation to, Lisa, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. Do you know how excited I was to finally get home and see you and the girls that night? I was dying to pull you into the kitchen and sneak a kiss when I was grabbing my plate. But you'd never know that, because you cared more about your insecurities than believing me."

"Wow." Your confession surprises her, and the simple utterance is all she can manage at the moment.

"Yeah." You say, solidifying your words.

"I really am an idiot, aren't I?"

"To put it kindly, yes."

She pauses for a beat or two to really process your words. "Can we get past this?" She asks gently, playing with the frilly edge of the blanket you brought in earlier that's now worked its way down into her lap.

"I think so," you say honestly, releasing a steadying breath, "but you have to work for it."

"I will, everyday. I want us to be okay again."

"I do too, Lis. I really do." Her gaze softens at the nickname, and she can tell you're being truthful.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"I-" She starts, only to be cut off by the small giggle you let out.

"Shoot, Manoban."

"Does this mean I can ask you to be my girlfriend?" She notices the way your face falls as you begin to stutter out a response, so she quickly clarifies, "Eventually?"

"Eventually," you affirm, thankful that she understood that you're not quite ready yet. You crack a small smile as you say, "So long as you don't give me a reason to say no in the meantime."

The two of you share a much needed laugh, happy to finally begin clearing the air between you.

Not long after, Lisa says, "One more thing, Y/N."

You lift your head to look at her and respond, but her lips meet yours before you get the chance to say a word. The surprised noise you make is muffled, but it soon gives way to something crossed between a sigh and moan as her hand travels up your thigh. It rests there, the heat of her palm seeping through the material of your pants as she waits to see how you react, still pressing innocent kisses to your lips. She wants to continue, but you deserve to control the situation.

Wordlessly, you tilt her head to the side to deepen the kiss, languidly moving your tongue against hers. It's a dance you've spent hours practicing before, and your bodies fall back into the familiar rhythm they've been craving for the past week and a half. When you take her hand and lead it under your shirt, allowing her to touch wherever she pleases, she lets out a guttural noise of approval that has you pressing your thighs together in search of friction. Already, Y/N? You think to yourself; she's barely touched you and you're already so responsive.

Lisa smiles at the shuddered breath she feels you release, and she tugs at your bottom lip to tease you further.

"If you keep this up, that 'eventually' will come sooner rather than later," you say shakily, swallowing as you press your lips together. They taste like her, and you're convinced you're addicted.

She lets out a throaty chuckle at that, the action garnering a smile from you. Your cheeks are flushed, and she secretly loves the effect she has on you.

"You're beautiful," she declares, the smile on her lips coming through in the phrase. She strokes your cheek with the back of her hand, and you let out a little "pshh" sound at her sweet comment. Taking compliments has never been something you're very good at.

Determined to show you that she's genuine, she takes your hand and places it against her chest, right over her heart. It beats wildly, untamed and unpredictable as her emotions course through her. "It always gets like this when I'm around you. I can't control it; you just drive me crazy."

"You're really trying to kill me, huh? Soft Lisa is far hotter than petty Lisa, just so you know." You say, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands tighten around your waist as she pulls you into her lap, slowly grinning at your confession.

"Noted. Now come here, baby."

You close what little distance is left between you, not having to be told twice. Her lips move in time with yours as she flips you over, laying you on your back beside her. In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that she's tucked your legs under the blankets and brought the material up to cover the two of you.

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'm done being an ass."

"It's about time," you joke, rolling your eyes. "Better get to work if you want to lose your status as a dickhead by the end of this century."

"Hey! Century? That's a little long, don't you think?"

"Tread lightly, Lisa," you warn, half teasing and half threatening. She catches a hint of the menacing look you send her way, and quickly gets her act together.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, attempting to contain the smile that tugs at her lips by pressing them against yours again.

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contorted-curruptions · 4 years ago

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*-Mug Shot-*-Poly KiriBaku X reader-*-part one-*

Note: Surprise Saturday, I got carried away with the story and thought it might be best to section it off in two parts so you’ll be getting this one and another post tomorrow peeps, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a story like this one. Smut is not in this one so if you are looking for that you’ll find it tomorrow, until then please feel free to enjoy this. Also all characters are aged up and the time the story takes place is when they are already pro heroes, so keep that in mind.

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Running, running, the sound of bare feet harshly pounding across the hard surface of the ground below. The pavement cold and merciless on your bare feet, you feel the damage from all the running with no shoes. As you run the sound of your terror echoes out across the soundless night, the streets so empty, not like how they usually are in the daytime. Not a soul will hear you and if they do it’ll be a little too late. It’s dark and only the street lights give you any semblance of where you are going. You hear and feel your heartbeat pounding away in your chest, that feeling becoming more painful with each pound. You feel yourself falter a bit more but you can’t afford to stop, can’t afford to stop running even for a minute. You know they have to be hot on your tail, know they won’t waste time in giving chase once they know you have fled the scene, that most horrifying scene that you left behind. The images flash through your mind as you ran churning your stomach and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. You stifle a sob but that makes your chest clench most painfully but worst of all in this panic while you turn into an alleyway you haven’t noticed the glass scattering across the entrance of the alley. Though you become sorely aware of it once your feet make contact with the shards causing you to let out a scream at the pain shooting through the fresh wounds the glass makes. You wind up tumbling to the ground, you scuff up your hands and knees as you make contact earning more painful noises from you. You fell unceremoniously on the ground in a small heap. Those sobs you kept in achingly inside your chest burst out and you howl out, hot tears now streaming down your face.

For a moment you lose your resolve while you lay there in that heap on the pavement. The pain from all the running through the city catching up with you. Your breathing erratic and you are finding it hard to catch the breath that you lost during this chase. You feel dizzy, your entire body aching in agony, and for this time all you can focus on is the sheer panic coursing through your entire form. You need to get up, need to, have to, you can’t just keep lying like this out in the open, they’ll find you. Another surge of adrenaline gives you the energy you need, you rise to your feet and start running again. You are ignoring the pain in your feet and in other areas of your body which is over-exhausting. You’re Focusing on what is dead ahead of you, a building that looks abandoned. You can focus on much of anything else except the idea of escaping, the idea you can hide and rest a moment. Though, you have to wonder what you are going to do. You can’t run forever and you doubt hiding will do you much good either. No, not when facing off with two pro heroes who are much more experienced than you. Two pro heroes and friends you never had thought until now would have done something like this in the first place and no one else will believe such a claim either. No one will convict two heroes that have done nothing but good.

These thoughts alone left you feeling alone, so very alone. Who do you turn to in a time like this one? Who will even believe you? You, a simple book store clerk and hobbyist selling random things for fun? You are what most would call a nobody, just another face in the crowd, which is why you have to wonder what wound you up getting mixed up with these two in the first place. However, this is no time to think about that. There is no time to be drudging back into the past when what you need to focus on is finding a solution to your problem. A solution that doesn’t come easy or seemingly at all. The alarm of this chase slowly starts to dull into confusion as to why you haven’t been hearing anything from the two who should be hunting you down right now. You haven’t even seen a glimpse of either of the two males you figure are after you currently. Everything quiet and dark, not a sound, not a peep, nothing. You pause your running once reaching the abandoned building and making your way inside. You pant and groan, your lungs and everything else feeling like they are on fire. You place your hands on your knees and take in a deep gasp of breath before coughing loudly. You are choking and gasping after all that running, that dizzy feeling coming back to you. You stumble to the wall and lean against it, you in this tiring state slide down not caring about the filth on it or the ground under you, and there is trash along with other more grimy looking things all around, nonetheless at the moment, you choose to ignore it. Your body too worn and your mind still scattering about too much to really mind it all. All you need is to breathe, that is all you can think, you need a moment. Maybe if lucky, they aren’t chasing you after all. You can only hope that is the case yet you can’t be too certain so you know you can’t linger for too long.

“Fuck...fuck...it stings damn it…why…?!”

You curse under your breath finally starting to feel the glass in your feet you didn’t bother to remove before. You are fearful to even look at the bottoms of your feet right now, you can only imagine how torn up they must look currently, The blood. Looking off you can see the small trail leading to you. You let out a small whimper as you raise your hands to look at them. They too sting badly from falling a few times before. Looking them over it seems they have been torn up pretty badly. A few rocks rest under the skin now, you poke at the bloody and bruising flesh trying to scoot a rock from under the flesh to get it out only to hiss from how it feels to do so and once more curse.

“Damn it…stings...”

You say in a whimper as you move to curl up into yourself, more tears start to cascade down your cheeks, that tight feeling in your chest returning.

“(BF/n), oh god...what am I...?!”

You curl up and start sobbing the images of your beloved’s corpse chard and beaten to a pulp on the floor creeping into your brain, it once more causes you to feel sick. It makes you want to vomit. The smell, the sight, the screaming before all that, those are things you know you’ll never forget. All of them tear you up inside, this is all your fault after all if it weren’t for taking on that project for the two pro heroes you wouldn’t have been winding up here, would you?

It had been a simple day, one like any other, the sky was bright and sunny dotted with a few clouds which you had remembered you stared up at that day. It was very nice unlike tonight, cold and unbearable regardless you remember you woke up beside your lover then. Your boyfriend had given you a good morning kiss like always ever since you had moved in together. Honestly, you hadn’t been in that house together all that long, only a couple of months but those moments spent together had been a dream. A dream you hadn’t wanted to wake up from. You would both get up and get ready to go to work. That morning you showered together, you both got a bit frisky that morning. You and your boyfriend would make out tongues danced together while your arms would be wrapped around each other. You could feel how well your bodies fit together.

Hard to believe that is all over now, that lovely little dream with your boyfriend dead, as dead as he is now. You will never feel that perfect fit with him again. Knowing that sends another wave of pain through you and causes another sob to echo out from your chest as you shiver and wish for the warmth of your lover. Right now you feel more cold and alone than ever before.

Continuing that trip down memory lane, you could recall you left the house alone that day. Your boyfriend would take his car to work and you would walk, being that you didn’t live that far away from the book store which you work at. You can’t help but think that years ago you wouldn’t have seen yourself working in such a place and it’s not because you don’t like books more so you have problems dealing with people. It fills you with a lot of anxiety to deal with things most days. Honestly, you feel you might have just wasted away if it wasn’t for your boyfriend who always seemed to have your back when you needed it. What are you going to do now that he is gone? Are you going to spiral out of control? No, somehow you will stay strong for his sake.

Regardless, continuing on. The day moved forward normally nothing seemed out of place, not even the random email you had gotten when you came home. The email was another commission for a project by another faceless person. You didn’t know that this request would wind you up in deep trouble later, in that deep trouble now. The commission seemed all too normal. The client wanted something special done for an anniversary gift for their boyfriend which seemed very cute to you. Really you sort of like hearing from the clients more than most do. The theme was simple it was to be a Red Riot and Ground Zero themed item or rather mugs. They wanted it to be a bit flashy or at least the art on them to be, it was something you could do, Honestly. Despite not being that into heroes, you were happy to do this for the client. You love making things and even more so making those who enjoy your work happy. So like with any other client you got to work after you sorted through the details, and actually, you were very excited. This was something you could do with your boyfriend, he was much more into the whole hero thing than you were and still are. Funny enough your boyfriend did like those two in particular. They were heroes that he very much enjoyed so that day you learned quite a lot about the pair of heroes in question.

The project went on as normal and with your newfound information, you made the gift extra special. You wanted to be very specific to the client’s taste so you tried to ask questions however they seemed very lax about everything they had said that they trusted your judgment. You didn’t mind this one bit. You had given the client updates and he seemed to like them. Eventually, the day came for the project to be done and you shipped them out. You had been very proud of your work and even your boyfriend was. Actually, Your boyfriend had got all pouty, he wished he could keep them which you had found funny then...what you would give to be able to hear him laugh again, to see that smile, and now that was stolen from you.

For a long while, things seemed alright, there had been no word from the client. However, you had been paid so you assumed they were happy with what they had gotten. It wasn’t until a full two months later that things started to kick off again. The day had started normal enough, you made it to the bookstore on time, and would work as you normally would. That day was quiet, not many customers, and most of the day spent slacked off with your coworker while doing what needed to be done around the store. Though at some point the bell on the door would sound it would call you back to the front of the store. A young man with crimson red spikey hair and eyes was the one who sounded the bell when he walked in. Upon further inspection your eyes would widen you would form a recognition with the redhead in the store, it was the hero Red Riot. You couldn’t help but stand there dumbfounded.

“H-Hello and welcome to Nook Books, how can I help you?”

That had been what you said when you finally had found your words, your voice had come out in a bit of a stutter and you had given him a small nervous laugh. He responded to your more shy behavior with merely a smile and offered up an adorable laugh of his own, which actually eased your own anxiety towards the situation at the time.

“Hey there, yeah I could actually use a bit of help finding a book.”

You would smile at the young hero and gave a small nod, you of course were always happy to help the customer, and there was no exception then either. Not to mention you were face to face with the hero Red Riot and at that time you had been oh too excited to be in his presence for the fact you could tell your boyfriend about the encounter. Maybe if you were lucky you could get an autograph, or maybe at least a picture, though to be honest you also hadn’t wanted to bother him so you so it was just a debate in your mind. you at the time though knew it would make your boyfriend happy if you would get it.

“Ah yes, well I’m happy to help, what book are you looking for?”

You would offer up one of your best smiles and try not to fidget too much however you had already shifted to and fro a bit out of nervousness already.

“Ah well, haha, I kinda don’t know…”

You would blink a moment in confusion but nod a moment before you responded.

“You don’t know? Are you buying for someone else?”

You would question a moment, you thought maybe his mind had been on someone else when he thought of the book he wanted, it might have been a gift if he wasn’t sure what kind of book he was on the look for however just as well he might just not had been sure what type of book he needed for himself, but something told you it wasn’t for him, you had a felt that way anyway.

“Haha, yeah, it isn’t for me, though he’s very special to me, he’s a bit difficult to buy for sometimes. Do you have any books that would be more action-packed and manly?”

You had smiled when you listened to his explanation for who it was for and even giggled when you heard what exactly he was had been in search for. There were many, many books on hand that could cover what he wanted but with so little given and that he said the other was difficult to buy for well it seemed like a slightly daunting task. Even so at that time you were determined to find the perfect book for this special someone that he had talked about. You smiled and worked very hard, you asked specific questions to try and get a better gauge on what type of book to get. If only you had known what you had been dealing with back then you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did to make him happy. You wouldn’t have been as pleasant to him, but sadly you hadn’t known and you had been as positive and polite as possible. You even asked more than you would have given your normal comfort zone. You had tired yourself out on one customer something you wouldn’t usually do, but you wanted to impress the male. You wanted to make sure someone like him left very happy. You did manage that, you got him the perfect book, after you found that book for him you brought him over to the register to check him out.

“I think that book will make him smile, and if it doesn’t feel free to hold me accountable.”

You would chirp out as you rang up the book, you had a good conversation with the young hero. He’d even told you his name which was interesting to know. Kirishima seemed to talk about Ground Zero. Of course, it was said they were good friends so you supposed that was only natural, and he’d mentioned a few other interesting aspects about himself which had tickled you to learn about. It wasn’t every day you could have said you got to talk to a pro hero.

“Don’t worry, I trust your judgment, I don’t think you’d steer me wrong haha.”

You would nod and laugh as you placed the book in a bag and told him how much the book would be, Kirishima would pay you and you would hand him the bag, of course surprisingly he didn’t rush off after that, he would stick by the counter a moment.

“Before I go, would you like an autograph or something?”

He had given you a big grin and you would blink, you had held back and tried not to ask because you hadn’t wanted to bother him and there he asked you about what you had wanted from him, almost too eager you lept at the opportunity.

“Y-Yes actually I’d love that, my boyfriend is a big fan.”

At the first part of your statement it would seem that Kirishima was very happy to hear what you had to say but as you look back on it now you realize that he had twitched lightly, he had made a small change in his facial expression that said something else when you mentioned your boyfriend, you thought nothing of it back then but now it was very apparent that he was upset to hear you were with someone and that the reason you wanted a picture and autograph was because of him and not because you were a fan.

“Yeah? Alright then, glad I could help you make his day like you made mine.”

After that, you would get to pose with him for a picture and he would sign a piece of notebook paper for you, it was the only thing you had on hand at the moment, but he happily signed it for you. You also hadn’t noticed that he looked for more reasons to make conversation with you but your coworker interrupted and him unlike your boyfriend wasn’t very fond of heroes so he could care less that one was in the store other than the fact it meant that the store might get a good review from someone who mattered.

“(Y/n), I need you to do something for me in the back.”

Your coworker would speak up, you could tell from the tone of his voice he just wanted to hurry things along.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you. It was nice to meet you, (Y/n). Hopefully, I’ll see you again.”

With that Kirishima had given you a small smile and wave before he made his way to the door.

“Yeah, you too, have a lovely day, I hope the person you were buying for enjoys your gift!!”

You would call back to him before he fully left, you hadn’t thought about how he used your first name, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t then, which would come to be a mistake later, many things would lead to being mistakes you couldn’t have fathomed being so problematic. After that meet with him, you had continued work only to be nagged by your coworker about doing your job in a timely fashion which irked you quite a lot but you hadn’t let it ruin your day. Like you assumed your boyfriend would be over the moon to see the autograph and to see the picture you had been so pleased to see his smile, that night was one to remember, Your boyfriend had been so excited he made love to you. Part of you doesn’t want to remember that part, only because it’s yet another thing that you will never have from him again, and giving the current situation, you find it inappropriate.

Suddenly you hear a loud bang echo out, a growl and cussing from not too far away from where you are in the building. Your heart begins pounding in your chest, it looks like those who were chasing you after you had fled are finally here to collect you. Your breathing picks up and you move scrabbling to your feet. If you stay here they’ll find you for sure, that is all that you are thinking about, you need to escape and now.

“Where the fuck are you (Y/n)!! I know you’re fucking here, can’t hide forever idiot!!”

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badgirlcovenrep · 4 years ago

Text

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#motherland fort salem #scylla ramshorn #raelle collar #raelle x scylla #motherland: fort salem #raylla #taylor hickson #amalia holm #mfs tiffany #tiffany mfs

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gripefroot · 4 years ago

Text

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲1❳

The throne was white.

No - it was every color of a sunset. With the descending sun blazing behind it, it turned gold and orange and pink and purple. New shades spreading across with each passing minute as night crept on. And beneath it - shadows lengthened and spread from the carved base, wild and free.

The throne beckoned. Come sit, it said to me. Come take your place.

Beyond the throne were marble pillars that stretched proudly into the sky, woven with vines of moonflowers and orchids. I could not see any roof - dusky clouds obscured the view. And below, far, far below - the sea rippled in shining waves, beating against the island in shimmering hues. Boats with bone-white sails seemed to drift forever. Distantly I could hear voices: voices laughing and talking and teasing and bargaining. The calls of animals, the hammer of forges.

And everything smelled of salt and fragrant flowers and lemon.

But I could feel, rather than see, what was making my heart wrench away from the lovely sight. A hand outstretched in front of that throne, leading up to a smiling face clear of sorrow and fear.

A scarred hand. Extended from the dark, and I knew that between us was where light and shadow met.

Come sit, he said, echoing the throne. Come take your place, and I’ll be at your side forever.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The night was an inky black shield dotted with silver and gold. Velaris far below, the stars above and only the whistling wind and thump of his own heart for company: Azriel’s gaze honed in on the House of Wind as he descended, and hoped that none would question his tardiness.

His boots landed silently on an upper balcony.

Halls were unlit, creeping with silence. The shadows that came with him curled around his neck and ears, whispering that nearly everyone was asleep. There would be no interrogation that night, at least - though breakfast might be another matter. But that would be for the morning. He slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood panels for several heartbeats before turning wearily away to find his rest.

A cozy fire had flickered itself to life, the wrought-iron window springing open to let in more of that sweet night air. He lingered only to unstrap himself of weapons, setting them on the table beside his bed as his thoughts skittered and bit at him like hungry wolves.

Azriel had been gnawed for so long he wondered how they found any part of him left to devour.

Truth-Teller shone like a void in the light as he pulled it from its sheath, if only to look at it. Scarred thumb tracing over the hilt - with a sigh he shoved it back in, and put it aside.

The knock on his door was so quiet that he might not have heard it, had the shadows spreading from him not trembled in response. They slithered up the door to turn the knob, his head lifting in a jerk as he scented his visitor - the sweet, heady jasmine that wore itself on her skin like a blessing. Or a spell.

A click behind her. The door was closed.

The wolves barked. Azriel turned, hand lifting to rub the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture as he forced himself, as he always had, to keep his expression even. To betray nothing. Even though the sight of her lace robe over a silken, lilac gown that displayed her creamy throat so well was enough to move him to his knees. To say nothing of the loose curls hanging down her back - wanting to be touched. Wanting him to bury his face there and breathe her in until she lived beneath his skin -

“You were missed,” Elain said.

“I was occupied,” Azriel said shortly. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and at his glower the shadows that crept curiously around the hem of her nightgown scattered, leaving her free to glow in the golden light of the fire.

“Why don’t you come to family dinners anymore?” she asked, her voice softer than rain.

He swallowed. A tremor went through his wings, and he stretched them out slightly to ease the tautness. Her eyes flitted to them over his shoulders. He saw the bob of her throat. “You know why,” Azriel told her in a hoarse, harsh voice.

Elain lifted her chin, though the expression in her lovely eyes shimmered. “If it’s me you’re avoiding, I’ll stop going,” she said.

“No.”

“You should be with your family. They miss you.”

“No,” Azriel said again.

“I don’t know how much longer I can attend, pretending that nothing’s wrong with me,” Elain said. “That my heart doesn’t hurt more each time you don’t appear. Azriel,” she breathed, and his spine stiffened as if brushed with a tender finger from root to tip. “I - I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t want the reminder that you - that you don’t want to see me.”

Secrets were best whispered alone in the night: Azriel had always known that. Known that honesty could burst out at the right moments, if prodded enough, uncaring of the consequences it could bring.

As for him - the consequence was like a poisoned knife between his ribs, where he felt the emptiest.

“The best solution is for you to go instead of me,” Elain went on in his silence. “I’ll be happier knowing you are.”

“I’m not happy,” Azriel said. But she merely lifted her slender shoulders, the lace rustling against the silk. As if she didn’t care to wonder why he’d said it; the extent of what he’d meant. His honesty was kept deeper down and further back. Where it couldn’t hurt anyone who could hurt him.

“I’m not going to go to family dinners anymore,” she told him. As if her mind was made up. “I hope you do.”

“You’re hurt when I’m not there,” he said. “No different than I am at your absence.”

It was all the game. It had to be. The repeating, the declarations, the anguish: pushing at the walls each of them had built around the other, as if looking for weak spots. To crumble, or to build back better. Azriel didn’t know. Something in him was howling.

Elain’s eyes began to glitter. The shift of the firelight against her hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed -

Something clattered from elsewhere in the house. Azriel stiffened, wings snapping in as his gaze darted to the door behind her. He ground out between his teeth, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I want to be,” she whispered. “I can’t stay away.”

The jasmine - he realized her scent wasn’t fresh and blooming. He’d noticed it when she first came in. It was heady. Like it had been scorching under the summer sun, begging for water; thirst to be parched, or the petals to be plucked and treasured -

Azriel’s head spun. The wolves that ate at him yipped and scratched and whined. They wanted. They wanted.

“If you’re looking for release,” he said in a low growl, fingers clenching into fists at his side. Cracking a whip at himself to quiet the wolves, but still they snarled. “Lucien Vanserra can be summoned.”

“I don’t want Lucien,” Elain said sharply. The color was high in her cheeks as she tucked a curl behind one of her delicate ears, the simple motion drawing his attention like a drawn bowstring. “I want you.”

His next words were difficult, but he forced them out: “Rhys has...commanded that we stay apart.”

“Rhysand isn't my High Lord. I’ve sworn no oath to him.” Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “He can't command me.”

“He commands me,” Azriel said.

“Then tell him I coerced you. Whatever you need.” The lightness in her voice was pleading. Begging. Her slender hands trembled, eyelashes stark against her skin as she blinked furiously. Desperate.

“No. I won't let you face censure, or - or punishment - ”

“Not being with you is punishment every day,” Elain cut him off, and Azriel nearly swallowed his own tongue as he saw the glitter in her eyes escape to trail a silver path down her flushed cheeks. “Lucien is punishment for me, isn't he? I was given to someone I don't love. Someone I don’t want. While you are denied to me. Is this not punishment?”

Every fiber in his body wanted to cross the space between them: to reach out, to dry the tears and to hold her in his arms until she stopped trembling. Until that gaping wound beneath his ribs was whole and glowing again -

Azriel didn’t smile, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. “It feels like it.”

Her bottom lip quivered. Then, “Please,” in a yearning whisper that started unthreading him from his very bones. The wolves purred as he took a step closer to her.

“Elain,” he murmured, and she trembled at her name, eyes closing briefly as if to savor it. “They’ll know. It...it can’t be hidden. I’d leave my scent all over you. And you on me. And I’d never, ever want to wash it off.”

“It’ll wear off,” she said.

“In days? Weeks? How long will we hide?”

Elain didn’t answer, and he took another step closer, unclenching his fists as he breathed slowly through his nose.

“It's not just that, either,” Azriel said, and her head was tilting upwards to watch him, hungry and hot as he towered over her. “Once I have you...I won't be able to stop wanting to have you. Over and over again, in every way imaginable. I don't want to live another day on this earth without tasting you on my tongue. Smelling you on my skin. Feeling you. I would…”

He trailed off, realizing that the night had somehow wrung more honesty from him than he’d ever intended. Her eyes blazed up at him, and daring, he lifted a hand to rest his scarred fingertips on the lace at her breast, beneath which he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat.

“I would want to be here, inside of you.”

“Please,” Elain whispered again, barely more than a warm breath that brushed against his face like a shadow - but those stayed back. “Please, Azriel. I'm not afraid. Not of Rhys, not of Lucien. I'm afraid....of what my life will be without you. I'm afraid of wanting you for the rest of my life with no hope of having you.”

Her fingers curled over his on her breast, cool to the touch and he shivered head to toe as her thumb stroked along a rippled, white scar. Not even noticing it, with her eyes melting so intently as she stared at him. Lips slightly parted, only a few inches from his and ready to be tasted, and savored and worshipped.

“Even if you refuse,” she went on, pressing his hand tighter to the skin-warmed lace. “You’ll always be here, where you always have been."

“There’s nothing in me that can deny you,” Azriel said. Swallowed. “Elain.”

“Azriel…”

“You could ask me to tear down Ramiel with my bare hands and I would,” he breathed. “I would tear apart any part of this world. If you asked me to carve out my own heart, I would.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Elain said gently. Mirror of him, her slender hand brushed up his chest - a shudder enough to cause an earthquake ripped through him. Without armor, only a dark shirt of cotton was between their skin. He could feel the warmth of her flesh as her palm splayed over his heart. “I’m only asking for you.”

The drumming in his head must be his heartbeat. A warning, perhaps - or fate zeroed in on this moment. Where a future was held taut between them. A question between souls. Dark and light, as they’d always been. His dark, her light: she offered it freely.

Will you have me?

Will you risk it all?

He could see in her shining eyes. I would risk it all for you.

“You want me,” Azriel said. Half a question. She’d already said it. At the dip of her head in assent, he closed the remaining distance between them with a step. The slight gasp between her lips warmed his face, but he didn’t give her the kiss she wanted - the kiss she’d asked for long ago - the kiss that he’d dreamt of until his soul was used up and dry. No, three more strides backed her against the wall as he heard her heart flutter madly beneath his hand. Closer still: he braced his opposite hand above her head, feeling the pattern of the wallpaper as his knee came between her legs. Trapping her. Pinning her.

She trembled. But it wasn’t the acrid scent of her fear that was making her eyes bright.

It was want.

“I’m dangerous,” he growled in a low voice. Still Elain didn’t tear her eyes from his, even as her fingers balls into a fist with his shirt between them. “This is dangerous. You and me.”

“I don’t care.” Not the breathy tone he’d expected. Something thornier, stonier, as she lifted her chin to face him more fully. But it just exposed more of that creamy, unblemished throat to him. An invitation.

Azriel tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Hair hung in his face, and her fingers softly brushed it aside. Jasmine. Jasmine. Jasmine. Summer, heady, hot flowers; slow-dripping honey -

Chest to chest, pressing closer as if their skin would fall away and they’d be just one person from then on. His leg lifted slightly, the rustle of lace and silk - and he felt her, through the layers, as her dark lashes closed, lips parting in an uneven breath and he heard, more with his heart than his ears,

“Oh - ”

He’d rather be boiled by the Cauldron than face Rhys after this.

And it would still be worth it. To watch the rose-pink deepen in her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open again. On his thigh she throbbed, and if he tried to push her away, he knew she’d rip his shirt apart, so tightly was she clinging to him.

“Are you scared, Elain?” Azriel whispered.

“No.”

Her eyes had glazed slightly. Like she’d gone drunk at a sip of wine, yet stared down the bottle ready to drink it to the last drop. But he was the bottle, and the wine, and the drinker. Sucking in a breath, holding her quivering body in place, he lowered his head, tilting it to the side.

His lips met her skin at a sensitive spot beneath her ear. He felt her tremble. Brushed downward to the base of her neck, savoring every inch of her as she whimpered a strain of incoherent noises he knew would play in his dreams until he was a corpse in the ground. Then, tilting his head again, he stared at the glistening hollow of her throat. Where her scent was the thickest. Richest. Sweetest.

Azriel paused long enough to take her wrists in his hands, lifting them above her head as her chest rose and fell against him. His chin was nearly between her breasts, and though they wanted his attention and he wanted to give it to them - he kept his eyes instead on her throat.

Elain was squirming. Not to get away, but to get closer. The frantic bucking of her hips against him - not close enough. He pressed harder with his leg until he could feel the grind of her bone against him, and his tongue darted out to that hollow to taste it the moment her moan rose beneath it.

“There,” he breathed. Again she rubbed herself against him. He could smell the growing headiness from there, and the jasmine coating his tongue. He licked again, and again as she moved more frantically.

His wings unfurled as he growled deep in his throat, talons reaching to dig into the wall - the house would repair itself later - and shreds of wallpaper fluttered to the ground as he steadied himself. And Elain. The way she was pulling him in, giving of herself so freely, wanting him - chasing pleasure he could give her, scant as it was...as if this would be all she was ever given. A drop of water before starvation.

Azriel fastened his lips to one jutted collarbone, and sucked. Immediately he clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. Sweat was dampening her nightgown - more than sweat - and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever smelled. He tore his mouth from her skin to say in a hoarse voice,

“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.”

Slowly he removed his hand, then, and lifted his head enough to see the perspiration dotting her forehead. Eyes squeezed shut as her fingers dug into his shoulders, now.

“Good,” Azriel rasped. “Keep going, Elain. Use me however you need.”

“Touch me.” Her plea was broken and wavering. “Please - Azriel - ”

He snarled. Gripping her hips between his hands, helping her to move against him. Guiding each undulation as her heart beat faster and faster and faster - her breasts were at his eye level, so high he was holding her off the ground - and he allowed himself one more luxury: he rested his forehead against her sternum, feeling each bob of her breasts on either side of his face. The slight snag of a hardened nipple.

If she didn’t come soon, he would.

But it was a mere moment later that she came: breathless and noiseless, like he’d commanded, but he felt the clench of her even on his thigh. The desperate throbbing, wanting to be filled but still cresting. Deeper breaths from her parted lips, a night-song of indescribable beauty.

Azriel wanted her. He wanted her so badly he thought he’d die from it.

Elain went lax, and he caught her ‘round the waist before she toppled over. Her head against his shoulder, wings still shrouding them - his nose really was in her glorious mass of hair, now, and because he knew this shouldn’t happen again, he breathed in the scent of her curls, over and over and over again -

“Azriel,” she half-panted, half-sobbed. It made his heart wrench. The wolves in his head still prowled, still snarled - wanted to pounce, to stroke, to take - but no. No. No. He wouldn’t.

Talons unhooked themselves from the wall, wings folding delicately back in as he lowered her to the ground. A moment of unsteadiness before she could stand, blinking up at him like the sweetest fawn on a spring day. Cheeks flushed red, eyes glittering, throat damp. A faint bruise was left there from him - it would heal by morning. He hoped.

His trousers were unbearably tight. He could barely stand. But he did, and held Elain’s gaze as if it were a lifeline offered to his dying soul.

Which very well could be the truth.

“Azriel,” she said again. Tucked curls behind her ear. But he merely bowed, instead of throwing her onto the bed to devour her until Summer Solstice as he wanted to do with every fiber of his being, and said,

“I hope you’re feeling better, Elain.”

Something like hurt passed over her face. Mouth pressed together in a thin line as she tugged the lace robe to lay straight over her breasts and shoulders. Azriel didn’t look.

A single breath, drawn out like a keening wail of grief: Elain turned and swept away to the door, yanking it open to disappear into the blackness as shadows reappeared, gently closing the door to keep it from making a noise and alerting the sleeping inhabitants of the house. Azriel stared after her for a moment, fists clenched and empty and her scent all over him like a thick, woollen blanket.

He hadn’t even kissed her.

He stomped to the fireplace, tearing at the laces of his trousers to yank them off each of his feet. Threw the Elain-soaked pants into the fire.

As if knowing his intention, knowing his agony: the house ate up the leather quickly, turning it to blackened, crumbling ashes that fell among the cracked logs. He still smelled of her, he knew it. He’d smell her even if he did manage to wash her off. His leg, his hands, his chest where she’d touched him, his face - she was everywhere. Everywhere.

Almost everywhere.

Azriel ached. He ached between his legs, almost like he’d been kicked with a spiked boot. Hurt so bad even without trousers that he didn’t want to touch himself. Instead he stared at the flames, and then the embers as they burned down and the shadows crept closer to swallow him whole. Still his heart beat on, a steady, unceasing rhythm that chanted with each pulse of blood -

Elain. Elain. Elain.

TO BE CONTINUED

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar

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jonogueirawrites · 2 years ago

Text

Save him from himself.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Although Lilly would rather lose a limb than withhold information from him, the desire to protect Bucky is more important than anything else. Seeing him happy and free is what she wants most in life.

And Bucky can only feel the same thing. Her happiness is his. Nothing will stop him from seeing her smile.

But this need to protect each other can be more of a hindrance than a help to their relationship.

They have a bright future ahead of them.... the only problem is that they haven't talked about what happened after the blip or how they will ensure their relationship will work.

AO3

RSVP.

When the car approached, they stopped walking along the bridge. Zemo reminded everyone that their lives depended on them playing their roles. And that was precisely the part Lilly hated the most.

Lacing her fingers on Bucky's, she pulled him closer to be face to face. "Bucky, please…" She looked over his shoulder at the city in the distance, avoiding his eyes and praying he hadn't heard the tiny sob that escaped her mouth.

"Look at me."

Afraid her body would betray her again, she decided to shake her head instead. Her fingers tightening around his.

One step closer, and he was enveloping her with his scent, strength, and presence. "At me, Love." He softly rubbed his nose against her cold cheek. "Look at me, please…." His lips slowly trailing her skin.

"Bucky." She lifted her hands and cupped his face resting her forehead against his. Her eyes closed, hiding the tears away. "Just come back."

"I promise."

"No. No promises. Just come back."

"I always do, don't I?"

"Yes." She chuckled on his lips.

"It's a promise."

"No promises, please."

"Okay."

"Thank you."

"I lo-." He tried to say after kissing her forehead.

"I know."

"You do."

"I do. Always do."

"Be safe."

"You too." Lilly gave him a soft kiss before letting him go.

She watched Bucky get into the car and go somewhere she couldn't go with him. Her heart broke into a million pieces and scattered in the cold night wind, trying to reach the car that was far away. Too far for her to go back on her decision.

Her trembling hands took the cell phone from her pocket, and with a sigh, she dialed. Ayo answered the call on the first ring.

"So?"

"Madripoor."

"And then?"

"I’ll call you when I know.”

“Lillian, don’t-” Ayo tried to continue, but Lillian’s words cut her short.

“I don’t.” For a moment too long, there was a pause in the conversation. Both sides pondering their next words. “You should trust him as much as I do.”

“How can you think I don’t? We don’t?” Ayo’s voice laced in disbelief and sadness.

“I’m sorry.”

“We all trust him. He is the White Wolf. We don’t trust his plan.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Call me when you move.”

“I will.”

“Lilly…”

“Yes?”

“Just wanted you to know that all of us trust you as well.”

“Thank you.”

With the words still echoing in her mind and a smile representing the lightness in her heart, she put her phone away and started to run.

~~~~~

Lilly watched in horror as Zemo ordered Bucky to become the Winter Soldier again. Her eye was glued to the scope, and her finger twitched on the trigger.

Nothing would make her happier than shooting the man right between his eyes and seeing his body slump on the dirty floor. Still, she knew it would not only put Bucky and Sam in more danger but also jeopardize the mission.

She breathed in and out, in and out. There was a time and place for everything, and that was not it.

They moved, and so did Lilly. Up the stairs, they went, and her scope followed them. While they talked, Lilly let her mind wander for a second and begrudgingly imagined that Bucky was back to being the Winter Soldier. Was his life always like this? Following orders, mindlessly doing whatever other people wanted and told him to? In an endless battle with himself to regain the bare minimum resemblance of what he once was? Stupid question. She, more than anyone, should know that the answer to all of those questions was yes… unfortunately.

Something happened on the other side of the scope, and her attention was turned to the trio. Sam answered his phone, and all hell broke loose.

Someone shot in their general direction, but Lilly noticed it wasn't to harm them, so she changed her stance to look for the attacker. It took her longer than she wanted, and when she finally got a good look at them, she tightened her fingers around the gun. To her surprise, it was none other than Sharon.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she put her gear away, replacing them with her phone.

"I need you to look up someone for me." A moment of silence before she continued. "Sharon Carter."

While she waited for the answer, she watched the four of them get into a car and leave the place.

"Got it. Where is it being held?” Another moment of silence. “Can you get me in?" Nodding and thanking, she hung up once more and made her way down the building.

Breaking into the car and starting it up was the easy part. The difficult one, though, was making her way around a city that she had never set foot in. Another glance at the phone display, and she found her way. For what felt like an eternity later, she stopped in front of a store with a neon light sign and lots of fancy dresses in its window.

With a sigh, she rounded the block and parked some good meters away, coming back to the store and leaving moments later with a dress slung over her shoulder. As soon as she sat foot on the sidewalk, her phone rang, and she smiled, listening to the tone that made her worries melt away.

“Hey! How’s everything?”

“Things are good.” Bucky’s voice surprisingly stead. “And you?”

“Just shopping. I mean… what else am I supposed to do?” Her face fell. Lying, or rather, omitting things from Bucky, was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Lilly…”

“Just please…” She didn’t want to sound so pitiful, but it was what it was. “I can help. Let me help. You know I can-”

“It’s not a matter of knowing what you can or can’t do. It’s a matter of what I can’t, and I can’t put you in danger. I can’t lose you.”

“Are we really going to discuss this again?”

“I know what you think, Lilly. And if there were a way for me to have you here with me right now, always, I would. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then just be careful, okay? Madripoor is not the safest of places.”

Lilly laughed at his words. After everything that she, they, had been through, he still could be a little overprotective at times. “Bucky, Love, I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know.”

“So…” There was a pause in which she kicked an imaginary rock. She really didn’t want to lie to him, so she had to find a way to be invited to the party. “Where are you guys heading?”

“We’ve met Sharon. She is some kind of…. Well, she is well off by now, and she is throwing a party, and it came in hand because she can help us track the serum.”

“Sharon, huh?” She bit her lower lip, but it was too late. “How’s she?”

“She’s fine. And rich, very rich.”

“Well, I don’t think she would mind me tagging along then.”

“Love…”

“I’m already shopping. I could easily buy something to go. What’s the address?”

“Okay. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you!”

“Yeah, no worries. See you in a bit.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He chuckled, and Lilly felt in complete ecstasy. “Love you too.”

A quick taxi ride to the hotel and a shower later, Lilian stood in front of the mirror, inspecting her appearance. Her midnight black hair contrasted with her white dress. The one-shoulder short sleeve fell perfectly on her body, accentuating her curves with modesty. The red lipstick matching her heels.

Lillian examined her figure and nodded in appreciation. They were on a mission, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun.

~~~~~

Bucky observed his reflection in the mirror. His eyes on his fancy clothes reminded him of the first time he watched Lilly play the violin. How her fingers touched the strings with passion and how the music touched the audience’s hearts. The way her fingers carded through his hair and the sounds falling from her lips touched his soul, declaring she trusted him, asking him for a kiss. The night he had her in his arms for the first of many times.

He looked up and noticed the small smile on his face. The realization that it was happening more and more often only made the smile grow until it lit his whole being. He loved her, and she loved him. Simple as that. As if simple was simple. No. There was nothing simple at that, but still… she accepted him. Wanted him and only him. The smile turned to a chuckle and finally a burst of full-out laughter.

“You’re thinking about Lilly, aren’t you?” Sam broke the silence. A bright smile playing on his lips. His fingers tapping on the chair’s armrest.

“Is it that easy to tell?” Bucky looked at him through the reflection.

“You are the grumpiest person I have ever met. Still, when she is around, you become the softest person in the world.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“When are you two getting married?”

“As soon as she comes back from training in Wakanda. I guess in a couple of months. I’m not sure.” He walked back and sat on the sofa. His mind lost in thoughts of a cottage and a lake.

“She will be fine, man. As long as you’re fine, she’s fine.”

“I know. I just don’t want to disappoint her again.”

“Again?”

“Well, you know….” He sighed and threw his head back. “With the blip thing and all.”

“This again?” Sam scolded. “You had no saying in it. It’s not like you just up and disappeared because you wanted.”

“I know, I know.” His metal fingers carded his hair. “Seeing her like that back when we found her half dead on our home’s floor scared the shit out of me. I never, ever want to see that again. And it was all because of me.”

“Bucky…”

“It was.” His tone filled with regret. He sat up to give Sam a good look. The muscles in his body stout. “I asked her to wait for me. I asked… and she did. She waited until her soul couldn’t anymore. I almost killed her.”

“I see nothing I say will change your mind. Have you talked to her about it?”

“It’s not that easy.” Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his hands.

“It is. Just talk to her.”

Bucky raised his head to look at Sam. His jaw clenched when a million thoughts crossed his mind. Lies, half-truths, and promises. “I will.” He settled on the truth, eventually.

Sam sighed. He shook his head and stood up to sit next to Bucky. “You two.” He cleaned the tiredness on his face. “You need to understand that what you do have is a blessing, Bucky.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

“Then why do the two of you behave like it is a curse?”

“What?”

“You think people don’t notice it?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The way you treat each other? There’s love, and no one can say there isn’t. But there’s also fear. Fear of something that lives inside your minds. And it haunts you two. It doesn’t let you live.”

Bucky stared at the man beside him. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“I was gone too. My sister was left alone with my nephews, and things are such a mess now. She is considering selling our parents' boat to pay some debts. It drives me crazy, but I’m not letting it stop me from being with them, you know? When I was gone, my nephews were just kids, and now they are so big. I lost too much time. I’m not losing it anymore.” Sam squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m not looking at the past. It is gone. I can’t come back to it or change it, but I can look forward and shape it as I want. And I want to be with them.” He patted his friend’s knee. “Think about it. Time is ticking, and we sure are not getting younger, if you know what I mean.” With that, he stood, looked at the mirror, and smiled at his own reflection. “And I look good in this!”

Bucky laughed. He laughed at the man in front of him. He laughed with the man in front of him. He laughed at himself, and then he just laughed. Sam’s words floating in his mind and echoing in his heart. ‘I’m not looking at the past. It is gone. I can’t come back to it or change it, but I can look forward and shape it as I want. And I want to be with them.’

In Bucky’s soul, a promise taking root. And I will definitely do anything to be with you, Lilly.

I hope you liked.

Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!

#bucky barnes #lillian #save him from himself #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #chapter 5 #rsvp

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chaozsilhouette · 3 years ago

Text

Turbulent Beginnings

This forms the opening act to Macaque’s story, showing just how different his and Wukong’s early lives were and why he took Wukong’s disappearance so hard.

The idea Macaque was born from the wind was inspired by @animemoonprincess. And yes, I am a shameless fan of Macaque originally having white fur. The angst is just too perfect.

Brace yourselves, this isn’t going to be pretty. I am essentially shoving our boy through an emotional meat grinder.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On a remote island, a day’s travel from China’s eastern shore, a massive hurricane raged as it had since the beginning of this world. The surrounding storms fed into it as its winds carved stone. No life had dared blossom on its soil out of fear of a painful demise. The merciless storm drank deeply of the waters of the sea, draining all aspects of potential and life before casting it aside. Not even curious spirits were spared.

Various deities had wondered why such a storm existed or why the Jade Emperor allowed such a dangerous presence to continue unchecked. Most believed that since the hurricane was stationary and prove no threat to the established order of the world, it was not important.

One day the hurricane vanished. As though it had never existed. Or rather that it had been transformed into something else.

It was the night of a new moon and with the hurricane gone, the island experienced its first cloudless sky. The only one to witness the momentous occasion was a monkie with pure white fur and six ears. Minding his manners, the nameless monkie bowed to the four winds in greeting.

The newborn proceeded to spend his days searching the island for something. Some clue as to the reason behind his birth. He could hear strange voices and words he didn’t understand yet at the same time could. He knew he wasn’t the only creature alive, so why was he alone?

For food, he walked his way through a cave system towards the sea, where he enjoyed the fish that were drawn in through the whirlpools and the mussels that clung to the sharp rocks. He grew to savor the taste of life, even though there was a part of him that craved something different.

Almost forty years passed before he mustered the courage to leave everything he knew to seek out those voices. He gathered all the driftwood and rope that had drifted onshore over the decades, fashioned it into a makeshift raft, and sailed towards the closest source of voices.

His voyage was actually pretty boring once he cleared the whirlpools.

The only exciting part about it was when that strange fish tried to sink his raft. It was bigger than any fish he’d previously seen with a mouth to match. Didn’t mean it survived past the first blow. Taking a bite Macaque wasn’t sure if he liked this fish. The muscles were tough and the flesh was rough on his tongue. He didn’t particularly like the taste. But there was enough to feed him for a full day.

In the end, he chose to eat a third of the fish’s muscles along with its heart before tossing back into the water.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Docking on dry land was an experience that would haunt him for years.

At first, he was filled with wonder at the sight of buildings and new creatures riding rafts far bigger than his.

When he stepped onto shore the whispers began.

The creatures, who he later learned were called humans, were pointing out his ears. They acknowledged his obvious intelligence. He heard them grip wooden instruments tightly. It was as if they expected him to do something.

No one made a move against him. No one approached him, but he could tell he wasn’t wanted. Everywhere he turned he saw eyes that cursed his every existence.

He didn’t stay in that village for long. In his mind, satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth being stared at as though he was the source of all evil.

Demon.

That is what they called him. Was that what he was?

He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He aimlessly wandered the countryside for far too long.

The first act of kindness he received was from a couple who could not have children of their own. He stumbled upon them by accident, but instead of the normal fearful expressions he’d come to expect they greeted him with genuine smiles and an offer to join them for dinner.

They took him in and treated him like family. He became the son they always wanted. They taught him how to properly speak and how to walk comfortably on two limbs. They blessed him with a name.

They were kind and nurturing. In another world, they may have been called bodhisattvas. But sadly, due to them being ordinary mortals, his time with them only lasted four decades.

He buried them with love but grew resentful of his weak emotions.

He learned what it was like to have someone welcome him home after a long day. He learned to savor the taste of a mother’s home-cooked meal. He enjoyed having a father figure who was willing to teach him old military tactics. He experienced friendly competitions to see who could paint the most accurate portrait of a flower they saw earlier that day. It was everything he never knew he craved and then it was gone. Leaving him with an empty home and a broken heart.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Nearly fifty years later he joined a band of traveling performers.

Their natural oddities allowed them to see who he really was and welcome him into their party. With their compassion, he was granted the opportunity to heal. He learned that despite the group’s large size, very few of them had any direct blood relations. What made them special was how they created their own family and turned what many called strange into something beautiful. Out of respect, he delved into the world of entertainment, found he had a natural talent for it.

When he took the stage people assumed he was in costume, but that didn’t matter. The applause of the audience was a gift he cherished. The sheer passion this family expressed through every second in life warmed his heart beyond words. They were just what he needed to bring him out of his depression.

Alas, it was not meant to stay.

One night their camp was ambushed by a group of demons. They were nothing special, hardly worth mentioning. But for him, back then, it was a fight he never imagined. He could easily handle human bandits, so could his family, but never had he traded blows with a small army of his fellow demons. With the rising of the sun, Macaque stared at the cruelly bright sky covered in blood. All around him bodies lay scattered, life essence soaking into the ground. Despite being tasked with fighting off nearly five dozen demonic opponents he managed to survive with barely a scratch, but he was alone. Again.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tried to change things by sticking to his fellow demons. At least they lived longer.

Somehow that ended up with him becoming the apprentice to a demon healer for almost a century. She was a cold-hearted bitch with a heart of gold. Meticulous in her work, masterful in deduction, and short-tempered with the foolish. She gave everything to her practice and expected the same from him. It was bitter work, but he found it fulfilling. The knowledge that he now possessed the ability to restore others to peak condition settled some unknown part of his soul.

Of course, they would have visitors who wished to take advantage of her skills or steal the medicine. Between the two of them, they protected their clinic, but they weren’t always together. While she may try to hide it, she wasn’t the strongest demon out there. Apparently, the entire reason she got into medicine was to uncover why she was so weak. Centuries of research turned up nothing, but it did make her incredibly skilled at using poisons with her knives to compensate.

One day after he returned from gathering ingredients, he pulled back the door to find the shop in disarray, five unknown bodies slowly dying of extensive blood poisoning, and his master bleeding out from her severed arms. She always said she had no intention of entering Naraka alone.

Guess she kept her word.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The cycle repeated itself over centuries. He would experience a brief window of happiness only for it to be savagely stolen from him, leaving him to mourn and curse his weak heart.

The small glimmers of kindness humanity showed him only made him curse their race even harder when he couldn’t walk into a village without being harassed. The humans who had proven stronger were sadly a rare breed. He was rare to encounter one a century and often they perished at the hands of their kind rather than by demons.

There were times when the ignorance had gotten so bad he’d taken to traveling with a constant glamour, disguising himself as an average human. Whenever he was in the presence of other demons, he allowed his true form to manifest, however, he made it look like he only had a single pair of ears. Standing out was the easiest way to wind up in a complicated situation he had no interest in trying to defuse.

That’s not to say his time was wasted.

Quite the contrary, he had learned much during his travels. He could hardly be compared to the happy young monkie, who was ignorant of the dangers and hardships this world held. In a sad attempt to fill the void, Macaque sought out wisdom and strength. He located masters of both the mystic and martial arts. He may have had to lie about his age, he was becoming quite the accomplished liar, but the results were more than worth it. With every stop, he found himself growing more certain of his strength and his identity.

Eventually, he discovered a strange monastery hidden in a cave in the face of a mountain.

He had never seen anything like it during his travels. But what truly drew his attention was the feeling the temple exuded, every stone exuded a strange aurora. Something powerful dwelled within, powerful yet there was an undeniably human quality to it all.

Hiding beneath his usual glamor, Macaque approached the temple with the desire to discover exactly what was being taught. Before he knew what was happening, he was speaking to the immortal sage who was running the joint. Master Subhuti welcomed him to his home and offered some tea. The disguised monkie was bombarded by dozens of questions, all of which he attempted to answer as though he was a normal human.

The master welcomed him as his newest disciple and showed him his new home. Later he learned the master could see through his disguise and sensed his potential. Apparently, the old immortal believed that the monkie would do well to learn his disciplines and he was fascinated by the monkie’s natural talent.Said something about how with proper guidance only the Buddha would be able to peer past his façade.

The monkie even received a new name to celebrate his rebirth. From that day forward he was Liu’Er Mihou, or the Six-Eared Macaque. He liked it. While he cherished the name his first family gifted him, he felt this was a good sign. A tribute to show that he was a changed monkie.

Regardless, he refused to drop his glamor. He had seen too many demons be cast out and attacked for getting sloppy. The other students were not thrilled about the newcomer showing them up and he wasn’t willing to give them a true reason to despise him. He learned quickly, more so than any other human disciple, but that put him at odds with those who were still struggling after years of training.

Macaque distanced himself from the others. They weren’t that interesting anyway. He didn’t care that they talked about him behind his back or were fully aware he could hear them. He couldn’t risk getting close so soon. He was determined to break the cycle. He didn’t care about immortality. He didn’t care about obtaining power. All he wanted was to end the pain. So far things had been working out in his favor.

Then heshowed up…

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

That trice damned monkie with peach-colored fur and markings like a golden mask. He was so naïve about the world. He treated everything as though it was some exciting game. His upbeat energy made Macaque sick. Some twisted part of him wanted to snap his neck just to end it, but a small part was fascinated by it. The other monkie reminded him of a time he had almost forgotten.

The Monkey King, or Sun Wukong, didn’t bother hiding his true appearance. Truthfully, Macaque wasn’t sure he knew how or that he should. He didn’t seem to notice how other students would keep their distance or how they kept their conversations as brief as possible without crossing the threshold into being considered rude.

He was so earnest and happy, it was painful. The new monkie pestered everyone about everything, it was like dealing with a newborn, but it seemed Macaque was his favorite to bother. The worst part was how he stared at Macaque as though he could peer past his glamour. Although Macaque wasn’t sure if that was truly possible. The Master could, but he dedicated centuries to refine his skills. Wait. How old was this annoyance? Perhaps he could smell he wasn’t like the other disciples.

Either way, he knew it was just a matter of time until the truth got out. He just didn’t expect it to be when he was changing.

Each student was offered a meager room for privacy. They were all the same size and offered little to no space for any customization, but the walls were enchanted to cut out sound whenever the doors were closed.

Behind those flimsy walls was the only time Macaque allowed his glamor to drop. While he valued being cautious, even he couldn’t keep up the glamour indefinitely, much less when he was asleep.

It was in that small space of safety that he discovered he wasn’t alone.

He had just allowed himself to relax when a smiling face covered in peach fuzz was shoved into his own.

“I knew it! You’re like me.” Sun Wukong happily exclaimed, stars practically dancing in his eyes.

“Shut up.” Macaque clamped his hand over the other’s mouth. Checking to ensure no one else was present and the door was shut, he faced the intruder. “Have you told anyone?” He hissed, while berating himself for failing to check the ceiling. You always look up when scanning a room, he knew that.

“Nope. Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” The cheerful demon spoke as though they were old friends. His golden eyes took in every hair of his fellow monkie’s true appearance.

“I’m a demon. And there is nothing beautiful about me.” Macaque growled.

“Yes, there is.” Wukong insisted. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you hiding? The Master let me in, I wager he knows about you, so why?”

Sighing, Macaque massaged the bridge of his nose. “I have been hurt enough times to know keeping a low profile is optimal in survival. It is better to keep one’s head down than risk getting called out.” From observation, he knew the newer student wouldn’t leave until he received answers, so the best option was to just give him what he wanted and pray he knew enough to leave.

“That’s no fun.” Wukong stuck his tongue out in distaste. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. We were born this way.” He jumped high into the air only to catch himself on his tail with a cheeky grin. “So, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Cute speech. But my answer is no. Now leave.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that attitude right up.” Thankfully Wukong left, but not before sending a smile laced with mischief his way. “See you tomorrow.”

Macaque prayed to every deity that would be the end of it. But even he knew it was a futile attempt.

“Do you have a tribe?” Wukong asked, hanging by his tail from Macaque’s favorite tree.

A startled Macaque blinked at the random question. “A what?”

“A tribe. A family. A place to call home?” Wukong asked smoothly even if he wasn’t familiar with the term family until recently he knew it was important.

“Not anymore.” Glaring Macaque returned his focus to his meal.

“Aw.” Wukong knew that look. He had seen plenty of monkeys wear that arura after watching other tribe members die. “Then you should come with me!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You can join my tribe. There are dozens of us back home. Plenty of food and water, you’ll constantly be surrounded by others like us.”

“Other demons?”

“No.” Wukong smiled as though he told a funny joke. “Other monkeys.”

“There is no reason for me to join you.” Macaque stated, wishing he could finish his lunch in peace.

But Wukong wasn’t letting him go that easily. “And there’s no reason for you to refuse.” He stated, ignoring any and all social cues or common sense for respecting personal space.

It went on like that for years. Every day Macaque would awake to find gold eyes staring at him, waiting for his answer to change. Breaks were spent dodging the hyperactive monkie as he tried to eat alone. Training sessions soon found him sparring with the same partner.

The monkie was stubborn no doubt and Macaque feared his actions were slowly breaking down his walls. The pale furred monkie missed having a connection. He adored being able to talk to others, but whenever he opened up he only got hurt.

But maybe, maybe this time could be different…

Wukong was training to obtain immortality. He had already proven to be stronger and more clever than anyone he’d known. The simian showed that he wanted to know him better. He constantly tried to touch his fur, something he called grooming, which felt pretty nice.

Maybe…maybe this time he could truly have a home.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

A streak of light accompanied by a sharp whistle pierced the night sky. For a brief moment, it vanished before exploding in a beautiful display of color and light.

On the monastery’s rooftop, Wukong backflipped in joy at the sight, his golden eyes wide. “Happy New Year!” The monkie cried. In the village below, he could make out dozens of voices echoing the greeting.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, fireworks were a sight he always adored. “This has got to be mankind’s greatest invention!” The flowers of fire were simply too beautiful. So unique. Nothing on Flower Fruit Mountain compared to such beauty, it made him thankful he decided to leave.

From the corner of his eye, Wukong noticed that his companion was clutched his ears wincing with every detonation. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m fine. Just loud.” Macaque said. He was truly questioning his sanity by joining Wukong on the roof. Normally he barricaded himself in his room, but his friend was so thrilled about sharing their first New Year together he couldn’t say no.

“Oh.” Somehow the new set of fireworks didn’t look that attractive. “We can go inside if you want.” They were beautiful, but nothing was worth feeling helpless as his friend curled up in pain.

“I’ll be fine. I’m adjusting to the volume. No different than punches that break the sound barrier, right?” Macaque tried flashing a confident grin to varying success.

Wukong suspected that Macaque was lying, but learned enough to know further prying would just cause the other monkie to simply shut out the world. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“You made a persuasive argument.” Anyone who could harass him for nearly five years straight proved their determination.

Wukong playfully stuck his tongue out. “Hehe…Seriously though, I’m happy you chose to be part of my tribe. No one should be alone.”

“Then why have I been for so long.”

“I doubt even Master knows. But you won’t be able to say that anymore.” Wukong wrapped his arms around his best friend. Pulling him close, Wukong faced the fireworks, unconsciously grooming Macaque as he savored every pop of color.

Beneath those gentle digits, Macaque steadied himself against the soothing heartbeat of the one he slowly learned to trust. As the display continued, the pale monkie learned to appreciate the human’s creations. Turns out they weren’t so bad so long as you have the right company.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

“I’m sorry. You’re what?!” Macaque’s response was perfectly justified. There was no way he just heard what he thought he heard.

Wukong flashed a blinding grin. “I’m heading to the Celestial realm. I’ve been given a position in Celestial Bureaucracy.” Not seeing any problems whatsoever.

“Why?” Just why? From everything he heard about those stuck-up deities, they would never hand over a position to anyone without requiring the completion of an impossible task, much less to a demon. Least of all a demon who has done nothing but terrorize others and unleash chaos whenever he went.

“Don’t know. But I got to go right now.” Wukong shrugged as he finished packing. The Gold Star of Venus was waiting just outside the waterfall.

“But what about Flower Fruit Mountain? What about your subjects? What am I supposed to do? How long are you going to be gone?” Macaque fired off a rapid stream of questions. Panic was beginning to take hold.

Wukong, however, was as calm and confident as ever. “Stop worrying so much. Look I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then you’re in charge.” He finished as though it was obvious.

“Me!” A white tail nearly burst into twice its normal size in shock. “But I have no idea how to run a Court!”

“Neither do I. Not in the traditional sense at least. Look just keep an eye on things. Protect the monkeys from hunters and malicious demons. Sometimes one of the allied demon kings will ask for some help. It’s nothing you haven’t helped me with before. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things until I get back.”

Seeing his companion and good friend growing even more lost, Wukong closed the distance and took his face in both hands. “This is a good thing. If I can make this work, none of us will ever have to worry about being hunted or not having enough food ever again.”

In a snap, Macaque grabbed the king’s arms. “What if I don’t care about any of that? What if I just want you to stay?”

For the first time in their conversation, Wukong’s cocky attitude vanished replaced with a loving smile. Gently prying Macaque’s claws off his shirt, Wukong placed his cheek on a palm as he kissed the knuckles of another. “I can’t. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. This isn’t goodbye. I’ll keep in touch. The time will fly. We’ll make this work. Trust me.”

“Alright, Wukong. I trust you.” Macaque said, ignoring every fiber of his being that screamed this would end poorly.

“If things go wrong, remember I’m just a telepathic call away.” Summoning his cloud, Wukong back flipped onto it with his bag. “Monkey King, out!”

One sonic boom later and he was gone, along with a good chunk of the cave walls.

“Hpmh. That’s my idiot.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

How did this happen? How did this happen?!

One moment they were fighting for their lives against the army of the Celestial Realm and the next Macaque bore witness to Wukong being carted away in a diamond snare.

Now as he stared at the charred remains of what once was a growing village of monkeys, Macaque felt something within him change.

For almost two months he had burned in celestial fires. The sounds of the dead and dying rang out, making his namesake almost bleed. He choked on the ashes of the mortal monkeys. The air had a strangely sweet and bitter taste to it.

Macaque lost count of all the times he charged back into the fires to save as many heartbeats as he could. He wasn’t sure but he suspected he blacked out more than once. With every heartbeat that stilled before he could reach them, a part of him followed them into Yama’s realm.

Finally, the fires had died down. They didn’t have anything left to burn.

All around him he saw the pitiful leftovers of what was once a thriving community. He had treated the survivors the best he could, but he lost his medical equipment in the blaze. The only ones he didn’t have to worry about were the monkeys Wukong made immortal, but he did what he could to ease the pain.

But still, he wondered why…why were they staring at him as though they were confused?

Maybe he was overthinking everything. He just worked through 49 days without any sleep. Everything was stable for now. The best course of action was to wash off the ash and get some much-deserved rest.

There was nothing the Celestial Realm could do to Wukong that he couldn’t handle. Besides Macaque didn’t even know how to get there even if he was at full strength. Wukong couldn’t die so it was only a matter of time before someone tripped up allowing him to return home.

He just had to be patient.

Stepping into the clear river, Macaque’s jaw almost dropped as the water around him immediately turned gray. He didn’t realize he was that filthy.

He started scrubbing himself, ducking under the water to ensure he didn’t miss a spot. He had to move a few times due to the sheer amount of shoot and ash that clung to him. The entire cleaning process took a full hour before the water ran clear.

Stepping out, Macaque felt more refreshed than he ever remembered. Shaking to remove as much access water as possible, all the towels were soot so he had to make do, he paused by the waterside to see how much fur he lost. But what he saw met none of his expectations.

Instead of fur that invoked images of the moon, he was cloaked in the color of the darkest ink.

“What happened to me?”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Five hundred years.

Five hundred years he searched, for any trace of the legendary Five-Fingered Moutain Buddha used to trap Sun Wukong only to find nothing. Macaque scoured far and wide. Neither the winds nor the shadows could lead him towards his friend.

He picked fights with countless demons who claimed to witness the great Monkey King brought low. It barely took two punches before they broke down crying how it had been nothing but a lie, how they only repeated rumors.

He bargained for any information he could find, but all accounts claimed the mountain didn’t exist. Many refused to answer him on principle of not interfering with the Celestial Realm’s issues. Their last mistake. Others took Wukoong’s punishment as a sign to amass as much power as possible out of fear that they would be targeted next.

Macaque had witnessed the formation of more alliances and territory grabs in the past century than had been recorded in the last thousand years. Demons were becoming more power-hungry and suspicious, which meant even more trouble for the humans. Things were becoming so chaotic, Macaque had to wonder if it was planned.

But he couldn’t dwell on that.

He hadn’t visited Flower Fruit Moutain in years. His clones kept guard, but slowly he was losing the drive to keep replenishing them. The only reason he called that mountain home was because of Wukong. It wasn’t home without him.

But he had to keep looking. Had to keep trying. He would find his friend.

Somehow.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tricked himself into thinking this would be different. That he would no longer be alone. That finally he had found a family he could keep.

He was an idiot!

The truth was he was no different than anyone else. The world was Sun Wukong’s toy chest and Macaque was merely a shiny new trinket to bat around until he grew bored. Seeing him with that group, knowing that he chose them over their past, was too much.

He was sick of being left behind. He had been left alone so many times. What made him think he couldn’t be replaced?

He could have attacked, ripped their precious monk to pieces, he could have...should have...but he was tired.

Returning to Flower Fruit Mountain was a chore, but one he swore he would never complete again. The monkeys questioned his return, asking where their king was and if he’d return soon. Macaque ignored them all. He simply walked to the part of the manor he and Wukong had shared for years, where he had been waiting for his return.

Staring at all the knickknacks and souvenirs they had collected from their adventures, Macaque made up his mind. Grabbing a large sturdy bag, he swiftly packed his essentials. In another, he packed non-perishable goods and water containers.

Stepping out, a flash of something peach-colored caught his eye. Spinning around, hope burning a hole in his chest but his dreams once more were proved false. It was just the special peach tree Wukong had planted from the leftover pit he had saved from his time in the Celestial Realm. Apparently, it had reached maturity and was proudly bearing the first fruit Macaque had seen despite having been planted nearly half a millennia ago.

Macaque wasn’t sure why it was so special, Wukong just winked and said it was a surprise for when they could share a fresh one. Feeling something wet on his arm, Macaque looked down to see his hand stretched towards the tree and the memories he held. Feeling his cheeks, he realized he was crying, which was strange as he didn’t think he had any tears left.

Spurred by longing and spite, Macaque plucked six peaches from the tree and stuffed them into his bag. It wasn’t like Wukong was going to miss them. And he needed the food.

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #sun wukong #abandonment issues #no communication #angst #white macaque

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bratkook · 4 years ago

Text

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit.

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face.

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured.

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs.

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face.

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place.

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea.

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare.

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain.

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder.

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this.

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot.

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on.

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you.

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him.

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.”

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry.

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression.

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more.

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind.

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face.

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon.

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city.

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him.

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture.

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again.

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work.

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation.

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again.

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

#namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #bts fics #new #teaser

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: allusions to having a hard life, just two villains in love y’all, reminiscing, nothing else really, just a lot of storm metaphors and loving shiggy

Do I have a collab piece to work on rn? Of course. I am I feeling unmotivated and burn out? Absolutely.

Anyway, I saw another post somewhere about different versions of ourselves walking around in other timelines without any of our baggage and what kind of people they’d be.

And because Shigaraki deserves better, I feel like that fits him very well. Also it stormed here last night and I couldn’t help but think of simpler times ya know? Back when I held more hands. Idk man, sometimes I just think about how my best friend’s birthday is still my phone passcode and I wish I could relive the joy of everything that leads up to that kind of love.

Have some soft shiggy:

He is asleep and you watch each breath that rattles past his lips, afraid to look away. Afraid they may stop, that his ribs will cease to creak and life will no longer flood his lungs. Afraid he will slip away from you in dreams where you cannot follow. Afraid of being left behind.

So you watch.

And while you watch, you think.

Your thoughts are many and scattered like apple blossom petals in a gale:

Storms like the one raging outside as Tomura sleeps, and you watch and try to pick out the familiar rasp between thunder claps.

Memories of hands, small and chubby with childhood. Of feet that stumbled and rushed through fields during downpours. Of fat raindrops that hit your skin hard enough to bruise.

Scraped knees bleeding sweetly into summer grass that bled too. Green streaks on your hands, on your face and clothes. Tumbling down, down, down, only to rise and run again—such a familiar burn, but then it was ripe with innocence and laughter bubbled from you instead of screaming.

Your thoughts scramble like rats under sudden light as thunder booms again and shakes the walls. Tomura doesn’t wake, but something in you does. Something that is rattled loose by the lighting strikes and the driving storm.

Someone told you once, ages ago—in another life, an easier one—that the thunder roaring was really the sound of cannon balls rolling across the deck of a ship sailing across the sky-sea. That if you counted between the strikes you would know how far away the storm was.

While cannon balls rolled and the sky poured down angry, grey sheets of water across the city, you wondered if Tomura had been told the same. Or if there were other strange explanations for the waves of cracking sound that rumbled in your chest and made you ache for times when life was nothing more than creek walks on hot days or chocolate melting in your pocket.

When your mind was too small to understand the intricate and often unfair complexities of human existence. When toothpaste spontaneously generated in bathroom drawers and seashells hid secret pathways to the shoreline inside them.

Tomura stirred next to you, his hair splayed out in a thin, silvery halo around his head. It suited him better than any gold. If he were a royal, and you his knight errant, you imagined he’d be bathed in sterling—stark and sharp and painful in his beauty.

You try to think of him before.

Before you knew him.

Before he was Tomura.

You’ve never asked and you’re not sure he’d ever tell you, but you like to think that maybe he was happy.

Maybe he played, running through rolling hills and lush fields with wild honeysuckle to nibble the nectar from on warm nights when the sun set late and cicadas cried in the treetops. Maybe he wrapped his clumsy fingers around shiny rocks and kept them in his pockets, Maybe he smiled and laughed, not from the cruel butt of a joke, but out of sheer, childish joy.

Though most of you understood that a man like Tomura Shigaraki is not formed out of love or soft, golden hours spent catching fireflies.

But you liked to think of him that way.

Liked to indulge in what he might have been.

What you both might have been.

It isn’t as sad as it seems. No, it fills often with comfort that there are other worlds, other timelines in which the both of you were allowed to keep calluses from forming on your souls soles. That there are moments in existence, if only in your fabricated memories for him, that you and Tomura Shigaraki are happier.

So when the storm continues, winds whipping the walls and rain leaking through the worn roof, you huddle closer on the hard, dingy mattress.

And you watch and you think and hold him closer.

Letting his body stir and twitch until his back has settled against your chest and your nose it pressed to his neck.

You’ll move before he wakes up.

But that little part of you that envisions young and carefree Tomura is selfish, and wants these small moments of glorious, feather-down softness to keep for yourself. To tuck away when you dream of those other places.

Where things are easier.

And lovely.

And sweet.

And you kiss his cheek and know he won’t remember you’ve done it. But that doesn’t change the fact that it has happened regardless. That you given him these small, stolen pieces of other lives he might have lived.

And sleep all the better for it.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki fluff #bee.writes

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nightingaelic · 4 years ago

Note

POODLES IN THE WASTELAND

i jest I jest

But 👀

What about pets? Either ones companions would have or a very uncommon one that someone wouldn’t think was a good pet, BUT IS. Deathclaws you can ride like a pony, mole rats that want belly rubs, cazadore’s as cattier pigeons! What are your thoughts?

Or like, Danse or Piper or Fawkes with something hilarious Idek ignore me

Oooookay, here’s my comprehensive list of companions - ALL companions, across Fallouts 3, 4, New Vegas and 76 - and their (headcanon) choices in wasteland pets. I’ll give a little explanation for each - particularly as many of these companions are transients and don’t have the luxury of owning a home to keep pets at. Also, I feel like most of the companions, while they might not necessarily like pets, would be somewhat fond or at least respectful of the pets of the Lone Wanderer/Courier/Sole Survivor/Vault Dweller, like Dogmeat and Rex.

Bighorners

Lily Bowen: Everyone’s favorite super mutant grandma is already an experienced shepherdess in Jacobstown, and she’s more than willing to tear some night stalkers apart to keep her herd safe. If that’s not love beyond the norm for wasteland livestock, I don’t know what is. She’s probably given all of her bighorners names after the characters in the television reruns she used to watch on holotape in Vault 17, like Grace and Audrey and Lucille.

Brahmin

Raul Tejada: Actually spent a decent part of his pre-war life living on a ranch, so he knows that most brahmin don’t deserve being labeled “irritable” just because people don’t know how to read their body language. I think he’d follow wild brahmin herds around a bit on a whim and keep them from coming to any harm, especially the little ones. He gives them names like the cattle he grew up with, Corazon and Gordo and Blanca.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Doesn’t truck with the wild herds, but she knows that part of the success of a caravan lies with how well they treat their pack animals. All of her caravan’s brahmin have names - Penny, Magic and Sprinkles - and she’s careful to pair them up with drivers who are patient and work well with their various personalities.

Cats

Butch DeLoria: While Butch ultimately decided to leave Vault 101 behind, I don’t think he would ever truly lose his fear of radroaches after what they did to his mom. Having a little friend to warm his bunk in Rivet City and pounce on intruders would probably set his mind at ease, maybe a black tomcat with one ear named Pepper. He might even gift his mom a kitten when he next comes to visit.

Star Paladin Cross: I don’t think Cross much sees the use of an animal that doesn’t contribute to the community it lives in, like most of the Brotherhood of Steel. Cats, however, are excellent at pest control, even if the rats are bigger nowadays. I think she’d give the resident cats at the Citadel some pets in passing, and she’d smile when she has to extract playful kittens from inside her power armor frame. She’s especially fond of the cat colony’s matriarch, a scarred old tabby named Gemma.

Curie: Upon her transition into a synth body, Curie is overjoyed with most animals and their new willingness to approach her for attention. She especially loves cats because she can pick them up and better feel their fur and purring. Her favorite cat is an orange stray in Diamond City that she calls Claude.

Piper Wright: A companion for Nat when she’s out adventuring, an unbiased friend to bounce the latest opinion piece off of before going to print, and a lap-warmer for when you’re typing up the latest article about the exploits of the Minutemen - what’s not to like? The Wright family cat is a slippery, elegant calico named Sugar Bomb.

Preston Garvey: While the Minutemen forts and settlements definitely lean more toward keeping dogs around for security purposes, I think Preston likes his pets quieter and less likely to bowl you over in excitement. The one most likely to sleep with him in his bunk at Sanctuary is a grumpy gray gentleman named Anchovy.

Deathclaws

Veronica Santangelo: If anyone is crazy enough to swipe a deathclaw egg from a nest and try to hatch, rear and train a personal killing machine named Izzy, it’s Veronica. This will probably just alienate her from her Brotherhood chapter even more, but I’m sure she would take special care to make sure that her usual Mojave Wasteland haunts take a peek through a scope to see if the approaching deathclaw has a human on its back before taking a shot.

Dogs

Clover: I don’t think Clover gets out beyond Paradise Falls much, so the only animals she’s used to are the dogs the raiders bring around when passing through. She probably has favorites among the usual visitors and enjoys tossing them bits of meat when she’s allowed to get away from Eulogy and Crimson. If liberated, she’d probably get at least three of her own dogs to watch over her while she sleeps: One small dog to carry with her, a Pekingese or Pomeranian descendant named Coco, and two large dogs to follow through on intimidation and protection, a mastiff named Rock and a Doberman descendant named Roll.

Jericho: Jericho doesn’t deserve a dog but he’d probably have one around anyway to sniff out caps caches and hidden loot after he’s shot everyone in the vicinity. Some slinky beagle mix named Dewey, probably.

Fawkes: I don’t think Fawkes would be picky at all about what kind of dog he’d have. He strikes me as the type who would adopt any half-friendly mutt he ran across. I do think he would have a bit of a soft spot for friendlier mutant hounds, though, and maybe view their mutated circumstances as similar to his own. He’d also be absolutely amazing at playing fetch. Just imagine how far he could lob a stick or ball. All of his dogs would have literary names too, like Byron and Agatha and Edgar.

Craig Boone: Though he’s a bit of a prodigy at sniping, Boone knows his limitations when it comes to spotting hidden enemies on the horizon. I can see him having a hound dog at his side to find the more elusive ones and help him get rid of them faster. Maybe a bloodhound mutt named Bravo.

Cait: Doesn’t like people, but she adores dogs. Having had the life where she’s been abused, exploited and forced into slavery, she’s keenly aware that those like the ones who took advantage of her treat dogs much the same. She’s very protective of any dog she encounters and is very likely to punch you in the face if you so much as look at one wrong. She’d probably name any pup she adopted Lucky.

Hancock: Honestly, he’s just a fan of any animal that is happy to hang out with you whether you’re drunk, high, fighting raiders or patrolling downtown Boston. The Goodneighbor strays know him as the guy who always has mirelurk jerky in his pockets. His favorite is a rough-and-tumble, black-and-white spotted cattle dog descendant that he cheekily calls King George.

Robert MacCready: He’s not quick to trust dogs, but once he’s sure they’re not a threat, they’re one of the few critters around which he’ll relax completely. He’s still a little wary of them around Duncan, but any dog that’s a part of his family is more or less his son’s permanent babysitter.

Nick Valentine: Dogmeat is also basically his dog. The two have a history of working cases together, with Dogmeat just turning up whenever a trail goes cold and leading Nick to the evidence he needs to reopen his investigation. Nick doesn’t know how or why Dogmeat does it, but he’s not about to ruin a good thing.

Strong: I don’t think he would turn down a ferocious mutant hound as a friend. He’d probably feed it mole rats and call it something like Killer.

Foxes

Beckett: This former raider has a love-hate relationship with a fox that keeps going through his trash. He affectionately calls him Lil’ Bastard.

Sofia Daguerre: Having crashed back to an earth she doesn’t recognize, I think Sofia would be tickled that the foxes of Appalachia have basically stayed the same despite the bombs. I can see her leaving dinner scraps out on her porch for one that she sometimes spots in the foliage, and slowly coaxing the critter to come into the light. She names her Scarlett once she finally convinces her to eat out of her hand.

Mega sloths

Settler forager: I would not be at all surprised if this man ran into a mega sloth in the Mire and decided to try befriending it. The creature, probably surprised at this old guy’s nerve, decided to accept the handful of leaves he offered and grew slowly more fond of the guy’s persistence. It doesn’t know its name is Fergus but it does know that if a human is wearing overalls, it’s probably not a threat.

Mole rats

Deacon: Alright, hear me out. Deacon has a fondness for underdogs, and mole rats are about as underdog as they come. I think Deacon thinks these little guys are cute despite their wrinkles and buck teeth, and I think he sees the value in having a tunneling pet that likes to collect shiny things. One of his deep cover hideouts is in an old tunnel system in the northern Commonwealth, where he hangs out with a young mole rat named Henry.

Owls

Raider punk: This radio operator got wind of an abandoned nest of owlets in Appalachia early on in his career and, being the nearest to the report, decided to rescue the little guys. Now he has three owls that occasionally drop in at his camp to hoot and accept handouts: Nona, Decima and Morta. While he’s still fond of them, he’s usually disappointed that they aren’t the Mothman coming to visit.

Rad chickens

Yasmin Chowdhury: Ever the opportunistic cook, she picked up the practice of raising chickens from the settlers at Foundation and has four hens of her own: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The “ladies,” as she refers to them, give her a constant stream of eggs for omelets.

Ravens

Settler wanderer: This gal has an affinity with birds, who are always on the move like her. She admires their ability to be untethered and let the wind take them far and wide. Nevertheless, she likes to scatter corn when they come close to her on the road, and formed a sort of friendship with a particularly handsome specimen that she calls Tornado.

Wolves

Old Longfellow: This guy is the epitome of the meme about dads not wanting pets and then instantly falling in love with whatever animal enters their life. He probably found an injured wolf pup in his travels around the island and took pity on it, nursing it back to health in his cabin. It’s still got a bit of a twisted paw, but follows him around and listens like any other dog and answers to the name Lamoine.

Yao guai

Porter Gage: I bet this guy adopted an orphaned bear cub and raised it by hand. Now it’s so big that even if Gage thinks he’s an easy target for other raiders due to his age, he’s much less likely to get singled out than he thinks because he has a yao guai following him around like a puppy. The bear’s name is Fuzzy Wuzzy. It has no hair.

No pets, thanks

Charon: Too likely to accidentally wind up in the line of fire.

Sergeant RL-3: Too easily corrupted by Communist influences.

Arcade Gannon: Too much time spent getting in your way.

Codsworth: Too likely to make messes.

Paladin Danse: Too many wasted resources.

X6-88: Too much of a liability.

Ada: Too easy to lose when on the move.

Solomon Hardy: Too unsanitary.

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birdiefw · 5 years ago

Text

JJ MAYBANK | SEPTEMBER

Summary: It was during a party on September 21st when you and JJ fell in love.

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, SLIGHT angst & fluff

A/N: I don’t know how this happened but I’m just rolling with it because I love that song and needed to make another JJ imagine. FEEL FREE TO SEND REQUESTS, TOO!

[not my gif]

You didn’t want to go to the party. There was only one week of school before fall break — a week of complete relaxation and not a single assignment to occupy your time — but you needed to focus on your remaining assignments in order to make sure you were still passing all of your classes. Your parents were expecting nothing but perfection from you and you didn’t want to let them down.

They already disapproved of your friends. You didn’t want to give them any more reason to despise you.

One of your close friends, Kiara Cerrera, or simply Kie, had tried to convince you to go to the boneyard for a kegger to ease your nerves, but you were deep in homework and couldn’t afford to stop now.

That was almost two hours ago and it was nearing midnight. Your parents were fast asleep in their bedroom down the hall, but you were wide awake with your homework spread out around you on the floor. Your mind was desperately begging you to take a break, to rest and relax so you didn’t go into overload, but you’d made it this far — you couldn’t stop now.

Faint music softly played from your phone that was carelessly tossed on your bed, your ears tuning out any chime that came from it to avoid getting distracted by your concerned friends. You promised Kie you were fine and would stop at a reasonable time, but you should’ve known better than to believe she wouldn’t express her concerns to your friends.

After a while, you heard a light tap on your window. You frowned, eyes growing wide. You’d seen enough horror movies than to know better than to look. There was no way you were going to open your window so late at night.

You gulped and stood up, cautiously sitting on the edge of your bed. The tap came again.

You nervously bit your lip, your gut telling you to go get your dad, but you remained frozen in place. The music on your phone abruptly stopped and it began to ring. You jumped fearfully, relaxing when you saw it was only JJ. You quickly answered it, hoping it hadn’t woken your parents.

“JJ, I cant talk right now,” you whispered. Your eyes never left your thankfully locked window. “There’s—”

“Someone tapping on your window?” JJ finished for you, amusement laced in his gruff voice. Your eyes widened and you stood up, yanking back your curtain. The light from your room spilled out of the window, lighting up JJ’s face behind the glass. You sighed in relief and hung up, lifting the window to let him inside.

JJ grinned and pocketed his own phone before quietly climbing into your room; it was times like these you were thankful you lived in a one story home. You backed out of his way, going back to sitting in the floor by your homework. JJ watched you, doing a double take at all of the papers you had scattered around you. “Woah,” he breathed out, cocking a brow in your direction. “Are you sure we go to the same school? ‘Cause there’s no way in hell we have that much work to do it.”

You let out a light laugh, innocently shrugging when you caught his unsure gaze. “Yes, but I’m in AP classes. They require more work,” you replied defensively. You pulled a notebook into your lap, a separate sheet right next to you. “I need to finish these, JJ. Besides, don’t you have a party to be at?”

JJ sighed, lazily plopping down at your desk. He propped his feet up on your desk only to dramatically put them back down at the glare you sent him. “I was, but you weren’t there,” he said in reply. You frowned. Why did it matter if you were there? Sure, you were flattered he wanted you to be there, but that never stopped him from partying before.

“So?” You laughed, jotting down the next answer to your assignment. “I’m just not in the mood to party tonight. My parents would kill me, too.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“Well, no, but they might—”

“They won’t.” You sighed, giving JJ a tired look. He held his hands out at his sides, eyes softened. “C’mon, Y/N. Kie said you’ve been doing this all day—”

“JJ, I promise, I’m fine,” you interjected. You really didn’t wanna have another debate about it again. You were still reeling in from the one you had with Kiara. You didn’t think you could do it all over again, and with JJ no less. As much as you appreciated his, and everyone else’s concern, it was unnecessary.

You looked back down to your homework, hoping JJ would drop it. You went back to working out the problems, pausing when JJ stood up and sat down beside you. The corners of your lips tweaked upwards, giving him a suspicious look. “JJ, what’re you doing?” You questioned.

He picked up a piece of paper, grinning towards you. “What’s it look like? I’m gonna help you so you can finish sooner and get to the party.”

You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes. “You don’t have to do that,” you stated softly. “I don’t wanna go, anyways.”

JJ dropped the paper, his eyes pleading with you. “This isn’t good for your health, Y/N,” he said, brows knitted together.

“You’re one to talk!” You retorted defensively. “How healthy do you think it is to drink as—”

“This isn’t about me,” JJ cut in, standing up. He ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps away, finally facing you. “I-we’re all worried about you. All were asking is for one night, Y/N. That stuff can wait until tomorrow. You need a serious break, and I’m not leaving here until you agree to come with me.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “You can’t stay here all night, JJ.”

“Watch me.”

You angrily huffed, slamming your homework onto the floor. JJ proudly smirked — it was only a matter of time until you caved. You clenched your jaw and pushed yourself to your feet, folding your arms over your chest. “If I say yes, what do you get out of it?”

“I get to see my friend have a good time instead of overworking herself to death,” he answered, face hardened with sincerity.

You were taken aback by his answer. It was stern, but he didn’t hesitate. He was being honest.

Eventually you sighed, unable to stop yourself from smiling towards the sun kissed boy. “Fine, I’ll go, but one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

————

“This is ridiculous.”

“It is not!”

“I look like a freakin’ tour guide!”

“No, you don’t!”

The party was raging when you and JJ arrived, having ridden on your two person bike so you wouldn’t have to take your car and make it obvious you’d snuck out. Kooks, Pogues, and clueless Tourons clashed in one enormous group on the sand, bodies blending together in the sea of faces that moved along with the thumping music that blared from a nearby radio. A keg was placed by the water, red solo cups were discarded throughout the beach, some still clutched in the clammy hands of those hoping to have a good time.

“Hey, what time does the tour begin, hot stuff?” John B. called out, coming up to you and JJ, throwing his arm around his best friends shoulders. You held your hand over your mouth, hoping to hide your laugh from JJ. The boy turned to you, giving you an ‘I told you so’ look, but you just waved it off.

He shrugged John B.’s arm off, pointing in your direction. “It was her idea, not mine,” JJ stated. The bright yellow, Hawaiian shirt he wore was bright under the moonlight, making it easy for anyone to spot him in the crowd. The top five buttons were undone, you having been the one to say that was the perfect amount to have done — just the right amount of skin showing. A black bandana was wrapped in his hair, a few short pieces sticking out and resting on his forehead. “I think she raided your closet of somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving JJ. Your gaze swiveled over to John B., giving him a small smile. “I take it you were worried about me, too?”

“I’m always worried about you. You don’t party enough,” he replied, chuckling. Then he nodded towards JJ, eyes twinkling mischievously. “He was worried the most, though.”

“I was not—”

“John B.!” A pretty blonde called out, motioning the boy over to her with two red cups in her hands.

John B. contently sighed, stealing a glance to you and JJ. “Duty calls, my friends,” he breathed out. He pointed a finger to you as he started to walk off, lips pursed. “Have fun, Y/N. And if I see you trying to leave early, I’ll drag you back and handcuff you to myself so you can’t leave.”

You falsely saluted him, hardening your features and stranding straight. “Sir, yes, sir!”

He gave you and JJ a final wave, disappearing into the crowd with the Touron girl, leaving you and JJ all alone. You were expecting him to go about and find some cute girl to flirt with and slip out of the part my with, but much to your surprise, he remained at your side.

You could see Kie off in the distance by a dim bonfire, trying to get Pope out to dance with her. You grinned, a gasp leaving your lips when you heard what song was playing. You sharply turned to JJ, gently grabbing his shoulders and lightly shaking. “Oh my god!” You beamed. You grabbed at his hands and pulled him further into the crowd.

“Woah, hey!” JJ whined, tightening his grip on your hand. “I’m getting sand in my shoes!”

“Hush!” You giggled, finding a spot near the middle that gave you both enough room to dance without disturbing those around you. You let go of his hand and then faced him, your smile never deterring. “Dance with me!”

JJ didn’t need to be told twice.

September by Earth, Wind, & Fire blared across the twisted beach, drunken teens belting out the lyrics even if they didn’t know all the words. Your heart was soaring amongst the stars, giggles emitting from you as you happily danced with JJ. All of your worries seemed to wash away the more you allowed yourself to get lost in the music, finding yourself truly enjoying the night.

JJ grabbed your hand and delicately spun you around, your laughs mixing together into the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard. He twirled you around again, pulling you against his chest with your back to him. Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling his warmth send sparks throughout your entire body. Your lips tweaked upwards, something inside of you igniting as you felt yourself be pulled back out.

Your eyes locked with JJ’s blue ones, his expression the same as your own. The music no longer mattered to either of you, your hearts beating in sync. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, JJ’s face getting closer and closer to your own. You didn’t even realize you were moving as well, your faces inches apart.

Your eyes briefly went to his lips and then to his eyes. JJ smirked, tilting his head. “You gonna make a move or what?” You scoffed and lightly pushed him away. He loudly laughed and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him so you were chest to chest. “Why do you have to be so stubborn, huh?”

You innocently smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ let out a breath, moving closer to you. “You’re something else.”

“And so are you.”

Within seconds your lips were firmly pressed to his, your eyes fluttering closed as euphoria took control of your body. Your hands went around his neck, one had cradling the nape of his neck while the other traveled into his hair. You accidentally pulled some out from under his bandana, but he didn’t seem to care. He wrapped his arms around your waist, smiling as you two finally broke apart just as the song ended; you two were undoubtedly in love.

There was no way you two were going to forget the 21st night of September.

———

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malghra · 4 years ago

Text

I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you

Darklina Week Day 4: Fairy Tales: Darklina Red Riding Hood / Company of Wolves AU

Title from Talyor Swift's So it goes, Rating: M

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and Ana Kuya was worried about her, so she decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. On her way there, Alina meets a stranger...

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and the staff at Duke Keramsov's household were worried about her, so it was decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. The fastest way to get there was through the forest, but Ana Kuya had warned Alina that the woods were dangerous and that she should never stray from the path.

She'd nodded eagerly, mostly to avoid one of Ana Kuya's lectures on acts of kindness and the importance of community, but behind her back Alina had sulked and pouted. It was one of the first sunny days of the year and she'd wanted to spend it in the meadow with Mal. But now she'd have to spend her day struggling through the forest with a heavy basket.

She took her red shawl from the hook on the door, wrapping it around her shoulders, and decided to go and find Mal anyway. He would go with her if she asked.

They were almost outside the front gate, when they heard Ana Kuya call out to them. "Malyen Oretsev, where do you think you're going?"

They exchanged a look and Alina bit her lip. Should they try to make a run for it? Unfortunately, Ana Kuya was closer than they'd thought.

Mal turned around and answered her question innocently. "I'm going with Alina to bring this basket to Old Baghra."

"And did I tell you to do this?" she asked in exasperation. "You need to stay here."

"But you said the woods aren't safe!" Alina objected. "Mal should come with me, to protect me!"

That earned her an ear boxing, and Mal was sent away to help the young men as they started repairs on the house after the long winter.

By the time Alina entered the forest, Ana Kuya's warnings had already slipped to the back of her mind.

Winter had passed and now that spring was reigning, the woods had never looked more beautiful. The trees were blooming, flower springing up along the path, and the moss and ferns covering the forest floor and scattered rocks were the green of emeralds, drops of dew that had not yet disappeared making them sparkle like the gems they resembled in the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

She took in the enchantment of it all with wide eyes and quickly forgot about the dangers that might be lurking. The trees and brushes were alive with animals awaking after the long lull of winter and the song of birds was filling both the forest and Alina's heart with joy. She hadn't gotten far when she could no longer resist joining them in their singing.

She sang as one would only sing when they are alone, so as was bound to happen, she soon discovered she was not alone at all. The man appeared from a gap between the trees some three feet ahead of her, stopping her in her tracks.

He stood there looking at her, arms loosely crossed over his chest and his head cocked to the left. He was tall and slender, with a shock of dark hair and dressed in black wool and leathers. Alina closed her mouth, realizing she was staring at him. "Good day to you, sir," she called out.

"And good day to you, milaya," he answered as he started strolling over to her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she tried to remember what Ana Kuya had said about strange men.

"Please, zolotse, do not stop your singing on my behalf, I was quite enjoying it," he told her, holding her gaze.

His words pleased her, but she could feel heat flushing her cheeks. He blinked slowly, licking his lips and Alina's heart sped up inside her chest.

"May I walk with you for a spell?" he asked, his slate grey eyes open and kind.

Despite herself, she nodded and clutched the basket she was carrying a little closer to her body.

They walked in silence for a while, until he asked, "What's your name, milashka?"

"Alina," she answered breathlessly.

"Alina," he repeated, as if trying to taste it on his tongue, and the way his lips curled around her name sent a shiver down her spine.

"I am Aleksander," he added with a smile which didn't really look like a smile all that much, even if she couldn't decide why.

She glanced over at his face as they walked. He had a sharp and smug look about him, a bit dour even perhaps, she mused, but when he met her eyes or offered her that odd smile, something fluttered deep inside her stomach.

"What do you have inside that basket of yours?" Aleksander asked.

"Food and kvas for Old Baghra. She lives near the bridge three miles south of the creek," she answered him.

For a brief moment, Alina could have sworn that a shadow passed over his face, but then he exclaimed,"But you're taking the long way!" his eyes wide and innocent.

"Of course not," she countered with a smile. "The fastest way is through the woods."

"Yes," he agreed, "It is. Through the woods, but you are following the path."

"Ana Kuya told me not to stray from the path," she mumbled, hating how silly she must sound to him.

He offered her a half-smile. "Ah, you're a good girl, aren't you? I bet you do every little thing your mother tells you to do, now don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, her face flushing with anger this time, and he barked out a laugh.

"Ana Kuya is not my mother!" she spat at him. "I'm an orphan!"

"Ah, I see," he muttered matter-of-factly, and she was oddly grateful for the lack of pity in his voice and eyes.

They walked in silence, until Aleksander muttered her name again, and Alina automatically glanced up at him.

"Why exactly did Ana Kuya tell you not to stray from the path?" he asked her, head cocked to the side again.

"I..." she opened and closed her mouth. "She said it was dangerous," she told him, picking up her pace.

He easily kept up with her. "But why?" he wanted to know.

She bit her lip. She wasn't about to admit that she didn't know why. "It's better if we stay on the path."

He raised an eyebrow. "We? You can stay on the path if you like, lapushka, but I'll bet you I can get there faster than you can."

Her hands tightened on the handle of the basket. She nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Of course, I'll need a prize if I win the bet, wouldn't you agree?"

He held her gaze, but Alina didn't look away.

"What kind of prize?" she breathed, her voice betraying her.

"How about a kiss?" he asked.

Her heart started hammering again, closing up her throat and making it impossible to speak as her eyes dropped to his full lips. She glanced up to meet his eyes and nodded.

"Let me take your basket," he offered.

She handed it to him and then watched him disappear between the trees. She began walking faster, determined to win the bet. A kiss, she thought as her feet carried her down the path. She'd never been kissed before, but she tried to imagine it. She wondered if his lips would feel as soft as they looked.

Perhaps she wouldn't mind losing the bet. Perhaps she wouldn't mind being kissed by this odd but exciting stranger. She realized she'd slowed down again and looked around, taking in her surroundings. To her left, there was a small clearing between the trees which was filled with blue flowers.

Perhaps she wouldn't mind making sure that he won the bet. Perhaps it would be for the best if she didn't take any chances. She abandoned the path and walked into the clearing to pick some flowers and weave them into a crown. That would give him enough of a headstart to get there first.

Alina ended up lingering there for a longer time than she'd intended, singing under her breath and picking all of the prettiest flowers, but eventually she'd made her way to Old Baghra's cottage. It was already getting dark and the wind filled the evening with a menacing chill, but Alina didn't shiver, she had her shawl to keep her warm.

There was no sign of the stranger called Aleksander, so she knocked on the door and called out: "Baghra, it's Alina!"

No answer came.

"Baghra," she repeated a little louder than the first time. She tried knocking on the door again and slowly, it creaked open. As soon as she stepped inside, the warm and dusty, musky air inside filled her nostrils, making her sneeze and cough. A clattering noise came from the far side of the room.

Old Baghra was nowhere to be seen, but perched on the bed in the corner of the hut was her dark stranger.

Suddenly he was on his feet and the door clicked shut. She turned around to find him standing close to her, his eyes glowing in the dusk. It was quiet inside, except for the rattling still coming from the corner of the room.

"What big eyes you have," she whispered, clutching the ends of her shawl around her shoulders.

"All the better to see you with, Alina," he replied.

She was about to turn around to examine the annoying clunking noise she kept hearing, when a chorus of howls rose up all around the hut. She hissed, startled by the sound.

"Those are my brothers," the wolf told her.

She turned to look out the window, but it was too dark to see. "It's getting really cold outside," she whispered. He was standing right behind her, so close she could feel the heat rolling off his body.

She whirled around, clutching his forearms to steady herself. "What big arms you have," she muttered.

He leaned in until his nose was almost touching hers. "All the better to hold you with," he said.

She averted her eyes, her breath catching in her throat, and she licked her lips as her eyes fell on his mouth. She remembered she'd promised him a kiss. She angled her face up until she could press her lips to his.

Outside the wolves started howling again. It sounds like a song, she thought, a joyous song.

His lips parted under her attention and she pulled his soft bottom lip between her own. She felt something wet and warm nudge her lip.

"Your prize," she explained as she pulled away.

He smiled that odd smile, his teeth gleaming in the dark.

"What big teeth you have," she whispered.

His smile grew wider, showing even more of his teeth. "All the better to eat you with, lapushka."

In the corner where the bed stood, the clamouring resumed.

"Did you eat Old Baghra?" Alina asked.

He nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows.

She didn't know how to feel about that. "She was old and ugly and smelly. I bet she didn't taste very nice," she piped up.

"Not really, no," he admitted, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. "But you are young and pretty and you smell like flowers. I bet you'd taste sweet."

She giggled and objected, "I'm not a piece of meat."

He chuckled softly. "Show me, Alinushka."

She unwrapped her shawl and let it drop to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her as her fingers unlaced the bodice of her dress. He sucked in a sharp breath as it slid down her body and pooled at her feet. After that she removed her chemise and let it join the heap at her feet.

His eyes followed her as she walked to the bed and lay down on it, waiting for him to follow.

He started undressing and she bit her lip as her mesmerized eyes drank in his body. But when his last piece of clothing hit the floor, the man was gone and an enormous black wolf with glowing red eyes was standing there instead.

The wolf leapt up on the bed and even though Alina's heart was pounding inside her chest, she found that she was not afraid. The wolf lay down next to her, placing its huge head in her lap, and whined softly.

She patted its ears and neck and the wolf nuzzled at her belly and her maidenhair. Suddenly, instead of black fur, she was clasping thick strands of dark hair between her fingers. The wolf was a man again.

He pushed her thighs apart and pressed his lips to her most intimate place. His warm, wet tongue nudged her lower lips, slipping in between them.

"Yes, you taste sweet, lapushka," Aleksander told her in a rough voice. His eyes were dark and ravenous, but they didn't scare her.

"Kiss me," she begged him, so he did.

Alina had been warned to stay away from dark strangers, and she had been told that only wicked girls let dangerous men take their precious maidenheads, but she gave hers up willingly and called her dark wolf husband. The blood staining the sheets was as bright as her pretty red shawl, but it didn't disturb her as she slept peacefully under a starless sky, safely wrapped up in the embrace of his tender darkness.

#darklina #alina x the darkling #alina starkov x aleksander morozova #darklinadaily #darklinaweek2021 #fairy tale au #red riding hood au #company of wolves au #i am in love with fanon!aleksander's abundant use of russian pet names

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