#// imagining me doing this challenge just by searching kid+core.

[ferromagnetiic]

EUSTASS KID CORE AESTHETIC. Go to pinterest.com and enter your character name+Core and post the first nine pictures. (Except I cheated by shifting through images.)

tagged by: @primamirage !! tagging: anyone who hasn't done this yet!

[jiye0ngs]

Hey hey hey i was wondering if I can also have a request hc for eleceed kayden and kartien (separate) where mc is their younger sibling who went “missing” and suddenly boom 💥 there’s news of mc is pretty much alive healthy also married? and they have a kid with them 👁👁 how would these two kings react ??? Also love your writing it faces me some great inspiration and I hope you have a great dayyy 💖💖✨

thank you! have a great day as well, anon <3

KARTEIN

✽ — suffice to say this man spent too much time worrying about his dear sibling. You can imagine his absolute exasperation after finding out they’re alive, and well, and away from harm, but not only that; married and with a child too. 

✽ — “You are insane,” are the first things he says. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you? Idiot. You don’t even contact your own brother?” – most likely goes on a tangent like this. Demands to be told the whole story too, from start to finish. But naturally his mild annoyance wears down and, at the very core, he lets his sibling know he’s just relieved to find them safe, contented, and happy. Might get the tiniest bit emotional and allow a once in a lifetime hug. Might.

✽ — He connects with the MC’s extended family well, after spending time with them and somewhat getting to know their spouse and kid. Kartein, as with all things, prides himself on his exquisite taste for people, so once he’s gotten to know his sibling’s spouse long enough he approves quite well of them. Cue Kartein now sponsoring their fancy dinner dates and overseas flights.

✽ — NOW THE BABY. Oh, the baby. 

✽ — At first look Kartein might not be the image everyone’s mind conjures when they think of a person that likes children, but Kartein actually has a very big soft spot for his niece/nephew. Occasionally, he mulls over the fact that his sibling just disappeared without telling him and, most of all, never informed him about his niece/nephew, but he respects his sibling’s choices and decisions and is just happy he gets to spend time with family.

✽ — When I say he spoils them, he spoils them. All the effort when it comes to toys and books and clothes. Birthdays? Kartein has a whole stash of presents ready. Christmas? New Year? Halloween? This uncle is ready for every season and holiday imaginable. All the gifts are expensive as hell too, with some even being personalized or gold-plated or studded with little diamonds — MC has to remind Kartein to go easy on the kids lest they grow up to become too materialistic 😭

✽ — He’s down for babysitting too. The first few times might not be the smoothest, as Kartein still isn’t well-versed in the likes and dislikes of children (they’re mildly gross too, always sticky and eating things off the floor...) but he soon takes up to the challenge of constantly taking care of his sibling’s kid/s. He reads them books and lets them tinker around with his healing apparatus, converses with them on anything they have in mind, and wholly supports their interests and anything their little hearts want to discover and learn. Becomes skilled at braiding hair and washing clothes and sewing/patching up any ripped blankets, shirts, or stuffed toys. 

✽ — Speaking of stuffed toys/plushies: the kids would definitely bring any of their broken toys for Kartein to ‘heal.’ Kartein could never say no, so of course he pretends to use his powers (for some reason, it works sometimes,) or secretly repair them. It never fails to make the kids smile and, by extension, see Kartein as their ultimate idol. 

✽ — Most likely talks to his nephew/niece about refined culture too, whether it be about music, visual arts, fine arts, fashion, or sciences like astronomy, anatomy, or botany. They visit museums and galleries every once in a while together, Kartein not being able to resist buying them anything they want when they go to gift shops. 

✽ — Because it’s Kartein, the kids will be eating haute cuisine every time they come to his place for sure.

✽ — I see him as the type to help kids out with their homework and helps them improve on anything school-related that they’re stuck with, especially with mathematics or sciences. Of course he is greatly proud when the kids come home from school and boast about their accomplishments.

✽ — He’s a great uncle overall. MC has a growing comptetitive streak with him since the kids like their Uncle Kartein a little too much more than their own parent 😭 Either way, it’s just good that they, as siblings, get to see each other again, knowing their family is safe.

KAYDEN

✽ — This man is just relieved that his sibling is alive once he gets to see them. Immense strength runs in their genes anyway, so he was only slightly worried when news of MC disappearing got to him. As always, he just knows they can handle their self.

✽ — BUT THE FAMILY? Man, Kayden uses this to tease MC to no end. You really went all out once you were away, huh? Remarks like that were going to be frequent and then cranked up to a thousand once the siblings reunite. He can’t help it, Kayden is a professional shit-talker.

✽ — All jokes aside though, Kayden is Kayden to the bone and he just respects his sibling’s decision as well. As long as you’re safe, just do what you want to do. He forges a civil relationship with the sibling’s s/o and thanks them for looking out for his beloved sibling. May or may not reveal past childhood stories about his sibling to the s/o during dinner, who knows.

✽ — Onto the most important part: The Baby.

✽ — Now, if the baby were a little older, Kayden would actually know what he’s doing since...he’s got a kid (? a seventeen-year-old apprentice is more or less a kid, right?) that he’s gotten to know over time. But if it was an infant we were talking about, well...Kayden has a tiny fear of, I don’t know, not being able to hold them properly since those things were so fragile and stuff. 

✽ — But he does make up for bonding with the baby through playtimes; shaking their little rattle for them and doing puppet shows for the baby, etc. etc. Follows a routinely schedule of mealtimes and naptimes and soaking-the-baby-in-the-sun times, just as he was with Jiwoo’s kitties. Basically carries over what strategies he has from being a full-time cat father, modifies it a bit, then applies it when he’s on Uncle Duty.

✽ — When the kid grows a little older, you bet they’ll hang out all the time with their Cool Uncle Kayden. Now, it can get a bit hard to bond with your niece/nephew when you’re an internationally renowned Awakener with hundreds upon hundreds of bloodthirsty enemies on your trail, but Kayden does his goddamn best to make sure they’re safe, happy, and having a great time overall. Goes along with them to parks, helps them in physical activities (and might even train them upon request too), treats them to ice cream and goes with them to the roller skating rink every weekend on the agreement that they finish their vegetables and take care of their physical health. It’s really a cool time.

✽ — When they’re Older Older, maybe somewhere around Jiwoo’s age or a little younger, that’s where even more training kicks in. To Kartein’s distaste, who thinks Kayden being fight-crazy enough to even teach his niece/nephew as well is sooo absurd (/j all the time of course), Kayden helps them improve on their abilities and powers from a developing stage. He’s always a great mentor as he usually is, and it’s not that different from what we see with how he trains Jiwoo. Is so, so fond and proud of his nieces and nephews when they fully utilize their potential to the maximum and beats their opponents’ asses during sparring. 

✽ — Is the basis of gossip at the niece/nephew’s school. I place my bets that these kids have to suffer whispers of omg is that your uncle is he like an actor or a model omg omgomg from both students and teachers alike every time Kayden has to pick them up from school or something. 

✽ — 10000/10 Awesome Uncle he’s surprisingly wise, fun, and a little goofy but also kind of a menace which, come on, who doesn’t love a menace? MC kind of gets headaches from it though. Kayden was already a pain in the ass growing up, him letting their own kids join him in being menaces just adds to the trouble. (They all love one another though. One can just say that teasing is a love language in their family.)

[tiffdawg]

Chaste | A Din Djarin x Reader Fic

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: E | Warnings: NSFW - explicit sexual content, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, creampie, dity talk featuring Din’s bedroom voice. 18+ only.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in my little poll yesterday! And thank you to @huliabitch​ for encouraging me to write this. This is just something I wrote in between final papers. I don’t want to try to fit it into the current timeline so let’s just say this is sometime in the future well after Din decides to keep the kid. No spoilers for season two. No backstory, no plot; just smut. We might need that to cope depending on how the season finale goes tomorrow...

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Chaste

Unsurprisingly, Din woke up hard. Again.

Your semi-conscious brain registered his erection pressing against even before you’d opened your eyes that morning. It sent a rush of heat straight to your core. Just as it had every morning for the past week. And despite the early hour, you knew he was awake. Gentle fingertips traced abstract shapes along your side where your shirt had bunched up in your sleep. His dizzyingly light touch sent chills across your skin, but at your contented hum, his hand slipped under the hemline.

In his tender explorations he found your breast. You shifted against him, rubbing your thighs together in a pathetic relieve the mounting pressure building within you. He groaned behind you. His fingers circled your nipple before pinching the now stiff peak. You gasped at the electric mix of pain and pleasure.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping,” Din rasped, voice still hoarse from sleeping, as he pulled you back tighter against his chest, calloused hand still cupping your tit.

“You started it,” you mumbled back. Your eyes blinked open as you looked over your shoulder at him to find him lazily smirking at you. “Good morning, my love.” 

“Morning, cyar’ika,” he greeted before touching his lips to yours.

What was supposed to be a chaste kiss before the two of you reluctantly roused yourselves from bed to start the day, quickly became heated. Your lips slid against his and your tongues urgently explored each other’s mouths, seeking the familiar pleasure you’d been denying each other. Din deepened the kiss and your body yielded to his as he rolled you onto your back. You carded your fingers through his dark locks, pulling ever so slightly and eliciting quiet gasps from your partner.

Moving without thinking, your legs wrapped around his waist and you ground up against him, searching for even the slightest hint of friction where you needed it most. Spurred on by your actions, Din reached around you, his rough hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as rolled his hips in time with yours. A matching pair of sighs resounded throughout the small room at the hint of relief.

But it still wasn’t enough. Not when you wanted each other this badly.

“Whose bright idea was it not to have sex again until we’re married?” Din asked in between messy kisses.

“Mine,” you admitted begrudgingly.

... . ...

“Will you marry me?”

Din’s words, delivered softly and without preamble, pierced your heart even before you could process the simple sentence. You flicked on your ship’s autopilot, letting your old astromech take over, and turned to him. You found him watching you carefully.

You paused to admire him and the little foundling sleeping against his chest, needing to remember everything about that moment for as long as you lived. You didn’t have to think about your answer; the two of them had stolen your heart years ago. “Yes,” you replied easily with a smile, “of course I will.” 

Din beamed at you. You crossed the small cabin to perch on the armrest of his seat. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he quipped as he leaned in to kiss you, careful not to disturb the baby.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to ask.”

“I know. You’ve been patient. That’s not like you,” he teased.

“Shut up before I change my mind,” you threatened playfully even as you pressed a kiss to his temple. “How exactly does a Mandalorian marry?”

“The riduurok is a simple exchange of vows. We can...” –he swallowed hard­– “we can do it right now.”

“Now?” you exclaimed. You grimaced as the baby stirred. Din adjusted his blanket and he settled down. He turned back to you with a raised brow.

You’d been through so much together. Loved each other for so long. Really, marriage vows were just a formality. Nothing would change. But it didn’t feel quite right. Something was missing.

“On my homeworld a marriage is something to celebrate. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I­ haven’t been back in years but I always imagined getting married at home and celebrating with my family. At the very least I always thought I’d take you home to meet them first. I guess that’s stupid,” you shook your head, trying to banish the thought. You had bigger priorities.

“No, it’s not,” Din said firmly. “I– I don’t have that. I’m glad that you do.”

“We can still say our vows in private. Just the three of us. But it would mean the world to me to share this with them.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Then we’ll go as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” you said around a smile before eagerly sealing your mouth to his.

He made a happy sound before speaking conspiratorially against your lips. “Let me put the kid to bed and we’ll start celebrating.” 

A cold heat ran through you at the insinuation. “Shit,” you cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“How long do you think it’ll be before we can go to my planet?” 

Din shrugged. “It’ll be at least a month before we can make it to the Tashtor Sector. Why?”

“Well,” you started hesitantly, “it’s tradition for couples not to have sex once a marriage promise is made. Not until the wedding night.”

Din’s head hit the back of his seat as a long exhalation escaped him. “Anything else I should know about?” he grumbled.

“Nope,” you chirped, stifling a laugh. “I mean there’s a whole bunch of other stuff, but that’s the only thing that’s actually important.”

“Of course it is,” he grumbled with a shake of his head as he leaned forward. Except he paused just before his lips touched yours. “Am I still allowed to kiss you?”

���Yes,” you laughed. His mouth matched with yours and when you parted, he was smiling again. He rested his forehead against yours, an unbroken habit from the early days of your relationship, and you felt the weight of your new situation settle between the two of you. “Think you can last that long?” you teased. 

“Can you?” he challenged with a tilt of his head.

“You couldn’t go a whole month without this pussy,” you whispered, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“I’m a Mandalorian.” He said it stoically as if that was an explanation in itself. “You’ll be begging for my cock by the end of the week, cyar’ika. Just like you were last night.” 

“We’ll see about that, Mandalorian.”

... . ...

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. And a month seemed perfectly reasonable. You were wrong. It was supposed to make the night of your marriage special, but so far all it was doing was frustrating the hell out of both of you. Every night you slept next to him unable to touch him like this was fucking torture. You trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck in silent apology.

“How the fuck are we supposed to wait two more weeks?” He asked though heavy breaths, not expecting an answer. Normally, you were the wild spitfire that countered his cool demeanor, but at that moment – cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hair mussed – he looked absolutely wrecked. “I wanna bury my cock in you right now.” 

“I know you do,” you panted. “I want you inside me. Want you to fill me with your cum so bad.”

“Yeah?” He fumbled with your shirt that had twisted around in your sleep before hiking up your sleep shirt. His mouth latched onto your breast so he could kiss and suck and bite your breasts, marking the tender flesh as his own as he continued to rock against you. “You want that?” 

“I miss the way you make me feel so full. The way it drips out of me.” Your cunt clenched around nothing and your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you tried to control your desire. “I need it,” you whined instead.

“I know you do.” He raised his head from your chest to look at you. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.”

“Oh, Din,” you mewled, practically on the verge of tears. 

“Are you as wet as I think you are?” He leaned back on his knees to reach a hand between your bodies. He smirked, his brows lifting in amusement, as touched you through your panties. You were drenched. “Take it off.”

“What? What are you–” You placed your hands on his broad shoulders to stop him as he repositioned himself between your legs and covered your body with his. “We shouldn’t–”

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he said as he pulled his briefs down just enough to release his cock, hard and leaking already leaking. “But I am going to fill you. Just like you need.”

Your chest caved in and a broken, pathetic whimper escaped you at his admission. “Really?” 

“Can I?” he asked, brown eyes practically beseeching you. He was always so polite even in moments like that. Even after all that time together.

Your hold on him softened, hands moving to gently cradle his face. “Please, Din.”

He helped you strip. As soon as you were exposed to him, his thick fingers teased your folds, coating them in your wetness, before wrapping around his length. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Ready?”

You nodded and he notched the tip of his dick at your entrance. He started pumping himself, using your slick to lubricate himself.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried when you realized what he was going to do.

The feeling of his hand moving in between your legs as he jerked himself off made your head spin. You felt filthy and you fucking liked it. You arched toward him, hips angled to take more of his dick, but he stopped you.

“No, cyare. Not this time,” he whispered against your cheek. You squeezed his tip as your cunt contracted instead, earning a delirious moan from him. “I missed this pussy.”

You could tell he was close. After weeks of hardly touching each other, it wouldn’t take much. You ran your hands down his bare chest and across his soft sides before gripping his hip, hoping to encourage him and hold in place as he neared his climax.

Eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared, he came with a shout. You felt him cum spurting inside you as he filled you. He continued to stroke himself, drawing out his orgasm as long as he could even as his spend started to leak out.

“Touch yourself for me,” Din demanded gently, placing light kisses on your face. “Wanna watch you cum.” 

He pulled out and leaned back just as your hand replaced him. Watching him watch you sent a fresh wave of arousal to your center. With a devilish smile, you gathered the cum dripping out of you and swirled your fingers around your throbbing clit. Din groaned at the sight. Two strong hands gripped your thighs and spread your legs further as his eyes locked on your cunt.

Every muscle in your body seemed to tighten as you played with yourself, your own climax was right behind his. But just as you were about to cum, Din grabbed your wrist and removed your hand. The noise he made was practically a growl as he leaned down to spit on your pussy.

“Oh fuck, Din!” you shouted, body keening off the bed. When he finally released your hand, you rubbed furiously at your clit, eased by the mix of his cum and saliva.

“That’s it. Cum for me.”

Your vision blacked out before an array of stars burst behind your closed eyes as your orgasm tore through you. Pleasure clouded your mind, but you could hear yourself chanting his name like a prayer.

When you fell back against the bed, Din collapsed half on top of you, his cheek pillowed on your chest. “Fuck, that felt good,” you sighed. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both caught your breath. “But I think that might be considered cheating.”

“No,” he insisted, “Just... bending the rules a little.” You both laughed and he held you a little tighter. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“So you can finally fuck me again?”

 “No.” He shook his head. “So I can be your husband.” You felt him smile against your skin. “And so I can finally make love to my wife.”

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon​ @readsalot73​ @frietiemeloen​ @huliabitch​ @jerusomeeno​ @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann​ @scapricciatello​ @liadamerondjarin​ @pedropasscals​ @paintballkid711​ @mistermiraclee​ @honeyand-roses​

Story Tags: @softpedropascal​ @mindless--ramblings​ @disgruntledspacedad​

[simsadventures]

Gilded: Chapter 2: Our House (The Mess We’ve Made)

Mobster! Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve doesn’t like to be questioned, and you learn that the hard way. When he wants something, he gets it, and now he wants to have everything over with as quickly as possible. But there are a few bumps on the road. 

Warnings: mafia au, swearing, violence, blood, threats, violence on women, slight mention of a rape, fluff, I mean, Steve is very demanding here, but it’s a theme so… 

Word Count: 6087

A/N: I’m beyond excited that you guys liked the first chapter so much and are giddy for the next one. So, here we have it. More of our arranged couple and more mafia stuff. Let me know what you thought, and again, thank you for reading! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

< Previous Chapter 

“You did what? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Y/N, I love you, but you must have hit your head real hard because this is not like you, at all,” Caroline reasoned, but you could see she was close to losing it completely. 

They were both waiting for you to come home that night, and you first had to make sure neither of them would talk about anything you were about to reveal. You trusted both of them with your life, that wasn’t the issue, but you were afraid that if they talked outside of your apartment, Steve might know and the things he could do to them would be the core of your future nightmares, you were sure of it. When they finally agreed, you got to explaining. But you didn’t even get a full sentence out before they started jumping in it, asking questions and wildly swatting their hands, trying to make you see just how stupid of an idea it actually was. 

“Do you think I don’t know it sounds insane? I do, but also like, it’s gonna take care of so many issues, and, I mean, all he needs from me, as far as I understood it, is to go to a few events with him, go to some vacations with him and that would be all. I mean, I can still have the job I actually enjoy and don’t have to slave in that fucking pub with all those weirdos, and I won’t have to worry about money,” you tried to sound reasonable and sensible, but from the looks on your best friends’ faces, you weren’t doing too good of a job. 

“Right, right, cool. So, you wanna tell me that the most notorious fucking mobster in America will let you live here, with us, while he parades you around the city at night? Or that he doesn’t have enemies you should worry about? Or what about the fucking police, Y/N, huh? Have you thought of that? You will be affiliated with a known criminal, and they will start to notice you and your life won’t be as easy as you picture it,” Aidan sighed and massaged his temples, the stress of it all getting the best of him. 

You sat down next to them and smiled at them fondly. It was sweet that they worried so much about you, and just the mere thought that there were people on this planet who gave a shit about you, even to the point of yelling at you at 11 PM on Wednesday night was heartwarming. You understood their reservations, you really did, but you also knew this all before you said yes to Steve. You knew it wouldn’t be as easy, and while you weren’t sure whether you would have to live with Steve in Manhattan or somewhere else, or if he let you just be on your own, you knew you could take it. The police didn’t scare you, you’ve had enough training in diverting the police from yourself, so the police was the last thing on your mind. Besides, you were signing petitions left and right to defund them, so… You were pretty sure they already knew your name from the demonstrations in front of their precincts. 

Enemies were a bit more challenging to handle, but you were sure Steve wouldn’t want his new wife to die on his watch. How would that look for him? So really, all that was at stake was your sanity and your integrity, and thinking about it, Steve didn’t ask you to do something illegal. The only thing he wanted from you was to be a good girl, marry him and be by his side. And you could do that. And you were only human, Steve was a sight to behold, so you didn’t mind being connected to him, even though he specifically told you he wasn’t attracted to you. 

That one still stung, but maybe it was for the better. You wouldn’t have to worry about doing something stupid when the other party was completely uninterested, and knowing it, you could just never let your body have even a minor crush on him, so the situation really resolved itself even before anything could have happened. 

“I really think I can gain more than I can lose, you guys. I didn’t imagine my life being like this, far from it, and maybe Steve and his money can help me get where I want. And I won’t even have to sleep with him or anybody else. He even talked about putting a no-sex clause in our contract so that I would be safe even on paper. You always tell me that I’m not taking enough risks and that I stay rooted in my comfort zone. Well, this is quite the improvement, isn’t it?” You laughed, and they both just shook their heads but chuckled nevertheless. 

“You are a psychopath, babe,” Aidan muttered but gave you a side hug, and Caroline soon joined. 

“We love you and worry about you, that’s all. But if you feel good about this, then so do we. I just hope he’s ready for our wrath if anything even remotely bad happens to you,” Caroline said, and the three of you started to laugh. You would bet somebody like Steve would be scared shitless from two 20-something-year-olds who, one who was scared of wasps so much she almost fainted every time she saw one, and the other having a hard time peeling a grapefruit. Yup, they were the combat duo you would bet your money on in a fight, for sure. 

Waking up, you had a good feeling about the decision, even more so than the night before. You had mulled it over and over in your head, seeing that this was the way out of everything and also your way to a lot of those things you wanted to have by now. You even thought of the saying, sometimes, the only way out is through, and this was your through. There was no foreseeable way of getting out of debt, of getting out of the depression caused by your hectic and unsatisfying life. Your way through it was accepting Steve’s money and his help for a year, freeing you from the shackles of your current life, in a sense. 

That it would come with a different kind of shackled you were sure of, but everything was better than your life now because you really couldn’t even call it a life. You wanted so many things, see so many places, but the world wasn’t made for the people playing by the rules, slaving in their ordinary jobs. No, this capitalist world was made for sharks, and you had been disguised as a sheep for too long. 

When you got to the gallery, you were welcomed by a sight that surprised you, and not in a good way. Where you were used to sitting every day for the past two years was another girl. She was pretty, and you bet she was wonderful, but at that very moment, all you saw was that somebody replaced you. 

You swiftly unlocked the door and walked in, the girl standing up immediately to greet you with a shy smile and a wave. You couldn’t be a complete bitch to her, after all, this was way above her pay grade. So, you just nodded and strode towards the offices where the director sat. 

“Good morning, Ms Y/L/N. I see you have met Laura, our new receptionist. And before you say anything, I just wanted to tell you that we appreciate everything you had done for this gallery for so long and that we thought it was time for you to learn some other skills, as you are more than capable of that,” he smiled warmly, and you weren’t sure if it was a nice way of saying you were let go of, or if you were promoted. 

“What does that mean, Mr Jones?” You asked incredulously, not really in the mood to search in between the lines. 

“You have become my personal secretary, Ms Y/L/N. Congratulations! I know you have the aspiration of becoming a curator, so, this way, you could get a little closer to art even though there is still some way to go, naturally,” he winked and chuckled, and you let yourself relax with the news. 

Wow! Your life was already taking a turn for the better, and all you had to was to go with your gut and risk a little. You wanted to laugh out loud at the universe and its mysterious ways of working. But, thinking of mysterious, your mind suddenly pictured Steve and his devilish smirk, and your smile faltered. 

“And may I ask, why now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the chance, and I will do my best to succeed in expectations. I just wonder what happened that the chance has come now?” 

Mr Jones scratched the back of his neck, and you gritted your teeth. You already knew that it wasn’t the universe praising you for your bravery. No, this had nothing to do with the universe. 

“More things have come together, to be quite honest, Ms Y/L/N. First, my long-time secretary left for her maternity leave a few weeks ago, as you might remember, and I have been looking for her replacement ever since. And I forgot what an amazing student we had here, who is already established with the clients and with our partners, and that this will be a win-win situation for everybody. And your fiancée was quite adamant that your resumé is remarkable and that I should give you a chance,” he smiled and piled gathered in your throat. 

How Steve managed to persuade Jones to do this was beyond you when you left him only a few hours ago, most of which were during the night, so there wasn’t much room for negotiation between the parties. You just hoped people wouldn’t start treating you differently when they realised your affiliation. That was the only thing you obviously didn’t think through: the opinion of the society. And since the New York society had been one of the most judging and selective ones even back in the 19th and 20th century, you knew not that much has changed since. People were afraid of Steve, with a good reason too, and now they might become frightened of you too. Fucking awesome. 

“I want to assure you that my fiancée won’t be present in my work life, however notorious he is,” you tried to sound as confident in what you were saying as you could, but you weren’t sure if you were doing a good job. But Mr Jones just smiled and sat down, signalling for you to sit down opposite of him, and he started talking about business and about what the job actually was. And while you tried to give him your full attention, there was this angry voice in your head, ready to bite Rogers’ head off. He would meet your famous wrath sooner than you thought, but it was all his fault anyway. 

The job was, actually, quite impressive. As your boss told you, you got to meet several artists already, you could sit in the meeting where they decided what kind of art the gallery was interested in, and you soaked all that in like a sponge. You were radiating by the end of the day, and the wrath subsided a little, but only till the moment, you saw a black SUV parked in front of the gallery and one of the turtlenecks standing beside it. 

You decided that if Steve could do what he wanted, so could you and so you walked in the opposite direction than was the car, leaving the turtleneck yelling your name and running after you. But you ignored him completely, even when he reached you and patted your shoulder, slightly bewildered that you recognised him and still decided not to do as he said. Oh, these obnoxious mobsters needed to learn that they couldn’t get everything they wanted. 

“Miss Y/L/N, please, you need to come with me. Mr Rogers is waiting for you in the car,” he said, and you finally stopped and looked him deep in the eyes while you folded your arms across your chest. You hoped you looked intimidating, but since the guy was wearing a pair of sunglasses you couldn’t be entirely sure whether it worked. But you didn’t relent and just stared him down, and when he shifted uncomfortably, you knew you were winning this contest. 

“Would you please come with me? Mr Rogers hates to wait,” he mumbled the last thing, and you would have snickered if you weren’t so determined to be the tough guy there. It was only when you heard other footsteps somewhere behind you, and the guy in front of you actually flinched that you realised the big boss himself was there to get you. 

“No, Mr Rogers really doesn’t like to wait, Y/N. Is this the way to treat your fiancée?” Steve asked when he reached you, and you shuddered from the poisonous undertone in his voice. Safe to say, it might not have been the best strategy to try and walk away from him, but you had decided for it once, and now you were gonna stand by your decision. 

“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” you hissed but continued before he could comment on your behaviour, “is intimidating my boss to give me a promotion a way to treat me? You really think you have control over everything and everyone, Steve, but let me tell you something. This is my fucking life, and you have no fucking right to march in and do as you please!”

He just raised a brow, and his nostrils flared before you felt his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it so tightly you were sure your arm wasn’t getting any blood. But you didn’t want him to win, which would definitely happen if you pleaded with him, so you just gritted your teeth and stared him down. Steve nodded at the guys around him to leave you two, and they took a few steps back, sure enough to protect their boss but to give him at least some privacy with you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me in that tone, huh? I think you’ll understand soon enough that disobedience is punished greatly here, honey! So, stop acting like a brat who gets off from causing scenes in public and come with me. And, for your information, this is a fucking order, and I dare you to move from me again,” Steve spat in your ear, and you trained your eyes on the ground. 

Well, not your best idea, you had to admit that, and you valued your own head enough to just shut up and follow him. And by following him, you meant walking beside him because Steve obviously didn’t trust you enough to let go of your arm, even if his grip loosened slightly. 

He thrust you in the car with a force that could scare many, but it only just slightly surprised you. When he finally sat down next to you, he bid the driver to just go and stared out of the window, not addressing you in any shape or form, and you huffed in annoyance. 

“Look, Steve, you brought me here for a reason, so what do you want? I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow and not today, in broad daylight in front of my job.”

“Show some respect!” He roared, and you saw the eyes of the bodyguards, or whatever they were, flick towards you in fear. It was funny how such huge men were clearly so afraid of one of them. You remained calm, however, and just remained looking at him. Then you realised something. He didn’t mind your mouth the night before that much when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t stand it when people were around. He needed to be the man, his people needed to know that nobody treated him differently and that not even his future wife could disobey him, let alone publicly. You swallowed your pride and shifted your gaze elsewhere. 

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve had a long day, and I’m taking it on you now. I just wished you spoke to me before you called my boss, but still, thank you for the opportunity,” you muttered meekly, and the triumphant look on Steve’s face spoke volumes. He just hummed and patted your shoulder, his own shoulders slacking and relaxing. These people were so easy to read, you were actually quite astounded that they weren’t played like violins by some secret agents or something like that. Well, you thought, at least you could play them, and it would make your life a little easier if you did it well enough. 

“I came because we needed to discuss more things, honey. I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday so I couldn’t stay longer, but I have the whole afternoon reserved just for you today, so we can go over all the parts of our agreement in great detail and that we can start planning our wedding,” he flashed you a smile, and it was your time to tense up because if you were to have a wedding soon, which was clearly something Steve wanted, you needed to get a move on and that stressed you out. The arrangement might have been just for a year, but you knew that Steve’s wedding was supposed to be magnificent, showing all that he obtained and all that the mere mortals couldn’t have. You included. 

But then you realised something. 

“Sure, but I need to take care of something first if you don’t mind,” you added quickly seeing the mobster next to you tensing up again. “As I no longer work at Joey’s pub, I need to get my things from there. My boss called me this morning telling me that I still had my work shoes and other stuff there and that I should pick it up or they’ll throw it away.” 

“Just give the address to the driver, we’ll get it, and then we’ll go to my place- oh, excuse me- our place and discuss what we need,” he said simply, and you followed his orders. 

The rest of the drive was silent, and you could unwind a little, reminisce about the 24 hours you have had. From taking the subway anywhere you needed to, to driving in an armoured SUV with the most prolific mafia boss of the USA, your life took quite the turn. You needed to set some boundaries with Steve, but you needed to do it tactfully and, most importantly, alone. You hadn’t known him at all, but you knew the type. There would be reasoning with him as long as he thought he had a free choice and knew that his position wasn’t neither threatened nor questioned.  

This was a part of your agreement that you actually didn’t mind. Joey’s pub was not the fanciest of places in New York and while some of the customers were lovely and tipped well, the weekend sort was made of sleazy assholes who would touch you without your permission and not having to be around them would definitely be something you could get used to. 

The boss who’s name wasn’t Joey, surprise, surprise, but Thomas, nodded your way when you came in. The pub was only half full, but the odour of mixed sweat, beer and vomit was ever the same. Gosh, how you couldn’t wait to be out of there. 

Taking the places of the little box by the box with beer cans, you scanned the supply closet one last time and nodded as a goodbye. However, when you turned around, you bumped into somebody, and it sent you flying back a bit as you didn’t expect anybody to be there with you. You looked up to see Thomas standing there, looking pissed. 

“Funny! I never knew you were on the market, pussycat. And now I find out you are newly engaged and to Mr Rogers no less? I thought you said you didn’t want a relationship,” he sneered as he neared you and you instinctively took a step back. That he had a crush on you, you knew, and you told him multiple times that you weren’t interested, that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend and that you just wanted to be left alone. You scoffed at his immature behaviour now and tried to push around him without saying a word because you knew there was no talking to people like him. But he wouldn’t let you go, of course. 

“Maybe if I fucked you, you would see that I deserve you just as much, huh?” He hissed and took your already sore arm, yanking you towards him till you were pressed tight against his chance. You still remained calm, knowing that trashing and screaming would get you nowhere. 

“Let me go, Thomas. Steve is outside, and he is waiting for me, so I suggest you take your disgusting hands off of me and just let me go,” you tried to reason, but, again, there was no such thing with dumbasses like him. What was more, he probably didn’t like your remark about his disgusting hands, and so, without warning, he slapped you right across your left cheek. 

That made you gasp for the first time because till then, you really thought he was just playing and that he would let you go, but now seeing the bewildered look on his face, you suddenly realised that maybe you didn’t have the upper hand in the argument. 

“Like fuck he is, what would Rogers do in these parts, huh? I bet it wasn’t even him who called me last night and that you were just trying to get the upper hand. But guess what, you fucking whore, you are not getting out of here until I fuck you unconscious,” he roared and you gulped, trying to think of possible escape routes. But you were in a fucking supply closet, so there was literally just the one door, and Thomas was occupying the whole space in front of it. So, you’d just have to fight your way through. You were a little rusty, but this big-bellied idiot would stand no chance. 

But before you had the opportunity to execute your plan, the door behind him flew open and revealed one fo the turtlenecks (you made a mental note to actually learn their names because this was just awkward) and a very angry-looking Steve. 

Thomas faltered in his movement towards you and checked who had the audacity to interrupt him. The shock and fear on his face were priceless. 

Steve didn’t waste any more time as he lunged himself at the man and punched him straight in the nose, and the sickening crack you heard must have meant Steve broke it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to pity Thomas. You warned him, even though you didn’t expect Steve actually coming to your rescue. There were some advantages to being tied to him, it seemed. 

The turtleneck then took Steve’s place by Thomas, probably so that he wouldn’t escape and Steve marched towards you, still looking too pissed for you to stand calmly under his searching gaze. 

“Did he hurt you?” He sneered but didn’t wait for your reply as he checked your face, seeing your puffed left cheek which told him all he needed to know. The bruise already forming on your arm was both from him and from Thomas, so he didn’t comment on that, but Steve wiped the trickle of blood in the corner of your mouth before he turned around and now calmly walked towards Thomas. 

“Next time that degenerated brain of yours even thinks of her, I will come and slice your throat. Am I clear?” Steve spat into Thomas’s face who just nodded, probably glad that he got out of it so easily. What he didn’t see coming (and to be honest, neither did you) was the turtleneck suddenly pulled out a big-ass knife out of somewhere and the air filled with the bone-chilling cries as he cut Thomas’ finger off as if it was the most normal thing to do before he wiped the knife on Thomas’s shirt and tucked it back in his pocket. The blood flowing from the wound was thick and almost purple, and you had to shut your eyes at the scene. But the image was already seared into your brain forever. 

“Fucking rapist,” Steve said and kicked the already laying man, motioning to the turtleneck and you that you were to follow him. But your legs weren’t listening to your brain, as you were just watching Thomas writhing in pain, wailing and sobbing, and all that because he dared to touch you. An involuntary shudder shook your body, and it as only when you felt an arm around your torso, pulling you to the person’s side that you woke up. Steve didn’t say anything as he came back and wrapped his arm around you, walking you out of there, probably used to that people were dazed when they saw that much blood. And that was just a cut-off finger, how would it look if a person actually bled out there?

“Here, have a piece of chocolate, it should help you,” Steve whispered into your ear as he handed you a little piece when you finally made it to his car, and you took it without question, savouring the sweet taste on your tongue as it streamed into your system like the most delicious medicine. You took a deep breath, your brain recognising that it was a different environment and that the stench of the pub was long gone as was the blood. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you heard yourself saying meekly, but there was no reprimanding him, there was no anger in your voice and Steve heard that. He knew it was the shock of the scene talking because you weren’t one of them. You didn’t see blood on an almost daily basis as he did and you had the right to be surprised. 

“I actually had to, Y/N. He touched you, he hurt you and nobody hurts what’s mine. And you are mine now or will be very soon, and I can’t have dickheads like him running around the city thinking they are invincible. You are under my protection, and the whole world has to realise that,” he tried to make you see his point, and when you nodded solemnly, he saw you understood it. You might not have been ok with it, but that was another thing, and that would take time. Steve hoped people wouldn’t be so dumb and try anything on you, but, the truth be told, inwardly he knew he would have to protect you more often than not because some people had a death wish. 

“Are you up to discussing our marriage, or do you want me to drive you home?” He asked, and you looked at him for the first time since the pub scene. You shook your head and chuckled a little, not understanding where was this coming from. It was apparent that there were many layers to Steve Rogers, but his mood swings were giving you a headache already. One second he was the infamous mobster and the other he impersonated a caring boyfriend? 

“I’m fine, Steve, thank you. I was just taken by surprise because I thought I would have to take him down myself, and I probably wouldn’t cut off his finger in the process, but we all do our things. I’m good for a discussion, if you are,” you gave him your best encouraging smile and Steve stared at you in disbelief for a moment before he averted his eyes towards the driver and gave him a signal that he was to take you two to Steve’s mansion. 

Three hours later, you regretted your decision greatly. Steve and you had been talking the whole time, trying to reach a compromise that would be suitable for both of you considering your marriage and your wedding. You were quite surprised when Steve came up with things that were up for discussion because you really thought he would just come with a set of rules for you to follow, and that would be it. Well, the set of rules was there, but so were other things, like where you’d like to live (it was either the New York mansion which he called the apartment or some villa he had in Hamptons, apparently), what were the countries he could take you (which was actually a nice touch) and others. You didn’t give a damn about a lot of the stuff, but the countries were something that caught your attention. 

“I would love to visit different places, that’s beyond doubt, but I do not wish to be taken to California, ever,” you insisted, and while Steve tried to inquire why it was that California was on your hard-no list, you wouldn’t budge. You just told him that you weren’t a fan of the hot weather and the swarm of people you heard was in LA and that it was the only place where you wouldn’t go with him, under no circumstances. After a while, he gave up and just jotted it down with a nod. 

“Now, to the sex thing, do you want it on paper that I don’t want you in this way or are you good with my word?” 

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you tossed your pride away again. This was a business meeting, and Steve was actually extremely honest with you, so the best you could do was to be frank with him as well. 

“I’m good with your word, thank you for asking. What I’d like on paper is that you won’t trade me with information. I don’t wanna wake up one morning to be chained by some of your pistol-buddies who wanted to fuck Steve’s wife,” you raised a brow, and Steve chuckled and licked his lips, which was something that got your attention. You snapped at your brain to stop the thought flooding your brain, and a part of you considered putting licking his own lips around you on the hard-no’s list for a second. 

“Alright, I will never do that, and I will put that in our contract. Now, have you decided where you want to live? And no, your own apartment isn’t an answer. I’m willing to pay the expenses so that your friends can stay there, but you are coming to live with me, either here or in Hamptons. So, which one is it?” 

“Here,” you answered after a while, “I have my job here so I can’t be going back forth to Hamptons every day. Speaking of my job, will you require my presence at every meeting? I’m just asking if I even have a chance attaining my job as is, or if I should quit now because you will never let me go there again.” 

“I would have let them fire you if I thought about not letting you work there anymore, now, wouldn’t I? Most of the meetings that I will need you are at night, so your work is fine. I hope your boss will give you enough vacation days because we will need those, but other than that, I think you will be fine at the gallery. Besides, I’ve assigned a personal bodyguard for you who will go everywhere with you, so you won’t have to worry about anybody attacking you,” he concluded, looking proud of himself. You, on the other hand, were bewildered. 

“A personal what now? Steve, I can’t just show up at work with some huge guy in all black following me everywhere I move. I saw the looks from some of my coworkers, and they would never accept me if I had a bodyguard, c’mon,” you were desperate now because just the thought made you shudder. 

“This is not negotiable, so just learn to live with it. Alright, I think that’s all from that, and we will both sign it before the wedding. Now, the wedding will be next week. I already hired planners, so that the only thing you need to care about is the wedding dress. It’s just for a show, and if it were up to me, we would just go to the city hall, but the world needs to see this wedding, so we’re doing it in the Weylin. Write down your favourite colours and flowers, the cake will be red velvet, and that’s not negotiable, but everything else you want, you write down, and the planners will do it. Also, write down all the guests you’d like to invite, family and all that, so we know how many guests we’re having,” Steve rambled on, but your mind wandered towards your family. 

None of them would be attending the wedding, and your heart gave a painful tug at the thought. You had always wanted your dad to walk you down the aisle, and he was so excited to do so, but now that wasn’t possible. And your beautiful mother… The memories made your eyes water, but you blinked the tears away quickly enough so that Steve wouldn’t see them. But he was used to reading people, so he saw your reaction to him mentioning a family very clearly, he just decided against commenting on it. Yet. 

“Alright, I’ll send you all the lists by Saturday, if that’s good enough, and I’m actually good with red velvet. It would be a problem if you said some cakes with loads of nuts because I’m extremely allergic to a majority of those, you should know about that, but red velvet is fine enough,” you nodded, and Steve did as well, glad he didn’t have to fight you on that one. Not that it would be a fruitful fight since the red velvet was his favourite type of cake on Earth. 

“I want you to move in before the wedding, I’ll have a room set up for you tomorrow, and you can bring whatever you want from your home. You will have access to my credit card, but I’m warning you, excessive spending will not be tolerated, alright?” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but bowed your head in mocked understanding. Steve had obviously spent his life with women only caring about the sum on his credit card, while you couldn’t care less. The card would be good for the wedding dress, but that was about it. You realised a long time ago that the fashion industry was one of the most dangerous ones for the environment, and while you still shopped from time to time, you tried to reduce it to a minimum. And if you did shop, you loved local stores and fair-trade manufacturers, who vowed to keep the well-being of the planet their number one priority. 

“I’ll take it that you understood it. Fine, so, you’ll move in tomorrow, I think my people can manage it till that. So, they’ll pick you up, let’s say, around 8 PM? That enough time?” 

You blinked and took the information in. He wanted you to move in tomorrow. Not in a week so you’d have time to actually pack and say goodbye to your friends, even if you still planned on meeting them every other day or so. You wanted a goodbye sleepover where you’d just laugh and drink and hope that the year would be a good one. Or, at least, not a disastrous one. 

“That’s definitely not enough time, Steve. Can’t it wait till next week? I need to say goodbye to my friends, and it’s already late, so we can’t do it tonight and just… Give me at least till Saturday evening, Steve, please,” you tried to bargain, and while you saw he wasn’t the greatest of fans, he agreed eventually. That ended your discussion, and you were soon driven away from the house you would soon call yours.

/ Next Chapter >

Taglists in reblogs :) xx

[navegandoaciegas]

no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: catholic priest!Bucky, virgin!Bucky, desecrating thoughts and actions, explicit language, smut, consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss of virginity, slight innocence and religious kinks (nothing disturbing), oral sex, fingering, masturbation, sex in a public (and sacred) place.

Summary: As punishment for your sinful behavior, your parents send you to your aunt’s house in the middle of nowhere, in hope you’ll redeem yourself. The punishment quickly backfires when you take an interest in the local (and handsome) priest, and you manage to corrupt his pure soul.

A/N: I was in a priest!Bucky mood this morning and I wrote this for @saiyanprincessswanie​ writing challenge. I chose prompt 17 and the ‘opposites attract’ trope. I hope you like this!

Filth and happy ending ‘cause I’m a sap. Take me to church by Hozier inspired this.

This is not a dark story and both reader and Bucky are consenting adults. Fyi, catholic priests can’t marry, and they change their name when they are ordained. We’ll pretend James is the name he took as priest.

You look over your shoulder to check if anyone’s around and knock on the backdoor of the church, waiting for your lover to usher you inside. The sinful secrecy of it all, the rush of excitement, your love for all that’s forbidden: you’ve never felt more alive.

Being forced to spend the summer in the middle of nowhere is not the way you expected your senior year of college to end, but not all evil comes to harm, and in this quiet little town, you’ve become quite interested in the local priest. In your defence, boredom is the root of all evil, and in your case, evil happens to make you horny and prone to making bad decisions, and Father James is young and handsome, so it was only a matter of time before he gave in the temptation of the flesh and you found yourself fucked against the altar. 

Ordained or not, he’s only a man after all.

-

The confessional is dark and suffocating; behind the wooden screen, the priest is all ears.

Muscle memory kicks in when you do the sign of the cross and begin to speak. 

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” you recite the formula that’s been ingrained in your mind since you were old enough to need it, “My last confession was seven years ago.”

You mentally curse your parents for still having the authority to send you to Bumfuck Nowhere, Alabama, and your aunt for forcing you to attend church and confess your sins. 

It will be good for your soul, they said, New York is corrupting you.

You suppose it’s only fair that your good catholic parents would react so drastically; they wanted to surprise you in your new apartment and drove all the way from Rhode Island to New York, only to find your piano tutor buried balls deep inside of you. Lord knows what they’d do if they knew you’ve lost your purity long before that, with one of the good catholic girls in your private boarding school. Extramarital sex, with a woman at that! They’d probably have a meltdown, drag your to a cloistered convent and lock you there for life.   

You don’t wait for the priest to acknowledge you and start talking.

“You know Father, I found a handy dandy little list of all the sins you’re supposed to confess to and I checked them. I’ll read it to you. Let’s see.” you clear your throat, “So, I use artificial birth control, I broke a couple of promises, including the one to wait for marriage, I can be kind of blasphemous sometimes, but you see, I spent six months abroad in Italy last year and the kids there taught me all sorts of ways to disrespect the Lord, they have so many, and once those things get stuck in your brain... what can you do, they just stick in there, you don’t even want to say them but they become part of your vocabulary.” you continue uninterrupted, “Anyways, my parents caught me in the act with a man, so I guess we have ‘dishonoring family’ too. Underage drinking as a kid, a lot of that. Drugs sometimes, nothing major, ya know, I don’t do coke or nothing. Gossiping, impure thoughts, God-”

He interrupts you clearing his throat.

“Sorry. See? I don’t even do it on purpose. As I was saying, I love those. Lying... not a whole lot to be honest; to my parents, mostly. Haven’t prayed in a good 10 years. Masturbation, did I mention that? Watched porn a couple of times, ‘m not a big fan if I’m being honest, but to each their own. Oh, and premarital sex, a ton of that. Had an orgy once, not too fond of those either. Too many limbs.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, so you give him a moment to ponder his thoughts. He stays silent for a while, and when he speaks his voice is not at all what you expected it to be. He’s soft spoken yet commanding, and sounds surprisingly young.

“Anything else you can remember?”

“Well of course, the cherry on top, my own first class ticket to hell.” you say, not as cheerful as before, repeating the exact words you’ve been taught for years, “God gave me free will and I used it to commit homosexual acts, Father. Multiple times.” 

You let the words hang in the stuffy air of the confessional; you don’t know what to expect from the priest, to be honest. Last time you admitted to thinking of a girl to a religious figure, Sister Theresa told you you’d never have to act on your impulses, or you’d burn in hell for it. You were 12. 

“You think that’s worse than the rest?”

“Not me, no, I don’t.”

He hums thoughtfully. “What makes you do the things you do?” he asks, and you don’t feel any of the judgment you were expecting, only genuine curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me to repent for my sins?” you reply, equally as curious.

“Is absolution what you’re seeking?”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, Father, and I’m way past asking for permission.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My aunt forced me.”

It’s his turn to snort this time. “You don’t seem the type to follow orders blindly.”

You admit the guy’s got a point. “I guess… I don’t know. I felt the need to. It feels nice, talking to someone. I feel lonely a lot, and it’s easier to talk to strangers. And this is cheaper than therapy, so that’s a bonus. Really, I just need to vent.”

“Do you regret any of your choices?” he says, after a while.

“Not the ones I confessed to.” you admit, trying to discern the priest’s figure behind the screen. 

“What is it, then?”

“You know, you’re kinda chill for a priest from Alabama, I gotta give it to you.” you respond, dodging his question.

“Thanks, it’s probably because I’m from Brooklyn.”

“What the hell-” 

“Language.” 

“Sorry. Why would someone move from Brooklyn to this place?”

“Vocation.”

“I see.” 

It’s silent again, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You should come to the parish sometimes. We have meetings, we sing, we eat together, the children play football and the young adults talk about what it means to be a Catholic in the modern world. It may ease your mind about a lot of worries and misconceptions you might have.”

You contemplate on his words: it wouldn’t hurt, would it? It’s not like you’ve got a whole lot going on here; and you might as well find yourself a devoted man or woman to pass time. 

“I might.”, you finally respond, not willing to give him the satisfaction, and stand from the chair. “I’ll see you around, Father.”

“May God give you peace, miss.”

“Amen.”

-

“What took you so long?” James asks, grunting when you pull on his hair.

“My aunt asked me to make lunch for her husband, as if he couldn’t do it his damn self.” you respond, and suck on his bottom lip, “Missed me?”

“Always.”

You coo, “My eager boy.”

He’s sitting on his office chair and you’re straddling his lap, grinding your hips on him and feeling his arousal grow. You’re burning up, panties damp and a familiar coil in your core. You don’t know what excites you the most: being responsible for the corruption of such pure soul, the forbidden aspect of fucking a Catholic priest, or the possibility of someone walking in on you. Your walls flutter when you imagine the scandal that this affair would create.

You pull him closer, tugging on his white collar, and he breaks the kiss. His eyes are black and glossed over, lips swollen, cheeks red, but there’s something like worry in eyes.

“Do you love me?” he asks quietly, in the soft voice you adore.

“Of course I do, you know that.”

You fall on your knees and fumble with the zipper of his black pants.

“Would you love me if I didn’t have this collar?” he stops your hands with his, “Would you still love me if I wasn’t this?”, he gestures to his sacred attire.

You pause your actions and search his eyes. Where is this coming from?

“Yes, I’d love you anyways, I’ll always love you.”

A small, shy smile breaks on his face. He lifts you up and makes you sit on his desk.

“I- I w-want to try something,” he begins with a stutter, “I remember hearing some kids back when I was in school talk about it.”

You cock your head to the side, observing carefully as he sits back down on the chair and parts your legs. He lowers his head and begins peppering the inner skin of your thighs with open mouthed kisses. Oh-.

“James, you don’t have to do this.” you try to tell him, but he’s already moving your panties to the side.

He stares entranced between your legs; he’s never been this bold, never watched you there. “You’re so pretty, I want to kiss you here.” 

You feel a finger tease your entrance and dip in. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and when he licks a strip of your dripping cunt, you feel like you could burst. He delves in your glistening folds, tongue swirling around as if he was kissing your mouth, and your hips jerk forward when he crooks a couple of fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes the coil in your belly grow tighter. 

You throw your head back and your eyes fall on the cross behind you. You are very much past forgiveness at this point, you muse, and that makes this all the more exciting.

You’re writhing under his touch, completely at his mercy. You grab the back of his neck and bring his face upward so that his mouth comes in contact with your clit.

“Suck there.” you demand in a raspy voice, rocking your hips and fucking yourself on his fingers. “Good boy.” you praise when he closes his mouth around your bud and begins sucking and lapping on it. “Yes, oh my God, fuck, faster.”

James obeys and jerks the fingers inside of you, the vibration and his tongue enough to make the knot in your core unravel and pleasure release in jolts, shooting from your center to the rest of your body; you slap a hand on your mouth to suppress wanton moans as your hips twitch involuntarily and your toes curl. He rides you though your orgasm until you’re too sensitive to handle his face on you.

When you look down, you find him, face wet in your arousal, eyes half lidded.

“Did I do well?” he asks full of hope, still clinging to your legs and nuzzling your thigh.

“You did amazing, sweet boy.”

-

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

Hearing your sultry voice, he chokes on air behind the screen and clears his throat, trying to keep the same composure he always seems to loose when you’re around. 

“I got friendly with a man, you see, a man of church.” you begin in a teasing tone, “He kissed me, and I didn’t pull back. I let him roam his hands all over my body, Father, and then I corrupted him.”, You lick a couple of fingers and dip them in your mouth, then you release them with a popping sound and slowly slip them in your panties. You push a finger in your already wet core, smearing arousal around and teasing your clit, slow at first. “You should have seen how innocent he looked, Father. He said he’s never been touched like that. A virgin. I’ve never been with a virgin before.” you continue, almost moaning the last part as you slide three fingers in and out of you and tease your bud with your thumb, “He didn’t even know I could please him with my mouth, so I took him in and I sucked him off.” You’re panting, hand furiously circling your clit. You hear Bucky’s ragged breath behind the screen. “He moaned so loud, F-F-Father, he c-came so quick. And I swallowed it all, because you can’t let a single drop of seed g-go to w-waste, can you?” you whimper, feeling an orgasm build up.

You’re fueled by his suppressed grunts and the lewd sounds of him touching himself.

“I don’t come for absolution Father, because I’d do it all again.” you breathe at last, letting pleasure run through your every nerve, setting you ablaze. 

Behind the screen, Father James paints his hand and black shirt in white spurts, shame and pleasure fighting eachother in his mind.

-

You haven’t moved yet, legs parted, trying to catch your breath, and James is still clinging onto you.

You don’t know how it happened. 

It started with boredom, with a wish to fuck the pretty priest, but you’ve caught feelings now, and in three weeks you’ll have to get back to New York, where a job and a new apartment await you.

At least your aunt and your parents are happy about your redemption: you’ve been going to church everyday. They don’t need to know you’ve spent most time on your knees or on your back.  

But you don’t want to think about it now; you can’t let sadness take over and ruin these moments when James is only yours. Your love is on borrowed time, and you intend to make the most out of it.

“Do you want to fuck me, my love? You want me to come all over your pretty cock, yes? You want to fill me up with your cum?” you whisper in his ear, amused at the way he blushes.

“Please.” he whines, palming his cock through his briefs.

“Please what, sweet boy?”

“Please let me-” he interrupts himself.

“Let me what?”

He mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Can’t hear you.” you tease him, grabbing his chin and tilting his face up.

“Let me make love to you.”

You let out a chuckle and shake your head fondly. This man has had you bent over his desk, in the confessional, behind the altar, on the benches where the devoted Catholics of this town attend mass, and yet he can’t bring himself to talk crudely.

You pull on his hair so he stands, and you kiss him ravenously, letting your hands roam over his lean body, the taste of his lips permanently etched in the back of your mind. You don’t want to forget a thing, so you commit to mind each of his little noises, the way his tongue swirls around yours, the soft caresses of his hands.

Clothes discarded in a blur, the room is filled with your moan and his grunts. He pounds into you like a desperate man, clinging onto you with a bruising touch, holding you impossibly close as if you were about to slip through his fingers. And in a way, you are.

When James makes love to you the world disappears and there’s no judgement, no church. He’s not a priest, you’re not a sinner; he’s not pure, you’re not sick.

It’s just you and him, united in one body. Just a man and a woman being one in the flesh.

His thrusts become sloppier, his breathing labored. He brings a hand on your clit and presses on it. He comes inside of you, painting your walls, and the feeling of his swollen cock inside you and his cum filling you up are enough to trigger your release too, your walls clenching on him and milking every last drop.

You’re exhausted, panting in each other’s embrace. 

There’s no sin when you’re like this; you’re no longer the devil to his holy water. 

There’s only love.

-

James’ desk in his office is dark and wide, with mahogany panels on all three sides except the one he sits at. So when Ms. Lee, the adorable elderly lady that organizes the monthly fundraising events for charity, knocks on the door as you’re bouncing on James’ cock, all you have to do is crouch down and disappear under the table.

“Good evening, Father James.” She greets him cheerfully.

You hear the tapping of her heels until she plops down on the guests chair. 

“Good evening, Ms. Lee.” he responds in a strained voice, adjusting himself on the chair.

Ms. Lee speaks a lot. She’s talking James’ ear off, blabbering about the next charity event, and you think what better occasion than this one to be an indecent slut.

You slowly massage his thighs, bringing your hands from his knees to his groin, teasing him when you get close to his crotch and retracting. 

You watch as his cock swells in front of you, and you bite back a giggle. You hear him suck in a breath when you start pumping his length with both your hands.

“Are you alright, James? You’re looking a little worse for wear.” Ms. Lee asks him worriedly when she sees her priest red and sweaty.

James clears his throat and when he’s about to open his mouth, you lick a strip from base to his leaking tip, and the noise that escapes him is between a moan and a grunt.

“Y-yes, Ms. Lee, I’m fine. Just some food poisoning I think.” he manages to answer, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.  

“Poor thing.” she coos, and you take his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around, sucking on the frail skin of under the tip, “Anyways-” she begins again.

James tries to keep his composure, but you sense his distress, and you imagine it must be written all over his face. One hand massages his balls, the other aids your movements as you bob your head up and down, careful not to make a noise. His legs twitch under the table when you push his cock all the way down to your throat, and he makes a strangled noise.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re fine? You really don’t look like it.” Ms. Lee interjects again, interrupting her story.

“I’m fine ma’am, don’t worry about me.”, he says through gritted teeth, jaw clenched shut so hard he might break his teeth.

You give it all you’ve got until your jaw is aching and your knees are killing you. Your effort pays off when, with one last motion on your hands, James grunts and cums in your throat, hips jerking forward and legs shaking.

He comes so hard that you choke on his release.

“Did you hear it too?” she asks in alert.

“He-hear wh-what?” he stutters, pretending to cough to hide your noises.

“A choking sound?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that, just my cough.” he answers, red faced and spent.

“I guess…” she doesn’t sound convinced but lets it go anyways. She could never imagine her sweet priest is getting blown by a city whore under his desk, “I’ll get going then, but please get some rest Father, your holy duties can wait.”

They can indeed, you think, as James yanks you from underneath the table and bends you over the desk, fucking you until you’re crying.

-

“What makes you do the things you do?” he’s playing with your hair as he asks the question that’s been plaguing him for months, since that first time in the confessional.

You’re in a motel somewhere, two hours away from your town, laying on a bed like two lovers. In this room, you’re not a dirty little secret.

What excited you before, suffocates you now.

You thought you may only like the forbidden, but you find yourself at peace in his arms, that peace you’ve yearned for for 22 years, that peace you could never find, because people like you are born sick, that’s what you’ve been told your whole life.

“If I tell you, will you absolve me?” you ask, basking in his affection. 

James is so sweet, so caring. You wish this moment could last forever.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my love. I’ve sinned too much myself.”

“My bad.” you giggle.

Silence falls on you, and you hum in though, pondering your next words very carefully.

“I don’t do them for any reasons, other than they feel good. It feels good to drink, to smoke, to fuck you, to suck your cock.”, you say, and he blushes in embarrassment, “Or maybe I never got over my teenage phase and I just like doing all the things my parents always told me not to do, who knows. Trauma? Maybe. Spite? Quite possibly. I don’t even know at this point.”

He nods slowly. 

He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, see how perfect you are. In his heart, there’s only love for you, in his mind, no more conflict.

“I do them for you.” he answers, and you smile at him, “And for myself, I guess. I thought I had found my way, but maybe I was wrong.”

You turn to look at him, and bop his nose.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what choice you make. I’ll wait for you if you ask me to.”

But his choice has been made already. 

He doesn’t deserve his collar, but hopefully he deserves you.

-

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Please, reblog if you liked it and leave a comment. Feedback is always appreciated. 🤍

Priest bucky masterlist

[onebizarrekai]

Meme Waker: That Final Thing

okay aight here we go here’s the big idea compilation you’ve all been waiting for or something like that

since I’ve finally accepted meme waker’s inevitable fate, I’ll share what I’ve had laying around about it. prepare yourself for a wild ride.

first of all, what existed of the planned character key:

Nightmare = Link Dream = Aryll Cross = Tetra Ink = The Entire Pirate Crew Granny Gertrude = Grandma Horror = Quill Killer = Medli Color = Komali Dust = Makar XGaster = Tingle (yes, you read that right) Fresh = Fado (?) Geno = Laruto Blueberry = Niko Error = Ganondorf Giant Flying Chicken = Helmaroc King Core Frisk = The King XChara = Zelda

So XChara was going to fill the role of Zelda–basically, what was going to happen was that when Cross and Nightmare reached sunken Hyrule, which was replaced by the Omega Timeline, they encountered Core Frisk and with their magical Core Frisk powers that apparently exist, separated XChara from Cross’s body. Because Error was hunting him down for whatever villainous reasons (I dunno, maybe he wanted to find Overwrite or something), XChara was going to spend the near remainder of the comic hiding in the Omega Timeline from Error. It was a pretty neat reference to the fact that Error doesn’t know where the OT is.

Unsurprisingly, considering when I was working on this, Nightmare and Cross may have eventually started dating. They were going to kiss during a fight that involved them accidentally rolling down a hill and then likely spend the remainder of the comic referring to each other as boyfriends, with no further indication of romance between them. I never really mentally decided whether I was actually going to incorporate this or not.

In moments where someone needed to present a musical instrument, Cross was going to play a keytar.

There is a very high chance that the entire comic was going to end up being an elaborate prank set up by Ink and Error.

After being rescued from the Forsaken Fortress, Dream was going to get crossbows and… I dunno, maybe be useful with them sometimes. One consideration was that he was going to complain about being stuck in a glorified retirement home and request joining the party.

Nightmare was going to have a fake ID with the name “Nathaniel Meyer” on it.

When Nightmare eventually pulled up the Gaster Sword, he was basically going to do a magical girl transformation and get a new outfit. I was considering holding a contest where people would submit new designs for Nightmare before I realized that I may have wanted to do it myself. Meanwhile, Cross’s design change at the same time was going to pertain to the fact that he had such a hard time with his uniform that he just wanted to start wearing normal clothes.

When XChara was separated from Cross, it would indicate that Cross can’t use the hack knife anymore, so I had to think of a new weapon for him. I considered giving him arm mounts with knives in them for no reason other than being extra, but I was probably just going to end up going with a regular sword.

Nightmare and Cross were going to be mistaken for missionaries at some point due to Nightmare introducing Cross as his ‘companion’.

Nightmare’s fake ID is actually a driver’s license. Cross questions how he could get one when he’s only fifteen, and Nightmare responds with “what can I say? I live in the country.”

The Giant Flying Chicken was going to evolve into the Cyborg Giant Flying Chicken before Nightmare and Cross fought it. It was already a robot, but someone decided it would be fun to make it look more robotic for some reason. Maybe too many people tried to eat it.

Because Blueberry was going to replace Niko, that meant there was going to be a form of challenge that he would present to Nightmare and/or Cross. They were probably just going to play Dance Dance Revolution.

The dress that Granny Gertrude gave Nightmare was actually going to be infused with magical powers. Either Nightmare could only access the power of the Triforce when he’s wearing the dress, or it was going to be a piece of equipment that turned his sword into a fire sword.

Nightmare was going to come back to the Village of Old People to see that his grandmother had conquered it with capitalism.

Dragon Roost Cavern was going to be replaced with a Pokemon gym.

When Nightmare supposedly kicked Error’s ass at the end of the story, he was going to say something along the lines of “Because fuck you!” and it would be the first and only f-bomb in the whole comic. Nightmare would proceed to say that it was the first time he’d ever said fuck and that he felt dirty.

The Triforce of Courage was just going to be called the Triforce of Porridge for exactly zero reason.

Some incarnation of Buffmare was going to exist in the comic, but only in a sequence taking place in Nightmare’s imagination.

When Cross realized his backpack was missing, it was because I realized his backpack was missing. I forgot to draw it. I decided that the backpack actually fused with him to create a Zelda-style magic pocket.

Nightmare was going to try to control a seagull with the command melody, but he was accidentally going to start controlling Cross instead and make him run into a tree.

The Tree Spirit was going to hold official interviews for placeholder guardians in Dream and Nightmare’s absence. These placeholder guardians were going to be Neil, the overenthusiastic French furry, and Ccino, the local emo kid who is absolutely done with everyone’s bullshit, and exclusively because they were the only ones who applied for the job. Neil was going to have an ulterior motive of becoming Gaston’s successor.

Neil and Ccino were eventually going to ‘get together’, if you can even call it that, and for no other reason than shitpost reasons.

Nightmare may have had a showdown with the Giant Flying Chicken while riding the Great Charizard from Dragon Roost.

Another possible concept for whole story was that it was a bad self insert fic written by a younger version of Nightmare, but it’s really unlikely that I would’ve gone through with that.

Nightmare and Cross may have needed to go on a fetch quest to find Ink’s brush in the ocean because they accidentally lost it, but honestly that would’ve served nothing for the progression of the story. Because XGaster put a tracker on Ink’s brush, they were going to have to enlist his help.

and that about wraps up my notes, now let me throw what I had sitting around of a script draft–reading this was a trip because I forgot that literally 60% of it existed:

(inside the mountain)

Cross: holy shoe, EVERYONE has wings? how is this a thing??

Cross: I’m frickin jealous

Chief: Oh. You must be. Those guys.

Horror: yeah man, I enlisted their help to capture the Chicken Terror, but then they were all like yo, it’s a robot!


Chief: horror robot or not I told you that we weren’t going to capture the chicken terror for food because we’re not cannibals we don’t eat birds

Horror: but

Horror: we’re hardly even birds!

Chief: you know your job Horror. now get back to work. your actual work.

Horror: But… being the mailman sucks!


Chief: Do I need to confiscate your axe again?


Horror: OKAY FINE. I’M GOING. (flies away in a huff)

Chief: AND DO YOUR GODFORSAKEN LAUNDRY!

Chief: I apologize for that… so, how can I help you two today?


Nightmare: You guys have like, some pearl thing or something? We need to like, collect three of them in order to… save the multiverse… or something like that.

(Camera dramatically darkens.)

Chief: It’s just as the prophecy foretold…

Nightmare: oh god what

Chief: You see, young whippersnappers… legend tells of a great hero that would rise up and save a bunch of people in times of desperation that they don’t even realize are desperate. the great hero would travel far and wide in search of the Pearls of Shiny to finally retrieve a great weapon that he would use to strike down the evil that few knew existed. also the hero would have a sidekick wearing stupid clothes.

Cross: EXCUSE ME

Chief: THAT’S JUST WHAT THE PROPHECY SAID

Nightmare: okay, y’know, I’m just gonna roll with it. where can I get the pearl?

Chief: Well… that’s where the hard part comes in. You see, the pearl belongs to my son… but he’s been acting like an edgy teenager lately.

Nightmare: Great…

Cross: Is there a reason he’s being edgy? Maybe there’s something we can do to appease his hormones.

Cross: Free food works like a charm for me.

Chief: No, it’s more complicated than that. When one of our people becomes of age, they climb to the top of Charizard Island to receive a scale from the Great Charizard that will allow them to grow wings.

Nightmare: the… great charizard.

Chief: But lately, the Great Charizard has been throwing inexplicable temper tantrums. No one can get close to him anymore. And with my son being of age, he’s decently pissed off about this.

Chief: We’re thinking that the Great Charizard is displeased about something, and it is also causing our shortage of food.

Nightmare: Wait, you worship something named after a Pokemon?


Chief: Anyway, perhaps you two will be able to talk some sense into my son. Maybe he just wants to talk to someone his age that isn’t Horror or Killer.

Nightmare: What kind of names are those?


Chief: There’s a letter that I wanted my son to read, and I’ve given it to Killer to hold onto. You can go get it from him upstairs in the first room near the stairs, just tell him I sent you. He’s the little guy in the short shorts, you’ll probably recognize him when you see him.

Nightmare: Can’t you just call him here?


Chief: No, it is of upmost importance that you experience a basic fetch quest in order to become a great hero, because those fetch quests will become needlessly complicated before you even realize it.

Nightmare: ?????

Nightmare: I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not–

Cross: dude let’s just go get the letter

(scene transition)

(Killer dramatically turns around and it zooms in and says his name SSB style)

Nightmare: Wait, why do you get a dramatic introduction?


Killer: Dayum. New faces.

Nightmare: Why is everyone ignoring my questions??

Killer: (needlessly sensual voice) So, what brings you here? (walking closer)


Nightmare: (backs into wall) NO BUENO

Cross: You have a letter or something?


Killer: Oh. Yeah. Chief gave it to me for some reason. Yo, catch.

(He chucks it like a ninja star. Cross catches it between his hands in front of his face.)


Killer: Ey! You actually caught it!


Cross: I’m a trained ninja.

Killer: So like, who are you guys?

Cross: I’m Cross. He’s Larry.

Nightmare: NIGHTMARE. MY NAME IS NIGHTMARE.

Killer: Aw man, I know the feel of having a really lame name and wanting one that’s cooler.

Nightmare: No. Like. My name is actually Nightmare. My senile grandma called me Larry earlier today and this loser picked up on it.

Killer: There’s no need to lie. I understand.

Nightmare: I’M NOT LYING!

Killer: anyway make sure you get that letter to Color there’s something I have to do–

(Killer zips out the door behind them.)


Cross: what even the frick?


Nightmare: that guy freaks me the frick out.

Nightmare: literally. I felt like he was coming onto me.

Cross: you’re imagining things.

(SCENE TRANSITION)
 Cross: all right Nightmare I literally do not trust your ability to communicate with another person in a way that will make them feel inclined to give us something so just let me handle this okay

Cross: okay better yet wait outside the room

(Nightmare makes a less than amused face.)


Cross: it’s for the greater good

(Cross walks into the room.)

Cross: hi my name is Cross and

Color: LEAVE

(Cross immediately exits the room.)

Cross: this is a lost causeNightmare: what

Cross: go make him bleed with your words

Nightmare: dude isn’t this the part where we give him the frickin letter

Cross: (pauses) :o

Cross: OH RIGHT

(Cross takes the letter and goes back into the room, leaving the door open)

Cross: oh yeah this letter is for you it’s from your dad or something

Color: Oh, wow. Can’t even be bothered to talk to me in person.

Color: Give me that thing.

(Color stares at the letter. It’s actually a letter from Killer filled with really bad pickup lines and other really creepy compliments.)

Color: What the hell, you said this was from my dad!

Cross: We thought it was–??

(Killer teleports in behind them, scaring the shit out of Nightmare)


Killer: Suuuup~

Color: Killer I swear to god.

Killer: Here’s the actual letter, though you might not be happy with it.

(He flings it at Color and it lands in front of him. He reads it over, rolls his eyes and throws it in the trash.)

Cross: So uh… I don’t know what the letter says but apparently we’re prophesied heroes collecting a bunch of pearls to save the multiverse and the pearl you have is–


Color: Can everyone just get out of my room already?

(everyone just leaves)

Nightmare: What even was the point of that stupid fetch quest?

Killer: Oh yeah, can you guys help me with something? Just a smalllll favor. And I can’t ask anyone else because I’m not supposed to do it.

Killer: I need some strong, reliable people…

Nightmare: Don’t touch me.

Killer: It’s just a small favor! And I mean actually small, it’ll take like two minutes.

Nightmare: I have doubts about this.

Killer: Great! Meet me out back by the spring.

Nightmare: Wait which side is the back–

(Killer is gone)

Nightmare: Cross which side is the back.

Cross: I don’t know??

(after spending twenty minutes going through the various exits trying to figure out how to get there)

Killer: What the hell took you so long.

Nightmare: Directions would’ve been helpful. There wasn’t even a freaking map anywhere in there!

Killer: The hollow is like the size of a middle class house! How difficult could it be to find out where to go?!

Nightmare: IT’S A DOME THERE IS NO BACK

Cross: OKAY, what matters is that we’re here, what the heck do we do now.

Killer: Okay, okay. (steps backwards) Look, if you look around here, it’s all a dried up spring. The Great Charizard was throwing a tantrum, a boulder fell down and it coincidentally plugged up the spring for the third time this week, which is literally our main source of fresh water. I’m honestly getting sick of this so I’m going to climb the mountain and see what’s going on because everyone else is too scared to do it.

Nightmare: God. You’re not gonna make us go with you, are you?


Killer: Oh, no way. I just need you to throw me up that cliff over there so I can get into the cavern that leads up the mountain.

Nightmare: Can’t you fly?

Killer: Not thirty feet straight up. Do these noodle arms look like they can manage that?


Nightmare: Whatever. But quick question. How the hell does one throw a person.

Killer: I weigh like fifty pounds. It shouldn’t be that hard. Also, if you’ve noticed, the wind is rapidly changing directions, so you’ll probably have the best effect throwing me when the wind is blowing that way.

Nightmare: Mhmm. Sure. Let’s just get this over with.

(Nightmare crouches down and Killer fuckin walks onto his shoulders)

Nightmare: Hey! Watch it!

(some way or another he throws Killer and Killer barely makes it to the cliff, face planting into the ground)

Nightmare: Well I guess that worked.

Killer: THAT WAS TERRIBLE!

Nightmare: YOU’RE WELCOME! COULD’VE JUST USED A DAMN LADDER!

Killer: NOBODY OWNS A LADDER HERE BECAUSE EVERYONE CAN FLY!

Nightmare: Then how the frick do people get up this cliff?!

Killer: THERE’S NORMALLY A BRIDGE BUT IT BROKE AND PROBLEMS LIKE THESE ARE PRECISELY WHY I’M CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN TO BEGIN WITH! ALSO I’M LEAVING BYE. (turns and leaves)

(cricket cricket)

Cross: Nightmare we should probably follow him.

Nightmare: No.

Cross: What else do we have to do. We solve their problem, Color can get his wings and then he stops being emo and gives us the pearl out of the goodness of his heart.

Nightmare: I’m not risking my life for this! If that guy is willing to do it himself I’m going to let him do it!

Cross: Dude, look at that guy. He looks about at capable fixing whatever the problem is as Ink is at providing emotional support. If this happens to be anything like a video game, we’re the only ones capable of solving anything. Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Hang around and wait for something to happen?

Nightmare: All right, fine. But how are we supposed to do something? It’s not like we can climb up a thirty foot cliff.

Cross: No, but we can swim, right?Nightmare: What?

(Cross draws a line around the rock covering the spring. It dematerializes into red squares and water starts to spew out of the spring. They both run back towards the side and climb up the cliff they came from)

Nightmare: Dude, what the hell was that?

Cross: I can draw lines around things with my sword and they do that and go away.

Nightmare: … do they go somewhere?


Cross: I dunno.

(Meanwhile in Xtale, a boulder slams into the floor and almost crushes Fresh because of course he’s there)

(The spring fills up)


Nightmare: You know I’m starting to have second thoughts about this swimming thing seeing as how I’ve never actually–(Cross kicks him into the water)


(LATER)


Nightmare: YOU ASSHOLE I ALMOST DROWNED

Cross: You’re exaggerating.

Random Dude: STOP RIGHT THERE!


Nightmare: who.

Random Dude: YOU AREN’T GOIN ONE STEP PAST THIS POINT! YOU’RE LIGHT YEARS FROM FACING BROCK!

(nightmare squints)

(comic suddenly goes into a battle sequence)

Nightmare: whoa whoa what the hell is happening

Cross: oh my god it’s pokemon NIGHTMARE IT’S POKEMON

Nightmare: I DON’T HAVE ANY POKEMON CROSS THREATEN HIM

(Random Dude sent out MEWTWO)

Cross: DEAR GOD

Cross: LISTEN THERE’S A HUGE MISUNDERSTANDING WE’RE NOT TRAINERS WE DON’T HAVE POKEMON

Random Dude: tHEN WHY ARE YOU IN A POKEMON GYM HUH

Cross: Uh… touring?

Random Dude: OH

Random Dude: I SEE

(The Random Dude returns his Mewtwo.)

Random Dude: THERE HAS BEEN AN UNFORTUNATE MISUNDERSTANDING

Cross: Say uh, you didn’t happen to see a scrawny dude with wings pass through here, did you?

Random Dude: Oh yeah, he went into the next room and took the elevator to the top.

(silence)


Nightmare: Why are there always elevators.

(two seconds later, they reach the elevator and there’s a dude standing in front of it)


Nightmare: um excuse me we need to use the elevator

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: excuse me I said move

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: HELLO

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: MOVE ASSHOLE

Cross: I think it’s a preprogrammed NPC.

Nightmare: UAGGGGHHHHH

(Nightmare throws himself into the person, but he slams into the STEEL WALL OF NPC)

Nightmare: CROSS TELEPORT HIM AWAY

Cross: wait are you serious what if that freakin kills him I don’t know where these things go

Nightmare: YOU SAID IT YOURSELF HE’S AN NPC

(Cross shrugs. He draws a line around the NPC and the NPC disappears)

(one elevator ride later)

Nightmare: (chokes) oh god

Nightmare: the altitude

Cross: nightmare this island is still lower than ink’s house.

Nightmare: PSYCHOLOGICAL ALTITUDE

(fwip)

Cross: Oh look, it’s that guy from earlier.

Nightmare: Got captured somehow. Why am I not surprised?

Killer: YOU KNOW WHAT SCREW YOU GUYS

(A really buff guy abruptly slams into the ground)

Buff Guy: FEAR MY WRATH, FOR I AM BROCK! LEADER OF ALL THINGS ROCK HARD

Nightmare: Look man, we really don’t have time for this, just let the shota hoe go, we’re just checking up on the huge-ass Charizard up there.

Killer: excuse me

Brock: I AM THE LOYAL GUARDIAN OF THE GREAT CHARIZARD! You can only pass if you defeat me!


Cross: what the hell is even happening anymore

(Loud gym battle music as the gate at the entrance of the clearing slams shut)

Nightmare: LOOK WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS WE DON’T HAVE ANY POKEMON

(Brock war cries as he sends out a very anime geodude)

Nightmare: can someone please tell me I’m hallucinating all of this

Brock: WELL, IF YOU DON’T HAVE POKEMON, YOU’LL HAVE TO USE A RENTAL

Cross: What? But rental pokemon always suck.

Brock: YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTH SOMEHOW! AND BECAUSE YOU’RE SMALL CHILDREN YOU OBVIOUSLY CAN’T PROVE IT THROUGH SUMO WRESTLING.

Nightmare: I’m fifteen!

Cross: Nightmare I think you’re missing the point.

Killer: Good god, just let them through and let me out of here, they’re the heroes of prophecy.

Brock: PROPHECY

Brock: GOODNESS ME I APOLOGIZE FOR THAT

(Brock returns his geodude)

Brock: YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING

Nightmare: That would have worked?

Brock: BUT! IF YOU WANT TO FREE THIS TINY FELLOW HERE, YOU MUST COMPLETE A DIFFERENT CHALLENGE! FOR YOU SEE, HE TRIED TO PASS THROUGH HERE WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION!


(Killer rolls his eyes. Nightmare squints, literally pulling a notebook out of his shirt. He writes something in it, walking up to Brock and holding it up. It says “Let the guy out of jail you dick”)

Brock: AHA

Brock: WELL

Brock: I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT

(He stomps his foot on the ground and the bars in front of Killer go up)

Brock: DON’T BE CAUSING TROUBLE NOW KIDS


(He ascends back into the sky)


Cross: I’m not even going to ask. That entire conversation felt like a drug trip.

(Killer dramatically throws himself onto Nightmare)


Killer: I knew you would come around, my knight in–

Nightmare: Why did I assume that you had become any less creepy in the last ten minutes. Why did I even do that?


Killer: Because your heart told you to.

Nightmare: Dear god stop touching me or I will literally pick you up and slam you into the floor.

Killer: Feisty. Anyway, I figured out why the Great Charizard is freaking out all the time. His tail is hanging down into the room below him and something is chewing on it like all the time.

Cross: What? Then why doesn’t it just, I dunno, pull its freaking tail out of the room like a reasonable creature? Or maybe take care of the problem on its own?

Killer: The Great Charizard is like a five year-old. It’s self aware, but it expects all of its problems to be solved by everyone else and throws tantrums when that doesn’t happen.

Nightmare: Well that’s stupid. Why does everyone act like it’s some holy being then?

Killer: Because it’s a massive, terrifying dragon that can breathe fire?

ok unfortunately this is where the script ends but I hope you enjoyed that

oh yeah, and some extremely old art that I found:

as well as a brief consideration to make the characters human before deciding that I just didn’t want to work on the comic anymore.

basically you will notice that most of this doesn’t have a solid outline, and you’d be right: I never actually planned it that meticulously. I mostly just winged it and threw stuff in over the course of time and never even really planned anything close to a definitive ending beyond “maybe it was a prank”. sorry if this is like… anticlimactic, but it’s all I could find!

[holy-honeybees]

Snowdrift

AO3

Rating: T+ (for swearing)

Summary: Three friends and  their dog get lost in a snowstorm while investigating the paranormal. Amidst swirling flurries of white, some lose their way and get lost in their memories, others lose sight of their friends and loved ones, and an unforgiving winter quickly fills in the footprints one would follow to get back home.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter One

Chapter Eight

Arthur struggled through the ever-deepening snowdrifts, hunched over as he braced himself against the wind. The fingers on his right hand were already frozen and stiff, and the metal of his prosthetic was so cold it burned where it met the remaining flesh of his arm. He cursed his stupidity for having gone outside in a blizzard with no coat or hoodie. Even with his vest zipped up and his hands tucked under his armpits, he shivered so hard the mechanic felt he might shake apart at any moment. Arthur wondered just what had prompted him to leave the safety of the van without proper protection from the cold. He’d like to think he had some self-preservation skills, though his recent actions had done little to support that claim, and he was sure Vivi at the very least would outright challenge the statement.

I have to find Mystery, he reminded himself. He couldn’t remember why it was so urgent that he find the kitsune though, only that it was. He’d long ago lost sight of the white shape in front of him, and Arthur had to wonder if he was even going in the right direction anymore. Still, he pushed onwards, compelled to keep moving forwards even if he didn’t understand why.

I have to find Mystery. The phrase had become a mantra he repeated with every step, a reminder of his single-minded purpose. Between the wind shrieking in his ears and the constant chattering of his teeth, he could hardly put together a cohesive thought outside of trying to locate his friend. He knew he should try harder to figure out what was happening and why he was out here, but he was so tired, and the cold was mind-numbing.

I have to find Mystery. Something nagged at the back of his mind that besides being hopelessly lost and half-frozen, something else wasn’t right. Some unnamed threat which loomed in the darkness. He just couldn’t recognize what it was. The temperature outside plummeted even further, and a particularly icy blast of air seemed to freeze him to the very core. Arthur shivered, not just due to the bitter cold, but from memories he’d buried long ago as they began to resurface.

---

It had been a long drive to reach Uncle Lance’s home in Tempo, and the hours spent under the summer sun had caused the temperature inside the car to climb to an almost unbearable degree. His dad had told him that rolling down the windows was just as good as running the air conditioning, but Arthur was unconvinced. He was beginning to suspect that Uncle Lance didn’t call the old station wagon his father drove “lemon” just because of its bright yellow paint. For the first half of their trip, Arthur had done his best to distract himself from the heat by playing with his Game Boy Color, and after its batteries had died, he’d resorted to trying to keep cool by letting the wind blow through his hair, his arm dangling out the open window. At least, up until his father had laughed and said that was a good way to lose a limb. Arthur had promptly yanked his arm back inside the car and, despite the sweltering Texas heat and his dad assuring him he’d only been joking, rolled up the window for good measure. By the end of the journey, they were both covered in sweat and even his dad’s sunny disposition had begun to waver.

As the door to his uncle’s home swung inward, the blast of cool air that washed over him made Arthur shiver in relief. Lance usually accepted his brother’s unannounced visits with practiced ease, welcoming them in with a rough “get in here before you let the cool air out” and strong-armed, back-slapping hugs. They would come by when his dad was between gigs as a roadie sometimes or when the car needed repairs. This particular visit felt different though. There were no bone-breaking, lift-you-off-the-ground hugs between the two brothers, no boisterous laughter as they greeted each other. Instead, Lance had merely met them both with a dark, raised eyebrow, the stout man nearly eyelevel with his scrawny, preteen nephew. Maybe it was because it was so hot out and they were both sweaty, or maybe they’d come at a bad time. Either way, the tense situation made Arthur shift uncomfortably, the added weight of his heavy backpack threatening to throw him off balance. They must be staying for a while this time. Arthur had almost everything he owned crammed into the old bag he lugged around, the zippers threatening to burst under the strain. As usual, his dad hadn’t done any packing of his own, and would probably end up heading out to the car half a dozen times throughout the night to grab various items, Uncle Lance grumbling good-naturedly the whole time.

“Hey, buddy,” his dad said, ruffling his hair, “Me and your uncle are going to go check out the car, take a look under the hood. Why don’t you go get settled in? We can order some pizza for dinner later.” Arthur meekly nodded his head and shuffled past his uncle in the doorway, eager to escape the tense atmosphere that no one was acknowledging. The old mechanic twitched his lips up into a brief smile as Arthur passed, which the young boy nervously returned. His uncle’s serious, gruff nature was intimidating at times. When Arthur had first met the taciturn man, he worried that Uncle Lance didn’t like him. His dad had laughed off his concerns though and told him that’s just how Lance was, and without kids of his own, his uncle would simply need some time to get used to him.

Arthur passed through the familiar hallways of his uncle’s home until he reached the spare room he and his dad usually stayed in. Normally, it served as a kind of office or storage space for Uncle Lance’s business, with instruction manuals, receipts, and spare parts scattered amongst a few personal items. There was an old wrestling belt and a framed picture of Arthur and his father on the wall above the sleeper sofa they used. The bed was already folded out and made up with clean sheets and pillows, and Arthur wondered if their spontaneous visit had truly been unexpected. His dad had announced their trip a couple of days ago, and they’d been on the road driving to their destination ever since. Arthur had gone out to get some ice for their motel room and come back to see his father deep in conversation on the old telephone the room came with. Arthur didn’t think he’d ever seen his dad so serious. His father had cutoff midsentence once he’d spotted Arthur, looking inexplicably guilty before saying a hurried goodbye to whoever was on the other line. The young boy could only make out the speaker’s agitated tone of voice, distorted by the crummy receiver, before his dad hung up the phone. With his father’s usual smile plastered back on his face, everything seemed to have returned to normal, and Arthur was told to pack his things because they would be leaving first thing in the morning to visit his uncle.

Now that they had arrived, Arthur couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong, like he was missing something. Some vital clue he should have picked up on that would have helped him to make sense of what was going on around him. He shouldered his backpack off onto the bed, intent on starting to unpack his things. Instead, he only worried at the zippers, his thoughts too troubled to focus on the task at hand. He felt as if there was an answer right in front of him that he just couldn’t see. After several fruitless minutes, Arthur gave up on unpacking his bag and left to find his father and uncle. He wandered through his uncle’s home, searching for the two adults, before being drawn to the garage door by the sounds of an argument. Despite being nervous about being caught eavesdropping, Arthur pressed his ear to the door to listen.

“Just think about what yer doin’ for once, Percy,” Uncle Lance said in a low, dangerous voice.

“It’s just going to be for a little while,” Arthur’s father replied, his usual cheerful tone sounding strained.

“You an’ I both know that’s not true!”

“This latest gig will last a month or two, tops,” his dad said, and then, after the slightest of pauses, so small Arthur could almost convince himself he’d imagined it, “Then I’ll be back.”

“No,” Lance insisted stubbornly, “I know that look in yer eye, I seen it before. Saw it when my baby brother up an’ dropped out of high school, hit the road, an’ didn’t drop his family a line for a full year to even let us know he was alright!” Arthur’s dad sighed heavily.

“Look, Arthur’s starting to grow up, you know? The whole ‘on-the-road’ lifestyle isn’t really doin’ him any favors. He’s smart, but there’s only so much I can teach him. Kid doesn’t really have any friends, either. He could really benefit from going to school, meeting kids his age and getting a real education.”

“If this is really about his best interests, why don’t you stay here with him?” Lance pressed, “Settle down finally. Get a steady job in town. Hell, I’ll hire you.” The only response was silence.

“Yer not leaving Arthur here so he can ‘grow up’,” Lance growled, “Yer stickin’ me with yer kid so you don’t have to!”

“I don’t know what I’m doing! I didn’t plan on becoming a parent!” His father shouted angrily.

“You are one though, an’ yer not gonna figure this one out by runnin’ away from it!”

“I’m trying, okay? If it was just about keeping him fed or entertained or whatever, it’d be fine, but…he’s different. I thought he’d outgrow it, but that last show I worked, you know, with that rock band? He had one of his…fits halfway through the set. He kicked up such a fuss they had to stop the show and everything. The guys on stage were cool about it, but, well… Would do him some good to have someone like you help toughen him up.”

“Percy, I know you’ve got yerself convinced yer doing what’s best for him, but that’s not what it looks like from my perspective, and that certainly ain’t what it’s gonna look like from his. Of all the selfish, irresponsible—”

“I love my son!”

“I’m not the one yer gonna have to try an’ convince if you go through with this.”

The rest of the argument was lost to the ringing in his ears as Arthur quickly backed away from the garage. So there was something wrong. What was worse, it seemed like it had something to do with him. He retraced his steps to the spare room, his breath coming in progressively shorter gasps. He’d had episodes like this before. “Fits”, his dad called them. It happened from time to time at the concerts his father worked, like when the music was too loud or there were too many strangers crowded around him, though those hadn’t been the only incidents. One time had left him feeling so dizzy and lightheaded afterwards, his dad had taken him to an emergency room. The doctor who had given him a checkup had called it a “panic attack”, suggesting they reach out to a specialist to talk. He never got the chance though, their transient lifestyle requiring them to leave town the very next day. His dad tried his best to help, telling him to relax and dismissing his fears as silly, but Arthur just couldn’t do the same.

With his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest, Arthur closed the door to the spare room behind him and promptly dumped out the contents of his backpack onto the bed, frantically searching for anything that might help calm him down. His eyes settled on his Game Boy and he snatched it off the bed before sitting down on the floor. With its batteries run down, he wouldn’t be able to distract himself by playing a game, but there was something comforting and familiar about holding the small dandelion-colored console nonetheless. He ran his thumb over the control pad—up, right, down, left—again and again. Gradually his breathing slowed, and the fuzzy edges receded from his vision. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and Uncle Lance entered the room, frowning as he did so.

“You alright, kid?” his uncle asked, “Yer lookin’ kinda pale.”

“Y-Yeah, just cool-cool-cool—” Arthur shook his head, trying to dislodge the word he’d gotten stuck on.

“Cooling off,” he finished lamely.

“…Alright. Well, pizza’s on its way. Should be here in about thirty minutes. Yer dad ordered the usual,” Lance said gruffly. Arthur gulped and nodded his head. His stomach felt as if it was twisted up in knots, and the thought of eating anything made him feel vaguely queasy. His uncle paused for a moment, as if to say something else, before giving up with a sigh and walking away.

The pizzas arrived right on time, and long before Arthur was ready. He, his dad, and his uncle all sat around the small kitchen table Lance owned, paper plates loaded up with hot, greasy pizza slices. His dad joked and laughed, smiling the whole time, as if nothing were wrong. Uncle Lance barely said a word, only letting out the occasional grunt, while Arthur nibbled half-heartedly at the pizza in front of him. They’d ordered the Meatzilla and Atomic Aloha, with extra pineapple and jalapeño peppers, Uncle Lance and his father’s favorite pizzas respectively. Normally, Arthur was happy to share with his Uncle Lance, the Atomic Aloha being too spicy for him to enjoy, but now the pizza he did force down sat heavily in his guts. When they’d all finished eating and Lance cleaned the paper plates and used napkins off the table, his dad had asked him to stay behind. His father told him that he had a new gig, but this time, Arthur was going to stay behind with Uncle Lance, just for a couple of months while he was gone. Arthur wanted to tell him not to go, but he simply nodded along, his thoughts muddled and his stomach churning unhappily.

His father left within the hour, assuring him that he would be back soon and that he loved him very much. He ruffled Arthur’s hair as walked out the door, leaving the young boy behind to sit on the couch with his uncle in the living room. Uncle Lance opened his mouth as if to speak several times, but always closed it with an uncertain look in his eye, the silence instead filled by reruns of old wrestling matches playing on the TV quietly. Eventually, Arthur excused himself, saying he was turning in for the night. He entered the spare room and flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to clear away the contents of his backpack he’d haphazardly dumped on top of the sheets. He curled up and cried, tossing and turning miserably as the pizza he’d eaten failed to settle in his stomach. The harder he cried, the worse he felt, and the sick feeling grew until Arthur had no choice but to rush to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He was still kneeling by the toilet, the cool tiles of the floor pressed against his hands and knees, when he felt a hesitant hand, rough and calloused, pat him on the back.

“It’s okay,” Uncle Lance said, “I’ve got you.”

---

Released from the grip of his memories, Arthur found himself kneeling in the snow. The cold seeped even deeper into his bones with his arms and legs sunk way down into the snowbank. The mechanic struggled back to his feet and scanned the horizon for his forgotten destination.

I have to find Mystery, Arthur reminded himself, tucking his arms tight against his body as he resumed his steadfast march. His breath fogged before him, looking like a silver mist that disappeared just as quickly as the memory had. He couldn’t even recall what it was he’d been thinking about despite the tears frozen on his face. Something about when he’d come to live with Uncle Lance. But hadn’t he always lived with his uncle? He just couldn’t remember. He pushed the doubts and confusion from his mind as he continued to trudge numbly through the snow.

I have to find Mystery.

He felt raw and weary, like an exposed nerve. Where were the others? Why had he been left behind? Abandonment had always been an issue for him, though he didn’t understand why. Uncle Lance had always been there for him. Still, whatever had caused that fear to take root was only exasperated after Lewis and Vivi had started dating.

I have to find…

It had been hard seeing them so happy together. It left Arthur with a complex mix of emotions where he was glad for his friends yet jealous at the same time, which gave way to shame for feeling so awful when he should have been excited and supportive. He was just waiting for the day they’d tell him they didn’t want him around or need him anymore. He’d been distancing himself slowly so that when the time came maybe, maybe it wouldn’t hurt quite so much. Instead, it just made him more miserable to see how happy his friends were without him. Then there was the cave.

I have to…

His weakness had let whatever that thing was take control of him. He could still only remember bits and pieces of what happened, even months later. Everything was hazy up to the point he woke up in a hospital bed without his arm, jumping out of his skin if Mystery so much as twitched an ear. Vivi was like a blank slate, and Lewis was missing.

I…I have to find Lewis.

Arthur watched as another thin stream of silver left his mouth, whirling away into the wind. He felt drained, his mind foggy. He must have found a lead to his missing best friend out here, wherever this was. Still, he’d wished he’d brought a coat or something. But if he could find his friend and bring him back, it’d be worth it, whatever it took. Arthur called out for Lewis as loudly as he could, the name broken into pieces by his stutter and chattering teeth. He had to be close by if he’d made the decision to leave Vivi and the van behind. Arthur kept shouting, his voice becoming hoarse as he sucked in deep lungfuls of frigid air, trying to be heard over the howling wind. A desperate sense of urgency fueled him, tinged with a guilt and remorse he couldn’t quite place, which nonetheless helped propel him onwards through the snow.

I have to find Lewis!

[aineirisha]

What I confessed while daydreaming

It all started that night, that dreadful night. It all started with their threatening voices of fake silk. It all started with their eyes on you ready to devour you, ready to take away what was rightfully yours. 

It all started with ignorance. 

Myths and legends and things that are not human.

It all started...

Or perhaps it started centuries ago, you couldn't tell. You never really knew...

Things that are not human...

Stories that don't belong to humans...

And yet... 

You were...

Human...

...frightened by their energy, by the way they looked at you.

You couldn't trust them. No matter how they tried to convince you, you wouldn't trust them, your instincts told you not to. All your senses screaming at you, 

"RUN!!" 

But you couldn't move. You didn't understand. 

Why were you so scared? Why weren't your legs responding? Why couldn't you stop quivering? Why were those men...?

"Do not worry Hime-sama, we will not hurt you"

"We are just here to please you"

"Let us please you, Hime-sama"

"We are just going to play a little game, shall we Hime-sama?"

But they did not carry toys with them. No dolls or balls, no wooden horses.

What were four men trying to play with a seven year old girl?

Why are these men trying to play...

... With me?

You raised your eyes to meet theirs and fear took over. Thirst for power dripping from their gaze, running through their veins. 

You shed no tear, you voiced no scream, you made no expression. 

The moment their hands were over you, your chakra unfolded, piercing their bodies, breaking their bones, and exploding their organs. 

A lot of blood was shed that night, not one single drop was yours.

It all started that night with that dreadful feeling. 

The power of destruction. The drunkness that comes with it. 

 It started with you, with all that you never really knew... 

Urging you to flee...

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

Working at that restaurant had turned out to be an excellent choice. It gave you enough money to sustain yourself and the opportunity to meet the daily life in the village. Every day you got the chance to practice all that you couldn't practice on the training grounds. Your power was about sensations and emotions. To recognize those emotions you had to be around living things, preferably humans, and what better place than a restaurant. 

Dozens of different chakras came into the restaurant daily. Each time they became easier to identify and distinguish. Bit by bit colors started to appear and, if you concentrated enough, you could even perceive each one of the 7 pools of chakra. 

It was very challenging at first. Allowing yourself to be affected by other people's energy was a burden really heavy to handle. Lots of emotions were mixed in that closed space. And it could hurt, to feel other people's feelings as if they were your own. It was overwhelming.

Some time ago you had found your peace extending your own chakra around you far enough so that other's energy couldn't reach your core, you strengthened your vibrations to a point they were stronger than everybody else's, preventing your energy and emotions from being polluted with those around you and prevailing over them. And now that you needed to move forward, that you wanted to learn about control, you had to make your peace aside to prioritize knowledge. Ironic. 

It was an exhausting exercise, way more exhausting than shinobi training. But it was rewarding, what for so many years you did by pure intuition, now you were doing consciously. 

Besides, it wasn't all dark and gloomy. Your power gave you the possibility to have things your way if the situation turned out to be more than you could handle. That usually meant, as a result, a feeling of tranquility, a feeling of certainty that it was all gonna be ok.  The power was way easier to bear when people's energy was bright, so it was kind of for selfish reasons but the results were convenient for everyone. If needed, making other people feel at ease was the easiest thing to do; it didn't hurt, it protected your core from other's pain or low-frequency emotions -usually negative- and it always ended up working in your favor.  All you had to do was extend your chakra and sync your vibrations to the ones of the human in question. Truth was, you didn't have to do it on purpose anymore, your vibrations were so strong everyone else just synced to them almost by accident. 

Lots of clients came to the place when you started working there for that exact reason. Unconsciously, everyone kept coming back to feel that lightness, that warmth.  

Nevertheless and despite everything, manipulating emotions wasn't your favorite thing to do even if it was for a good purpose. Life felt more real when you let others be honest. 

That and... maybe if you didn't fear your wounds that much you could... 

Maybe if you could let go of the past... 

Maybe if you weren't so scared of your own darkness...  

When it came to your power you were always careful. Perceiving chakra and observing its behavior was a safe zone and you found the way to work from there. It was like experimenting. Sometimes you'd try with certain words or phrases, other times facial expressions, and you awaited the reaction. It was particularly interesting when you found an energy that changed with the presence of another person, whether it was a loved one or a hated one. 

********

The afternoon was perfect. The sun was up, shining bright and warm, only cooled by the blowing of the wind. The sky was blue and eventual clouds floated miles above your head. The day went by at work without much to worry about. Megumi-san was kind of a weirdo and you two got along perfectly. She was teasing and playful. You were always joking and laughing. 

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. Some birds were flying by. You smiled. The sound of your steps on the ground made everything feel real. 

The buildings were all painted with messy patterns that seemed to have no order or purpose. Maybe there was going to be some kind of festival or something... 

No, the paintings were too messy to look good. That couldn't be for decoration. 

What happened here?

And then you bumped into him. Green goggles on his forehead, blonde spikey hair, evil giggles, with a bucket and a painting brush on his hand. 

 You had felt his energy a block ago. 

Was he trying to get revenge?

Was he just playing games? 

It felt like both. A dark type of amusement. A mischief. He knew he was doing wrong and he was enjoying it. 

As you approached him, the feeling of mischievousness increased. 

Intrigued by the kid, you walked towards him and stood by his side. With your hands in your pockets, you contemplated his painting. 

"Is that a hat?" you asked, tilting your head trying to get the shape of the drawing.

He turned around to see you with a defensive attitude, used to people scolding him for everything. 

"Maa maa, nee-chan, it's not a hat, it's a snake, see? It has an eye" he said while pointing at the spot on the lower edge.

"But why does it have a...That?" you were certain that you had never in your life seen a snake with a bulge, that looked more like a camel with no legs. 

Or a hat...

"It's fat cause it ate the entire bowl of ramen, dattebayo," the blonde said while nodding, a huge smile on his face. He seemed really proud of his creation. 

You laughed noisily, completely amused by the kid's imagination. 

A neighbor came out of the building, shouting.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, LITTLE BEAST?!!" He threatened as he started walking towards the child furiously.

The blonde stared back at him for an instant and panicked. 

"RUUUN!!" He shouted at you as he sprinted to get as far away from there as possible. 

You did as told not giving it a thought. That man seemed terrifying. 

When you two finally stopped, you were safe, many streets away. You paused to catch your breath. He was already searching for his next victim with a malicious grin. 

He was punishing the people, you realized, and by doing so he was getting himself into so much trouble. 

Punishing them for what?

"Hey kid" you called him. "I know of a fence that is in desperate need of some painting" your house wasn't that far away. 

He followed you ready to attack, wielding the brush like a kunai. 

Your fence was wide enough to keep him entertained for a while. 

You took the lead, dipped your fingers in the bucket, and started doodling on the wood. His mesmerized gaze fell on you like a stray of sunshine. Finally, he had a partner in crime, and it wasn't Choji or Shikamaru, it was an adult. 

He didn't feel like the enemy anymore. 

You two started playing. Your clothes were probably going into the trash after this, the paint wouldn't wash off. 

"Too bad we don't have other colors," you sighed, enjoying your time with the kid. He had a nice laugh and three marks on each of his cheeks that made him look adorable. It had been a long time since you last played with a child.

"Maa, maa; when I become the Hokage I will have all the colors I want and people won't tell me what to do" he smiled satisfied. "You can come paint with me"

The Hokage?

"Why are you painting fences?... and walls?" 

That's not exactly something the Hokage would do... or maybe but not like this.

"I want everyone to acknowledge me," he said decisively.  

His energy amazed you. It felt like he was... broken?... but more than broken, cracked. It was like cracked glass refusing to shatter. His determination and wishes holding him together, helping him stand (like a tape or a band-aid). There was no nostalgia in him. Only the hopes that things would be better in the future. No, it wasn't hope... it was... 

Certainty.

You smiled to yourself with a lump in your throat and resisted the urge to hug him.  

What could have happened for a child to be so fractured?

And yet he seemed so brave, so strong. 

For a moment you forgot about his malicious shenanigans. His vibrations were so strong they were competing with yours. 

"You missed painting here" you teased him, passing your dirty fingers over his recent doodle. 

He pouted. "You need a little color too, nee-chan" his brush painted over your lines. "Now it's a clown" he giggled.

You burst in laughter. He looked at you surprised by your reaction. You hadn't scolded him or criticized him once. You were definitely a weirdo. 

He started laughing too. 

The game began, whoever covered most of the fence would win. He was already winning.

"That's not fair!! You have a brush!!" you complained. He stuck out his tongue to mock you in response.

"Naruto!!" you heard Iruka shout at the kid. "What do you think you are doing??!!!" he quickly grabbed the child's hand. 

You signaled Iruka to stop, your hands over your neck telling him to cut it. Naruto didn't know that was your house. As far as he was concerned you were manging a mischief together. 

Iruka looked at you startled and let go of Naruto's hand. 

"Iruka-sensei hi" you waved at him. It was time for your lesson. 

"You know each other?" Naruto was suddenly very confused. He stared at you and Iruka back and forth.

"Yeah, he's my sensei" you smiled. 

"You are a student?!" he was shocked.

You nodded. 

"But you look old"

"Hey! I'm not that old!" you put your fists on your waist, pouting.

Naruto thought about it. Maybe you weren't that much of an adult, not of the same kind as Iruka at least, or as the villagers. Old people don't do funny things and they don't paint fences. 

"Naruto go clean yourself" Iruka took the bucket and the brush away from him and sent him home. 

"YN-san I apologize for Naruto, he's just... I'll make it up for you" he said.

"Don't worry" You giggled "I bumped into him while he was using the village as his canvas and a man came out to beat the crap out of him so I thought it would be better if I just..."

 Teamed up with him. Take him out of there. Be friendly. 

"I'm sorry," he repeated while looking at your dirty fence.

"Don't be. It has potential. This right here looks like an eagle, and if I fix these, they could be mountains, and these right here..."

He just looked at you and smiled. You were kind and tender. Not ruled by people’s ideas of how things had to be done. You always... behaved unexpectedly. It was as if you could see beyond things. Whether it was a landscape behind the doodles or a friend behind a missbehaved boy, you never settled with appearences. 

 There is always more than meets the eye. There are always things we don’t really know.

But you wanted to know...

"Is he the student you always talk about?" Of course Iruka had told you about him. Sometimes you didn't even train and all you did was talk about your lives. Whenever any of you had a bad day you would always put support first. It was pretty comforting to have someone to talk to. Iruka's energy was one of the warmest, sweetest, most compassionate you've ever met, you admired that. It made you feel safe. 

"Yeah" he scratched his head.

"Oh, I get it now" you laughed as you got into your house. 

************

CH 4  CH 6

Masterlist

A/N: Ok, guys so first of all sorry for my grammar, spelling, syntaxis, and everything that has to do with writing structure. English is not my first language and boi this is harder than I thought (I'm better at writing in Spanish I promise)

Second: reader has been through a lot and I mean A LOT. She's been through so much I have enough material to write an entire ff about it like hell maybe even two who knows, so I'm struggling with how to tell you all that information. Maybe you won't get to know everything, just the important things. Bottom line she's had a rough time. (I'm actually a little bit scared to write that part cause it's pretty angsty, like right now she chooses peace and nice feelings but back then she didn't and turned her life into hell but I don't feel my writing is good enough to do justice to all that so... hope I get better) that doesn't mean there won't be angst i mean, there's no way to avoid angst when it comes to kakashi, so wish me luck.

And third: I suck at drawing so I can't show you what her power, energy and vibrations and all look like. I hope I was clear enough to give you a general idea (I'll probably get deeper into it later) but if I wasn't please let me know and I'll explain it better, it would be soooo helpful to know what you understood. 

And last but not least: THANKS FOR READING. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :3 <3

@femboyneji @spnningtop @strawberrycakesstuff @cosplayartponypoli @ren-hatake

[granvarones]

I’ve always taken some level of comfort in the holiday season. Wrapping gifts, decorating the tree, queuing up the holiday classics on the radio. There’s a repetition of the holidays and their associated festivities that I’ve always taken comfort in as a queer kid of color growing up. A welcomed pomp and circumstance to bookend any year, no matter how challenging or depressing. Over the years, I craved the kind of holiday cheer that could look and feel like me and the spaces that I occupied.

You don’t have to look too deeply to understand that Christmas and its pop culture breadcrumbs have historically been dominated by whiteness. The benchmarks of the holiday season are usually found in “A Christmas Story” marathons, Bing Crosby ditties, and Charlie Brown.

Unbeknownst to most, an update on a classic was about to disrupt any antiquated, albeit comfortable, ideas of what constitutes a “classic” Christmas. The one driving a bulldozer through the most wonderful time of the year would be a crass, Black, bisexual, singing superstar with a pill problem and set of enemies ready to take her down. Her name is Ebony Scrooge.

The VH1 made-for-television film “A Diva’s Christmas Carol,” written/directed by Richard Schenkman debuted on December 13, 2000 and in the years since its debut would generate a loyal fanbase of viewers. The powers that be, having yet to see its underground following, leave viewers no choice but to pull out their DVD players every year, hope for a midnight cable viewing, or search through YouTube to satisfy the desire for this Christmas gem.

Here’s a glimpse into how Ebony flips Christmas on its head.

1. A Fabulous Spin on an Old Favorite

The film reimagines the classic Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” in a universe of late 90s era diva-dom. The iconic Ebenezer Scrooge is retooled as Ebony Scrooge, a Black pop/R&B princess with massive success but little love in her heart. One fateful night alongside some oddball spirits has her questioning her cold ways just in time for Christmas. Produced for television by VH1, it arrived right at the peak of its massively popular VH1 Divas Live series.

2. Starring THE Vanessa Williams

VH1 founds its Ebony Scrooge in Vanessa Williams. An acclaimed singer and actress, Williams was no stranger to success at the time. By the film’s release, she had five hit albums under her belt and more than a dozen Hot 100 entries to her name. Nor was she a stranger to Christmas, having released a popular holiday album in 1996. With hit movies and Broadway on her resume as well, there was no better choice to bring this Scrooge to life.

3. The Bitch is Back

Williams is no holds barred in her take on the classic Scrooge character. She vacillates between complete apathy and all-out bitchiness and finds every delightful opportunity in between to ham it up for the camera. In fact, Williams’ Ebony Scrooge caught the eye of the late Silvio Horta who campaigned to have her fill the role of another grand dame – Wilhelmina Slater on the hit show “Ugly Betty.”

4. No Shortage of Camp

Completely aware of its own ridiculousness and in on its own fun, “A Diva’s Christmas Carol” ups the camp and embeds clever one-liners and mounds of witty banter into its script. When Ebony comes face to face with her dead former friend and bandmate Marli Jacobs, the two spar in true Dynasty fashion about whether Jacobs is there to do her nails or warn her of her evil ways. Chock full of pop culture references, the film pokes fun at Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Bette Midler, and even a hilarious revelation of a tryst between Ebony and Anne Heche.

5. Oh, the Fashions!

Moving across decades, the film anchors itself primarily in the 80s and 90s. So, for viewers, there’s quite the visual treat watching Williams and company play dress up in all the feathers, leather, fur and big hair that a boy playing dress up in his mother’s closet could ever dream of.

6. Wildcard Supporting Cast

Add into this already delicious mix an utterly strange combination of supporting actors. Ebony’s bandmate Marli is played by Rozanda “Chilli” Thomas of TLC who appears in full on over-the-top dominatrix gear. Follow that with ghosts of Christmas past (a snarky Kathy Griffin), present (John Taylor of Duran Duran) and future (a literal episode of VH1’s Behind the Music – how’s that for a throwback?). Then toss in some cameos from Nile Rodgers and Brian McKnight for good

7. Do I Feel a Heartquake?

For the icing on the cake, “A Diva’s Christmas Carol” is responsible for birthing one of the greatest fake 80s, holiday-adjacent, catchy AF songs by a non-existent girl group to ever come out of a television movie. Before striking solo, Ebony, Marli, and their friend Terry form the group Desire and hit big with their single “Heartquake.” The film weaves this pop gem throughout and I don’t know anyone that’s denied themselves the opportunity to hum along.

At its core though, the message living inside its protagonist’s messiness still rings true. “A Diva’s Christmas” never goes too far into the deep end of its own dramatics before pulling back to remind us of its heart. It pushes us to find some meaning in the holiday season – that same corny, comfy feeling that makes me excited for the month of December each year – and allows us to imagine our own festive worlds where the hair reaches the heavens, the gowns cling tight, and divas reign supreme.

Joshua Henry Jenkins makes space and cultivates community. His work primarily focuses on amplifying the voices of those who are often living in the margins. Joshua is a digital strategist by profession, a designer and facilitator in the in-between, and a community organizer through and through. He currently serves as Director of Web and New Media at Americans for the Arts, Board Chair of the Arts Administrators of Color Network, and co-creator/co-facilitator of the BLACK, GAY, stuck at home series. www.joshuahenryjenkins.com

[stdm]

“So...how’s Weasley?” “Malfoy stop, you don’t want to hear about my break up with Ron, and I know I certainly don’t want to know about why there’s currently a dent where your wedding ring should be.” A prompt.... this has been running about in my brain for a month and I have no idea what to do with it.

I just saw this sorry anon, don’t know how old this is but here you go! 

Another obligatory ministry function that was so dull Draco was currently staring at his drink watching his ice melt. He hated these types of affairs long before he started working here but attendance was expected. He had made his obligatory rounds and proper appearances already but it was only just over an hour in, still too early to make an exit. So here he sat at the bar staring at the drink and the ring finger on the left hand which held it.

He knew who had approached the bar before she spoke, her signature scent was still the same since their Hogwarts days. “Fire whiskey please, make it a double” he turned to see her tanned hands rubbing her temples. She graciously took the drink from the bartender with a forced smile.

“Cheers Granger” he muttered barely loud enough for her to hear. Hermione turned to him raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. She tilted her glass, “cheers Malfoy” and downed the entire contents of her glass.

Well that was surprising. He raised an eyebrow of his own and she merely shrugged. Draco called for another round from the bartender and got her one as well. He handed her the glass and brought his own to his lips as they sipped in a comfortable silence.

That was often how they were. Hermione had needed Draco’s assistance on cases from time to time the past couple years. They would work together, quietly pouring over documents and reading through records until one of them made a discovery. He wouldn’t call them friends per se, as they never really did anything outside of work and work functions, but they had grown comfortable in each other’s presence.  

“How much longer until Shacklebolt makes his speech you think?” he ventured.

“I would say it’s unlikely you can sneak out until a quarter past,” she stated flatly.

She knew him well enough. He looked at the watch on his left wrist and let out a sigh - another 45 minutes. “Well it may be less of a sneak and more of stumble if I try and keep up with you.” Making it clear he saw how quickly her second drink was disappearing.

She shrugged, “You hate these things as much as I do so I am surprised you’re not already sloshed.”

“Why would you hate these affairs Granger? You are always being fawned over and getting to deal with the press, and I know how much you enjoy both,” a smirk crept up his face. “Should I search you purse for a trapped fly or have you learned new tricks of controlling journalists who ask stupid questions?”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut again. Yes, that was a fun bit of information he had learned a couple years back; clever witch.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. I have been the picture of innocence tonight, despite the myriad of far too personal questions from reporters.” A smirk of her own now plastered on her lovely face.

“That is, until you started heavily drinking with questionable company”

She smiled at him, finally sitting down on the barstool next to him.

He took another sip, letting the liquid give him courage to return the smile then ask the question he knew had been long off limits.

“So...how’s Weasley?”

“Malfoy stop, you don’t want to hear about my break up with Ron, and I know I certainly don’t want to know about why there’s currently a dent where your wedding ring should be.”

He followed her gaze to bare hand sitting on the bar between them shaking his head. Taking another sip, daring to be vulnerable.

“All the papers were finalized today, I am sure there will be an announcement in the Prophet come Monday. For the best, and all that.” He said it as if the news was as mundane as the weather.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly reverting back to the defeated look she had before her first shot. That wouldn’t do.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic Granger; truly is for the best. We were bloody miserable, both stuck in a marriage of our parents’ creation rather than a real relationship. I respect her immensely for bucking up the courage to tell her parents to ‘fuck off’ so she could finally be happy. Forced me to do the same actually.”

“And how did you dear father take that”

“As he is already furious that I am not interested in the family businesses, he didn’t really react. Although, somehow my mother was shocked I wasn’t happy with Astoria and demanded I start the divorce paperwork immediately so I could get on with a ‘more joyful life’ for myself.”

Hermione nearly spit out her drink with a laugh. “Had she never seen you two together? I’m sorry but if that’s what happy looks like to her she may need an intervention of her own. You two had no chemistry whatsoever and-”

“Don’t hold back Granger.”

Her hand shot over her mouth. “Oh sorry, that was terribly rude. I am so sorry. I’ll just..” She was blushing profusely and edging back in her seat as if to make a quick exit. Draco grabbed her hand bringing her attention back to him and her eyes softened as she saw the playful smirk resting on his lips.

“Honestly, you’re not wrong. We had nothing in common and, while I think she is a lovely girl, we couldn’t force it any longer. Truly wish her the best, but it had been over since the start.”

She gave him a sincere smile and squeezed his hand for extra reassurance before taking another sip. They sat in another comfortable silence while Hermione’s thoughts raced. He saw her mind work; she wore her thoughts and emotions on her face clear as day since school.   “Spit it out Granger,” he said with mild amusement.

Her gaze dropped back to her now empty glass. “I think I know exactly what you mean. Forced and over from the start.” Hermione sighed deeply “I was just tired. We were friends for so long that once the butterflies and adrenaline faded we would fight each other about who let them fade first. We were both bored and knew how to cut to the core after a decade of knowing each other so intimately. Our fights got uglier and the make ups got shorter until it felt like all we did was fight. Ron has always had a temper and I have long been vindictive as you and that fly know.” She actually turned to wink at him.

Draco had been listening intently but took a moment to look in her eyes and smirk. “That we do” The bartender came by just then to ask about another round.

She nodded, taking a beat to gather her words. “I was going through some old things nearly a month ago and found a photo of us as teens. We were so happy, laughing with each other without a care. Those two kids didn’t even feel like us. Too much had happened and that ease had faded and I realized I missed my friend. I long ago ran out of tears but I took the photo and dropped it on his lap, and we talked. There wasn’t any fight left in us that day, so we finally talked and ended things. While the press found out just a week ago and I am not at your level of acceptance just yet, I feel lighter and I know it was for the best. I don’t know if we can ever be best friends again, but I do want him to be happy.”

She took the drink that was placed before her with a smile and took a sip. She was clearly avoiding Draco’s eyes after exposing her so much of her personal life for the first time.

“And what of your own happiness Granger?”

She could feel his intense gaze but she shrugged. People had started to gather near the stage as speeches from various ministry officials began before the Minister’s address. She began to turn in her seat, planning on getting up and joining the crowd when a firm hand grabbed her knee and turned her to fully face him. Their legs were brushing each other, and she immediately felt the heat radiate through her whole body. She wouldn’t lift her eyes, too worried he would see the mass of emotions hidden in her amber orbs. Her Gryffindor courage often seemed to leave her when Draco was near, so she kept her stare fixed on the hand still resting on her knee. She pulled in a sharp breath as his other hand touched her chin and lifted her head so he could meet her stare. Hermione was burning up under his intensity, despite the fire whiskey now a forgot part of the room. There was nothing here but her and Draco.

He asked her again, “and your happiness?”

His gaze conveyed all the emotions she was feeling, so she forced herself to close her eyes. She knew many of her happiest moments over the past years had been with this man. Watching him logic his way through problems, work alongside him, and celebrating their work triumphs all brought her such joy.  These moments of reprieve from the galas, fundraisers and the like, together at a bar were a solace. She had caught herself imagining a happy life with him long before it was appropriate. A life of being challenged and growing, of the blissful comfortable silences she only really shared with him. The idea had always made her smile but felt out of reach. This was all too real now. If his eyes were to be believed in this moment, he had imagined that too.

“You are overthinking again Granger” Her eye shot open as she both heard and felt the whisper over her lips.

Draco was so close now; she found all her courage and finally met his eyes. She poured every bit of feeling into her stare hoping to meet his intensity. “I have thought about my happiness quite a bit” she whispered back, hoping he would understand her. His hand moved to the back of her neck, never breaking their eye contact. “I have thought about your happiness quite a bit as well.”

Hermione thought she saw the start of his signature smirk before he leaned in and kissed her. She returned the kiss deepening it with a flurry of passion that had long been pent up.

When they finally pulled back their magic was thick around them.

“I’d like to make you happy Hermione”

Her first name on his lips would have made her legs buckle if she was not sitting down.

“You already do Draco”

The blonde kissed her again, pulling her up from their seats and walking to the exit. He was not going to wait another minute to be happy with this amazing witch. And that started with a proper date this instant.

[certifiedbun]

One Big Happy Family

trying posting my fics onf tumblr this one is cross posted on Ao3 by the same name. DreamSMP fic where Dream are immortal siblings and are adopted by Tubbo’s family. On-Going

Chapter 1

Dream didn’t know how long he’d been walking. It’s been ages since he’s slept properly in a bed and warm home. It made him miss his old village but what could he do. He was more than 1,000 years old and he’s seen so many of his homes be destroyed and die out. But that was expected 

and it didn’t help that his brother Ranboo had to endure this with him. They knew that whenever they joined a village they’d have to prepare for when the village eventually died but it never failed to hurt. Especially since they could never stop it. They walked into a spruce wood forest where the trees were so tall they couldn’t see the sky. As they were about to settle down in a tree for the night they noticed a warm light. Moving through the trees they were careful not to make too much noise in fear of scaring away whoever was there.

Once they were close enough they came upon a wooden two story house. They shifted they’re forms into something younger. Dream went from looking 30 to looking 10 and Ranboo looked like a newborn. Dream held the now small Ranboo in his arms and walked up to the door and knocked. When the door opened a man with ram horns and ears with fluff on the insides. The man wore a suit and looked down on the two slightly confused.

“Who are you and what are you doing here? Where are your parents?” The man had a deep, hoarse voice and seemed to be looking around trying to find the boy's parents. Dream looked down and quietly mumbled something the man couldn’t hear. 

“Kid I’m gonna need you to speak up.”

“We don’t know where our parents are. I woke up in a tree and my brother was nearby.”

“Well I can’t let you two stay out here all night..Come on in.” He moved out the way and let the boys enter. Dream noticed there were more people living here. A small boy with tiny horns and floppy ears as well as a taller older man. The boy wore a green sweater and brown pants and when he saw Dream he rushed over and greeted him. The first man took little Ranboo from Dream and called for the other guy to get the crib out the basement. Called him the Captain.

The little boy tugged on Dream’s arm trying to get his attention and once he had it he started rambling.

“Hi my name is Tubbo!! What’s your name? Are you new? Do you live around here? Is the baby your brother?”

“Tubbo calm down. You’re gonna overwhelm the kid. Anyways hello there. My name’s Jordan but people call me the Captain.” The man now the Captain said as he reentered the room. Ranboo was gone and so was the first man. The Captain guided Dream to the living room and had him take a seat before leaving the room. Tubbo was playing with blocks on the floor and when The Captain came back he had a cup of tea and a sandwich. He handed both to Dream and sat down on a chair in front of him.

“Alright kiddo wanna introduce yourself now?”

“Oh..uh.. Sure. My name is Dream and the baby is my brother Ranboo.”

“Why were you out in the woods? It’s almost winter you know?”

“Yea..I don’t know why we were out there. I just woke up in a tree and Ranboo was tied to a branch.”

“Ahh.. so you don’t know where your parents are either?”

“No sir..”

“Would you like to stay with us? I’m sure Tubs wouldn’t mind siblings”

“Oh that would be great thanks!!”

The Captain smiled at the young boy and left Tubbo and Dream to their own devices. The two were building a city out of legos and talking animatedly to each other while The Captain was in the kitchen cleaning up any mess left behind from dinner. When he deemed it late enough He ushered the two boys upstairs. He read them stories until they fell asleep. Dream knew he shouldn’t get attached but this, being read bedtime stories in a warm comfy bed, it made him happy and he could only imagine how Ranboo is feeling. 

Dream fell asleep with a content smile on his face. The Captain dimmed the lights and left the room leaving the door slightly ajar. As he headed back downstairs he passed his brother Schlatt in the hall. Schlatt sighed tiredly and told Jordan that he was taking care of them tomorrow before heading to bed. Jordan quietly laughed and headed to his own room and fell asleep thinking about the two new kids of his.

Chapter 2

The next few years went by fast. Dream was now “15”, Ranboo was “5”, and Tubbo was 10.  The Captain now Dad to the three young boys and Schlatt their uncle each took turns staying with them. While one was out working the other here in the house teaching them everything he knew. The Captain taught them manners and core subjects like math, english, science, and history. Schlatt on the other hand taught them social skills, business, and street smarts. They worked well together and the boys were able to learn a lot. 

Until one winter. Ranboo had begged to be able to go outside and help the Captain. And the Captain who couldn’t say no to the little kid, let him join him. They left but soon after they did a blizzard came in. Schlatt told Tubbo and Dream not to worry, The Captain was smart and he'd come back when the storm ended. So they waited. And waited. 

And waited for the storm to stop. It went on for three days straight and when it finally stopped Schlatt didn’t hesitate to dress the boys up in their winter jackets, scarves, and gloves. He handed them lanterns and they started searching for the two. They checked for any hastily built shelters, any footprints, anything that could possibly help. But they found nothing. Not even a body. 

At least if they found a body they’d get some confirmation on them. But there was nothing. When they got inside Dream and Tubbo ran up the stairs and locked themselves in separate rooms. Schlatt could hear quiet sobs from the blond freckled boy and loud wails from the small brown kid. Schlatt knew he had to do something so he went to find a few items.

Winter had come and gone and now it was spring. The boys stayed inside and continued to build their perfect city. Schlatt was outside planting so everything will be grown in time for fall. Soon he called for them to come outside and handed them a couple of things. 

To Tubbo he gave bees. He guided Tubbo to a mini garden full of flowers and bees for Tubbo to take care of. Tubbo was instantly infatuated with the buzzy little things that flew around the tiny stubs growing from his head. The bees clearly liked him and Tubbo seemed at peace around them. He started planting flowers while playing with the bees. 

From Dream though Schlatt gave him something different. It was a large oversized green hoodie and a white mask with a smiley face on it. Dream looked at him confused and Schlatt explained that these belonged to Captain.

“But why me? I’m not even the Captain’s real son....”

“Listen Dream. Before the Captain had his military fame, he was just Jordan. Jordan the kid that would do anything for his family.”

“....”

“You deserve it. I know you’ll do the Cap justice.”

“...Thank you Schlatt.”

Schlatt helped Dream put on the mask and adjusted the mask on him. The hoodie was big on him but Schlatt assured him that he’d grow into it. After he put on the hoodie he smiled behind the mask. The spring air felt much lighter than before. Dream and Tubbo were given weapons by Schlatt and were told to go hunting. They did start out hunting and were able to get some food but were soon distracted and started to play.

“Woah Dre you’re so cool!”

“Aw thanks Tubs.”

“Your name is Dream but you can be such a terror sometimes..hm..” Tubbo held his chin as he thought about something. Dream jumped down from the tree he was in and stared at him. He ruffled Tubbo’s hair which made the younger smile up at him before saying

“I know what you are!!”

“O-oh do you now?”

“Yeah! You’re a Dreamon!”

“What’s a Dreamon? Tubs?”

“A Dream Demon aka a Dreamon!”

“Oh really? So what makes you think I’m a Dreamon?”

“Oh- Hmm….I don’t know...heh…. You just are!!”

Dream and Tubbo laughed as they walked back to the house. Inside Schlatt was cooking and the house smelt of cinnamon and apples. While the home felt slightly empty without the Captain and Ranboo, everything would be fine. Maybe it was because Dream had the Captain’s stuff but in his head and heart he knew they would both show up again.

Dream slept peacefully that night after months of restless nightmare filled sleep. They would both come home. He knew it.

??? 

“Captain? Where are we?”

“I don’t know Ranboo… Stay quiet though..”

They awoke in a small room that didn’t have any defined doors. Ranboo stayed off in the corner trying not to do anything because the Captain didn’t know his truth. He didn’t want to scare the Captain and there would be a lot to explain afterwards. The black obsidian walls reminded him of the pillars he saw back home but this space was much tighter and cramped than he liked. 

The cold hard obsidian made the Captain shiver and reach out to protect the small boy in his care only to find himself in shackles connected to the wall. Ranboo however had no restraints. Maybe it's because their captors didn’t see the boy as a threat and if they didn’t see him as a threat the Captain could use that to escape. 

He gestured for Ranboo to come closer. Ranboo shuffled over to his adoptive father and looked up at him, surprisingly calm. Ranboo knew he could probably escape easily; he had been in much more challenging situations than this before. He listened carefully as the Captain told him to find a way out and get help. The lanky boy nodded and stood in a corner, his white half against the wall hidden.

Ranboo kept his eyes shut while trying to stay as hidden as possible. The door opened and Ranboo prepared to make a break for it but was stopped in his tracks. Their captors grabbed Ranboo by his collar and left the Captain screaming in the cell alone.

[mischiefandi]

My Home - Drake Walker

A/N: hi everyone! This is the fic I wrote for @riseandshinelittleblossom ‘s Quote Me On This writing challenge! Thank you Steph for organizing this and for letting me participate on such short notice <33 I hope you guys enjoy it. (the quote I had to use is in bold). I always wished MC got a backstory in TRR, so here is a potential one

Warnings: mentions of gun violence, theft, crime, alcoholism, foster care, jail, etc. I would like to disclaim that I know these themes are very difficult for a lot of people so I want to make it clear that I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone who can somehow relate to this story. This is a dark and angsty fic and I don’t mean to offend or hurt anyone who reads this. Reader discretion is advised.  

Word Count: 3.1K

Pairing: Drake Walker & Iris Jones (MC TRR)

Ringing. Dozens of cellphones buzzing in luxurious purses and warm pockets, an array of ring tones echoing throughout the ballroom, and shocked gasps and quiet curses followed suit, a great number of nobles turning their heads to gawk at Iris. Her face was pale with worry as she nudged Maxwell in the ribs, her eyes darting from duke to duchess.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a hushed tone and her question was answered with a big gulp, a cell phone being pushed in her direction.

Time stopped when she laid her eyes on the article on the screen, the earth shattering words hitting her in the face like a pack of bricks.

NY Thief Turned Duchess of Valtoria, the shocking details of Duchess Iris Jones’ past:

The ballroom started to spin, the faces surrounding her all blending into one big cloud of color and the whispers tripled in volume. Iris couldn’t believe what she had just read, the memories flooding back to her. Somehow, her past had caught up with her, just like she had always known it would.

Her eyes desperately searched the crowd for her friends, the ones she had hoped would never find out about her deepest and darkest secret. Hana’s brow was furrowed in confusion and Maxwell’s face turned paler than the Lythikos snow. Iris’ eyes met Liam’s hurt and bewildered stare and her heart shattered, the darkness of the situation settling in. She had broken his trust, as well the others’. Now, they all knew who she really was. And what an unfortunate reality it was.

Her initial shock slowly turned to anger as she bit back her tears, her blood boiling. Someone had uncovered her past life and had tried to use it against her, sabotaging her reputation once again, publicly humiliating her in front of the court. Someone was still out to get her, after all of this time and all of her hard work. And this time, maybe that someone had finally won.

“Iris,” a voice called out, and her head snapped in its direction, lips parted in anticipation as she finally met Drake’s gaze. He stood a few feet away from her, eyes completely focused on hers. His arms rested along his sides, fists clenched but his expression utterly unreadable. She kept looking at him, tears finally spilling over her lids, unable to control her anguish as she faced her lover. She didn’t care about the court, not really. All she cared about was him, and she had lied to him about it all. The man she loved more than anything in the world, her everything.

The moment was abruptly interrupted when a pair of gruff hands wrapped themselves around her upper arms, gripping tightly at her gentle skin as she was dragged off by members of the Royal Guard, and her first instinct was to fight them off, trying to push them away but in vain.

“Stop. I can explain, let me go!” she grunted, emotion tainting her words as she tried to get out of the guards’ custody.

The crowd gasped as they dragged her away from where she had been standing, walking over to the grand ornate doors of the ballroom.

Iris’ eyes met Liam’s again and she mouthed the words: “I’m sorry” before looking back at Drake. He was pushing people out of the way, cursing and shouting at the other guards trying to keep him away from his fiancée.

“Let me through. Goddamnit, let me pass!” he exclaimed gruffly, almost shoving a guard to the ground.

A series of shouts and voices calling out Iris’ name were swallowed by darkness as the doors closed in front of her. She let out a strangled sob, unable to contain the panic building up inside of her. She couldn’t believe what had just occurred. It had all happened so fast. The moment had been over in a flash, but she kept reliving it, over and over again as the guards dragged her to her palace bedroom.

“What am I going to do?” she thought to herself.

Iris had spent hours in her room, the guards standing behind the door. She had paced up and down the room for what now seemed like an eternity, time ticking by so slowly she could’ve sworn it was the next day if it weren’t for the pitch black sky behind the tall glass windows of the bedroom. She had also curled up into a ball on her bed and sobbed, face hidden away in the palm of her hands, unable to control the waves of distraught that had washed over her at the ball. Now, she sat on her bed, bloodshot eyes fixated on the floor as she bit through four of her fingernails, foot anxiously tapping against the floor while her anxiety levels rose higher.

No one had come to talk to her yet, and she couldn’t even tell if that was a good thing. Maybe she was staying at court, maybe she’d be stripped from her newly given title, maybe she’d be shipped back to New York where she belonged. Maybe.

She was terrified.

What scared her most wasn’t losing Cordonia. It was losing Drake. She had never imagined she would ever find someone like him to protect her and love her the way he did. She had always just thought she’d end up unloved and alone, but he had seen something in her no one else had ever even noticed, something even she couldn’t see, and she thanked the universe every day for it. She had found a home in him, but now, maybe she was going to lose that too. And it was all her fault.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an angry voice and the sounds of footsteps tapping against the marble floor of the palace, volume increasing as it got closer and closer to the bedroom door.

“Move aside and let me in. Now.” Iris heard and her heart throbbed as she recognized Drake.

A polite “no” could be heard, followed by a quiet but stern voice speaking.

“You will let him pass. This man should be granted the opportunity to speak to his fiancée.”

Liam.

Finally, the door opened and Iris shot up in a flash, hands curled up into fists, furious but anguished, ready to defend herself if need be.

Her heart swelled at the sight of her fiancé standing in the doorway. He seemed to be shaking in his wrinkled suit, either from anger or fear, and the look on his face turned the blood in her veins to ice, her lungs clenching as she tried to speak.

“Drake, I-“ she tried to say when he bolted towards her, closing the distance between them and throwing his arms around her, pulling her into a warm and desperate embrace.

“-I don’t care. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” he declared intensely as he tightened his hold on her, heart beating uncontrollably and she broke down in sobs.

“It does matter. I have to tell you-“

“-No, you don’t,” he insisted as he looked at her. His heart broke a little at the sight of the fat tears rolling down her cheeks and he placed a comforting kiss on her forehead. Iris let out a shaky breath before finally breaking the embrace. She took a step back and avoided his gaze, instead staring at the floor in embarrassment. She did have to explain, if only to make sure he knew the whole truth and not just the story the tabloids were trying to sell.

“You might wanna sit down for this,” she said, gesturing to the bed. Drake followed her hand and frowned as he placed himself on the edge of the mattress.

“Jones, I don’t need to hear this.”

“Maybe, but I need to know I told you everything.”

She sat next to him, still avoiding his stare and fidgeted with her dress, her long trembling fingers twisting the silk fabric into a small ball just above her knees. This was it. After all this time, she was finally going to open up about her past. This disturbing reality shook her to her core.

“What is it?” Drake asked, watching her fingers shake.

“I’m afraid that when I tell you, you won’t see me the same way anymore.”

Drake reached out to hold her hands in his, tentatively caressing them with his thumb in soothing circles.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered and she squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear rolling down her cheek and landing on her burgundy-colored dress.

“Okay,” she simply said before turning to him.

“My mom got pregnant with me when she was really young, around 19 years old. I didn’t grow up with a dad because he left her when he found out. It was just the two of us in a crappy apartment in the Bronx. My mom was really depressed and she started drinking a lot. She barely even seemed to notice that I was around,” Iris said before sucking in a breath, pausing for a few seconds before resuming her story.

“She left when I was 14. I got home from school one day and she wasn’t home. I waited but she never came back. I tried to hide it but it didn’t take long before I was put in the system and I became a foster kid. I kept running away from my foster homes ‘cus they all sucked. Half of my foster families couldn’t remember my name and they were all assholes anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Drake muttered, the frown on his face intensifying. No one should have to endure those things, least of all her.

“I-,” she started, before inhaling slowly. “It is what it is. But growing up alone and afraid all the time, I just had a lot of unresolved issues. I ended up meeting a boy. He was good to me at first, made me feel like I was special, like I was the most important thing in his life. I thought I loved him, because I had never known anything else. He was a drinker, just like my mom, and he knew all sorts of people, all involved in shady business. He never really gave me any details about what his friends did, but I knew that something wasn’t right.”

“What was his name?” Drake croaked, heart pumping steadily like the calm before a storm.

“His name was Ty. One day, we were talking and he told me he wanted us to get married. We were gonna run away together and start a life somewhere new, far away from New York. We just needed to some money to get started. I trusted him, so when he told me his plan, I was naïve enough to believe him. I never should’ve.

“The plan was simple enough. We were gonna steal liquor from the bar he and his friends used to go to. The bottles were pretty expensive so we were gonna sell them and use the money to leave before we could even get caught. But something went wrong,” Iris said, her voice wobbling slightly.

Her pulse was quickening by the minute as she remembered the scene, memories flooding back in her mind. She was sweating and trembling, voice completely clouded by a veil of emotion. It was getting harder and harder to keep her cool. This was the part that was going to change everything, the part that would destroy all the things she had worked so hard to get.

“The bar was closed. He used a crowbar to smash the window of the back door and opened the lock from the inside. It was just me and him. We grabbed the most expensive bottles and put them in big duffel bags. But then he told me he was gonna empty the register. I told him it wasn’t a good idea but he didn’t listen, and he started to shout at me, telling me to wait in the storage room with all of the bar supplies. I was terrified, so I did what he told me and I stayed in the back room with the bags full of the stuff we had stolen when I heard a shout and the sound of something smashing.”

Iris’ breathing became erratic and she almost wheezed as she tried to continue telling her story.

“I dropped the bags and ran inside of the barroom, and he was there, holding a gun to the owner’s head. I don’t know when the owner got there or what happened before I came in the room but he was screaming, pleading for his life. I couldn’t believe what was going on, I didn’t even know Ty owned a gun. The owner’s face was bloody, like he had just been beaten up. I couldn’t recognize the look on Ty’s face. Like he was proud of what he had done. It scared me to my core.

“Then I heard sirens coming from a distance and I knew that if we didn’t leave straight away, the police would catch us and we’d never be able to leave and do what he had promised me we would do together. He looked at me and smiled, and suddenly I felt like maybe It was going to be okay.

“He raised his arm towards the ceiling and shot at it. The sound of the gunshot completely blindsided me and I covered my head with my arms. Bits of the ceiling started to come down on us. I thought Ty had done it to distract the owner or something so we could get away. But when I opened my eyes, he was gone and the gun was at my feet.”

Iris exhaled a shaky breath before looking back down at her feet, tears cascading down her flushed cheeks as she cried out.

“The police came in and arrested me on the spot for armed robbery. I quickly realized Ty had used me. He didn’t care about the liquor bottles, all he wanted was the cash from the register. He took all of it. And he left me there to take the fall so he could get out. He didn’t care about me. I was just a stupid teenage girl who’d been naïve enough to trust him.”

Drake’s eyes were wide with shock and he let go of Iris’ hands, passing his fingers through his hair as he tried to process what he had just heard. This made her heart break.

“What happened next,” he inquired, voice steady but quiet.

“I don’t know why but the owner didn’t press charges against me. I still had a court date but apparently there wasn’t enough evidence to suggest that I had had a big enough part in the burglary to go to an actual juvenile detention center. Instead they sent me to some sort of group home for young delinquents which was basically juvie but I didn’t have a record at least. It was hell.

“I did my best to fly under the radar and eventually when I turned 18, I had another court date. They decided I wouldn’t have to go to jail and I was free to go. I left the group home and tried to look for a job. I just wanted to get as far away from that part of my life as possible. I worked as a waitress in a tiny bar and I eventually made enough money to move to Queens in a small apartment just for me. I changed my name and got a new job at another bar, made a few friends, moved on. I became tough, but at least I had gotten out of that place. Ended up working at this new bar for 6 years, until you came in, and my entire world was turned upside down.”

Drake grunted approvingly, eyes locked on the floor beneath his feet. Everything he had just learned was unbelievable. Iris had never told him about her past, only small details, things that seemed normal without the context he had just been granted.

He knew she loved her mom’s mac & cheese as a kid, but he hadn’t known it was because her mom never made anything else. He knew Iris was an avid fan of Queens, but he had never realized it was because it had been her first real home. He knew she was tough as nails, but he had never understood where her immense strength came from.

A sudden urge to hold her washed over him and he instantly pulled her into a warm and protective embrace, the act taking Iris by surprise. Her eyes were wide with shock and she gasped, her heart rapidly beating against her ribs.

“You don’t hate me?” she cried, unable to contain the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

“Hate you?” Drake asked. He pulled away just enough to look her deep in the eyes, sending her a warm look as he smiled softly.  

“I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more,” he said softly.

Iris’ heart throbbed and she cried in her lover’s arms, relief spreading over her in an overwhelming wave.

Never in a million years had she thought she would find someone who could love her unconditionally the way he did. She had just told him about her entire past, every sordid little thing about the person she had once been, the person she had despised for so long. But if he could find a way to forgive her, maybe she could learn to forgive herself too. Iris held him tightly, thanking her lucky stars for giving her a home like this one.

After a few minutes of peace and quiet in each other’s arms, Iris looked up at Drake, a frown spreading on her beautiful face.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. How do I fix this?” she asked.

Her lover look down at her and smiled.

“I don’t know, but we’ll find a way…together.”

And eventually, they did.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my fic! ty for reading :)  feedback is always appreciated!!

if you would like to be added to my taglist(s), feel free to fill in this form

Drake tag:

@glaimtruelovealways @texaskitten30

Forever tag:

@stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie

Challenge tag:

@riseandshinelittleblossom @leelee10898 @ao719 @darley1101 @theroyalweisme @bobasheebaby@texaskitten30 @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @burnsoslow @drethanramslay(reader)@openhearttv@candy72008 @bebepac @twinkle-320 @h3llostrang3r @lucy-268 @dcbbw@oofchoices @blackcoffee85 @anotherbeingsworld @walkerswhiskeygirl @twinkleallnight@trappedinfandoms @hopefulmoonobject@losingbraincellseveryday @god-save-the-keen@loveellamae @axwalker @speedyoperarascalparty

[cultureisdarkbeer]

Falling is Complete!

Covering Seasons 4-7

 In Milagro, we hear that "Agent Scully is already in love". So the question becomes, When did she fall in love? When was that "one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere". When did that moment occur for Dana Scully? This is that story.

Read it here

*New*

Chapter35

The weekend’s journey had Scully twisting and turning like a Chubby Checker song. It sent her not only back through her life, but down each wrong choice road, like parallel dimensions heard through the chimes of fate. Dreams as soon as a year ago now were irrelevant and obscure. The path she chose led her here on this couch. Turning away all her past lives, opening herself up to the unimaginable, beyond science, beyond religion, to hear the call of a voice, the one she chose to follow, that chose to follow her right back.    

She felt her body become weightless as he lifted her from the couch, with gentle strong arms, he pulled her close to his body, it’s warmth, igniting a glow within her. Her eyes fluttered open as he lowered her onto the bed. “Where are you going?” Scully asked sleepily.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he said, tucking the blanket back around her.

“You can stay,” then quickly added, “it’s your bed.”

“It’s okay Scully, get your rest,” he stated firmly, squeezing her hand. She held onto it, refusing to let it go as he started to walk away. 

“Hold me?” she asked meekly.

Her vulnerability made him pause. “Yeah. yeah, I can do that.”

He walked around the bed and got in under the covers. She butted her back up against him as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. 

“You heard, they’re doing a full financial audit of the FBI,” Scully said. “They’ll be looking  to make cuts.”

“If the powers that be have their way, the x-files will be on the chopping block,” Mulder concluded, rocking her gently, nuzzling her hair.

“Then what?” Scully persisted.

“We continue to search for the truth,” he replied.

Scully breathed out a chuckle, then took comfort in his embrace. Too much had been left unspoken. “Why does being closer feel like it’s taking us further apart?”

Mulder drew her in, closing the small gaps between them. “Maybe because we’re trying to hide in glass houses.”

She nodded and felt him squeeze her tighter. It was a comfort. 

He whispered into the shell of her ear, “We’ve had a lot to make peace with Scully.”

Scully spoke in cautious tones. “What if you meet someone, what if you decide later that you want to have kids?”

She felt his body stiffen around her at the question. “You could do the same. There are other ways,” he answered tenderly. “If you want children, what’s stopping you?”

 “The consequences of my choices?”

Mulder sighed. “I’d like to think we’ve made peace with those..” 

“And the X-files?” Scully persisted, rotating in his arms so she could look into his eyes.

“You’re asking me to make a choice?”

“No, I..” she stumbled.

“Scully,” he replied softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I choose you.” 

Her walls melted inside his gaze. “Every choice I’ve ever made, has led me to this moment. You and I. Right here.”

“That leaves another choice to make.”

Scully passed him a wry grin. “I’ve made my choice.” 

Scully closed her eyes knowing the next time they opened they would be staring into the only man she could ever imagine herself with. His lips pressed and slid against hers, warm and wet, with the grace of a trained dancer and the power of his 9 mm pistol. The removal of their clothing was clunky in their haste, forcing her to clutch his shoulder as a counterbalance. Gripping her tight, he steadied her feet. Scully’s cheeks heated when she was able to meet his eyes again. Not because of embarrassment, she would never feel that way in front of Mulder, but because of how real the moment was, the strength at its core -with honesty and purity- they would rebuild. 

His eyes held that same gentle fire and connection they felt the first time they ever laughed in the rain. The soft warm glow of copper’s flame burning hazel through his irises. It’s embers igniting her heart and she knew it was time she spoke the truth aloud.

He was hers, and just as importantly, she was his. The words were on the tip of her tongue, dying to be spoken into existence. She wanted it roared into the night, well perhaps whispered in his ear, or murmured on his skin.

She chose to speak directly into his eyes.  “I’m in love with you, Fox Mulder.” Her words filled with the passionate intensity of countless gamma rays bursting through the universe. And it was all for one man. Inside her arms she felt the current of her words coarse through his body. “Scully,” he released in breathy affection, the words were with the same vulnerability as when he came to her when his father was shot. “I’m yours.” 

The countless hours she had stared at his lips, the way they pursed at her challenges, or curled in disgust at her autopsies, the lower jutting out slightly when he rocked his mandible forward with passion. She knew every line of those lips and every curve the way she knew the shape of her own bathtub and stain in her coffee cup. She sucked the lower one into her mouth just to feel the desire exhaled from his lungs. His tongue reached for hers and she met it with fervor, intertwining with the strength of the divine threads of space and time. 

Mulder covered her body as he rolled on top. She felt safe, much the way she did as he protected her years ago from the bullets in Milford Haven. Feet and wrist bound in the gymnasium showers he had braced to give his life for her at the end of a shotgun. 

He smiled at her like he was reading her thoughts and she kissed him softly, his hand tangling in hers with the same motion as when he hugged her in an empty hospital hallway, giving her promise and support that she would carry on even with her cancer sentence. Mulder had resurrected her with a chip, the one buried at the base of her neck. She wasn’t a slave to it, instead one of the many symbols of his devotion. Those thoughts caused her hand to skim the scar of her consecration inside his shoulder. 

Kissing and mingling with the others’ breath, her legs naturally wrapped around his torso. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, but they were also connected in an entirely different way. They didn’t need to invade each other’s mind, they melded, their bodies flowing together, skin hot and sensitive to every touch. The passion, the need she felt, went beyond eternity. Their entire life together felt like foreplay- every time they shared a laugh, every time he cradled her in his warm embrace, or interlocked their fingers, or just stood in each other’s presence. 

Grateful he didn’t prolong the sweet torture, he aligned himself and carefully pushed inside, heavy and thick, connecting on a level they had only known with the other. For long minutes, they kissed and reveled in their feelings, in the waves of sensations hitting them as he moved inside her.  It was a soft and reverent kind of sharing. The type of intimacy that at one time would have made her push away to preserve her independence.. Make her skin crawl. But it didn’t with him. Possibly because his response would have been to wait until she was ready. Instead, she relished the contact, something had changed inside of her, somewhat like Mulder’s prediction as they stared at a cocoon in a tree. 

Not a weakness, but a strength, she felt safe when they were like this, like nothing could ever harm them. His darkness blanketing her with comfort. Their love born from shadows.

Scully’s insides hugged him tight and they released a groan of acknowledgement. He was intrinsically home. Their pace was slow, considerate. Mulder paused and kissed her gently, his right index stroking her forehead in reverence, reminiscent of when he spoke his condolences about her father or their first case after her abduction.

Their movements were fluid and quick, languid and vividly profound. Any pieces of walls left inside her, he had shattered, saving her, the same way he battered the window to save her from a psychotic man.

She chose the path with him not from fate or destiny, not out of desperation or visions, but out of friendship, out of respect, out of devotion. Love, unadulterated and complete.  

His head fell to her neck and she felt every inch of him seeping pleasure into her core and out into the galaxy. He filled her as they burst together, points of light streaming, fusing and branding them, reaching out into the heavens, creating a miracle, a mosaic of the love she no longer gave with reservation, the emergence of existence.

Read Here

Artwork By: @ms31x129

Special thanks to the following people:

@today-in-fic @wholeperson @season4mulder @peacenik0 @piper-scully @babygirlmulder1018 @patienceaintmystrongsuit @brownppr @lappina @amyg2430 @whyle23 @borogirl @kyouryokusenshi @rasta77 @schnabbaknabba @skullsmuldon @milkaforyou-blog @manila @aiko222love-blog @destinystarlit @queen-lesley @faithfirst2016 @lildd68 @writerofarticulate @itsrainingsleepingbags @edierone @annafx81 @ofmulder @kblackm @starbuck1013 @nigel5603 @baronessblixen

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstar Week Day 3: A New Life (Prompt: Tamaran)

And now we come to this year’s Royal Family Verse prompt! For those of you unfamiliar with it, this is a special story ‘verse that I set one Robstar Week story in each year; not exactly an AU, but a bit of an unusual interpretation of events that happen post-Tokyo. You’ll see what those events are in this fic (It’s set right at the beginning of the overarching story), but if you’d like to see a bit more, just take a look at the “Royal Family Verse” tag on my blog.

I’d really been hoping for a prompt that would allow me to write something set around the beginning of this storyline, and “Tamaran” ended up being perfect. The following scene is something that had been floating around in my head for quite some time, and it feels good to finally have it set down in the official ‘verse!

A New Life

It was not supposed to end this way.

Galfore was a good ruler. He had spent most of his life in the capital, and he had been one of Emperor Myand’r’s closest confidants. He had taught Starfire – Princess Koriand’r, back then – and her siblings almost everything they knew about guiding, aiding, and defending their people. He was intelligent, thoughtful, loyal, and dedicated, and in the short time since he’d been declared Grand Ruler, he had dismantled the seeds of corruption that had allowed Blackfire to take a stranglehold on Tamaran and brought to it an age of peace and security that the planet had not seen since before the Gordanian invasion.

What he lacked – directly, at least – was an heir.

Starfire had received the news two days ago: Galfore had been attacked by an assassin, and though he’d avoided serious injury, a poisoned blade had managed to cut deep into his thigh. The poison had been discovered and treated immediately, but it was potent, and at the time it was unknown whether he would even survive. The uncertainty of it all was almost worse than the news itself, and she had a lot to think about while she waited for an update. The other Titans had respected her space in this time, while still giving her what comfort and encouragement they could.

Now, though, it was time to talk to them. And she started, had to start, with Robin.

The two of them sat facing each other cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom. Robin watched her patiently, waiting until she was ready to speak. Starfire’s knee bounced a little with nervous energy, and she found herself looking almost anywhere in the room but him.

Finally, she let out a low sigh. “I received another transmission from Tamaran this morning.”

Robin nodded. “I heard. Is… Is Galfore going to be all right?”

Starfire bit her lip, still looking a little to the side. “He is… for the most part. He is alive, stable and fully expected to recover, but the poison has already done some irreparable damage. He will never have full use of his leg again.”

Robin winced – he knew how much value Tamaraneans put on physical strength. “I’m glad he’s… mostly okay, but that still has to be hard. I’m sorry.”

Starfire sighed again. Now came the hard part. “That is not all. If it was, I would have simply considered it a blessing for how much he will recover. Galfore is very resilient, and I know that he will handle the setback well. But not everybody is going to view it that way.”

For the first time, she let her gaze meet his. “My people are warriors, Robin, and the Grand Ruler is expected to defend the nation personally. That is why we allow physical challenges for the throne, such as you saw when I overthrew Blackfire. In his condition, Galfore will have no end of challenges, whether from people who view him as weak and unfit to rule or those who simply see a chance to take the crown for themselves. And though the Grand Ruler does not have to accept every challenge, denying too many of them will lose him the support of the council.

“Galfore is very strong and skilled, but he cannot risk a power-hungry fool taking advantage of an obvious weakness to overcome him. To prevent such a thing, he has chosen to abdicate his role as Grand Ruler… and appoint a successor in his place.”

Robin straightened up a fraction, his eyes widening slightly. “…And you’re the successor.” It was less a question than a statement of fact, a realization of just where this conversation had been leading him.

Starfire gave a shallow nod. “He intended to find another suitable candidate to name and train as his heir, but that would require time he no longer has. I am already trained and proven in the people’s eyes, and I am the only member of the previous dynasty still eligible and available. Tamaran has been through so much turmoil in the past several years… I cannot turn down the crown again.”

Again, she found herself unable to meet his eyes. Slowly, regretfully, she unhooked her communicator from her belt and placed it on the floor between them.

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice soft, “but I must leave for Tamaran soon. It seemed only right to tell you first, especially since… we cannot be together any longer.”

Robin didn’t say anything for several moments. From the corner of her eye, Starfire saw him reach for the communicator and grasp it in his own hand. He held it there for a few seconds, as if afraid to do anything more with it, and then he finally spoke up.

“Take me with you.”

Starfire jolted at that, wide eyes snapping up at him. “What?”

Robin’s own eyes seemed to have widened under the mask, and she got the sense that even he was a little surprised by what he’d just said. Taking a deep breath, he set her communicator back on the floor and went on.

“You’ve already had to leave behind the life you knew before. I… I know what that’s like, and I don’t want you to have to do it again alone. I want to go with you.”

Starfire couldn’t believe what she was hearing right now. “I… I will still have Galfore, and accepting the crown will be me returning to my old life. You are suggesting you move to an unfamiliar planet and leave everyone else you know behind for my sake, and I cannot accept that. What of the other Titans?”

Robin let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “They’ll already be losing you – the team’s going to have to rebuild itself either way. And even though you’re technically going back, you know it can never be the same as it was when you were a kid. You wouldn’t have been so openly upset about this if it could. If I have to leave someone I care about, at least let me do it on my own terms.”

Starfire shook her head and stood up. “Robin, you will be an outworlder. You would need to prove yourself on the testing grounds to be considered anything more than a guest who must stay under heavy guard anytime you are in the palace.” She began to pace the floor, running through the scenario in her head. “And you already know that Tamaraneans do not court for as long as humans of your country. If you come with me, my people will expect nothing less than marriage.”

“…Okay.”

Starfire froze in her tracks and turned to stare at him again. Robin’s face flushed red, and he stood up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, I… You’re right, I do know how Tamaranean courting works. I know how hard it is for your species to give up a loved one and find a new partner. And I know that you’re going to need to get married and eventually… produce heirs of your own, and that you’d want to even if it wasn’t necessary.” The red in his face deepened. “And… I’ve been thinking about it a while, even before Galfore got attacked. It’s a little earlier than I was planning, but I already knew that was the direction we were headed. Both of us.”

Starfire searched his face as his thoughts spilled out in an increasing ramble. She could see no hint of uncertainty or false confidence in his expression, and she murmured a gentle, “Robin…”

With a deep breath, he went on. “I… I know I can’t really propose to the future empress of Tamaran, but if it’s what you want, then so do I. I just… don’t want to lose you.” With a nervous little laugh, he added, “Besides, I seem to remember you saying that Tamaraneans confessing their love to one another is practically how they get engaged, and we’ve already kind of done that.”

Starfire was speechless at first. Of all the responses she’d imagined him taking to her news, this was one of the few she had not dared seriously consider. A part of her, the part that had never lost its ties to her original culture, had been ready to marry since they first affirmed their love for one another a year ago in Tokyo. She desperately wanted to ask – no, beg him to marry her, to join her on Tamaran as consort and be with her always.

But she still wasn’t certain that he would not regret it.

“And… The other Titans?” she asked hesitantly, folding her arms tight against herself. “I know what you already said, but you are their leader, and together we make up nearly half of the team.”

Robin rubbed his arm. “I’ve thought about that too. After you found out about Galfore and I realized you might need to leave, I mean,” he admitted. “But honestly? The Titans have come a long way since our team first came together. I think Cyborg can take over as leader – though that’s up to him, Beast Boy and Raven – and if they need more help, I know a few honoraries are looking for a team to join full-time.”

So this had not been an impulsive decision. Robin had seriously thought about it, and had already made up his mind – and not in that stubborn and single-minded way he could get when chasing some villain he considered his specific responsibility to stop. Even so, some part of Starfire still thought she should say no, that this was her responsibility now and that he would be giving up too much just to stay with her.

But then she remembered when she first came to Earth, scared and alone and lashing out, and the boy who had risked life and limb to calm her down and help her. As a core member of the royal family, she was the one meant to aid and sacrifice for her people. It was one of the first times that someone had gone out of their way for her, not out of duty as a guard or another royal but just because they wanted to help.

She truly didn’t have to do this alone. Yes, the responsibilities of Grand Rulership would be hers to bear – the man she chose to marry would only be an emperor consort, after all – but she could still have someone by her side to support her all the way. And Robin had offered to be that someone. He wanted to.

Starfire didn’t realize she’d started crying until Robin stiffened in alarm. “Star!” he shouted, rushing to her and clasping her arms with a firm but gentle grip. “I-I’m sorry, I came on too strong and you’re already dealing with a lot, I shouldn’t have said anything yet, just forget I –”

But Starfire cut him off by throwing her arms around him and burying her head in his shoulder. Despite all the pain and uncertainty of the past few days, she found herself laughing, just a little, though the tears.

“Do not apologize,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I am… overwhelmed with emotion right now, but for the first time, some of that emotion is good.”

She could feel Robin’s muscles relax as he returned her embrace, and for several moments the two of them just stood there, clinging to each other like lifelines.

Finally, Starfire pulled back and let her forehead rest against his, giving him a watery smile.

“Robin…” she murmured. “…I love you. And in case you are uncertain, I do mean that in the full Tamaranean sense of the phrase.” Her smile broadened. “If you will have me, I believe you will make a wonderful emperor.”

Robin returned her smile with one of his own, and he answered her unspoken question by leaning forward and catching her lips with his own. And for the first time since Galfore’s injury, Princess Koriand’r of Tamaran felt that everything was going to be okay.

[rainebowkitty]

Absolutist's Son, Queen's Devotee (Oofy Riddle Fic)

History is often warped over time as ideals change and people evolve. It’s no different for the Queen of Hearts and her legends of villainy. Only in the Twisted Wonderland her story paints her as the heroine, and poor, impressionable Riddle Rosehearts falls victim to the tyranny of not only his oppressive mother, but a boisterously absurd queen as well.

(Basically an angst fic I wrote on a whim about Riddle discovering that his mom and the Queen of Hearts are both villains terrible inspirations to look up to and how that realization literally shatters him. Oh, and for the sake of making sure he can’t deny it, the reader can make anyone relive memories and potentially alter them? by simply touching the person, so guess what kind of stuff he has to relive? I won’t spoil anything, but it’s oofy)

Warnings: Mentionings of beheading 

Now! Enjoy my first fic in weeks! 

It was nothing but a mirage. It had to be. 

Riddle was hyperventilating, his chest heaving up and down in a sporadic pattern as he absorbed the news. His first instinct was to deny it, was to force those thoughts of corruption out with every inch of his small being, with every fiber of magic his shaking form possessed. 

But one couldn’t run from a vision, right? Pulling away did nothing as the images you pressed into his mind like a hot coal into his fist still lingered. How did you-? How dare you taint the Queen of Hearts’ legacy with such fallacies. How dare you challenge his mother’s golden rules, the very rules he tried to enforce in order to benefit Heartslabyul as a whole.  

What a laughable lie all of your conjurings were. It was the cruelest slap to the face as he pushed you off of him, his shoulders tensing as he backed up, almost hugging himself. But you just reached out once more. And Riddle, his arms crossed over his chest defensively, couldn’t move fast enough to slap your hand away. 

“STOP IT!” He screamed. “UNHAND ME!” 

But he was quickly lost to his thoughts, a blank expression dawning on him as his eyes stared at nothing in particular, mercury orbs wide in disbelief.

A small, youthful redhead sat on a lonesome bench in a private garden. The boy was awaiting his new instructor’s arrival whenever a small rodent caught his eye. It was the most adorable creature the boy had ever seen. It was a pale cream color, small and petite with little spines poking from its back. Its curious, pink nose scrunched itself up multiple times as it sniffed the ground. It wasn’t long before it was sniffing the young boy’s gloved hand, ultimately deciding whether to name him friend or foe.

After the critter gave the boy a thorough security check, it allowed the redhead to gently pet its head with two fingers. Minutes ticked on until the spiny rodent allowed itself into the boy’s palms, pink nose now smelling a smiling face. Joyous, childlike laughter bubbled from the usually serious boy. It was so free, so pure in its form that you’d mistake him for any old kid with a thing for dressing up perhaps. 

But no, this boy was Riddle Rosehearts, son of a famous, stern healer, sharing a moment of joy with a wild woodland hedgehog. The two made quite the duo, both short in stature yet fierce in appearance with either spikes or a menacing glare to keep them safe. Anyone would’ve mistaken the two as friends; boy and boy’s best friend. However, Mrs. Rosehearts wasn’t anyone, and she wouldn’t allow her prestigious son to mingle with vermin such as this primitive hog. 

“Riddle, put that rodent down!” She commanded as she approached him. “I’m glad you wore your gloves today. There’s no telling how many diseases that thing has.”

The young boy hastily set the critter back on the grassy ground, the light-furred animal scampering under the bench and behind Riddle’s foot as if the boy was capable of protecting it from the intimidating woman. He couldn’t even bargain with his mother for the chance to have a real strawberry tart on his birthday, let alone secure the life of a defenseless hedgehog. 

“Sorry mother,” the boy would’ve muttered had the woman not pounded it into his head to speak clearly if he was going to speak at all. “Where’s my tutor?”

It was an honest question, one he thought was reasonable to ask whenever he was busier than any kid in town. It often felt impossible to remember everything and yet his mother just scoffed at his question as if he should already know the answer.

“We changed locations for your lesson,” she crossed her arms in annoyance. “I believe I told you during yesterday’s tea time, but I had a hunch you’d forget.”

Of course Riddle thought. How could he be so forgetful when she even reminded him? 

“Well hurry along now,” she tapped her foot impatiently as Riddle left with thin grace. He was so close to running, to sprinting just so he wouldn’t be any more tardy than he already was, but his mom would chastise him for that. He opted instead for speed walking, a heartfelt apology already forming in his mind to recite to the unlucky tutor. He knew people didn’t like their time being wasted and to do this in his first meeting with this particular teacher was unthinkable. He almost didn’t hear his mother’s last words as he sped off, but unfortunately he was conditioned to tune into her beguiling voice. 

“Please be more mindful next time, Riddle,” her tone was more bitter than she liked her tea and it didn’t take much imagination to guess the expression she wore either. “You’re on a strict schedule for a reason. Remember that.” 

Then she did something Riddle hadn’t heard her do in a long time. She chuckled.

“If you can remember, that is.”

Riddle picked up his pace without looking back.

“Riddle!” 

His mother’s distraught cries rang through the corridors as he dashed down them one by one. He checked each room, his hands clumsily fumbling with the knobs far too long for his liking. He was panting, short huffs of breath rippling through his small form as he tried not to trip over his heeled shoes with each panicked stride. 

“Riddle! Please!”

Another shriek. Riddle swore he heard a heavy sound trail his mother’s call, the thick, harsh reverb of it sending shudders through his already shaking body. When would he find her? When would he save her like the dutiful son he was meant to be? She always told him to be on schedule. Was this what she meant? Did her job as a healer leave her with such a tight grasp of time and its passing that she wanted to transmit that trait to her son too? “Son,” his mom wept, a crack in her usually smooth, authoritative tone creaking from her throat somewhere nearby. Riddle stopped dead in his tracks, the satisfying click of his heels dying with his momentum as he strained to hear anything over the throbbing of his own heart. It was silent again before he heard the precise cling of metal. That sound was followed by a burly chopping sound, the greedy blow of an axe striking its target as his mother’s sobs were abruptly cut with a gasp. 

Riddle felt the material of his gloves as his clammy hands clenched into fists. He felt an unquenchable fire bubble inside of him, but for the first time in years he couldn’t express it with his voice. Did all that time biting his tongue for his mother really leave him speechless during her death? Was yelling rendered pointless whenever he was so shaken to his core he was unsure his vocal cords would ever function the same way again?

His legs wobbled before his knees buckled, not allowing him to collapse or to take another step further. He was in the middle ground, so close to being able to escape while also being entirely numb. If he should run from whoever murdered his mother, he was left defenseless by shock, fear, guilt and shame. That desire to rescue her was now unachievable, so he surrendered, shutting his eyes tightly and awaiting the worst in his defeat.

Eternal seconds passed as tears trickled down his pale cheeks. Then he felt what he was waiting for; a clap on the shoulder. Wait, a clap on the shoulder? He almost jolted, but his frozen legs and body wouldn’t let him complete the action properly. Instead he almost fell over. He struggled to turn around and catch himself without face planting into the tiles, but he managed it, seeing his mom in perfect health, not a drop of blood in sight of her commanding presence. 

He had believed that presence was shattered. He had been so sure that the only parent he was ever devoted to had fallen and he had failed to intervene. He had failed to protect her, he had failed her as her son. And for a moment he was content dying that way by the same husky axe he was convinced someone stained on her flesh, her blood sputtering over an elite uniform well-known and revered across the world as the hope she inspired did nothing to save her in the end. He was ready to die a failing coward who’s magic was advanced for his age but deficient when it truly mattered. He was ready to be beheaded like the Queen of Hearts herself, like he was certain his mom had been. 

He was ready for that legacy, not one of crying before his mom as he stuttered out broken apology after broken apology for not reaching her in time, longing for her to tell him sorry for deceiving him in such a harsh manner. To tell him that for once she was the mistaken one. But that moment never came. Only lectures followed as he sobbed for his mommy, a mommy who would never comfort or console him. A mommy who only existed in the depths of his imagination, someone he had to force into his mind to even gain the willpower to sprint down these halls as he searched for that proud, loving figure.

But his actual mom was not that loving figure. There was a reason she chose to test him this way, and there was also a reason behind the oppressive axe as her method of execution. There was a reason he was seconds late to her calculated demise and a reason he thought he had to die the same horrible death. The same death as the Queen of Hearts.

Not her too.

There were flashes of a short figure sitting on a throne; glimpses of a wide, cruel smile as soldier after soldier was sent to the guillotine. Memory after memory cycled of someone royal and absolute going over daily tasks Riddle had grown so accustomed to. Directing people to paint the roses, hosting Unbirthday parties and kicking out the guests unfit to reside at such a refined event. Only this time unruly subjects were given a harsher punishment than simple banishment. They were disposed of to make sure the same mistakes weren’t repeated down the line. But no one was to mourn in the Queen’s court, only obey the current rule set which offered no times for heartbroken liegemen.

For countless years their activities were outlined for them, their stories pre-written until someone new and daring appeared in Wonderland. A fair lady named Alice, always depicted as malicious and mischievous for disregarding the absurd rules of such an exotic queen. However, now the Queen’s destiny was chosen, her agenda hand-picked by those she once ruled. She was the one being dragged to her untimely end by the very subjects who should obey her. Only it wasn’t the Queen’s turn to atone.

It was Riddle’s. 

“MAKE IT STOP!” Riddle sounded increasingly desperate as he pushed you away once more. He was about to see himself die like the Queen he so virtuously admired. He would pay for all of her unjust punishments. He was left with his neck stretched across the bloodied plank of the guillotine, a sharpened blade raised high above his head ready to fall and end it all with one swipe. Or maybe it wasn’t sharpened. Maybe they wanted to see him suffer that much. Maybe those peasants wanted to see the Queen suffer that much as she shouted her last command to an audience now deaf to her cries. 

Riddle was gasping at the intake of knowledge. The tales always ended with the loyal subjects corrupted by a filthy miscreant named Alice. Why did she resemble you so much in this vision? You weren’t anything like her. You had no intention to harm Riddle or to taint the Queen’s name. So why were your graceful eyes looking upon him with such stinging pity? Why was your touch causing grandeur delusions beyond his control to prance along his brain like bunnies on a time crunch? And why did it all feel so real when the storybooks never lied to him before? Was this dorm, the Queen he held on such a high pedestal, really horrible enough that all it took was someone sweet like you to talk to the lowly peasants and humble nobles to overthrow her? To overthrow Riddle himself?

He swallowed hard as his skull ached, his shoulder blades burning as he backed himself farther into the thick wall behind him. You made no move to touch him, having realized he had seen enough to understand your purpose and the lie he’s been living. Even so, there was so much frantic confusion in each detailed memory that he craved for you to explain. 

“Why?” He croaked as he stared you down fearfully. “Why did you show me that?”

“Because you were living a lie,” you spoke soothingly, but it did nothing to ease the panic in his eyes. “You deserve to know the truth about those you look up to.”

“Y-you don’t understand,” his lip trembled. “I’ve made myself to be like them in every way. When I was overwhelmed trying to abide by my mom’s rules, I’d turn to the Queen of Hearts because her rules were simple. I could follow them. I was always right by her standards. But if she was wrong all along and so was my mother then… what does that make me?” 

You were unsure of how to respond. It wasn’t your intention to leave the boy’s ideals crumbling with the realization that his top role models weren’t deserving of such an incredible, dedicated follower. You wanted him to see that he didn’t need them anymore, but whenever everything he built his seventeen years of life upon could be linked back to his mother or the Queen of Hearts, you realized telling him might have been more detrimental to his health than anything else. And your silence to his question only further engrained this inferiority into his collapsing psyche. 

“I’m just as horrible, aren’t I?” He whispered loathingly. 

Once again you were silent. 

“ANSWER ME!” He shouted, tiny fists bawled in an attempt to deny their shaking. If only he knew that his entire body was quivering as he seethed, every ounce of showcased hostility suddenly evaporating as he backed into the wall again, almost cowering away as he became aware of his sudden lash out.

The trauma you unveiled, the bittersweet fairytale you wanted to share the true nature of despite Riddle’s solid belief in the tale he’s always been told, it was incomprehensible for someone so faithful. But what were you to do when your idea of showing him the grim reality wasn’t associated with the potential need to reassure such a fragmented boy of his own personal good deeds? 

“If you have nothing else to say,” he straightened his posture and hardened his expression, though the anxiety in his frame was still evident. “I’d appreciate it if you left.” 

“But-”

“Don’t. Just return to your dorm,” he more so pleaded than commanded. “Please.”

So you left him to his feelings like he asked you to. It was a mercy you stayed quiet if you truly viewed him as suffocating as those he idolized for their severe disciplines and the success that seeped like bitter sap from following such intensive mandates. He didn’t want to know the truth behind your maze-like emotions for him just as he didn’t care to uncover the honest goals of those he strived to imitate when he thought he already knew and lived by them anyway. But if everything he was boiled down to the distorted perception of a nonsensical empress and an imperious, overbearing mother, then what original shards of himself could he rely upon for revision of his old ways? How could he become more than a Queen’s foolish prophet or the successor of an illustrious healer?

Most importantly, where did their wicked influences end and his own sense of identity begin? 

If you enjoyed this, maybe I can write more following this realization of Riddle’s? I’ve also been told I write Riddle and his mom’s relationship really well so be prepared for more oofs involving that whole mess I’ll gladly accept headcanons you’d like to see play out between them. I’m here for your angsty needs, by all means ask away

[bobasheebaby]

Costume Face-off (NSFW)

Pairing: Bastien x Olivia; Liam x Ellie

Word count: 3,284

Warnings: smut, Bastien’s abs

Summary: Beaumont Bash Halloween party and a couples costume bet...

A/N: @stopforamoment sent me the bottom center picture last year and said Baslivia, I promised her and a year later I have fulfilled said promise. I played around with the “prompt” a little. Thanks to @sirbeepsalot for graping and prereading. This is set in the future, 15 months from the beginning, 11 months from opening up about their relationship. Pic # 3 belongs to @metalslimer and @sintwisted, all pictures found on google.

“Ohmygod, look at that one!” Ellie exclaimed as she scrolled through Pinterest with Olivia.

Olivia rolled her emerald eyes. “That’s nothing.”

“Yea, Okay Liv, but we both know we’d never get the guys to agree to something like this. She kept scrolling through. “I mean they are fun, Mario and Princess Peach, Oh. My. God! Look at Jessica and Roger Rabbit!” She scrolled down further, blue eyes going wide. “I take it back! This Roger Rabbit and Jessica, look at her she’s freaking ripped! How the hell did these women talk these men into their costumes?!” Olivia arched her brow knowingly. “Ummm yea, that, but really that won’t here.” She pointed at a picture of seven guys all dressed as different Disney Princesses. “I mean…”

“You underestimate yourself if you don’t think you could get Liam in one of these.”

“Okay Liv, you really could get Bastien to agree to something like this.”

“I could, and I guarantee it would blow anything you and Liam came up with out of the water.”

“Of course you would make it a bet.”

“Does that mean you don’t accept the challenge?”

“Oh no, you’re on, best gender swap costume wins, the loser has to wear the losing costume to brunch the next morning and pay.”

“You’re on, and so going down. A Nevrakis never loses.”

*

Olivia pulled her long crimson hair back into a low bun, her eyes trailing down the rest of her costume in the bathroom mirror. Perfect. She smirked at her reflection, as she gently brushed her hand over the small bump visible in her tight white v neck. She turned to look at the shirt she discarded, still hanging on the hanger. No more crop tops for now. She grabbed her belt, adding the final touch. “You might want to cover your ears, Papa isn’t gonna be thrilled when he sees his costume.” As if on cue she heard the door to their suite open and shut. Even retired, he refused to give up on security, always double checking to ensure everything was secure. “Your costume is on the bed.” She gave herself one last cursory glance, straightening her black vest, before exiting the en-suite.

She stifled a chuckle as she saw him standing at the end of the bed holding the thin maroon material in his hand. She knew this wasn’t what he was expecting when she suggested they go as Han Solo and Slave Leia, she was certain of that by the way he had said yes before the entire suggestion left her lips. She was sure he had visions of her dressed in the barely there bikini, while he was a dashing Han Solo. Think again, I have a bet to win.

Bastien turned, a perplexed look on his face. “What’s this?”

“Your costume, like I said.”

“Livvy, you can’t actually expect me to wear this.” He looked up, eyes slowly trailing up her body. He took in her black knee high boots, skin tight blue jeans, white v neck, black vest. She isn’t kidding. “I can’t wear this.” He shook his head in dismay. There isn’t enough fabric to cover me.

She smirked as she crossed the room to him. “Sure you can.” She unbuttoned his dress shirt. “You certainly have the body for it.” She traced her hands down his firm chest and impressive twelve pack for emphasis.

He shivered under her touch. Don’t give in. “This won’t conceal much, if anything.” He held up the sheer maroon loin cloth.

“Relax, I got you a banana hammock.” She gestured to the small flesh colored material on the bed, sitting next to his collar and chain.

He looked at the barely there undergarment that more resembled dental floss than actual underwear with a grimace. Banana hammock? It’s a g-string! He knew she was only calling the flesh colored scrap of fabric by that name as a means to tease him for his dislike of bananas.

She teased her finger along the waistband of his pants, smiling as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t beg...” Her fingers undid his buckle. “...but I’d be willing to get on my knees.” She winked, pulling down his zipper. She sank to the floor, settling on her knees before she pulled his pants and boxer briefs down, releasing his half hard cock.

He groaned as she wrapped her hand around his length, pumping it in slow, smooth strokes. She smiled as she watched him react to her ministrations, his cock becoming fully hard in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the hottest Leia they’ve ever seen.” She continued to slide her slender hand up and down his thick shaft, feeling heat pool in her core. Later. “You have such a spectacular body; it would be a shame to not show it off.”

“You’re just saying that to get me to…” His words trailed off as she wrapped her plush red lips around his swollen head. His hand gripped the back of her head, steely eyes locked on emerald as he gently bucked into her mouth. “Fuck Livvy.”

She bobbed her head up and down his length, her tongue swirling around his shaft. She gripped his firm buttock with her other hand, giving it a hard squeeze.

He moaned, one of the things he fell in love with was her ability to take charge. He watched as his thick length disappeared into her mouth again and again. His mind swirled; he knew the second he saw his costume he didn’t really have a choice. She doesn’t play fair.

God she’s a goddess with her mouth. He felt his balls tighten and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Livvy.”

She nodded her head, her hand cupping his balls, rolling them in her hand. She hollowed her cheeks, creating suction as she increased her pace.

He fisted her bun as he bucked into her mouth. His eyes remained locked on hers as he came with a groan, spilling down her throat. He softened the hold on her hair as he watched her swallow every drop.

Olivia eased up her pace, gently licking his softening cock clean before releasing it from her mouth. She rose to her feet, wiping the corners of her mouth. “I still think you can pull it off.”

“It was never a question of could… it was more should.”

“You should always show off your impressive physique.”

Bastien laughed shaking his head. God I love this woman.

“So you’ll wear it?”

He looked at the costume in question, knowing it was too late to change costumes. “It’s not like I have another option.”

“Very true.”

“You know you didn’t have to…”

“I know.” She smiled trailing her hand down his bare chest. “I could help you make sure everything is put away.” She licked her lips suggestively.

He forced himself to focus on anything other than her soft hands ‘helping’ him conceal himself in the small undergarment. He knew what would happen the instant her hands were on his body again. God she’s more insatiable than ever. “Thank you for the offer, but we both know that we’ll never leave the room if you do.”

She bit her lip as she hummed her agreement. “You’re absolutely correct.” Her heated gaze scanned his chest, taking in the toned tanned muscle covered in dark chest hair. She felt the heat in her grow. “Go get dressed before I change my mind about going to the party.”

He chuckled as he picked up the small pieces of his costume. He’d much rather stay in the room all night wrapped in her arms, but if he knew one thing about his wife, it was she chose this costume for a reason, one he wouldn’t find out if they were a tangle of sweaty limbs all night. I’ll just have to persuade her to come back early.

*

Olivia nervously toyed with her rings with the pad of her thumb. Large cushion cut emerald and simple platinum band, the perfect mix of him and her, past and present. She smiled as he squeezed her right hand in his, his ability to understand her only growing over the course of their relationship.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m a Nevrakis, we don’t get nervous.” Her voice falling flat, belying her feelings. She turned to look at him. “So few know…” Her hand grazed her visible bump.

“No one will notice, they will be stunned speechless by my costume.”

Olivia chuckled. “Blinded by your impressive abs.” She’d picked the costume before finding out, now she was even more glad she went so extreme to show Ellie and Liam up. Her emerald eyes scanned the front room as they descended the grand staircase. Now where are Ellie and Liam so we can win this bet?

She slipped her hand from his, sliding it around to his backside giving it a hard squeeze as they weaved through the crowd. He removed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “If you keep that up, we will have a wardrobe malfunction on our hands.”

“I’d rather not make Adelaide’s night, I’ll behave.” For now.

*

Adelaide bit her lip as Bastien caught her eye. She allowed her gaze to shamelessly roam his exposed form, her eyes slowly raked down his sculpted chest and abs. What I wouldn’t give to lick them. She shivered slightly as she allowed herself to imagine his chest hair brushing against her erect nipples as she ravished him. Why do all the young men of Cordonia believe a woman wants a smooth chest? A real woman wants a real man; rugged, buff, with hair on his chest. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she reached the sheer maroon fabric. Covered, what a pity. She licked her thin lips as she allowed her mind to wander. She could tell by the barely concealed bulge that he would be a sight to behold. Is it all length or does he have girth too? A shiver ran down her spine as she allowed herself to imagine his large hands manhandling her. She shook her head sadly before draining her glass of champagne. Another opportunity missed. She turned going off in search of another glass of champagne, there was no point in trying to speak to him, she knew Olivia had her claws in far too deep to let him venture off alone looking like that.

*

Drake’s chestnut eyes went wide and he quickly averted his gaze as Bastien and Olivia joined them. He nervously cleared his throat as he struggled to erase the image of Bastien from his mind. “I love you Bas, but I didn’t need to see so much of you.”

“Admit it Walker, you're just jealous you won't look this good in a decade.” Olivia looked Drake up and down, fighting back a chortle at his stay puff marshmallow costume. “Or ever.”

Drake went to run his hand through his hair forgetting the ridiculous hat on his head. Stupid costume! Next time I’m not letting Ellie pick what I dress as.

"Drake, it's no different than when we do laps."

"Really Bas? It’s a huge difference. I mean that's a speedo. This is…” His words trailed off as he reluctantly looked over Bastien’s costume. “I don't know what it is, but it’s not a speedo!"

“Drake, it really is no different.” Ellie stated. “I’m impressed Liv, getting Bas to show off his impressive form, he will be the talk of court for weeks to come.”

“Excuse me my queen?” Liam asked looping his arm around her waist.

“Relax Li, I’m just saying he has an impressive body and I’ve noticed several party goers checking him out as well.”

Olivia smiled, Ellie and Liam’s costume was so perfectly them, but she and Bastien had clearly won. Ellie wore a royal blue waistcoat, cut low almost like a corset and trimmed in gold. Her black locks were mostly down with two pigtails at the front of her head twisted to form horns, she wore minimal face paint, just a nose and a bit of lines to give the appearance of fur, but not too much as to conceal her identity. She nearly laughed at Liam’s long wavy wig. Instead of a dress he’d opted for a gold tailcoat and matching pants, complete with ruffles at the sleeves and collar. Both costumes were well made, clearly professionally made just for the royal couple, yet the idea wasn’t inventive enough. “Liam, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about, your queen only has eyes for you. But I just need to know, what do you think of Bastien’s costume?”

Liam easily slipped into his kingly persona. “Your concept is certainly... forward thinking”

Ellie and Olivia snorted at his polite answer. Even among friends he found it hard to be harsh.

Maxwell danced up to his friends, Olivia lost it at the sight of his gold lamé parachute pants, airbrushed tee and red, white, and blue jacket, topped off with thick gold chain. “Dare I ask who you’re supposed to be Maxwell?”

Maxwell clutched his hand to his chest as he feigned hurt. “Olivia, how could you not recognize Vanilla Ice?” She raised her brow in question. “He’s a rapper, you know ‘ice ice baby. He’s from the nineties...” He trailed off as his brilliant blue eyes fell on Bastien. “Be honest, do you think I could pull that off? I think I could pull it off.” Maxwell rambled to himself. “OMG WE CAN BE TWINS NEXT TIME!" He screamed excitedly.

The group erupted in laughter.

“It’s not that funny guys.” Maxwell pouted deflating ever so slightly.

“Lord Maxwell, I wanted to thank you for implementing the no mask or full face paint rule for costumes.” Bastien said, glancing at the nearby faces.

Maxwell nodded, he’d originally been upset by Bastien suggestion. He soon remembered how badly he’d taken finding out Justin wasn’t who he thought, especially after getting in trouble with Ellie for the cronut incident.

“Bas, you no longer have to use formalities, we are all friends here.” Liam stated.

“Sorry sir, force of habit.” Bastien replied to a chorus of new laughter.

*

Savannah rolled her eyes as Bastien and Olivia joined their group. Could she have picked a tackier costume? “Olivia, for a woman who was born into nobility and raised in the palace, you sure lack taste.” She wrinkled her nose at Bastien’s costume. “As Duke and Duchess shouldn’t you have less revealing costumes?” If you could call it that. I’ve seen more fabric on Penelope’s poodles.

“I have more taste in my pinky finger than you have in your entire body. You’re just jealous that your husband couldn’t pull this costume off in a hundred years.”

Savannah eyed Olivia up and down, eyes widening slightly as she opened her mouth to speak.

Oh no bitch, you don’t get to announce it. “You want to talk about taste and class, yet we both know you have none. Why else would you run off to another country when the father of your child turned you down?”

Savannah gaped at Olivia, stunned speechless by her words.

“You may have married a Duke and gained a title, but I assure you, you’ll never be worthy of the title you bear. I mean, all it took was a ring and you forgot everyone who was there for you.”

Savannah felt steam leave her ears. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means your guest list seemed to be missing a key person in your life growing up. But I guess since you take after your mother that’s to be expected.”

“I seem to remember your own guest list forgetting a house.”

Olivia feigned a frown. She didn’t forget, maybe it was petty but she knew Savannah would feel slighted the way Bastien had. “I distinctly remember extending an invitation to every house. I even believe I sent two separate invitations to Ramsford.”

Savannah seethed, her hands curled into fists. “Lord and Duke of Ramsford, what about the Duchess?”

“Oh dear, must have slipped my mind like a certain invitation slipped yours. Not that it stopped you from showing. Bertrand really does need to revisit etiquette lessons with you; it’s very rude to show up to an event uninvited.”

“It’s not like you didn’t have enough food.”

“That’s because a good hostess is always prepared, even for the uninvited guest that may show up.” Olivia smirked at Savannah’s obvious anger. “But really I’m not sure what Bertrand was thinking when he married you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Savannah growled, she was sick of Olivia’s attitude towards her, she’d put up with it all her life, not anymore.

“I mean, after the stunt you pulled leaving the country with his child, taking money from his house, that the last thing he should have given you was a ring and a title. If it had been me I would have taken custody of the child.”

Savannah took a step forward. She’d spent her entire life trying to live up to the other nobles, now she was one, she refused to allow Olivia to disrespect her in her own house.

“Savannah!” Bertrand grabbed Savannah by the wrist, pulling her back to his side. “You will not attack a member of one of the oldest houses and tarnish the House of Beaumont.”

Savannah let out an annoyed scream. Of course he’s more worried about the status of the family than his own wife. “Fine.” She straightened, hands brushing the sides of her plain blue regency inspired costume. She spun before she stalked off, steam leaving her ears.

*

Neville felt his face grow hot with rage. The indignity! He straightened the jacket of his perfect recreation of his ancestral costume, the very first Earl of Cormery Isle, a man to be feared and respected. He’d stood idly by long enough watching nobles of so called higher houses make a mockery of his country by choosing so called love over duty to country and picking commoners.

He stalked up to the small group, his dark eyes alight with anger. “Duchess Olivia.” He sneered. “You and your husband,” the word fell from his tongue like acid, “are making a mockery of this party.”

Of course he would find himself important enough to interrupt his betters. “There are horses inside, I guarantee you this party was a ‘mockery’ well before it started.” Olivia turned her back towards Neville, signifying she was done speaking to him.

Bastien wrapped his arm around her back. “She means no offense Maxwell.”

Maxwell bounced on the balls of his feet like a small excitable child. “It wouldn’t be a Beaumont Bash if it weren’t a mockery.” He turned to the party, raising his hands in the air. “Let the revelry continue!”

Olivia rolled her eyes as Maxwell danced away being swallowed into the screaming crowd. She turned to Bastien, standing on her tiptoes to reach his ear, she ran her hand up and down his arm, her hot breath fanning against his neck as she spoke. “We’ve been thoroughly seen and you’ve been ogled by more than half the people here. Let’s get back to our room.”

He took her hand in his, eager to  get out of the costume. He still had one question, one that he had hoped to have had answered over the course of the night. “Why this costume?”

“There may have been a bet but, don’t worry, we won.”

A bet?! His eyes went wide at her admission. “You soo owe me.”

“Don’t worry, there might be a small gold bikini waiting for you in Lythikos…”

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, I’m just borrowing them from PB.

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment or reblog to let me know how much you like it. I can handle the screams, so scream away.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.